Section X. CHOCOLATE--ITS ORIGIN.

The first visiters of America were impelled by a thirst of gold.

At that time nothing was appreciated but the products of the

mines. Agriculture and commerce were in their infancy, and

political economy was as yet unborn. The Spaniards found then the

precious metals, an almost sterile discovery, for they decreased

in value as they became more abundant. We have other and better

ways to increase wealth.

In those regions, however, where a genial sun confers immense

fruitfulness on the soil, the cultivation of sugar and coffee was

found advantageous. The potato, indigo, vanilla, guano, cocoa,

were also discovered; these are its real treasures.

If these discoveries took place in spite of the barriers opposed

to curiosity by a jealous nation, we may reasonably hope that they

will be multiplied ten-fold in the course of the years to come;

and that the explorations of the savants of old Europe will enrich

the three kingdoms with a multitude of substances which will give

us new sensations, as vanilla has, or augment our alimentary

resources, as cocoa.

It has been determined to call chocolate the result of the paste

of cocoa burnt with sugar and the bark of the cinnamon. This is

the technical definition of chocolate. Sugar is the integral part,

for without sugar the compound is cocoa and, chocolate. To sugar,

cinnamon and cocoa is joined the delicious aroma of vanilla, and

thus is obtained the ne plus ultra to which this preparation can

be carried.

To this small number of ingredients has been reduced the number of

things sought to mingle with cocoa in the manufacture of

chocolate. Pepper, pimento, anise seed, ginger and others, have

necessarily been tried.

The cocoa tree is a native of South America, and is found both in

the islands and on the continent. It has been confessed, however,

that the best fruit is produced by the trees which grow on the

banks of Moracaibo, in the valleys of Caracas, and in the province

of Sokomusko. The fruit is larger, the sugar less bitter, and the

taste higher. Since these regions have become accessible, a

comparison may be made every day and the palate will never be

deceived.

The Spanish women of the new world are passionately fond of

chocolate; and not satisfied with taking it two or three times a

day, have it even sent after them to church. This sensuality has

often drawn down the censure of their bishops, who, however,

gradually closed their eyes to it. The reverend father Escobar,

the metaphysics of whom was subtle as his morals were

accommodating, used to declare that chocolate made with water did

not break a fast; thus for the use of his penitents reproducing

the old adage, "Liquidum non frangit jejunium."

Chocolate was brought to Spain about the end of the seventeenth

century, and the use became at once common. Women especially

showed great fondness for it. Manners have not changed in this

particular as yet, and now throughout all the peninsula chocolate

is presented on all occasions when it is usual to offer any

refreshment.

Chocolate crossed the mountains with Anne of Austria, the daughter

of Philip II., and wife of Louis XIII. The Spanish monks also made

it known, by presents to their brethren in France. The Spanish

ambassadors also made it popular, and during the regency it was

more universally used than coffee, because it was taken as an

agreeable food, while coffee was esteemed a luxury.

Linnaeus calls the cocoa cacao theobroma, (cocoa, the drink of the

gods). A cause for this name has been sought. Some assign his

passionate fondness for it, and the other his desire to please his

confessor; there are those who attribute it to gallantry, a Queen

having first introduced it. (Incertum.)

PROPERTIES OF CHOCOLATE.

Chocolate has given occasion to profound dissertations, with the

object of determining its nature and properties, and to place it

in the category of warm, cold, or temperate drinks. We must own

all their lucubrations have contributed but slightly to the

elucidation of truth.

It was left for time and experience, those two great masters, to

show that chocolate prepared with care is as healthful as it is

agreeable. That it is nourishing, easily digested, and is not so

injurious to beauty as coffee said to be. It is very suitable to

persons who have much mental toil, to professors and lawyers,

especially to lawyers. It also suits certain feeble stomachs, and

has been thought most advantageous in chronic diseases. It is the

last resource in affections of the pylorus.

These various properties chocolate owes to nothing but an

eloesaccharum. Few substances contain in the same volume more

nutrition. It becomes almost entirely animalised.

During the war, cocoa was rare and very dear. Substitutes were

sought for, but all efforts were vain. One of the blessings of

peace was that it rid us of all those humbugs one was forced to

taste, but which were no more chocolate than chicory is mocha.

Some persons complain that they cannot digest chocolate. Others

say that it does not nourish them, and that it passes away too

quickly.

The probability is that the first have only to blame themselves,

and that the chocolate they use is of bad quality. Good and well

made chocolate can be digested even by the weakest stomach.

The others have an easy remedy, and they need only strengthen

their stomachs by a pate, a cotelette, or a jerked kidney. Then

let them take a bowl of sokomusko, and thank God for such a

powerful stomach.

Here I have an opportunity to give two examples, the correctness

of which may be relied on.

After a good breakfast one may drink a full bowl of chocolate, and

digestion in three hours will be perfect, so that one may dine at

any hour that is pleasant. ... In zeal for the advancement of the

science, I tried this experiment on many ladies who assured me

they would die. They did not, though, and lived to glorify the

professor.

Those who use chocolate, ordinarily enjoy the most perfect health,

and are the least subject to the multitude of ailments which

destroy life; their embonpoint is stationary. These two examples

any one can verify in society by a scrutiny of those the regimen

of whom is known.

This is the true place to speak of the properties of chocolate,

which I have verified by many examples and experiments, which I am

delighted to exhibit to my readers. (See varieties at the end of

the volume.)

Now, then, let any man who has indulged too much in the cup of

volupte; let every man who has passed in toil too much of the time

when he should have slept; let every man of mind, who finds his

faculties temporarily decay; every man who finds the air humid and

the atmosphere painful to breathe; let every man who has a fixed

idea which would deprive him of the liberty of thought; let them

each take a demi litre of chocolate ambre, (sixty grains of amber

to the kilogramme), and they will see wonders.

In my way of distinguishing things, I have called this chocolate

des affliges; because in all the conditions I have referred to,

there is something very like affliction.

Very good chocolate is made in Spain; one is indisposed to send

thither for it, for all manufacturers are not equally skillful,

and when it comes it has to be used as it is.

Italian chocolates do not suit the French, for the cocoa is burned

too much. This makes the chocolate bitter, and deprives it of its

nourishment. A portion of the bean has been reduced to carbon.

Chocolate having become common in France, all sought to learn how

to make it. Few, however, approximated to perfection for the art

is not easy.

In the first place it was necessary to know good cocoa and to use

it in all its purity. There is no first quality case that has not

its inferiorities, and a mistaken interest often causes damaged

beans to be put in, which should have been rejected. The roasting

of the cocoa is also a delicate operation, and requires a tact

very like inspiration. Some have the faculty naturally, and are

never mistaken.

A peculiar talent is necessary to regulate the quantity of sugar

which enters into the composition. It is not invariable and a

matter of course, but varies in proportion to the aroma of the

bean and the degree of torrefaction.

The trituration and mixture do not demand less care, and on them

depends the greater or less digestibility of chocolate.

Other considerations should also preside over the choice and

quantity of aromas, which should not be the same with chocolate

made for food and those taken as luxuries. It should also be

varied according if the mass is intended to receive vanilla or

not. In fine, to make good chocolate a number of very subtle

equations must be resolved, and which we take advantage of without

suspecting that they ever took place.

For a long time machines have been employed for the manufacture of

chocolate. We think this does not add at all to its perfection,

but it diminishes manipulation very materially, so that those who

have adopted it should be able to sell chocolate at a very low

rate. [Footnote: One of those machines is now in operation in a

window in Broadway, New York. It is a model of mechanical

appropriateness.] They, however, usually sell it more dearly, and

this fact demonstrates that the true spirit of commerce has not

yet entered France; the use of machines should be as advantageous

to the consumer as to the producer.

TRUE METHOD OF PREPARING CHOCOLATE.

The Americans [Footnote: South Americans.--TRANSLATOR.] make their

chocolate without sugar. When they wish to take chocolate, they

send for chocolate. Every one throws into his cup as much cocoa as

it needs, pours warm water in, and adds the sugar and perfumes he

wishes.

This method neither suits our habits nor our tastes, for we wish

chocolate to come to us ready prepared.

In this state, transcendental chemistry has taught us that it

should neither be rasped with the knife nor bruised with a pestle,

because thus a portion of the sugar is converted into starch, and

the drink made less attractive.

Thus to make chocolate, that is to say, to make it fit for

immediate use, about an ounce and a half should be taken for each

cup, which should be slowly dissolved in water while it is heated,

and stirred from time to time with a spatula of wood. It should be

boiled a quarter of an hour, in order to give it consistency, and

served up hot.

"Monsieur," said madame d'Arestrel, fifty years ago, to me at

Belley, "when you wish good chocolate make it the evening before

in a tin pot. The rest of the night gives it a velvet-like flavor

that makes it far better. God will not be offended at this little

refinement, for in himself is all excellence."

MEDITATION VII.

THEORY OF FRYING.

It was a fine morning in May; the sun shed his brightest rays on

the smoky roofs of the city of enjoyments, and the streets

(strangely enough) were filled neither with mud nor dust.

The heavy diligences had long ceased to shake the streets; the

heavy wagons had ceased to pass, and only open carriages were

seen, in which indigenous and exotic beauties under beautiful

hats, cast disdainful looks on ugly, and smiling ones on good-

looking cavaliers.

It was three o'clock when the professor sought his arm chair to

meditate.

His right leg rested vertically on the floor, his left formed a

diagonal angle with, and rested on it. His back was comfortably

supported, and his hands rested on the lions' heads which

terminated the arms of the venerable piece of furniture in which

he sat.

His lofty brow indicated intense study, and his mouth a taste for

pleasant amusement. His air was collected, and any one to have

seen him would have said, "that is a sage of ancient days." The

professor sent for his preparateur en chef, (chief COOK) and that

officer arrived, ready to receive orders, advice or lessons.

ALLOCUTION.

"Master la Planche," said the professor with that deep grave

accent which penetrates the very depth of our hearts, "all who sit

at my table pronounce your potages of the first class, a very

excellent thing, for potage is the first consolation of an empty

stomach. I am sorry to say though that you are uncertain as a

friturier. [Footnote: Anglice. Fryer.]

"I heard you sigh yesterday over that magnificent sole you served

to us, pale, watery and colorless. My friend R. [Footnote: Mr. R--

-, born at Seyssel, in the district of Belley, in 1757, an elector

of the grand college. He may be considered an example of the good

effects of prudence and probity.] looked disapprovingly of it,

M.H.R. turned his gastronomical nose to the left, and the

President S. declared such a misfortune equal to a public

calamity.

"This happened because you neglected the theory, the importance of

which you are aware of. You are rather obstinate, though I have,

taken the trouble to impress on you the facts, that the operations

of your laboratory are only the execution of the eternal laws of

nature, and that certain things which you do carelessly, because

you have seen others do so; yet these are the results of the

highest science. Listen to me, therefore, with attention, that you

may never again blush at your works."

Section 1. CHEMISTRY.

"Liquids which you subject to the action of fire cannot all

receive the same quantity of heat. Nature has formed them

differently, and this secret, which we will call CAPACITY FOR

CALORIC, she has kept to herself.

"You may, therefore, with impunity dip your finger in boiling

spirits of wine; you would take it very quickly from boiling

brandy; more rapidly yet from water; while the most rapid

immersion in boiling oil would heat you easily.

"Consequently warm fluids act differently on the sapid bodies

presented to them. Those subject to water soften, dissolve, and

reduce themselves to boilli. The result is bouillon and its

extracts. Those on the contrary treated with oil harden, assume a

color more or less deep, and finally are carbonized.

"In the first instance, water dissolves and conveys away the

interior juices of the alimentary substances placed in it. In the

second the juices are preserved, for they are insoluble in oil. If

these things dry up it is because a continuous heat vaporizes the

humid parts.

"The two methods have different names, and FRYING is BOILING in

oil or grease substances intended to be eaten. I think I have told

you that officially oil and grease are synonymous; heating the

latter being but a concrete oil."

Section II. APPLICATION.

"Fritures are well received in entertainments into which they

introduce an agreeable variety. They are agreeable to the taste,

preserve their primitive flavor, and may be eaten with the hand, a

thing women are always fond of.

"Thus cooks are able to hide many things that have appeared on the

day before, and remedy unforeseen requisitions on them. It takes

no longer to fry a four pound chop than it does to boil an egg.

"All the merit of the friture is derived from the surprise, or the

invasion of the boiling liquid which carbonizes or burns at the

very instant of immersion of the body placed in it.

"To effect a purpose, the liquid must be hot enough to act

instantaneously. It does not, however, reach S this point until it

has long been submitted to the action of a blazing and hot fire.

"By the following means it may be ascertained if the friture be

heated to the wished-for degree, cut a piece of bread in the form

of a cube, and dip it in the pan for five or six seconds, if you

take it out firm and dark put in what you wish to prepare

immediately. If it be not, stir the fire and begin again.

