Chapter V: The Malay (3)

A still more singular effect of music is related by Roger in the case of a poor wretch broken upon the wheel. In his agonies he blasphemed in the most fearful manner, and cordially damned the spiritual comforter who sought to reconcile him to his sufferings. Some itinerant musicians chanced to pass by, they were stopped by the priest and requested to play to the patient, when to the surprise of all around, he seemed relieved, and became so tranquil, that he attended with calm resignation to their exhortations, confessed his manifold offences, and died like a good Christian.

Rousseau, who entertained a sovereign contempt for French music, observes, that the _Cantates_ of Bernier cured the fever of a French musician, while they most probably would have given a fever to a musician of any other country.

This remark of Rousseau reminds me of the French philosophical traveller (I believe it was Diderot), who on his journey to London from Dover, while horses were changing, had the curiosity to see a sick ostler with a raging fever attended by a country practitioner, who, despairing most probably of his patient, said, that he might be allowed to eat any thing he wished for. The man asked for a red-herring, which was forthwith given to him. Our tourist, generalizing like most of his brethren, immediately noted in his diary--_English Physicians allow red-herrings to fever patients_.

Some months after he changed horses at the same inn, and asked how long the unfortunate creature had survived his herring, when, to his utter surprise, he was informed that the hale, hearty fellow who was bringing out the relays, was the very man. He of course pulled out his journal and entered--_red-herrings cure the fever of Englishmen_.

Our traveller crossed over, and having accidentally seen in a French inn a poor devil whose case appeared to him similar to the sturdy ostler, he ventured to prescribe a similar remedy, which the patient only survived an hour or two; when his death was announced, he philosophically shrugged up his shoulders, and wrote in his book--_Though red-herrings cure fevers in England, they most decidedly kill in France_.

Mad musicians seem to be more mad than others; for Fodere gives us the following strange account of some of them. "Les plus grands musiciens ne reconnaissent souvent plus leurs instruments: l'un prenant son violon, que je lui avais mis dans les mains, pour un vase de nuit, et un autre prenant sa flute pour un sabre, et voulait m'en frapper."

We, however, frequently meet with lunatics who, although they have no remembrance of the past circumstances of their life, recollect and perform airs which they had formerly played.

Various well-authenticated cases lead us to suppose, that a sensibility to music long latent may be called into action by accidental circumstances. A case is on record of a countrywoman, twenty-eight years of age, who had never left her village, but was, by mere chance, present at a _fete_ where a concert was performed, and dancing to a full band afterwards followed. She was delighted with the novelty of the scene; but, the _fete_ concluded, she could not dismiss from her mind the impression the music had produced. Whether she was at her meals, her devotions, her daily occupation, or in her bed,--still, or moving about,--the airs she had heard, and in the succession in which they had been performed, were ever present to her recollection. To sleep she became a stranger,--every function became gradually deranged, and six short months terminated her existence, not having for one moment lost this strange sensation; and during this sad period, when any false note on the violin was purposely drawn, she would hold her head with both hands, and exclaim, "Oh! what a horrible note! it tears my brain!"

Sir Henry Halford relates the case of a man in Yorkshire, who after severe misfortunes lost his senses, and was placed in a lunatic asylum. There, in a short time, the use of the violin gradually restored him to his intellects; so promptly, indeed, that six weeks after the experiment, on hearing the inmates of the establishment passing by, he said, "Good morning, gentlemen; I am quite well, and shall be most happy to accompany you."

Curious anecdotes are related of the effect of music upon animals. Marville has given the following amusing account of his experiments. "While a man was playing on a trump-marine, I made my observations on a cat, a dog, a horse, an ass, a hind, some cows, small birds, and a cock and hens, who were in a yard under the window: the cat was not the least affected; the horse stopped short from time to time, raising his head up now and then as he was feeding on the grass; the dog continued for above an hour seated on his hind-legs, looking steadfastly at the player; the ass did not discover the least indication of his being touched, eating his thistles peaceably; the hind lifted up her large wide ears, and seemed very attentive; the cows slept a little, and, after gazing at us, went forward; some little birds that were in an aviary, and others on trees and bushes, almost tore their little throats with singing; but the cock, who minded only his hens, and the hens, who were solely employed in scraping a neighbouring dunghill, did not show in any manner that the trump-marine afforded them pleasure." That dogs have an ear for music cannot be doubted: Steibelt had one which evidently knew one piece of music from the other: and a modern composer, my friend, Mr. Nathan, had a pug-dog that frisked merrily about the room when a lively piece was played, but when a slow melody was performed, particularly Dussek's Opera 15, he would seat himself down by the piano, and prick up his ears with intense attention until the player came to the forty-eighth bar; as the discord was struck, he would yell most piteously, and with drooping tail seek refuge from the unpleasant sound under the chairs or tables.[10]

Eastcot relates that a hare left her retreat to listen to some choristers who were singing on the banks of the Mersey, retiring whenever they ceased singing, and reappearing as they recommenced their strains. Bossuet asserts, that an officer confined in the Bastille drew forth mice and spiders to beguile his solitude with his flute; and a mountebank in Paris had taught rats to dance on the rope in perfect time. Chateaubriand states as a positive fact, that he has seen the rattlesnakes in Upper Canada appeased by a musician; and the concert given in Paris to two elephants in the Jardin des Plantes leaves no doubt in regard to the effect of harmony on the brute creation. Every instrument seemed to operate distinctly as the several modes of pieces were slow or lively, until the excitement of these intelligent creatures had been carried to such an extent that further experiments were deemed dangerous.

The associations produced by national airs, and illustrated by the effect of the _Rans des Vaches_ upon the Swiss, are too well known to be related; and the _mal de pays_, or _nostalgia_, is an affection aggravated by the fond airs of infancy and youth during the sad hours of emigration, when the aching heart lingers after home and early ties of friendship and of love. It is somewhat singular, but this disease is frequent among soldiers in countries where they are forcibly made to march: but is seldom, if ever, observed in the fair sex, who most probably seek for admiration in every clime, and are reconciled by flattery to any region.

The whims of musical composers have often been most singular; Gluck composed in a garden, quaffing champaign; Sarti, in a dark room; Paesiello, in his bed; Sacchini, with a favourite cat perched upon each shoulder. The extraordinary fancies of Kutswara, composer of the "Battle of Prague," are too well known, and led to his melancholy, but unpitied end.

Great as the repute of the most popular musical performers, whether vocal or instrumental, in the present day may be, and enormous as their remuneration may seem, the ancients were more profuse in their generosity to musicians and the factors of musical instruments. Plutarch, in his life of Isocrates, tells us that he was the son of Theodorus, a flute-maker, who had realized so large a fortune by his business, that he was able to vie with the richest Athenian citizens in keeping up the chorus for his tribe at festivals and religious ceremonies. Ismenias, the celebrated musician of Thebes, gave three talents, or 581_l._ 5_s._ for a flute. The extravagance of this performer was so great, that Pliny informs us he was indignant at one of his agents for having purchased a valuable emerald for him at Cyprus at too low a price, adding, that by his penurious conduct he had disgraced the gem. The vanity of artists in those days appears to have been similar to the present impudent pretensions of many public favourites. Plutarch relates of this same Ismenias, that being sent for to play at a sacrifice, and having performed for some time without the appearance of any favourable omen in the victim, his employer snatched the instrument out of his hand, and began to play himself most execrably. However, the happy omen appeared, when the delighted bungler exclaimed that the gods preferred his execution and taste. Ismenias cast upon him a smile of contempt, and replied, "While _I_ played, the gods were so enchanted that they deferred the omen to hear me the longer; but they were glad to get rid of _you_ upon any terms." This was nearly as absurd as the boast of Vestris, the Parisian dancer, who, on being complimented on his powers of remaining long in the air, replied, "that he could figure in the air for half an hour, did he not fear to create jealousy among his comrades."