"The surprise being once effected, moderate the fire that the

action may not be too hurried, and that by a prolonged heat the

juices it contains may be changed and the flavor enhanced.

"You have doubtless observed that fritures dissolve neither the

sugar nor salt their respective natures require. You should not

fail then to reduce those substances to a very fine powder in

order that they may adhere the more readily, and season the dish

by juxtaposition.

"I do not tell you about oils and greases for the different

treatises I have put in your library give you sufficient light.

"Do not forget, however, when you get one of those trout which do

not weigh more than half a pound, and which come from murmuring

streams, far from the capitol, to use the finest olive oil. This

delicate dish duly powdered and garnished with slices of lemon is

fit for a cardinal. [Footnote: Mr. Aulissin, a very well informed

Neapolitan lawyer, and a good amateur performer on the

violoncello, dining one day with me, and eating some thing that

pleased him, said--"Questo e un vero boccone di cardinale."

"Why," said I, in the same tongue, not say "boccone in Re."

"Seignore," said he, "we Italians do nothing; a king cannot be a

gourmand, for royal dinners are too short and solemn. With

cardinals things are very different." He shrugged his shoulders as

he spoke.]

"Eperlans (smelt or sprat) should be treated in the same manner.

This is the becfique of the water, and has the same perfume and

excellence.

"These two prescriptions are founded in the very nature of things.

Experience tells us that olive oil should only be used with things

which are soon cooked, and which do not demand too high a

temperature, because prolonged ebullition developes an

empyreumatic and disagreable taste produced by a few particles of

pulp, which can, being impossible to be gotten rid of, carbonize.

"You tried my furnace, and were the first person who ever

succeeded in producing an immense fried turbot. On that day there

was great rejoicing among the elect.

"Continue to be coeval in all you attempt, and never forget that

from the moment guests enter the salon WE are responsible for

their happiness."

MEDITATION VIII.

ON THIRST.

THIRST is the internal feeling of a wish to drink.

A heat of about 32 [degrees] Reaumur, constantly vaporizing the

different fluids the circulation of which sustains life, the

diminution they undergo would unfit them for their purposes, if

they were not renewed and refreshed. The necessity of this renewal

is what we call thirst.

We think the seat of thirst is in the digestive system. When

athirst (we have often felt the sensation when hunting) we feel

distinctly that all the inhaling portions of the nostrils, mouth

and throat are benumbed and hardened, and that if thirst be

sometimes appeased by the application of fluids to other parts of

the body, as in the bath, the reason is that as soon as they are

absorbed they hurry rapidly to the seat of the evil and become

remedies.

VARIETIES OF THIRST.

Looking at the subject in all its bearings we may count three

varieties of thirst: latent, factitious and permanent.

Latent or habitual thirst, is the insensible equilibrium

established between transpiratory vaporization and the necessity

of supplying what is lost. Thus, though we experience no pain, we

are invited to drink while we eat, and are able to drink at almost

every moment of the day. This thirst accompanies us every where,

and is almost a portion of our existence.

Factitious thirst is peculiar to man, and results from the

instinct which impels him to seek in drink the strength he needs.

It is an artificial enjoyment rather than a natural want. This

thirst is really governless, because the fluids we take have the

faculty of reviving it, and this thirst becomes habitual, makes

drunkards in every country. The consequence is, that they drink as

long as liquor lasts, or until they are utterly overcome.

When, on the other hand, thirst is appeased by pure water, which

seems the most natural remedy, we never drink more than we

actually need.

Hardening thirst is the result of the increase of the want, and of

the impossibility to satisfy latent thirst.

It is so called because it is accompanied by hardness of the

tongue, dryness of the palate, and a devouring heat in all the

body.

The sensation of thirst is so intense, that in all tongues it is

synonymous with excessive desire, and irrepressible longing: thus

we thirst for gold, wealth, power, science, &c., expressions which

never would have become common had men not have been athirst and

aware of their vengeance.

Appetite is pleasant when it does not reach the point of hunger.

Thirst is not so, and as soon as we feel it we are uncomfortable

and anxious. When there is no possibility of appeasing it, the

state of mind is terrible.

To compensate us for this, the sense of thirst procures us great

pleasure; and when great thirst is appeased, or a delicious drink

is offered to one moderately athirst, the whole papillary system

is aroused, from the tip of the tongue to the extremity of the

stomach.

We die of thirst more rapidly than of hunger. Men with an

abundance of water, have lived for eight days without bread.

Without water, the system succumbs on the fifth.

The reason is that in starving, man dies more of weakness; in

thirst of a burning fever.

People are not always able to resist thirst so long: in 1787, one

of the hundred Swiss of Louis XVI., died from having been twenty-

four hours without drink.

He was at a cabaret with some of his comrades, and as he was about

to carry his glass to his lips, he was reproached with drinking

oftener than the rest, and with not being able to do a moment

without it.

He then made a bet of ten bottles of wine, that he would not drink

for twenty-four hours.

He ceased at once, and sat by, for two hours, seeing the others

drink.

The night passed well enough, but at dawn he found it difficult to

do without his habitual glass of brandy.

All the morning he was uneasy and troubled; he went hither and

thither without reason, and seemed not to know what he was about.

At one o'clock he laid down, fancying he would be calmer: he was

really sick, but those about him could not induce him to drink. He

said he could get on till evening: he wished to gain his bet, and

it is probable also, that some military pride was mingled in the

matter, which prevented him from yielding to pain.

He kept up until seven o'clock, but at half-after seven was very

sick and soon died, without being able to swallow a glass of wine

which was presented to him.

I was informed of all these details that very night, by the Sieur

Schneider, the fifer of the hundred Swiss, in the house of whom I

lived at Versailles.

CAUSES OF THIRST.

Many circumstances, either united or separate, contribute to

thirst. We shall mention some which are not without influence on

our habits.

Heat augments thirst. Whence comes the disposition men have always

had to build their habitations near the sea.

Corporeal labor augments thirst. Persons who employ labourers,

always gratify them by drink--hence the proverb that wine given

them is always well sold.

Dancing increases thirst, and for this reason the ball-room is

always supplied with invigorating drinks.

Declamation also increases thirst, which accounts for the glass of

water readers always seek to drink with grace, and which is always

beside the white handkerchief on the desk.

Genesiac pleasure excites thirst, and accounts for the poetical

descriptions of Cyprus, Amathonte, Gnidus, and other homes of

Venus, in which there are always shady groves and murmuring

streamlets.

Song augments thirst, and therefore all vocalists are said to be

such huge drinkers. A musician myself, I protest against this

assertion, which has neither rhyme nor reason.

The artists in our saloons drink with as much prudence as

sagacity; what they lose in this, however, they atone for on the

other side; if not given to drink, they are untiring gourmands, so

much so, that I am told at the Circle of Transcendental Harmony,

[Footnote: A well known "Musical Society."] the festivals of St.

Cecile lasted twenty-four hours.

EXAMPLE.

Exposure to a rapid current of air, causes a rapid augmentation of

thirst, and I think the following observations will be read with

pleasure by all the lovers of the chase.

It is well known that quail are fond of huge mountains, where

their broods are in more safety, from the fact that the harvests

are later.

When the rye is cut, they go into the barley and oats; and when

the latter is being harvested, they go into that portion which is

less matured.

This is the time to shoot them; because in a small number of

acres, are found all the birds which a few months before were

strewn through a whole commune and are at that time fat as

possible.

I went with some friends for the purpose of shooting to a mountain

in the arrondissiment of Nantua, in the canton known as plan

d'Hotonne, where we were about to commence the day's work under a

brighter sun than any Parisian badaud ever saw.

While we were at breakfast a violent north wind arose which was

much in the way of our sport: we however continued.

We had scarcely been out a quarter of an hour, when the most

effeminate of the party said he was thirsty. We now, doubtless,

would have laughed at him, had we not all experienced the same

sensation.

We all drank, for an ass loaded with refreshments followed us, but

the relief afforded was of brief duration. The thirst soon

appeared with increased intensity, so that some fancied themselves

sick, and others were becoming so, and all talked of returning. To

do so was to have travelled ten leagues for no purpose.

I had time to collect my ideas, and saw the reason of this strange

thirst; and told them we suffered from the effects of three

causes. The dimunition of atmospheric pressure made our

circulation more rapid. The sun heated us, and walking had

increased transpiration. More than all these--the wind dried up

this transpiration, and prevented all moistness of the skin.

I told them that there was no danger, that the enemy was known,

and that we must oppose it.

Precaution however was ineffectual, for their thirst was

quenchless. Water, wine and water, and brandy, all were powerless.

We suffered from thirst even while we drank, and were

uncomfortable all day.

We got through the day, however; the owner of the domain of Latour

entertaining us, joining the provisions we had, to his own stores.

We dined very well and got into the hay-loft, where we slept

soundly.

The next day's experience showed my theory to be true. The wind

lulled, the sun was not so warm, and we experienced no

inconvenience from thirst.

But a great misfortune had befallen us. We had very prudently

filled our canteens, but they had not been able to resist the many

assaults made on them. They were bodies without souls, and we all

fell into the hands of the cabaret-keepers.

We had to come to that point, not however without murmuring. I

addressed an allocution full of reproaches to the wind, when I saw

a dish fit to be set before a king, "D'epinards a la graisse de

cailles," destined to be eaten with a wine scarcely as good as

that of Surene. [Footnote: A village two leagues from Paris,

famous for its bad wine. There is a proverb which says that to get

rid of a glass of Surene, three things are needed, "a drinker and

two men to hold him in case his courage fail." The same may be

said of Perieux, which people however will drink.]

MEDITATION IX.

ON DRINKS. [Footnote: This chapter is purely philosophical: a

description of different kinds of wine does not enter into the

plan I have marked out for myself. If it was, I would never have

finished my book.]

By drinks we mean all liquids which mingle with food.

Water seems to be the natural drink. Wherever there is animal life

it is found, and replaces milk. For adults it is as necessary as

air. WATER. Water is the only fluid which really appeases thirst,

and for that reason only a small quantity of it can be drank. The

majority of other fluids that man drinks are only palliatives, and

had he drank nothing else he never would have said that he drank

without being thirsty. QUICK EFFECT OF DRINKS. Drinks are absorbed

by the animal economy with the most extreme facility. Their effect

is prompt and the relief they furnish is almost instantaneous.

Give the most hungry man you can meet with the richest possible

food, he will eat with difficulty. Give him a glass of wine or of

brandy, and at once he will find himself better.

I can establish this theory by a very remarkable circumstance I

received from my nephew, Colonel Guigard, a man not disposed to

tell long stories. All may rely upon the accuracy of what he has

said.

He was at the head of a detachment returning from the siege of

Jaffa, and was but a few hundred paces from the place where he

expected to find water, and where he met many of the advanced

guard already dead with heat.

Among the victims of this burning climate was a carabinier who was

known to many persons of the detachment.

Many of his comrades who approached him for the last time, either

to inherit what he had left, or to bid him adieu, were amazed to

find his limbs flexible and something flexible around his heart.

"Give him a drop of sacre chien" said the lustig of the troupe.

"If he is not too far gone into the other world, he will come back

to taste it."

At the reception of the first spoonful of spirits he opened his

eyes: they then rubbed his temples and gave him a drop or two.

After about an hour he was able to sit up in the saddle.

He was taken to a fountain, nursed during the night, and carefully

attended to. On the next day he reached Cairo.

STRONG DRINKS.

There is one thing very worthy of attention; the instinct which

leads us to look for intoxicating drinks.

Wine, the most pleasant of all drinks, whether due to Noah who

planted the vine, or to Bacchus who expressed the juice of the

grape, dates back to the infancy of the world. Beer, which is

attributed to Osiris, dates to an age far beyond history.

All men, even those we call savages, have been so tormented by the

passion for strong drinks, that limited as their capacities were,

they were yet able to manufacture them.

They made the milk of their domestic animals sour: they extracted

the juice of many animals and many fruits in which they suspected

the idea of fermentation to exist. Wherever men are found, strong

liquors are met with, and are used in festivities, sacrifices,

marriages, funeral rites, and on all solemn occasions.

For many centuries wine was drank and sung before any persons had

an idea that it was possible to extract the spirituous portion,

which is the essence of its power. The Arabs, however, taught us

the art of distillation, invented by them to extract the perfume

of flowers, and especially of the rose, so celebrated in their

poems. Then persons began to fancy that in wine a source of

excitement might be found to give taste a peculiar exaltation. By

gradual experiments alcohol, spirits of wine, and brandy were

discovered.

Alcohol is the monarch of liquids, and takes possession of the

extreme tastes of the palate. Its various preparations offer us

countless new flavors, and to certain medicinal remedies, it gives

an energy they could not well do without. It has even become a

formidable weapon: the natives of the new world having been more

utterly destroyed by brandy than by gunpowder.

The method by which alcohol was discovered, has led to yet more

important results, as it consisted in the separation and

exhibition of the constituent parts of a body, it became a guide

to those engaged in analogous pursuits, and made us acquainted

with new substances, such as quinine, morphine, strychnine and

other similar ones.

Be this as it may, the thirst for a liquid which nature has

shrouded in veils, the extraordinary appetite acting on all races

of men, under all climates and temperatures, is well calculated to

attract the attention of the observer.

I have often been inclined to place the passion for spirituous

liquors, utterly unknown to animals, side by side with anxiety for

the future, equally strange to them, and to look on the one and

the other as distinctive attributes of the last sublunary

revolution.

MEDITATION X.

AN EPISODE ON THE END OF THE WORLD.

I said--last sublunary revolution, and this idea awakened many

strange ideas.

Many things demonstrate to us that our globe has undergone many

changes, each of which was, so to say, "an end of the world." Some

instinct tells us many other changes are to follow.

More than once, we have thought these revolutions likely to come,

and the comet of Jerome Lalande has sent many persons to the

confessional.

The effect of all this has been that every one is disposed to

surround this catastrophe with vengeance, exterminating angels,

trumps and other accessories.

Alas! there is no use to take so much trouble to ruin us. We are

not worth so much display, and if God please, he can change the

surface of the globe without any trouble.

Let us for a moment suppose that one of those wandering stars, the

route and mission of which none know, and the appearance of which

is always accompanied by some traditional terror; let us suppose

that it passes near enough to the sun, to be charged with a

superabundance of caloric, and approach near enough to us to

create a heat of sixty degrees Reaumur over the whole earth (as

hot again as the temperature caused by the comet of 1811.)

All vegetation would die, all sounds would cease. The earth would

revolve in silence until other circumstances had evolved other

germs: yet the cause of this disaster would have remained lost in

the vast fields of air, and would never have approached us nearer

than some millions of leagues.

This event, which in the main, has ever seemed to me a fit subject

for reverie, and I never ceased for a moment to dwell on it.

This ascending heat is curious to be looked after, and it is not

uninteresting to follow its effects, expansion, action, and to

ask:

How great it was during the first, second, and subsequent days.

What effect it had on the earth, and water, and on the formation

and mingling, and detonation of gasses.

What influence it had on men, as far as age, sex, strength and

weakness are concerned.

What influence it has on obedience to the laws, submission to

authority, and respect to persons and property.

What one should do to escape from danger.

What influence it has on love, friendship, parental affection,

self-love and devotion.

What is its influence on the religious sentiments, faith,

resignation and hope.

History can furnish us a few facts on its moral influence, for the

end of the world has more than once been predicted and determined.

I am very sorry that I cannot tell my readers how I settled all

this, but I will not rob them of the pleasure of thinking of the

matter themselves. This may somewhat shorten some of their

sleepless hours, and ensure them a few siestas during the day.

Great danger dissolves all bonds. When the yellow fever was in

Philadelphia, in 1792, husbands closed the doors on their wives,

children deserted their fathers, and many similar phenomena

occurred.

Quod a nobis Deus avertat!

MEDITATION XI.

ON GOURMANDISE.

I HAVE looked through various dictionaries for the word

gourmandise and have found no translation that suited me. It is

described as a sort of confusion of gluttony and voracity. Whence

I have concluded that lexicographers, though very pleasant people

in other respects, are not the sort of men to swallow a partridge

wing gracefully with one hand, with a glass of Laffitte or clos de

Vougeot in the other.

They were completely oblivious of social gourmandise, which unites

Athenian elegance, Roman luxury and French delicacy; which

arranges wisely, flavors energetically, and judges profoundly.

This is a precious quality which might be a virtue and which is

certainly the source of many pure enjoyments.

DEFINITIONS.

Let us understand each other.

Gourmandise is a passionate preference, well determined and

satisfied, for objects which flatter our taste.

Gourmandise is hostile to all excesses: any man who becomes drunk

or suffers from indigestion is likely to be expunged from the

lists.

Gourmandise also comprehends, friandise (passion for light

delicacies) for pastry, comfitures, etc. This is a modification

introduced for the special benefit of women, and men like the

other sex.

Look at gourmandise under any aspect you please, and it deserves

praise.

Physically, it is a demonstration of the healthy state of the

organs of nutrition.

Morally, it is implicit resignation to the orders of God, who made

us eat to live, invites us to do so by appetite, sustains us by

flavor, and rewards us by pleasure.

ADVANTAGES OF GOURMANDISE.

Considered from the points of view of political economy,

gourmandise is the common bond which unites the people in

reciprocal exchanges of the articles needed for daily consumption.

This is the cause of voyages from one pole to the other, for

brandy, spices, sugars, seasonings and provisions of every kind,

even eggs and melons.

This it is which gives a proportional price to things, either

mediocres, good or excellent, whether the articles derive them out

of, or from nature.

This it is that sustains the emulation of the crowd of fishermen,

huntsmen, gardeners and others, who every day fill the wealthiest

kitchens with the result of their labours.

This it is which supports the multitude of cooks, pastry-cooks,

confectioners, etc., who employ workmen of every kind, and who

perpetually put in circulation, an amount of money which the

shrewdest calculator cannot imagine.

Let us observe that the trades and occupations dependent on

gourmandise have this great advantage, that on one hand it is

sustained by great misfortunes and on the other by accidents which

happen from day to day.

In the state of society we now have reached, it is difficult to

conceive of a people subsisting merely on bread and vegetables.

Such a nation if it existed would certainly be subjected by

carnivorous enemies, as the Hindoos were, to all who ever chose to

attack them. If not it would be converted by the cooks of its

neighbors as the Beotiens were, after the battle of Leuctres.

SEQUEL.

Gourmandise offers great resources to fiscality, for it increases

customs, imports, etc. All we consume pays tribute in one degree

or another, and there is no source of public revenue to which

gourmands do not contribute.

Let us speak for a moment of that crowd of preparers who every

year leave France, to instruct foreign nations in gourmandise. The

majority succeed and obedient to the unfasting instinct of a

Frenchman's fever, return to their country with the fruits of

their economy. This return is greater than one would think.

Were nations grateful, to what rather than to gourmandise should

France erect a monument.

POWER OF GOURMANDISE.

In 1815, the treaty of the month of November, imposed on France

the necessity of paying the allies in three years, 750,000,000

francs.

Added to this was the necessity of meeting the demands of

individuals of various nations, for whom the allied sovereigns had

stipulated, to the amount of more than 300,000,000.

To this must be added requisitions of all kinds by the generals of

the enemies who loaded whole wagons, which they sent towards the

frontier, and which the treasury ultimately had to pay for. The

total was more than 1,500,000,000 francs.

One might, one almost should have feared, that such large

payments, collected from day to day, would have produced want in

the treasury, a deprecation of all fictitious values, and

consequently all the evils which befall a country that has no

money, while it owes much.

"Alas," said the rich, as they saw the wagon going to the Rue

Vivienne for its load; "all our money is emigrating, next year we

will bow down to a crown: we are utterly ruined; all our

undertakings will fail, and we will not be able to borrow. There

will be nothing but ruin and civil death."

The result contradicted all these fears; the payments, to the

amazement of financiers, were made without trouble, public credit

increased, and all hurried after loans. During the period of this

superpurgation, the course of exchange, an infallible measure of

the circulating of money, was in our favor. This was an

arithmetical proof that more money came into France than left it.

What power came to our aid? What divinity operated this miracle?

Gourmandise.

When the Britons, Germans, Teutons, Cimmerians, and Scythes, made

an irruption into France, they came with extreme voracity and with

stomachs of uncommon capacity.

They were not long contented with the cheer furnished them by a

forced hospitality, but aspired to more delicate enjoyments. The

Queen City, ere long, became one immense refectory. The new comers

ate in shops, cafes, restaurants, and even in the streets.

They gorged themselves with meat, fish, game, truffles, pastry and

fruit.

They drank with an avidity quite equal to their appetite, and

always called for the most costly wine, expecting in those unknown

enjoyments, pleasures they did not meet with.

Superficial observers could not account for this eating, without

hunger, which seemed limitless. All true Frenchmen, however,

rubbed their hands, and said, "they are under the charm; they have

spent this evening more money than they took from the treasury in

the morning."

This epoch was favorable to all those who contributed to the

gratification of the taste. Very made his fortune, Achard laid the

foundation of his, and Madame Sullot, the shop of whom, in the

Palais Royal, was not twenty feet square, sold twelve thousand

petits pates a day.

The effect yet lasts, for strangers crowd to Paris from all parts

of Europe, to rest from the fatigues of war. Our public monuments,

it may be, are not so attractive as the pleasures of gourmandise,

everywhere elaborated in Paris, a city essentially gourmand.

A LADY GOURMAND.

Gourmandise is not unbecoming to women: it suits the delicacy of

their organs and recompenses them for some pleasures they cannot

enjoy, and for some evils to which they are doomed.

Nothing is more pleasant than to see a pretty woman, her napkin

well placed under her arms, one of her hands on the table, while

the other carries to her mouth, the choice piece so elegantly

carved. Her eyes become brilliant, her lips glow, her conversation

is agreeable and all her motions become graceful. With so many

advantages she is irresistible, and even Cato, the censor, would

feel himself moved.

ANECDOTE.

I will here record what to me is a bitter reflection.

I was one day most commodiously fixed at table, by the side of the

pretty Madame M----d, and was inwardly rejoicing at having

obtained such an advantageous position, when she said "your

health." I immediately began a complimentary phrase, which

however, I did not finish, for turning to her neighbor on the

right, she said "Trinquons," they touched each others glasses.

This quick transition seemed a perfidy, and the passage of many

years have not made me forget it.

ARE WOMEN GOURMANDS?

The penchant of the fair sex for gourmandise is not unlike

instinct; for gourmandise is favorable to beauty.

A series of exact and rigorous examinations, has shown that a

succulent and delicate person on careful diet, keeps the

appearance of old age long absent.

It makes the eyes more brilliant, and the color more fresh. It

makes the muscles stronger, and as the depression of the muscles

causes wrinkles, those terrible enemies of beauty, it is true that

other things being equal, those who know how to eat, are ten years

younger than those ignorant of that science.

Painters and sculptors are well aware of this, for they never

represent those to whom abstinence is a matter of duty, such as

anchorites and misers, except as pale, thin, and wrinkled.

THE EFFECTS OF GOURMANDISE ON SOCIABILITY.

Gourmandise is one of the principle bonds of society. It gradually

extends that spirit of conviviality, which every day unites

different professions, mingles them together, and diminishes the

angles of conviviality.

This it is, which induces every amphitryon to receive his guests

well, and also excites the gratitude of the latter when they see

themselves well taken care of: here is the place to reprobate

those stupid masticators, who with the most guilty indifference to

the greatest luxuries, and who with sacrilegious indifference

inhale the odorous perfume of nectar.

GENERAL LAW.--Every display of high intelligence, makes explicit

praise necessary. Delicate praise is necessary, wherever a wish to

please is evident.

INFLUENCE OF GOURMANDISE ON CONJUGAL HAPPINESS.

When gourmandise is shared with another, it has the greatest

influence on conjugal happiness.

A gourmand couple have at least once a day a pleasant occasion to

meet, for even those who sleep apart (and there are many) dine

together. They talk of what they have eaten, of what they have

seen elsewhere, of fashionable dishes and of new inventions, etc.,

etc. We all know how full of charms this CHIT CHAT is.

Music, doubtless, has many charms for those who love it; but to

succeed, one must make a business of it.

Besides, sometimes one has a cold, misplaces the score, has the

sick headache or feels inert.

One necessity calls each of the couple to the table, where the

same feeling retains them. They exhibit naturally slight

attentions to each other, which evinces a desire to please, and

the manner in which they act to each other speaks loudly of the

manner of their lives.

This observation, though new in France, has not escaped the

attention of the English novelist, Fielding, who in Pamela gives

the well-known instance of the manner in which the heroine and her

husband lived on the one hand, and the more magnificent but

unhappy life of the elder brother and his wife.

Honour then to gourmandise as we present it to our readers,

inasmuch as it diverts man neither from occupation nor from duty;

for as the dissoluteness of Sardanapulus did not cause the world

to look on woman with horror, neither did Vitellius' excesses

induce the world to turn aside from a well-ordered entertainment.

When gourmandise becomes gluttony, voracity or debauchery, it

loses its name and attributes, falling into the hands of the

moralist who will treat it by advice, or the medical man who will

treat it by remedy. Gourmandise, as the professor has described

it, has a name only in French; neither the Latin gula, English

"gluttony" nor German lusternheit, expresses it, and we recommend

all who attempt a translation of this instructive book to preserve

the word, changing the article which produces it only. Thus they

did with coquetterie.

NOTE OF A PATRIOT GASTRONOMER.

"I observe with pride, that gourmandise and coquettery, the two

great modifications which society has effected in our imperious

wants, are both of French origin."

MEDITATION XII.

GOURMANDS.

ALL WHO WISH TO BE ARE NOT GOURMANDS.