Amoebaeus the harper, according to Athenaeus, used to receive an Attic talent of 193_l._ 15_s._ for each performance. The beautiful Lamia, the most celebrated female flute-player, had a temple dedicated to her under the name of Venus Lamia. The _Tibicinae_, or female flute-players, who formed collegiate bodies, were as celebrated for their talent and their charms, as for their licentiousness and extravagance. Their performances were forbidden by the Theodosian code, but with little success; since Procopius informs us that, in the time of Justinian the sister of the Empress Theodora, who was a renowned amateur _tibicina_, appeared on the stage without any other dress than a slight and transparent scarf.

In the early ages of Christianity, the power of music in adding to religious solemnity was fully appreciated, and many of the fathers and most distinguished prelates cultivated the auxiliary science. St. Gregory expressly sent over Augustine the monk, with some singers, who entered the city of Canterbury singing a litany in the Gregorian chant, which extended the number of the four tones of St. Ambrose to eight. A school for church music was established at Canterbury; and it was also taught in the diocese of Durham and Weremouth. St. Dunstan was a celebrated musician, and was accused of having invented a most wonderful magic harp; it was, perhaps, to prove that the accusation was false, that he took the devil by the nose with a pair of tongs. This ingenious saint is said to be the inventor of organs, one of which he bestowed on the abbey of Malmesbury. It appears, however, that instruments resembling the organ were known as early as 364, and were described in a Greek epigram attributed to Julian the Apostate, in which he says, "I beheld reeds of a new species, the growth of each other, and a brazen soil; such as are not agitated by winds, but by a blast that rushes from a leathern cavern beneath their roots; while a robust mortal, running with swift fingers over the concordant keys, makes them, as they smoothly dance, emit melodious sounds."

The influence of music on the fair sex has long been acknowledged, and this advantage has proved fatal to some artists who had recourse to its fascinating powers; Mark Smeaton was involved in the misfortunes of Anne Boleyn; Thomas Abel, who taught harmony to Catherine, met with a similar fate, and David Rizzio was not more fortunate. They were, perhaps, too much impressed with the ideas of Cloten: "I am advis'd to give her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate."

It is worthy of remark, that no woman was ever known to excel in musical composition, however brilliant her instrumental execution might have been. The same observation has been made in regard to logical disquisitions. To what are we to attribute this exception?--are we to consider these delightful tormentors as essentially unharmonious and illogical? We leave this important question to phrenologists.

THE FOOD OF MANKIND. ITS USE AND ABUSE.

Destined by Providence to wander over the globe, and to live in various climes, man is essentially an omnivorous animal. According to the country he inhabits, its productions and the nature of his pursuits, his mode of living differs. The inhabitant of cold and sterile regions on the borders of the ocean becomes ichthyophagous; and fish, fresh, dried, smoked, or salted, is his principal nourishment. The bold huntsman lives upon the game he pursues; while the nomadian shepherd, who tends his herd over boundless steeps, supports himself on the milk of his flock. In warm countries fruits and vegetables constitute the chief support of life; and there the disciples of Pythagoras can luxuriate on the rich produce of a bountiful soil, solely debarring themselves from beans, which, like all flesh, they consider to have been created by putrefaction. What would these good people have done among the Scythians and the Getae, who, according to Sidonius Apollinaris, mingled blood and milk for food--

------------------Solitosque cruentum
Lac potare Getas, ac pocula tingere venis;

or the stunted natives of the arctic regions, who feed upon whales and seals, drink deep potations of train-oil, and consider the warm blood of the seal an exquisite beverage, dried herrings moistened with blubber a dainty, and the flesh of the seal half frozen in snow during winter, or half corrupted in the earth in summer, the most delicious morsel. The semi-barbarous Russians, who during the late wars enjoyed the abundant bills of fare of France and Italy, accustom themselves easily to this disgusting diet on their return; and their troops, who live amongst the Samoiedes, thrive uncommonly well on raw flesh and rein-deer blood. It is in temperate regions that man displays his omnivorous propensities: there, animal food can be abundantly procured; and every description of grain, roots, and fruit, is easily cultivated. It is as we pass from these middle climes towards the poles, that animal substances are more exclusively consumed; and towards the equator that we enjoy refreshing fruits, and nourishing roots and vegetables. So scarce is food in some desolate tracts of the globe, that we find the wandering Indian satisfying his cravings with earth and clay: and Humboldt informs us that the Ottomaques, on the banks of the Mata and Oronoco, feed on a fat unctuous earth, in the choice of which they display great epicurean skill, and which they knead into balls of four or six inches in diameter, and bake slowly over the fire. When about to be used, these clods are soaked in water, and each individual consumes about a pound of them in the day; the only addition which they occasionally make to this strange fare consists in small fish, lizards, and fern-roots.