THERE are individuals to whom nature has refused a fineness of

organs and a degree of attention, without which the most succulent

food passes unperceived.

Physiology has already recognized the first of these varieties, by

exhibiting the tongue of those unfortunate men who are badly

provided with the means of appreciating flavors and tastes. Such

persons have but an obtuse sensation, for to them taste is what

light is to the blind.

The second of these varieties is composed of absent minded men, of

ambitious persons, and others, who wish to attend to two things at

once, and who eat only to eat.

NAPOLEON.

Such was Napoleon; he was irregular in his meals and ate quickly.

When hungry, his appetite had to be satisfied at once, and he was

so completely served, that at any hour he could have fowl, game or

coffee.

GOURMANDS BY DESTINY.

There is however, a privileged class, which organic and material

organization invites to the enjoyments of the taste.

I was always a disciple of Lavater and Gall, and believe in innate

ideas.

As persons have been born who see, walk, and hear badly, because

they are near-sighted, lame, or deaf, why may there not be others

inclined to peculiar sensations.

To the most careless observer there will ever be presented faces

which bear the undeniable expression of some dominant sentiment,

such as disdainful impertinence, self-satisfaction, misanthropy,

sensuality, &c. A very meaningless face may express all this, but

when the face has a determined expression, one is rarely mistaken.

Passions agitate the muscles, and often when a man is silent, the

various feelings which agitate him may be read on his face. This

tension, though habitual leave sensible traces, and give the face

a permanent and well defined character.

SENSUAL PREDESTINATION.

The persons predestined to gourmandise are in general of medium

stature. Their faces are either round or square, and small, their

noses short and their chins rounded. The women are rather pretty

than beautiful, and they have a slight tendency to obesity.

Those who are fondest of friandises have delicate features,

smaller, and are distinguished by a peculiar expression of the

mouth.

Agreeable guests should be sought for among those who have this

appearance. They receive all that is offered them, eat slowly, and

taste advisedly. They do not seek to leave places too quickly

where they have been kindly received. They are always in for all

the evening, for they know all games, and all that is neccessary

for a gastronomical soiree.

Those, on the contrary, to whom nature has refused a desire for

the gratifications of taste, have a long nose and face. Whatever

be their statures, the face seems out of order. Their hair is dark

and flat, and they have no embonpoint. They invented pantaloons.

Women whom nature has thus afflicted, are very angulous, are

uncomfortable at the table, and live on lenten fare.

This physiological theory will, I trust, meet with not many

contradictions: any one may verify the matter. I will, however,

rely on facts.

I was sitting one day at a great entertainment, and saw opposite

to me a very pretty woman with a very sensual face. I leaned

towards my neighbor and said, that the lady with such features

must be gourmande. "Bah!" said he, "she is not more than fifteen;

she is not old enough--let us see though."

The beginning was not favorable, and I was afraid of being

compromised. During the first two courses, the young woman ate

with a discretion which really amazed me. The dessert came, it was

brilliant as it was abundant, and gave me some hopes. I was not

deceived, for she not only ate what was set before her, but sent

for dishes which were at the other end of the table. She tasted

every thing, and we were surprised that so small a stomach could

contain so much. My diagnostics succeeded and science triumphed.

Two years after I met this same lady, who had been married a week.

She had become far more beautiful, was something of a coquette,

for fashion permitted her to exhibit her charms. Her husband was a

man worth looking at, but he was like one of those ventriloquists

who laugh on one side of the face and weep on the other. He was

very fond of his wife, but when any one spoke to her, quivered

with jealousy. The latter sentiment prevailed, for he took his

wife to one of the most remote departments of France, and I, at

least, can write no more of her biography.

I made a similar observation about the Duke of Decres, long

minister of marine.

We knew that he was large, short, dark and square; that his face

was round, that his chin protruded, that his lips were thick, and

that he had a giant's mouth. I therefore had no hesitation in

proclaiming him fond of good cheer and of women.

This physiognomical remark I whispered to a woman I thought very

pretty and very discreet. I was mistaken though, for she was a

daughter of Eve, and my secret was made known. One evening his

excellency was informed of the idea I had deduced from his face.

I ascertained this the next day, by a pleasant letter which I

received from the Duke, in which he insisted that he had not the

two qualities I had attributed to him.

I confessed myself beaten. I replied that nature does nothing in

vain; that she had evidently formed him for certain duties, and

that if he did not fulfil them he contradicted his appearance.

That besides, I had no right to expect such confidence, etc., etc.

There the correspondence terminated, but a few days after all

Paris was amused by the famous encounter between the minister and

his cook, in which his excellency did not get the best of the

matter. If after such an affair the cook was not dismissed, (and

he was not,) I may conclude that the duke was completely overcome

by the artist's talents, and that he could not find another one to

suit his taste so exactly, otherwise he would have gotten rid of

so warlike a servant.

As I wrote these lines, during a fine winter evening, Mr. Cartier,

once first violinist of the opera, entered my room and sat by the

fire. I was full of my subject, and looked attentively at him. I

said, "My dear Professor, how comes it that you, who have every

feature of gourmandise, are not a gourmand?" "I am," said he, "but

I make abstinence a duty." "Is that an act of prudence?" He did

not reply, but he uttered a sigh, a la Walter Scott.

GOURMANDS BY PROFESSION.

If there be gourmands by predestination, there are also gourmands

by profession. There are four classes of these: Financiers, men of

letters, doctors, and devotees.

FINANCIERS.

Financiers are the heroes of gourmandise. Hero is here the proper

name, for there was some contention, and the men who had titles

crowd all others beneath their titles and escutcheons. They would

have triumphed, but for the wealth of those they opposed. Cooks

contended with genealogists; and though dukes did not fail to

laugh at their amphitryon, they came to the dinner, and that was

enough.

Those persons who make money easily must be gourmands.

The inequality of wealth produces inequality of wants. He who can

pay every day for a dinner fit for an hundred persons, is often

satisfied after having eaten the thigh of a chicken. Art then must

use well its resources to revive appetite. Thus Mondar became a

gourmand, and others with the same tastes collects around him.

PHYSICIANS.

Causes of another nature, though far less baneful, act on

physicians, who, from the nature of things, are gourmands. To

resist the attractions set before them they must necessarily be

made of bronze.

One day I ventured to say, (Doctor Corvisart was at the end of the

table--the time was about 1806):--

"You are," said I, with the air of an inspired puritan, "the last

remnant of a composition which once covered all France. The

members of it are either annihilated or dispersed. No longer do we

see farmers general, abbes, chevaliers, &c. Bear the burden they

have bequeathed to you, even if you take the three hundred

Spartans who died at Thermopylae; such a fate should be yours."

Nobody contradicted me.

At dinner I made a remark which was worthy of notice:--

Doctor Corvisart was a very pleasant man when he pleased, and was

very fond of iced champagne. For this reason, while all the rest

of the company were dull and idle, he dealt in anecdotes and

stories. On the contrary, when the dessert was put on, and

conversation became animated, he became serious and almost morose.

From this and other observations, I deduced the following

conclusion: Champagne, the first effect of which is exhilarating,

in the result is stupefying, on account of the excessant carbonic

gases it contains.

OBJUGATION.

As I measure doctors by their diplomatu, I will not reproach them

for the severity with which they treat their invalids.

As soon as one has the misfortune to fall into their hands, one

has to give up all we have previously thought agreeable.

I look on the majority of these prohibitions as useless. I say

useless, because patients never desire what is injurious to them.

A reasonable physician should never lose sight of the natural

tendency of our inclinations, nor forget to ascertain if our

penchants are painful in themselves, or improving to health. A

little wine, or a few drops of liquor, brings the smiles to the

most hypochondriac faces.

Besides, they know that their severe prescriptions are almost

always without effect, and the patient seeks to avoid him. Those

who are around him, never are in want of a reason to gratify him.

People, however, will die.

The ration of a sick Russian, in 1815, would have made a porter

drunk. There was no retrenchment to be made, for military

inspectors ran from day to day through the hospitals, and watched

over the furnishment and the service of the various houses.

I express my opinions with the more confidence, because it is

sustained by much experience, and that the most fortunate

practitioners rely on my system.

The canon Rollet who died about fifty years ago, was a great

drinker; and the first physician he employed, forbid him to use

wine at all. When, however, he came again, the doctor found his

patient in bed, and before him the corpus delicti, i.e., a table

covered with a white cloth, a chrystal cup, a handsome bottle, and

a napkin to wipe his lips with.

The doctor at once became enraged, and was about to withdraw, when

the canon said in a lamentable voice, "doctor, remember, if you

forbade my drinking, you did not prohibit my looking at the

bottle."

The physician who attended M. Montlusin de Point de Veyle was far

more cruel, for he not only forbid his patient to touch wine, but

made him drink large quantities of water.

A short time after the doctor had left, Mme. de Montlusin, anxious

to fulfil the requisition of the prescription, and contribute to

her husband's recovery, gave him a great glass of water, pure and

limpid as possible.

The patient received it kindly and sought to drink it with

resignation. At the first swallow, however, he stopped, and giving

the glass back to his wife, said, "Take this, dear, and keep it

for the next dose; I have always heard, one should never trifle

with remedies." Men of letters in the world of gastronomy, have a

place nearly equal to that of men of medical faculty.

Under the reign of Louis XIV., men of letters were all given to

drink. They conformed to fashion and the memoirs of the day, in

this respect, are very defying. They are now gourmands,--a great

amelioration.

I am far from agreeing with the cynic Geoffroy, who used to say

that modern works were deficient in power because authors now

drank only eau sucree.

I think he made two mistakes, both in the fact and the

consequences.

The age we live in is rich in talents; they injure each other

perhaps by their multitude; but posterity, judging with more

calmness, will see much to admire. Thus we do justice to the great

productions of Racine and Moliere which when written were coldly

received.

The social position of men of letters was never more agreeable.

They no longer live in the garrets they used to inhabit, for the

field of literature has become fertile. The stream of Hippocrene

rolls down golden sands: equals of all, they never hear the

language of protection, and gourmandise overwhelms them with its

choicest favours.

Men of letters are courted on account of their talent, and because

their conversation is in general piquant, and because it has for

some time been established, that every society should have its man

of letters.

These gentlemen always come a little too late: they are not

however received the most on that account, for they have been

anxiously expected: they are petted up to induce them to come

again, are flattered to make them brilliant, and as they find all

this very natural, they grow used to it and become genuine

gourmands.

DEVOTEES.

Among the friends of gourmandise are many very devout persons.

By the word devotee, we understand what Louis XIV. and Moliere

did, persons the piety of whom consists in external observances;

pious and charitable persons have nothing to do with this class.

Let us see how they effect this--among those who work out their

salvation, the greatest number seek the mildest method. Those who

avoid society, sleep on the ground and wear hair cloth, are always

exceptions.

Now there are to them certain damnable things never to be

permitted, such as balls, plays, and other amusements.

While they and those who enjoy them are abominated, gourmandise

assumes an altogether different aspect, and becomes almost

theological.

Jure divino, man is the king of nature and all that earth creates

was produced for him. For him the quail becomes fat, the mocha has

its perfume, and sugar becomes beneficial to the health.

Why then should we not use with suitable moderation the goods

which Providence offers us, especially as we continue to look on

them as perishable things, and as they exalt our appreciation of

the Creator.

Other not less weighty reasons strengthen these--can we receive

too kindly those persons who take charge of our souls? Should we

not make a meeting with them pleasant and agreeable?

Sometimes the gifts of Comus come unexpectedly. An old college

companion, an old friend, a penitent who humbles himself, a

kinsman who makes himself known or a protege recalls them.

This has ever been the case.

Convents were the true ware-houses of the most adorable delacies:

for that reason they have been so much regretted. [Footnote: The

best liquors in France were made of the Visitandines. The monks of

Niort invented the conserve of Angelica, and the bread flavoured

with orange flowers by the notes of Chiteau-Thierry is yet

famous. The nuns of Belley used also to make a delicious conserve

of nuts. Alas, it is lost, I am afraid.]

Many monastic orders, especially the Bernardins paid great

attention to good cheer. The cooks of the clergy reached the very

limits of the art, and M. de Pressigny (who died Archbishop of

Besancon) returned from the conclave which elected Pro Sesto, he

said the best dinner he ate in Rome was given by the General of

the Capuchins.

CHEVALIERS AND ABBES.

We cannot bring this article to a better end than to make an

honourable mention of two corporations we saw in all their glory:

we mean the Chevaliers and the Abbes.

How completely gourmand they were. Their expanded nostrils, their

acute eyes, and coral lips could not he mistaken, neither could

their gossiping tongue; each class, however, ate in a peculiar

manner.

There was something military in the bearing of the Chevaliers.

They ate their delicacies with dignity, worked calmly, and cast

horizontal looks of approbation at both the master and mistress of

the house.

The Abbes however, used to come to the table with more care, and

reached out their hands as the cat snatches chestnuts from the

fire. Their faces were all enjoyment, and there was a

concentration about their looks more easy to conceive of, than to

describe.