The art of cookery has improved, no doubt, with the progressive advance and development of our other institutions; and it seems to prove that the employment of all kinds of food is as natural to man, as a stationary uniformity and restriction of one species of aliment is to animals. A most erroneous idea has prevailed regarding the use of animal food, which has been considered as the best calculated to render mankind robust and courageous. This is disproved by observation. The miserable and timid inhabitants of Northern Europe and Asia are remarkable for their moral and physical debility, although they chiefly live on fish or raw flesh; whereas the athletic Scotch and Irish are certainly not weaker than their English neighbours, though consuming but little meat. The strength and agility of the negroes is well known, and the South Sea islanders can vie in bodily exercises with our stoutest seamen. We have reason to believe, that, at the most glorious periods of Grecian and Roman power, their armies were principally subsisted upon bread, vegetables, and fruits.

Man by his natural structure was created omnivorous, and there is no doubt but that a judicious mixed alimentation is the best calculated to ensure health and vigour, and enable the ambitious or the industrious wanderer to spend his winters near the poles, colonize beneath the equator, or inhabit regions where the hardiest of animals must starve and die. The teeth, the jaws, all the digestive organs fit him for this mode of existence. There is a curious passage in one of Dr. Franklin's letters in regard to wine: he pleasantly observes, that the only animals created to drink water are those who from their conformation are able to lap it on the surface of the earth, whereas all those who can carry their hands to their mouth were destined to enjoy the juice of the grape.

The diversity of substances which we find in the catalogue of articles of food is as great as the variety with which the art or the science of cookery prepares them: the notions of the ancients on this most important subject are worthy of remark. Their taste regarding meat was various. Beef they considered the most substantial food; hence it constituted the chief nourishment of their athletae. Camels' and dromedaries' flesh was much esteemed, their heels most especially. Donkey-flesh was in high repute; Maecenas, according to Pliny, delighted in it; and the wild ass, brought from Africa, was compared to venison. In more modern times we find Chancellor Dupret having asses fattened for his table. The hog and the wild boar appear to have been held in great estimation; and a hog was called "animal propter convivia natum;" but the classical portion of the sow was somewhat singular--"vulva nil dulcius ampla." Their mode of killing swine was as refined in barbarity as in epicurism. Plutarch tells us that the gravid sow was actually trampled to death, to form a delicious mass fit for the gods. At other times, pigs were slaughtered with red-hot spits, that the blood might not be lost; stuffing a pig with asafoetida and various small animals, was a luxury called "porcus Trojanus;" alluding, no doubt, to the warriors who were concealed in the Trojan horse. Young bears, dogs, and foxes, (the latter more esteemed when fed upon grapes,) were also much admired by the Romans; who were also so fond of various birds, that some consular families assumed the names of those they most esteemed. Catius tells us how to drown fowls in Falernian wine, to render them more luscious and tender. Pheasants were brought over from Colchis, and deemed at one time such a rarity, that one of the Ptolemies bitterly lamented his having never tasted any. Peacocks were carefully reared in the island of Samos, and sold at such a high price, that Varro informs us they fetched yearly upwards of 2000_l._ of our money. The guinea-fowl was considered delicious; but, wretched people! the Romans knew not the turkey, a gift which we moderns owe to the Jesuits. Who could vilify the disciples of Loyola after this information! The ostrich was much relished; Heliogabalus delighted in their brains, and Apicius especially commends them. But, of all birds, the flamingo was not only esteemed as a _bonne-bouche_, but was most valuable after dinner; for, when the gluttonous sensualists had eaten too much, they introduced one of its long scarlet feathers down their throats, to disgorge their dinner. The modern gastronome is perhaps not aware that it is to the ancients he owes his delicious fattened duck and goose livers,--the inestimable _foies gras_ of France. Thus Horace:

Pinguibus et ficis pastum jecur anseris albi.

The swan was also fattened by the Romans, who first deprived it of sight; and cranes were by no means despised by people of taste. In later days the swan seems to have been in great estimation in our own country. We find in the Northumberland household book that in one year twenty of these birds were consumed at the earl's table.

While the feathered creation was doomed to form part of ancient delights, the waters yielded their share of enjoyments, and several fishes were immortalized. The _muraena Helena_ was educated in their ponds, and rendered so tame that he came to be killed at the tinkling of his master's bell or the sound of his voice.

Natat ad magistrum delicta muraena,

says Martial. Hirtius ceded six thousand of these fish to Caesar as a great favour, and Vitellius delighted in their roe. The fame of the lamprey, _mustela_ of Ausonius and Pliny, is generally known; and the sturgeon, the _acipenser sturio_, was brought to table with triumphant pomp: but the turbot, one of which was brought to Domitian from Ancona, was considered such a present from the gods, that this emperor assembled the senate to admire it. Soles were also so delectable that punning on the word _solea_, they were called the _soles_ of the gods: the dorad, _sparus auratus_, was consecrated to Venus; the _labrus scarus_ was called the brain of Jupiter, and Apuleius and Epicharmus maintain that its very entrails would be relished in Olympus.

To these dainties may be added the _Alphestae_, a fish always caught in pairs from their eagerness to be eaten. The _Amia_ so very delicious that the Athenians defied the worst cook to spoil them. The _Gnaphius_ that imparted to the water that had had the honour to boil them, the facility of taking out all stains. The _Pompilus_ which sprang with Venus from the blood of the sky. The fish called _fox_ by the Rhodians, and _dog_ by the Boeotians, was considered such a dainty that Archestratus recommended epicures to steal them if they could not procure them by honest means; adding, that all calamities should be considered immaterial after a man had once feasted on such a luscious morsel, too divine to be gazed upon by vulgar eyes, and which ought to be procured by the wealthy, if they did not wish to incur the wrath of the gods, for not appreciating at its true value the flower of their nectar. Eels were also highly esteemed by the ancients. The preference being given to the _Copaic_, which the Boeotians offered to the gods crowned with flowers, giving them the same rank among fish that Helen held amongst women.

The _garum_, or celebrated fish-sauce of the Romans, was principally made out of the _sciaena umbra_, and the mackerel; the entrails and blood being macerated in brine until they became putrid.

Expirantis adhuc scombri, de sanguine primo
Accipe fastosum munera cara garum:--

thus says Martial: and Galen affirms that this disgusting preparation was so precious, that a measure of about three or four pints fetched two thousand silver pieces. So delightful was the effluvium of the garum considered, that Martial informs us it was carried about in onyx smelling-bottles. But our luxurious civic chiefs are not aware that the red mullet--for such I believe was the _mullus_--was held in such a distinguished category among genteel fishes, that three of them, although of small size, were known to fetch upwards of 200_l._ They were more appreciated when brought alive, and gradually allowed to die, immersed in the delicious garum; when the Romans feasted their eyes in the anticipated delight of eating them, by gazing on the dying creature as he changed colour like an expiring dolphin. Seneca reproaches them with this refinement of cruelty--"Oculis quoque gulosi sunt;" and the most renowned of Apicius's culinary discoveries was the _alec_, a compound of their livers.