As three-fourths of the present generation have seen nothing like

either the Abbes, or Chevaliers, and as it is necessary to

understand them, to be able to appreciate many books written in

the eighteenth century, we will borrow from the author of the

Historical Treatise on Duels, a few pages which will fully satisfy

all persons about this subject. (See Varieties, No. 20.)

LONGEVITY OF GOURMANDS.

I am happy, I cannot be more so, to inform my readers that good

cheer is far from being injurious, and that all things being

equal, gourmands live longer than other people. This was proved by

a scientific dissertation recently read at the academy, by Doctor

Villermet.

He compares the different states of society, in which good cheer

is attended to, with those where no attention is paid to it, and

has passed through every scale of the ladder. He has compared the

various portions of Paris, in which people were more or less

comfortable. All know that in this respect there is extreme

difference, as for instance between the Faubourg St. Antoine and

the Chaussee d' Antin.

The doctor extended his research to the departments of France, and

compared the most sterile and fertile together, and always

obtained a general result in favor of the diminution of mortality,

in proportion universally as the means of subsistence improve.

Those who cannot well sustain themselves will be at least wise, to

know that death will deliver them soon.

The two extremes of this progression are, that in the most highly

favored ranks of life but one individual in fifty dies, while of

those who are poorer four do.

Those who indulge in good cheer, are rarely, or never sick. Alas!

they often fall into the domain of the faculty, who call them good

patients: as however they have no great degree of vitality, and

all portions of their organization are better sustained, nature

has more resources, and the body incomparably resists destruction.

This physiological truth may be also sustained by history, which

tells us that as often as impervious circumstances, such as war,

sieges, the derangement of seasons, etc., diminish the means of

subsistence, such times have ever been accompanied by contagious

disease and a great increase of mortality.

The idea of Lafarge would beyond a doubt have succeeded in Paris,

if those who had advanced it had introduced into their

calculations the truths developed by Doctor Villermet.

They calculated mortality according to Buffoon's tables, and those

of Parcieux and others, all of which were based on the aggregate

of all classes and conditions. Those who made the estimate,

however, forgot the dangers of infancy, indulged in general

calculations, and the speculation failed.

This may not have been the only, hut it was the principal cause.

For this observation, we are indebted to the Professor Pardessus.

M. de Belloy, archbishop of Paris, had a slight appetite, but a

very distinct one. He loved good cheer and I have often seen his

patriarchal face lighten up at the appearance of any choice dish.

Napoleon always on such occasions paid him deference and respect.

MEDITATION XIII.

GASTRONOMICAL TESTS.

IN the preceding chapter, we have seen that the distinctive

characteristics of those who have more pretension than right to

the honors of gourmandise, consists in the fact, that, at the best

spread table, their eyes are dull and their face inanimate.

They are not worthy of having treasures, when they do not

appreciate what is exhibited to them. It, however, was very

interesting for us to point them out, and we have sought every

where for information on so important a matter, as who should be

our guests and our hosts.

We set about this with an anxiety which ensures success, and, in

consequence of our perseverance, we are able to present to the

corps of amphitryon, gastronomical tests, a discovery which will

do honor to the nineteenth century.

By gastronomical tests, we mean dishes of so delicious a flavor

that their very appearance excites the gustatory organs of every

healthy man. The consequence is, that all those who do not evince

desire, and the radiancy of ecstasy, may very properly be set down

as unworthy of the honours of the society and the pleasures

attached to them.

The method of TESTS duly deliberated on, and examined in the great

council, has been described in the golden book, in words of an

unchangeable tongue, as follows:

Utcumque ferculum, eximii et bene noti saporis appositum fuerit,

fiat autopsia convivoe; et nisi facies ejus ae oculi vertantur ad

ecstasim, notetur ut indignus.

This was rendered into the vernacular, by the translator of the

grand council, as follows:

"Whenever a dish of a distinguished and good flavor is served, the

guests should be attentively watched, and those, the faces of whom

do not express pleasure, should be marked as unworthy."

Tests are relative, and should be proportioned to the various

classes of society. All things considered, it should be arranged

so as to create admiration and surprise. It is a dynameter, the

power of which should increase as we ascend in society. The test

for a householder in La Rue Coquenard, would not suit a second

clerk, and would be unnoticed at the table of a financier, or a

minister.

In the enumeration of the dishes we think worthy of being

considered as tests, we will begin at the lowest grade, and will

gradually ascend so as to elucidate the theory, so that all may

not only use it with benefit, but also invent a new series

calculated for the sphere in which they chance to be placed.

We will now give a list of the dishes we think fit to be served as

tests; we have divided them into three series of gradual ascents,

following the order indicated above.

GASTRONOMICAL TESTS.

FIRST SERIES.--INCOME OF 5,000 FRANCS.

A breast of veal baked in its own juice.

A turkey stuffed with Lyons chestnuts.

Baked pigeons.

Eggs a la neige.

Sourkrout, with sausages dressed with lard, fume de Strasburg.

EXPRESSION. "Peste; that looks well; let us pay our devoirs to

it."

SECOND SERIES.--INCOME 15,000 FRANCS.

A filet de boeuf pique, and baked in its juice, with pickles.

A quarter of Chevreuil.

Turbot plain.

A Turkey Truffee.

Petits pois.

EXCLAMATION. "My dear sir, this is pleasant indeed!"

THIRD SERIES.--INCOME 30,000 FRANCS, OR MORE.

A fowl weighing seven pounds, stuffed with truffles, so that it

has become a spheroid.

A patte perigord in the form of a bastion.

A cask a la Chambord richly dressed and decorated.

A pike stuffed with craw-fish secundum artum.

A pheasant dressed a la sainte alliance.

Asparagus, large as possible, served up in osmazome.

Two dozen ortolans a la provencale, as the dish is described in

the Cook's Secretary.

A pyramid of sweet meats, flavored with rose and vanilla.

EXPRESSION. "Monsieur, or Monseigneur, your cook is a man of

mind. Such dishes we eat only at your house."

MEDITATION XIV.

ON THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE.

MAN of all the animals who live on the earth, is beyond doubt, the

one who experiences most suffering.

Nature condemned him to suffering by robbing him of hair, by

giving him such a peculiar formation of his feet, also by the

instinct of destruction, and of war which has followed man every

where.

Animals have never been stricken with this curse, and with the

exception of a few contests, caused by the instinct of

reproduction, harm would be absolutely unknown to the lower

animals of creation. Man, though he cannot appreciate pleasure

except by a small number of organs, may yet be liable to intense

agony.

This decree of destiny was engraved by a crowd of maladies, which

originated in the social system. The result is that the most

intense pleasure one can imagine, cannot atone for certain pains,

such as the gout, the tooth-ache, etc., acute rheumatisms,

strictures, and many other diseases we might mention.

This practical fear of pain has had the effect, that without even

perceiving it, man has rushed into an opposite direction, and has

devoted himself to the small number of pleasures nature has placed

at his disposal.

ORIGIN OF THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE.

Meals, as we understand the word, began at the second stage of the

history of humanity. That is to say as soon as we ceased to live

on fruits alone. The preparation and distribution of food made the

union of the family a necessity, at least once a day. The heads of

families then distributed the produce of the chase, and grown

children did as much for their parents.

These collections, limited at first to near relations, were

ultimately extended to neighbors and friends.

At a later day when the human species was more widely extended,

the weary traveler used to sit at such boards and tell what he had

seen in foreign lands. Thus hospitality was produced, and its

rights were recognized everywhere. There was never any one so

ferocious as not to respect him who had partaken of his bread and

salt.

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE PLEASURE OF EATING AND THE PLEASURES OF

THE TABLE.

Such from the nature of things, should be the elements of the

pleasures of the table which, where eating is a necessity, of

course takes the precedence.

The pleasure of eating is a peculiar sensation directed to the

satisfaction of a necessity. The pleasures of the table is a

reflected sensation, originating in various facts, places, things

and persons.

We share with animals in the pleasure of eating. They and we have

hunger which must he satisfied.

It is peculiar to the human race, for it supposes a predisposition

for food, for the place of meeting, and for guests.

The pleasures of the table exact, if not hunger, at least

appetite. The table is often independent of hoth the one and the

other.

This we may see at every entertainment.

At the first course every one eats and pays no attention to

conversation; all ranks and grades are forgotten together in the

great manufacture of life. When, however, hunger begins to be

satisfied, reflection begins, and conversation commences. The

person who, hitherto, had been a mere consumer, becomes an amiable

guest, in proportion as the master of all things provides him with

the means of gratification.

EFFECTS.

The pleasures of the table afford neither ravishing pleasure,

ecstasy, nor transport, but it gains in intensity what it loses in

duration. It is the more valuable because it exposes us to all

other gratifications and even consoles us for their loss.

After a good dinner body and soul enjoy a peculiar happiness.

Physically, as the brain becomes refreshed, the face lightens up,

the colors become heightened, and a glow spreads over the whole

system.

Morally, the mind becomes sharpened, witticisms circulate. If La

Farre and Saint Aulaire descend to posterity with the reputation

of spiritual authors, they owe it especially to the fact that they

were pleasant guests.

Besides, there are often found collected around the same table,

all the modifications of society which extreme sociability has

introduced among us: love, friendship, business, speculation,

power, ambition, and intrigue, all enhance conviviality. Thus it

is that it produces fruits of all imaginable flavors.

ACCESSORIES.

An immediate consequence of all these antecedents is that human

industry has toiled to augment the duration of the gratifications

of the table.

Poets complain that the throat is too short for the uses of

degustation, and others lament the want of capacity of the

stomach. Some even regret that digestion is accomplished in a

single act and not divided into two.

This was but an extreme effort to amplify the enjoyments of taste;

in this respect, however, it is impossible to exceed the limits

imposed by nature, and an appeal was made to accessories, which

offered more latitude.

Vases and goblets were crowned with flowers; crowns were

distributed to the guests, and dinners served beneath the vault of

heaven, in groves, and amid all the wonders of nature.

Music and song were made to increase the pleasures of the table.

Thus while the king of the Pheacians ate, the singer Phemius sang

the praises of the wars and warriors of other days.

Often dancers and pantomimists of both sexes, in all possible

costumes, occupied the attention without injuring the pleasure of

the meal. The most exquisite perfumes were diffused in the air,

and guests were often waited on by unveiled beauty, so that every

sense was appealed to.

I might consume many pages in proving what I advance. The Greek

authors and our old chroniclers only need to be copied. These

researches, however, only need to be made to be evident, and my

erudition would be of little value

THE 18TH AND 19TH CENTURY.

We have adopted to a greater or less degree various methods of

enjoyment, and have, by new discoveries, somewhat enhanced the

number.

The delicacy of our tastes would not permit the vomitoria of the

Romans to remain. We did better, however, and accomplished the

same object in a more pleasant manner.

Dishes of such an attractive flavor have been increased that they

perpetually reproduce the appetite. They are so light that they

flatter the appetite without loading the stomach. Seneca would

have called them NUBES ESCULENTAS.

We have advanced so far in alimentation that if business called us

from the table, or if it became necessary for us to sleep, the

duration of the meal would have been almost indeterminable.

One must not, however, believe that all of these accessories are

indispensable to the pleasures of the table. Pleasure is enjoyed

in almost all its extent when the following conditions are united:

good cheer, good wine, a pleasant company, and time.

I have often, therefore, wished to have been present at one of

those pleasant repasts which Horace invited one of his neighbors

to share, viz: a good chicken, a lamb (doubtless fat,) and as a

desert, grapes, figs and nuts. Uniting these to wine, made when

Manlius was consul, and the delicious conversation of the poet, I

fancy I could have supped very pleasantly.

At mihi cum longum post tempus venerat hospes Sive operum vacuo,

longum conviva per imbrem Vicinus, bene erat non piscibus urbe

petitis, Sed pullo atque hasdo, tum [Footnote: Le dessert se

trouve precisement designe et distingue par l'adverbe TUM et par

les mots SECUNDAS MENSAS.] pensilis uva secundas Et nux ornabat

mensas, cum duplice ficu. Thus it was only yesterday I regaled six

friends with a boiled leg of mutton and a kidney A L'PONTOISE.

They indulged in the pleasures of conversation so fully that they

forgot that there were richer meats or better cooks.

On the other hand, let persons make as much research as possible

for good cheer; there is no pleasure at the table if the wine be

bad, and the guests collected without care. Faces will then be

sure to seem sad, and the meal will be eaten without,

consideration.

SUMMARY.

But perhaps the impatient reader will ask how, in the year of

grace 1825, can any table be spread which will unite all of these

conditions?

I will answer this question. Be attentive, readers. Gasterea, the

most attractive of the muses, inspires me. I will be as clear as

an oracle, and my precepts will live for centuries:--

"Let the number of guests never exceed twelve, so that the

conversation may be general.

"Let them he so chosen that their occupations may be varied, their

tastes analogous, and that they may have such points of contact

that introduction may be useless.

"Let the dining-room be furnished with luxury, the table clean,

and the temperature of the room about 16 degrees Reaumur.

"Let the men be intelligent, but not pedantic--and the women

pretty, but not coquettes.

"Let the dishes be of exquisite taste, but few in number at the

first course; let those of the second be as pleasant and as highly

perfumed as possible.

"Let the coffee be hot, and let the master select his own wines.

"Let the reception-room be large enough to permit those who cannot

do without the amusement, to make up a card party, and also for

little COTERIES of conversation.

"Let the guests be retained by the pleasures of society, and by

the hope that the evening will not pass without some ulterior

enjoyment

"The tea should not be too strong, the roast dishes should be

loaded artistically, and the punch made carefully.

"None should begin to retire before eleven o'clock, and at

midnight all should have gone to bed.

"If any one has been present at an entertainment uniting all these

conditions, he may boast of having witnessed his own apotheosis.

He will enjoy it the more, because many other apotheosis have been

forgotten or mistaken."

I have said that the pleasure of the table, as I have described

it, was susceptible of long duration, and I am about to prove it

by the history of the longest meal I ever was present at. It is a

BONBON I give the reader as a reward for patient attention to me.

Here it is:-

I had a family of kinsfolk in the Rue de Bac, constituted as

follows: a doctor, who was seventy-eight; a captain, who was

seventy-six; and their sister, Jeannette, who was sixty-four. I

used to visit them sometimes, and they always received me kindly.

"PARBLEU!" said Doctor Dubois, rising on his toes one day to tap

me on the shoulder; "you have a long time been bragging about your

FONDUES, (eggs and cheese,) and you always make our mouths water.

The captain and I will come to dine with you, and we will see what

your famous dish is." (This took place about 1801.) "Willingly,"

said I, "and to enable you to see it in all its glory, I will cook

it myself. I am delighted with your proposition, and wish you to

come punctually at ten to-morrow."

At the appointed time my guests came, clean shaved, and with their

heads powdered. They were two little old men; yet fresh, however,

and well. They smiled with pleasure when they saw the table ready,

set with three covers, and with two dozen oysters by each plate.

At the two ends of the table were bottles of Sauterne, carefullly

wiped, except the cork, which indicated that it had been long

bottled. Alas! I have gradually seen oysters disappear from

breakfast, though they were once so common. They disappeared with

the ABBES, who never ate less than a gross; and the CHEVALIERS,

who ate quite as many. I regret them but as a philosopher. If time

modifies governments, how great must be its influence over simple

usages. After the oysters, which were very good, grilled kidneys,

a PATE of FOIE GRAS with truffles, and then the FONDUE.

The elements had been put in a chafing-dish, and brought to the

table with spirits of wine. I set at once to work, and my two

cousins watched every motion I made.

They were delighted, and asked for the recipe, which I promised,

telling them two anecdotes, which the reader will perhaps meet

with elsewhere.

After the FONDUE we had the various fruits which were in season,

and a cup of real mocha, made A LA DU BELLOY, which was then

becoming fashionable. We ended with two kinds of LIQUEURS.

Breakfast being over, I invited my two kinsmen to take a little

exercise, and to accompany me through my lodgings, which are far

from being elegant, and which my friends, in consequence of their

size and splendor, prefer to the gilding and OR MOLU of the reign

of Louis XV.

I showed them the original bust of my pretty cousin, Mme. Recamier

by Chinard, and her miniature by Augustin. They were so much

pleased, that the Doctor kissed the latter with his thick lips,

and the Captain took a liberty with the bust of the first, for

which I reproved him. Were all the admirers of the original to do

as he did, the bust would soon be in the condition of the famous

statue of St. Peter at Borne, which the kisses of pilgrims have

worn away.

I showed them afterwards, casts of old statuary, some pictures,

which are not without merit, my guns, my musical instruments, and

several fine editions of the French and foreign classics.

They did not forget the kitchen in their voyage of discovery. I

showed them my economical furnace, my turnspit by clock-work, my

roasting apparatus, and my vaporiser. They were much surprised, as

every thing in their house was done in the style of the regency.

Just as we were about to enter the room, the clock struck two.

"Peste!" said the Doctor, "the dinner time and Jeannette awaits

us; we must go, not because I wish to eat, but I must have my bowl

of soup like Titus DIEM PERDIDI." "My dear Doctor," said I, "why

go so far? what is here? Send some to my cousin and remain here,

if you will, and accept my apology for a somewhat hasty dinner and

you will delight me."

There was an ocular consultation on the matter between the two

brothers, and I at once sent a messenger to the Faubourg St.

Germain. I also told my cook what I wished. After a time, in part

with his own resources and from the neighboring restaurants, he

served us up a very comfortable little dinner.

It was a great gratification to me, to see the SANG FROID and

quiet nerve with which my kinsmen sat down, unfolded their napkins

and began. They met with two surprises which I did not anticipate;

I gave them PARMESAN with soup, and a glass of dry Madeira. These

two novelties had just been introduced by M. De Tallyrand, the

first of our diplomatists, to whom we are indebted for so many

shrewd expressive words, and whom public attention has always

followed with marked interest even when he had retired.

Dinner passed very comfortably, and as far as the substantiate and

the accessories were concerned, my friends were as agreeable as

they were merry.

After dinner, I proposed a game of PIQUET, which they refused,

preferring, as the Captain said, IL FAR NIENTE of the Italians,

and we sat around the fireplace.

In spite of the pleasures of the FAR NIENTE, I have often thought

that nothing enlivens conversation more than any occupation which

distracts but does not absorb all coversation.

Tea was a novelty to the French at that time. They however took

it; I made it in their presence, and they took it with greater

pleasure, because, hitherto they had only looked on it as a

remedy.

Long observation had informed me, that one piece of complaisance

ever brings on another, and that after one step there is no choice

but to continue in the same route.

"You will kill me," said the Doctor. "You will make me drunk,"

said the Captain. I made no reply, but rang for rum, sugar, and

lemons. I made some punch, and while I was preparing some,

excellent well buttered toast was also prepared.

My cousins protested that they could not eat a morsel more; but,

as I was familliar with the attraction of this simple preparation,

I insisted, and the Captain having taken the first slice, I had no

hesitation in ordering more.

Time rolled on, and the clock was on the stroke of eight. "Let us

go," said the worthies, "for we must eat a salad with our sister,

who has not seen us to day."

I did not object, and accompanied the two pleasant old men to

their carriage, and saw them leave.

Perhaps, the question may be asked, if their long visit did not

annoy me.

I answer, no. The attention of my guests was sustained by the

preparation of the FONDUE, by their examination of my rooms, by a

few novelties after dinner, by the tea, and especially by the

punch, which was the best they had ever tasted.

The Doctor, too, knew all the genealogy and history of the people

of Paris. The Captain had passed a portion of his life in Italy,

either as a soldier or as envoy to the Court of Parma. I had

travelled much, and conversation pursued its natural bent. Under

such circumstances time could not but fly rapidly.

On the next day, a letter from the Doctor informed me, that their

little debauch had done them no harm, but that after a quiet

night's rest, they awoke convinced that they could go over the

whole matter again.

MEDITATION XV.

HALTES DE CHASSE.

AMID all the circumstances in life, when eating is considered

valuable, one of the most agreeable is, doubtless, when there is a

pause in the chase. It alone may be prolonged the most without

ennui.

After a few hours exercise, the most eager huntsman feels a

necessity for rest. His face needs caressing by the morning

breeze: he halts, however, not from necessity, but by that

instinctive impulse which tells him that his activity is not

indefinite.

Shade attracts him, the turf receives him, the murmur of the

rivulet advises him to open the flask he has brought to revive

himself I with. [Footnote: For such purposes, I prefer white wine;

it resists heat better than any other.] Thus placed, he takes out

the little well baked loaves, uncovers the cold chicken some kind

hand has placed in his havresack, and finds the piece of gruyere

or roquefort, which is to represent a dessert.

While he makes these preparations, he is accompanied by the

faithful animal God has created for him; co-operation has overcome

distance. They are two friends, and the servant is at once happy

and proud to be the guest of his master.

It is an appetite equally unknown to the worldly and devotees: the

first do not allow hunger time to come: the second never indulge

in exercises which produce it.

The repast being prepared, each has its portion; why not sleep for

a while? Noon is an hour of rest for all creation.

The pleasures are decuples by being shared with friends. In this

case, a more abundant meal is brought in military chests now

employed for both purposes. All speak of the prowess of one, the

messes at the other, and of the anticipations of the evening.

What if one should come provided with one of those vases

consecrated to Bacchus, where artificial cold ices the madrin, the

strawberry, and pine-apple juice, those delicious flavors which

spread through the whole system a luxury unknown to the profane.

We have not, however, reached the last term of progression of

pleasure.

LADIES.

There are times when our wives, sisters, and cousins are invited

to share in these amusements. At the appointed hour, light

carriages, prancing horses, etc., hearing ladies collect. The

toilette of the ladies is half military, and half coquette. The

professor will, if he be observant, catch a glimpse of things not

intended for his eye.

The door of the carriages will soon be opened, and a glimpse will

be had of pates de Perigord, the wonders of Strasburg, the

delicacies of d'Achard, and all that the best laboratories produce

that is transportable.

They have not forgotten foaming champagne, a fit ornament for the

hand of beauty. They sit on the grass--corks fly, all laugh, jest,

and are happy. Appetite, this emenation of heaven, gives to the

meal a vivacity foreign to the drawing-room, however well

decorated it may be.

All, however, must end; the oldest person present gives the

signal; all arise, men take their guns, and the ladies their hats-

-all go, and the ladies disappear until night.

I have hunted in the centre of France, and in the very depths of

the departments. I have seen at the resting places carriage loads

of women of radiant beauty, and others mounted on a modest ass,

such as composes the fortunes of the people of Montmorency. I have

seen them first laugh at the inconveniences of the mode of

transportation, and then spread on the lawn a turkey, with

transparent jelly, and a salad ready prepared. I have seen them

dance around a fire lighted for the occasion, and have

participated in the pleasures of this gypsy sport. I am sure so

much attraction with so little luxury is never met with elsewhere.

Les haltes de la chasse are a yet virgin subject which we have

only touched, we leave the subject to any one who pleases to take

a fancy to it.

MEDITATION XVI.

ON DIGESTION.

We never see what we eat, says an old adage, except what we

digest.

How few, however, know what digestion is, though it is a necessity

equalizing rich and poor, the shepherd and the king.

The majority of persons who, like M. Jourdan, talked prose without

knowing it, digest without knowing how; for them I make a popular

history of digestion, being satisfied that M. Jourdan was much

better satisfied when his master told him that he wrote prose. To

he fully acquainted with digestion, one must know hoth its

antecedents and consequents.

INGESTION.

Appetite, hunger, and thirst, warn us that the hody needs

restoration; pain, that universal monitor, never ceases to torment

us if we do not obey it.

Then comes eating and drinking which are ingestion, an operation

which begins as soon as the food is in the mouth, and enters the

oesophagus.

During its passage, through a space of a few inches much takes

place.

The teeth divide solid food, the glands which line the inside of

the mouth moisten it, the tongue mingles the food, presses it

against the palate so as to force out the juice, and then collects

the elements in the centre of the mouth, after which, resting on

the lower jaw, it lifts up the central portion forming a kind of

inclined plane to the lower portion of the mouth where they are

received by the pharynx, which itself contracting, forces them

into the oesophagus.

One mouthful having thus been treated, a second is managed in the

same way, and deglutition continues until appetite informs us that

it is time to stop. It is rarely, though, that it stops here, for

as it is one of the attributes of man to drink without thirst,

cooks have taught him to eat without hunger.

To ensure every particle of food reaching the stomach, two dangers

must be avoided.

It must not pass into the passage behind the nose, which luckily

is covered by a veil.

The second is that it must not enter the trachea. This is a

serious danger, for any particle passing into the trachea, would

cause a convulsive cough, which would last until it was expelled.

An admirable mechanism, however, closes the glottis while we

swallow, and we have a certain instinct which teaches us not to

breathe during deglutition. In general, therefore, we may say,

that in spite of this strange conformation, food passes easily

into the stomach, where the exercise of the will ceases, and

digestion begins.

DUTY OF THE STOMACH.

Digestion is a purely mechanical operation and the digestive

apparatus, may be considered as a winnowing mill, the effect of

which is, to extract all that is nutritious and to get rid of the

chaff.

The manner in which digestion is effcted has been so long a

question for argument, and persons have sought to ascertain if it

were effected by coction, fermentation, solution, chemical, or

vital action.

All of these modes have their influence, and the only error was

that many causes were sought to be attributed to one.

In fact food impregnated by all fluids which fill the mouth and

oesophagus, reaches the stomach where it is impregnated by the

gastric juices, which always fill it. It is then subjected for

several hours to a heat of 30 [degrees] Reaumer; it is mingled by

the organic motion of the stomach, which their presence excites.