Snails were also a great dainty. Fulvius Herpinus was immortalized for the discovery of the art of fattening them on bran and other articles; and Horace informs us they were served up, broiled upon silver gridirons, to give a relish to wine. Oysters were brought from our coasts to Rome, and frozen oysters were much extolled. Grasshoppers, locusts, and various insects, were equally acceptable to our first gastronomic legislators. Acorns, similar to those now eaten in Spain, formed part of a Roman dessert; the best were brought from Naples and Tarentum. It does not appear that the ancients had a great variety in their vegetable diet; condiments to stimulate the sluggish appetite seemed to be their principal research: amongst these the asafoetida, which is to this day highly relished in the East, was an indispensable ingredient; this has been doubted by various naturalists, but it appears certain, since Pliny informs us that it was frequently adulterated by _sagapenum_, which bears the strongest resemblance to it. This substance was called _laser_, and by many tasteless persons, such as Aristophanes and Apuleius, considered offensive and disgusting; hence the latter, "lasere infectas carnes," and "laseratum porcellum." According to Theophrastus, asafoetida was collected and preserved, as it is at present, in skins; and, despite its estimation as a culinary ingredient, it was not unfrequently named _stercus diaboli_. In addition to this gum, they seasoned their food with various other strong articles, such as coriander and cummin seeds, sumac, saffron, cinnamon, thyme; with divers peppers, salt, and sal-ammoniac.

Instead of bread, which was only introduced in Rome 580, A. D. they used a heavy kind of unleavened paste, similar to the present _polenta_. This nourishment occasioned frequent indigestion, hence the use of warm water after meals, and the necessity of emetics. Warm water was sold about the streets in their thermopolia, and Seneca observed the paleness and debility that arose from its use and abuse; a practice recorded by Martial:

Et potet calidam, qui mihi livet, aquam.

While water was thus freely drunk, wine was not disregarded; but the various articles with which it was adulterated, must have rendered it any thing but a delectable potation according to our received ideas. Thus we see the Greeks putting salt and sea-water in theirs; at other times dissolving mastic and myrrha, or infusing wormwood, in their choicest Falernian. Like modern tasters, however, they knew the method of developing the _bouquet_ by warmth; and, to appreciate the flavour, they frequently added hot water. That wines of a resinous taste were esteemed, appears from Martial:

Resinata bibis vina, Falerna fugis.

But we may conclude that, according to our modern taste, their boasted wines did not equal ours either in flavour or in delicacy.

The ancients however were very careful in the preparation of their bread, justly called the "staff of life," as constituting one of the most wholesome and nutritious parts of our food. The Athenian bakers bore the palm in the confection of this article. Archestratus recommended the wheaten bread of Athens and the barley meal of Lesbos, which their poets asserted was supplied to the gods. The Grecian millet bread was also in great repute, while delicious bread was also made with the _Zea_, the _Triticum Spella_ of Linnaeus and the _Far_ of the Romans. A species of wheat called _Tiphe_ was also much esteemed. Brown bread was made of a grain called _Olyra_, and it was with loaves of this description that Homer's heroes fed their horses.

It appears that great attention was paid to the kneeding and the boulting: unboulted meal was called _Syncomista_, and when finely boulted in a woollen cloth, _Semidalis_. The most approved method of baking was in the _Cribanus_ or _Clibanus_, an earthen or iron vessel, which they surrounded with charcoal. Bread according to its superior or inferior quality was consecrated to various divinities. Thus the goddesses used the _Homoros_, and Hecate was served with the _Hemiantium_, but we are unacquainted with the preparation of these varieties. The flour of barley was used by the _Canephorae_, or virgins that bore the sacred baskets in the festivals of Ceres, to sprinkle themselves. Bread according to its particular kind was served up in various ways; wheaten bread was brought to table upon fresh leaves; barley bread upon a layer of reeds. At the feasts of Ceres and Proserpine, a large loaf was kneeded and baked by the ladies of Delos, called _Achainas_ which gave the name to the festival, instituted most probably in Achaia, to commemorate the invention of bread, which Ceres taught to Eumelus, a citizen of Patrae.