They act on each other by the effect of this juxtaposition and

fermentation must take place. All that is nourishing ferments.

In consequence of all of these operations, chyle is elaborated and

spread over the food, which then passes the pylorus and enters the

intestines. Portion after portion succeeds until the stomach is

empty, thus evacuating itself as it was filled.

The pylorus is a kind of chamber between the stomach and the

intestines, so constructed that food once in it can ascend only

with great difficulty. This viscera is sometimes obstructed when

the sufferer, after long and intense agony, dies of hunger.

The next intestine beyond the pylorus is the duodenum. It is so

called because it is twelve fingers long.

When chyle reaches the duodenum, it receives a new elaboration by

being mingled with bile and the panchreatic juice. It loses the

grey color and acidity it previously possessed, becomes yellow and

commences to assume a stercoral odor, which increases as it

advances to the rectum. The various substances act reciprocally on

each other; there must, consequently, be many analagous gasses

produced.

The impulse which ejected chyle from the stomach, continues and

forces the food towards the lower intestines, there the chyle

separates itself and is absorbed by organs intended for the

purpose, whence it proceeds to the liver, to mingle with the

blood, which it revives, and thus repairs the losses of the vital

organs and of transpiration.

It is difficult to explain how chyle, which is a light and almost

insipid fluid, can be extracted from a mass, the color of which,

and the taste, are so deeply pronounced.

Be that as it may, the preparation of chyle appears to be the true

object of digestion, and as soon as it mingles with the

circulation, the individual becomes aware of a great increase of

physical power.

The digestion of fluids is less complicated than that of solids,

and can be explained in a few words.

The purely liquid portion is absorbed by the stomach, and thrown

into circulation; thence it is taken to the veins by the arteries

and filtered by urethras, [Footnote: These urethras are conduits

of the size of a pea, which start from the kidneys, and end at the

upper neck of the bladder.] which pass them as urine, to the

bladder.

When in this last receptacle, and though restrained by the

spinchter muscle, the urine remains there but a brief time; its

exciting nature causes a desire to avoid it, and soon voluntary

constriction emits it through canals, which common consent does

not permit us to name.

Digestion varies in the time it consumes, according to the

temperament of individuals. The mean time, however, is seven

hours, viz., three hours for the stomach, and the rest of the time

for the lower intestines.

From this expose which I have selected from the most reliable

authors, I have separated all anatomical rigidities, and

scientific abstractions. My readers will thence be able to judge

where the last meal they ate is: viz., during the first three

hours in the stomach, later in the intestinal canal, and after

seven hours, awaiting expulsion.

INFLUENCE OF DIGESTION.

Of all corporeal operations, digestion is the one which has the

closest connection with the moral condition of man.

This assertion should amaze no one; things cannot be otherwise.

The principles of physiology tells us that the soul is liable to

impressions only in proportion as the organs subjected to it have

relation to external objects, whence it follows that when these

organs are badly preserved, badly restored, or irritated, this

state of degradation exerts a necessary influence on sensations,

which are the intermediates of mental operations.

Thus the habitual manner in which digestion is performed or

affected, makes us either sad, gay, taciturn, gossiping morose or

melancholy, without our being able to doubt the fact, or to resist

it for a moment.

In this respect, humanity may be arranged under three categories;

the regular, the reserved, and the uncertain.

Each of the persons who belong to each of the series, not only

have similar dispositions, and propensities, but there is

something analagous and similar in the manner in which they

fulfill the mission from which chance during their lives has

separated them.

To exhibit an example, I will go into the vast field of

literature. I think men of letters frequently owe all their

characteristics to their peculiar mode of life. Comic poets must

be of one kind, tragic poets of another, and elegiac, of the

uncertain class. The most elegiac and the most comic are only

separated by a variety of digestive functions.

By an application of this principle to courage, when Prince Eugene

of Savoy, was doing the greatest injury to France, some one said,

"Ah, why can I not send him a pate de foie gras, three times a

week I would make him the greatest sluggard of Europe."

"Let us hurry our men into action, while a little beef is left in

their bowels," said an English general.

Digestion in the young is very often accompanied by a slight

chill, and in the old, by a great wish to sleep. In the first

case, nature extracts the coloric from the surface to use it in

its laboratory. In the second, the same power debilitated by age

cannot at once satisfy both digestion and the excitement of the

senses.

When digestion has just begun, it is dangerous to yield to a

disposition for mental work. One of the greatest causes of

mortality is, that some men after having dined, and perhaps too

well dined, can neither close their eyes nor their ears.

This observation contains a piece of advice, which should even

attract the most careless youth, usually attentive to nothing. It

should also arrest the attention of grown men, who forget nothing,

not even that time never pauses, and which is a penal law to those

on the wrong side of fifty.

Some persons are fretful while digestion is going on. At that

time, nothing should be suggested to and no favors asked of them.

Among these was marshal Augereau, who, during the first hour after

dinner, slaughtered friends and enemies indiscriminately.

I have heard it said, that there were two persons in the army,

whom the general-in-chief always wished to have shot, the

commissary-in-chief and the head of his general staff. They were

both present. Cherin the chief of staff, talked back to him, and

the commissary, though he said nothing, did not think a bit the

less.

At that time, I was attached to his general staff, and always had

a plate at his table. I used, however, to go thither rarely, being

always afraid of his periodical outbreaks, and that he would send

me to dinner to finish my digestion.

I met him afterwards at Paris, and as he testified his regret that

he had not seen me oftener, I did not conceal the reason. We

laughed over the matter and he confessed that I was not wrong.

We were then at Offenbourg, and a complaint was made by the staff

that we ate no game nor fish.

This complaint was well founded, for it is a maxim, of public law,

that the conquerors should always live at the expense of the

conquered. On that very day I wrote a letter to the master of the

forests to point out a remedy.

This official was an old trooper, who doubtless was unwilling to

treat us kindly lest we should take root in this territory. His

answer was negative and evasive. The game keepers, afraid of our

soldiers, had gone, the fishermen were insubordinate, the water

muddy, etc. To all this, I said nothing, but I sent him ten

grenadiers to be lodged and fed until further orders.

The remedy was effective; for early on the next day after, I saw a

heavily loaded wagon come. The game-keepers had come back, the

fishermen were submissive; we had game and fish enough to last for

a week.

We had kid, snipe, lark, pike, etc.

When I received the offering, I freed the superintendent from his

troublesome guests, and during the whole time we remained in that

part of the country, we had nothing to complain of.

MEDITATION XVII.

REPOSE.

MAN is not made to enjoy an indefinite activity; nature has

destined him to a variable existence, and his perceptions must end

after a certain time. This time of activity may be prolonged, by

varying the nature of the perceptions to be experienced, and a

continuity of life brings about a desire for repose.

Repose leads to sleep, and sleep produces dreams.

Here we find ourselves on the very verge of humanity, for the man

who sleeps is something more than a mere social being: the law

protects, but does not command him.

Here a very singular fact told me by Dom Duhaget, once prior of

the Chartreuse convent of Pierre Chatel, presents itself.

Dom Duhaget was a member of a very good family in Gascogne, and

had served with some distinction as a captain of infantry. He was

a knight of St Louis. I never knew any one, the conversation of

whom was more pleasant.

"There was," said he, "before I went to Pierre Chatel, a monk of a

very melancholy humor, whose character was very sombre, and who

was looked upon as a somnambulist.

"He used often to leave his cell, and when he went astray, people

were forced to guide him back again. Many attempts had been made

to cure him, but in vain.

"One evening I had not gone to bed at the usual hour, but was in

my office looking over several papers, when I saw this monk enter

in a perfect state of somnambulism.

"His eyes were open but fixed, and he was clad in the tunic in

which he should have gone to bed, but he had a huge knife in his

hand.

"He came at once to my bed, the position of which he was familiar

with, and after having felt my hand, struck three blows which

penetrated the mattrass on which I laid.

"As he passed in front of me his brows were knit, and I saw an

expression of extreme gratification pervaded his face.

"The light of two lamps on my desk made no impression, and he

returned as he had come, opening the doors which led to his cell,

and I soon became satisfied that he had quietly gone to bed.

"You may," said the Prior, "fancy my state after this terrible

apparition; I trembled at the danger I had escaped, and gave

thanks to Providence. My emotion, however, was so great that

during the balance of the night I could not sleep.

"On the next day I sent for the somnambulist and asked him what he

had dreamed of during the preceding night.

"When I asked the question he became troubled. 'Father,' said he,

'I had so strange a dream that it really annoys me; I fear almost

to tell you for I am sure the devil has had his hand in it.' 'I

order you to tell me,' said I, 'dreams are involuntary and this

may only be an illusion. Speak sincerely to me.' 'Father,' said

he,' I had scarcely gone to sleep when I dreamed that you had

killed my mother, and when her bloody shadow appeared to demand

vengeance, I hurried into your cell, and as I thought stabbed you.

Not long after I arose, covered with perspiration, and thanked God

that I had not committed the crime I had meditated.' 'It has been

more nearly committed,' said I, with a kind voice, 'than you

think.'

"I then told him what had passed, and pointed out to him the blows

he had aimed at me.

"He cast himself at my feet, and all in tears wept over the

involuntary crime he had thought to commit, and besought me to

inflict any penance I might think fit.

"'No,' said I, 'I will not punish you for an involuntary act.

Henceforth, though I excuse you from the service of the night, I

inform you that your cell will be locked on the outside and never

be opened except to permit you to attend to the first mass.'"

If in this instance, from which a miracle only saved him, the

Prior had been killed, the monk would not have suffered, for he

would have committed a homicide not a murder.

TIME OF REST.

The general laws of the globe we inhabit have an influence on the

human race. The alternatives of day and night are felt with

certain varieties over the whole globe, but the result of all this

is the indication of a season of quiet and repose. Probably we

would not have been the same persons had we lived all our lives

without any change of day or night.

Be this as it may, when one has enjoyed for a certain length of

time a plentitude of life a time comes when he can enjoy nothing;

his impressibility gradually decreases, and the effects on each of

his senses are badly arranged. The organs are dull and the soul

becomes obtuse.

It is easy to see that we have had social man under consideration,

surrounded by all the attractions of civilization. The necessity

of this is peculiarly evident to all who are buried either in the

studio, travel, as soldiers, or in any other manner.

In repose our mother nature especially luxuriates. The man who

really reposes, enjoys a happiness which is as general as it is

indefinable; his arms sink by their own weight, his fibres

distend, his brain becomes refreshed, his senses become calm, and

his sensations obtuse. He wishes for nothing, he does not reflect,

a veil of gauze is spread before his eyes, and in a few moments he

will sink to sleep.

MEDITATION XVIII.

SLEEP.

THOUGH some men be organized that they may be said not to sleep,

yet the great necessity of the want of sleep is well defined as is

hunger or thirst. The advanced sentinels of the army used often to

sleep though they filled their eyes with snuff.

DEFINITION.

Sleep is a physical condition, during which man separates himself

from external objects by the inactivity of his senses, and has

only a mechanical life.

Sleep, like night, is preceded and followed by two twilights. The

one leads to inertion, the other to activity.

Let us seek to elucidate these phenomena.

When sleep begins, the organs of the senses fall almost into

inactivity. Taste first disappears, then the sight and smell. The

ear still is on the alert, and touch never slumbers. It ever warns

us of danger to which the body is liable.

Sleep is always preceded by a more or less voluptuous sensation.

The body yields to it with pleasure, being certain of a prompt

restoration. The soul gives up to it with confidence, hoping that

its means of fiction will he retempered.

From the fact of their not appreciating this sensation, savants of

high rank have compared sleep to death, which all living beings

resist as much as possible, and which even animals show a horror

of.

Like all pleasures, sleep becomes a passion. Persons have been

known to sleep away three-quarters of their life. Like all other

passions it then exerts the worst influences, producing idleness,

indolence, sloth and death.

The school of Salernum granted only seven hours to sleep without

distinction to sex or age. This maxim was too severe, for more

time is needed by children, and more should, from complaisance, be

granted to women. Though whenever more than ten hours is passed in

bed there is abuse.

In the early hours of crepuscular sleep, will yet exists. We can

rouse ourselves, and the eye has not yet lost all its power. Non

omnibus dormio, said Mecenes, and in this state more than one

husband has acquired a sad certainty. Some ideas yet originate but

are incoherent. There are doubtful lights, and see indistinct

forms flit around. This condition does not last long, for sleep

soon becomes absolute.

What does the soul do in the interim? It lives in itself, and like

a pilot in a calm, like a mirror at night, a lute that no one

touches, awakes new excitement.

Some psycologists, among others the count of Redern, say that the

soul always acts. The evidence is, that a man aroused from sleep

always preserves a memory of his dreams.

There is something in this observation, which deserves

verification.

This state of annihilation, however, is of brief duration, never

exceeding more than five or six hours: losses are gradually

repaired, an obscure sense of existence manifests itself, and the

sleeper passes into the empire of dreams.

MEDITATION XIX.

DREAMS.

Dreams are material impressions on the soul, without the

intervention of external objects.

These phenomena, so common in ordinary times, are yet little

known.

The fault resides with the savants who did not allow us a

sufficiently great number of instances. Time will however remedy

this, and the double nature of man will be better known.

In the present state of science, it must be taken for granted that

there exists a fluid, subtle as it is powerful, which transmits to

the brain the impressions received by the senses. This excitement

is the cause of ideas.

Absolute sleep is the deperdition or inertia of this fluid.

We must believe that the labors of digestion and assimulation do

not cease during sleep, but repair losses so that there is a time

when the individual having already all the necessities of action

is not excited by external objects.

Thus the nervous fluid--movable from its nature, passes to the

brain, through the nervous conduits. It insinuates itself into the

same places, and follows the old road. It produces the same, but

less intense effects.

I could easily ascertain the reason of this. When man is impressed

by an external object, sensation is sudden, precise, and

involuntary. The whole organ is in motion. When on the contrary,

the same impression is received in sleep, the posterior portion of

the nerves only is in motion, and the sensation is in consequence,

less distinct and positive. To make ourselves more easily

understood, we will say that when the man is awake, the whole

system is impressed, while in sleep, only that portion near the

brain is affected.

We know, however, that in voluptuous dreams, nature is almost as

much gratified as by our waking sensations; there is, however,

this difference in the organs, for each sex has all the elements

of gratification.

When the nervous fluid is taken to our brain, it is always

collected in vats, so to say, intended for the use of one of our

senses, and for that reason, a certain series of ideas, preferable

to others, are aroused. Thus we see when the optic nerve is

excited, and hear when those of the ear are moved. Let us here

remark that taste and smell are rarely experienced in dreams. We

dream of flowers, but not of their perfume; we see a magnificently

arranged table, but have no perception of the flavor of the

dishes.

This is a subject of enquiry worthy of the most distinguished

science. We mean, to ascertain why certain senses are lost in

sleep, while others preserve almost their full activity. No

physiologist has ever taken care of this matter.

Let us remark that the influences we are subject to when we sleep,

are internal. Thus, sensual ideas are nothing after the anguish we

suffer at a dream of the death of a loved child. At such moments

we awake to find ourselves weeping bitterly.

NATURE OF DREAMS.

Whimsical as some of the ideas which visit us in dreams may be, we

will on examination find they are either recollections, or

combinations of memory. I am inclined to say that dreams are the

memory of sensations.

Their strangeness exists only in the oddity of association which

rejects all idea of law and of chronology, of propriety and time.

No one, however, ever dreamed of any thing absolutely unknown to

him.

No one will be amazed at the strangeness of our dreams, when we

remember, that, when awake, our senses are on the alert, and

respectively rectify each other. When a man sleeps, however, every

sensation is left to his own resources.

I am inclined to compare these two conditions of the brain, to a

piano at which some great musician sits, and who as he throws his

fingers over the keys recalls some melody which he might harmonize

if he use all his power. This comparison may be extended yet

further, when we remember that reflection is to ideas, what harmony

is to sounds; that certain ideas contain others, as a principle

sound contains the others which follow it, etc. etc.

SYSTEM OF DR. GALL.

Having followed thus far a subject which is not without interest,

I have come to the confines of the system of Dr. Gall who sustains

the multiformity of the organs of the brain.

I cannot go farther, nor pass the limits I have imposed on myself:

yet from the love of science, to which it may be seen I am no

stranger, I cannot refrain from making known two observations I

made with care, and which are the more important, as many persons

will be able to verify them.

FIRST OBSERVATION.

About 1790 there was in a little village called Gevrin, in the

arrondissement of Belley a very shrewd tradesman named Landot, who

had amassed a very pretty fortune.

All at once he was stricken with paralysis. The Doctors came to

his assistance, and preserved his life, not however without loss,

for all of his faculties especially memory was gone. He however

got on well enough, resumed his appetite and was able to attend to

his business.

When seen to be in this state, all those with whom he ever had

dealings, thought the time for his revenge was come, and under the

pretext of amusing him, offered all kinds of bargains, exchanges,

etc. They found themselves mistaken, and had to relinquish their

hopes.

The old man had lost none of his commercial faculties. Though he

forgot his own name and those of his servants, he was always

familiar with the price-current, and knew the exact value of every

acre and vineyard in the vicinity.

In this respect his judgment had be en uninjured, and the

consequence was, that many of the assailants were taken in their

own snares.

SECOND OBSERVATION.

At Belley, there was a M. Chirol, who had served for a long time

in the gardes du corps of Louis XV. and XVI.

He had just sense enough for his profession, but he was

passionately fond of all kinds of games, playing l'hombre, piquet,

whist, and any new game that from time to time might be

introduced.

M. Chirol also became apoplectic and fell into a state of almost

absolute insensibility. Two things however were spared, his

faculty for digestion, and his passion for play.

He used to go every day to a house he had been used to frequent,

sat in a corner and seemed to pay no attention to any thing that

passed around him.

When the time came to arrange the card parties, they used to

invite him to take a hand. Then it became evident that the malady

which had prostrated the majority of his faculties, had not

affected his play. Not long before he died, M. Chirol gave a

striking proof that this faculty was uninjured.

There came to Belley, a banker from Paris, the name of whom I

think was Delins. He had letters of introduction, he was a

Parisian, and that was enough in a small city to induce all to

seek to make his time pass agreeably as possible.

Delins was a gourmand, and was fond of play. In one point of view

he was easily satisfied, for they used to keep him, every day,

five or six hours at the table. It was difficult, however, to

amuse his second faculty. He was fond of piquet and used to talk

of six francs a fiche, far heavier play than we indulged in.

To overcome this obstacle, a company was formed in which each one

risked something. Some said that the people of Paris knew more

than we; and others that all Parisians were inclined to boasting.

The company was however formed, and the game was assigned to M.

Chirol.

When the Parisian banker saw the long pale face, and limping form

opposed to him, he fancied at first, that he was the butt of joke:

when, however, he saw the artistic manner with which the spectre

handled the cards, he began to think he had an adversary worthy of

him, for once.

He was not slow in being convinced that the faculty yet existed,

for not only in that, but in many other games was Delins so beaten

that he had to pay more than six hundred francs to the company,

which was carefully divided.

RESULT.

The consequences of these two observations are easily deduced. It

seems clear that in each case, the blow which deranged the brain,

had spared for a long time, that portion of the organ employed in

commerce and in gaming. It had resisted it beyond doubt, because

exercise had given it great power, and because deeply worked

impressions hatf exerted great influence on it.

AGE.

Age has great influence on the nature of dreams.

In infancy we dream of games, gardens, flowers, and other smiling

objects; at a later date, we dream of pleasure, love, battles, and

marriages; later still we dream of princely favors, of business,

trouble and long departed pleasures.

PHENOMENA OF DREAMS.

Certain strange phenomena accompany sleep and dreams. Their study

may perhaps account for anthropomania, and for this reason I

record here, three observations, selected from a great many made

by myself during the silence of night.

FIRST OBSERVATION.

I dreamed one night, that I had discovered a means to get rid of

the laws of gravitation, so that it became as easy to ascend as

descend, and that I could do either as I pleased.

This estate seemed delicious to me; perhaps many persons may have

had similar dreams. One curious thing however, occurs to me, which

I remember, I explained very distinctly to myself the means which

led me to such a result, and they seemed so simple, that I was

surprised I had not discovered it sooner.

As I awoke, the whole explanation escaped my mind, but the

conclusion remained; since then, I will ever be persuaded of the

truth of this observation.

SECOND OBSERVATION.

A few months ago while asleep I experienced a sensation of great

gratification. It consisted in a kind of delicious tremor of all

the organs of which my body was composed, a violet flame played

over my brow.

Lambere flamma comas, et circum temporo pasci.

I think this physical state did not last more than twenty seconds,

and I awoke with a sensation of something of terror mingled with

surprise.

This sensation I can yet remember very distinctly, and from

various observations have deduced the conclusion that the limits

of pleasure are not, as yet, either known or defined, and that we

do not know how far the body may be beatified. I trust that in the

course of a few centuries, physiology will explain these

sensations and recall them at will, as sleep is produced by opium,

and that posterity will be rewarded by them for the atrocious

agony they often suffer from when sleeping.

The proposition I have announced, to a degree is sustained by

analogy, for I have already remarked that the power of harmony

which procures us such acute enjoyments, was totally unknown to

the Romans. This discovery is only about five hundred years old.

THIRD OBSERVATION.

In the year VIII (1800,) I went to bed as usual and woke up about

one, as I was in the habit of doing. I found myself in a strange

state of cerebral excitement, my preception was keen, my thoughts

profound; the sphere of my intelligence seemed increased, I sat up

and my eyes were affected with a pale, vaporous, uncertain light,

which, however, did, not enable me to distinguish objects

accurately.

Did I only consult the crowd of ideas which succeeded so rapidly,

I might have fancied that this state lasted many hours; I am

satisfied, however, that it did not last more than half an hour,

an external accident, unconnected with volition, however, aroused

me from it, and I was recalled to the things of earth.

When the luminous apparition disappeared, I became aware of a

sense of dryness, and, in fact, regained my waking faculties. As I

was now wide awake, my memory retained a portion of the ideas

(indistinctly) which crossed my mind.

The first ideas had time as their subject. It seemed to me that

the past, present and future, became identical, were narrowed down

to a point, so that it was as easy to look forward into the

future, as back into the past. This is all I remember of this

first intuition, which was almost effaced by subsequent ones.

Attention was then directed to the senses, which I followed in the

order of their perfection, and fancying that those should be

examined which were internal as well as external, I began to

follow them out.

I found three, and almost four, when I fell again to earth.

1. Compassion is a sensation we feel about the heart when we see

another suffer.

2. Predilection is a feeling which attracts us not only to an

object, but to all connected with it.

3. Sympathy is the feeling which attracts two beings together.

From the first aspect, one might believe that these two sentiments

are one, and the same. They cannot, however, be confounded; for

predilection is not always reciprocal, while sympathy, must be.

While thinking of compassion, I was led to a deduction I think

very just, and which at another time I would have overlooked. It

is the theory on which all legislation is founded.

DO AS YOU WILL BE DONE BY.

Alteri ne facias, quod tibi fieri non vis.

Such is an idea of the state in which I was, and to enjoy it

again, I would willingly relinquish a month of my life.

In bed we sleep comfortably, in a horizontal position and with the

head warm: Thoughts and ideas come quickly and abundantly;

expressions follow, and as to write one has to get up, we take off

the night cap and go to the desk.

Things all at once seem to change. The examination becomes cold,

the thread of our ideas is broken; we are forced to look with

trouble, for what was found so easily, and we are often forced to

postpone study to another day.

All this is easily explained by the effect produced on the brain

by a change of position. The influence of the physic and moral is

here experienced.

Following out this observation, I have perhaps gone rather far,

but I have been induced to think that the excitability of oriental

nations, was, in a manner, due to the fact, that, in obedience to

the religion of Mahomet, they used to keep the head warm, for a

reason exactly contrary to that which induced all monastic

legislators to enjoin shaven crowns.

MEDITATION XX.

INFLUENCE OF DIET ON REST, SLEEP AND DREAMS.

WHETHER man sleeps, eats, or dreams, he is yet subject to the laws

of nutrition and to gastronomy.

Theory and experience, both admit that the quantity and quality of

food have a great influence on our repose, rest, and dreams.

EFFECTS OF DIET ON LABOR.

A man who is badly fed, cannot bear for a long time, the fatigues

of prolonged labor; his strength even abandons him, and to him

rest is only loss of power.

If his labor be mental, his ideas are crude and undecided.

Reflection contributes nothing to them, nor does judgment analyze

them. The brain exhausts itself in vain efforts and the actor

slumbers on the battlefield.

I always thought that the suppers of Auteuil and those of the

hotels of Rambouillet and Soissons, formed many of the authors of

the reign of Louis XIV. Geoffrey was not far wrong when he

characterised the authors of the latter part of the eighteenth

century as eau sucree. That was their habitual beverage.

According to these principles, I have examined the works of

certain well known authors said to have been poor and suffering,

and I never found any energy in, them, except when they were

stimulated by badly conceived envy.

On the eve of his departure for Boulogne, the Emperor Napoleon

fasted for thirty hours, both with his council and with the

various depositories of his power, without any refreshment other

than two very brief meals, and a few cups of coffee.

Brown, mentions an admiralty clerk, who, having lost his

memorandum, without which he could not carry on his duty, passed

fifty-two consecutive hours in preparing them again. Without due

regimen, he never could have borne the fatigue and sustained

himself as follows:--At first, he drank water, then wine, and

ultimately took opium.

I met one day a courier, whom I had known in the army, on his way

from Spain, whither he had been sent with a government dispatch.

(Correo ganando horas.)