Barley for the preparation of bread was used long before wheat or any other sort of corn, and hence Artemidorus calls it _Antiquissimum in cibis_. It was also given to the athletae who were thence called _Hordearii_. In latter times it was chiefly given to cattle, although used by the poorer classes. Barley bread was also issued to soldiers as a punishment, the loss of wheaten bread being considered a great privation. Vegetius tells us that soldiers who had been guilty of any offence were thus punished--"_hordeum pro frumentuo cogebantur accipere_." In the second Punic war we find Marcellus sentencing the cohorts that had lost their standards to this infliction. Suetonius also informs us that Augustus only allowed barley to the troops that had misbehaved in action. _Cohortes, si quae cepissent, loco, decimatas hordeo pavit._ But there is reason to believe that under the head of bread were included various kinds of cakes, many of which were prepared with honey, some of them were called _Placentae omnigenae_, and were prepared by bakers who bore the name of _pistores dulciarii_. This honied bread or cake it appears, was frequently resorted to, as in the present day, to quiet troublesome children as well as to please the taste of fastidious patients. Thus Martial:

Leniat ut fauces medicus, quas aspera vexat
Assidue tussis, Parthenopae tibi
Mella dari, nucleosque jubet dulcesque placentas.
Est quidquid pueros non sinit esse truces,
At tu non cessas totis tussire diebus
Non est haec tussis, Parthenopae gula est.

The bread made of spring wheat was called _Collabus_, and the Athenians considered a toasted _Collabus_ eaten with a slice of a pig's belly, the very best cure for a surfeit occasioned by an excess in anchovies, especially the Phalerian ones, which were deemed fit for the gods.

Fragments of bread it appears were used instead of napkins to wipe the fingers on. These were called _Apomygdaliae_, with which Aristophanes fed his sausage-makers. These dainty bits were usually thrown to dogs.

The cooks of the ancients appear to have been much more consummate in their art than our modern practitioners. Athenaeus records various descriptions of their incomparable science. A new dish immortalized its inventor, and transmitted his name to posterity. Apicius's cakes were called Apicians; and Aristoxenes had attained such perfection in curing hams, that the glorious appellation of Aristoxenians was bestowed upon them. Philosophers and poets gloried in their culinary science; the pleasures of the table were the subject of their writings and their conversation. Archestratus tells us with delight, that, although various delicacies can only be enjoyed in their proper season, yet we can talk about them with watering mouths all the year round.

One of these illustrious ministers of luxury attained such a degree of enviable perfection, that he could serve up a pig boiled on one side and roasted on the other, and moreover stuffed with all possible delicacies, without the incision through which these dainties were introduced being perceived. Supplicated to explain this wonderful secret, he swore solemnly by the manes of all the heroes who fell at Marathon, or conquered at Salamis, that he would not reveal this sacred mystery for one year. When the happy day arrived and he was no longer bound by his vows, he condescended to inform his anxious hearers, that the animal had been bled to death by a wound under the shoulder, through which the entrails were extracted; and afterwards hanging up the victim by the legs, the stuffing was crammed down his throat. One half of the pig was then covered with a thick paste, seasoned with wine and oil, put into a brass oven, and gently and tenderly roasted: when the skin was brown and crisp, our hero proceeded to boil the other moiety; the paste was then removed, and the boiled and roasted grunter triumphantly served up.

So refined was the taste of the ancient _bons vivans_, that Montanus, according to Juvenal, would proclaim, at the first bite, whether an oyster was of English produce or not. Sandwich is believed to have been the favoured spot whence Rome imported her oysters and other shell-fish. Shrimps and prawns must have been in great estimation, since we find Apicius quitting his residence at Minturnae, upon hearing that the shrimps of Africa were finer than those he could procure in Campania. He instantly set sail for the happy coast, despite a gale of wind: after encountering a desperate storm, he reached the wished-for land of promise; but alas!--the fishermen displayed the largest prawns they could collect, and to his cruel disappointment, they could not vie, either in delicacy or beauty, with those of Minturnae. He immediately ordered his pilot to steer a homeward course, and left Africa's shore with ineffable contempt.

These ingenious gluttons had recourse to every experiment that could add to their enjoyment. Philoxenus, and many others, used to accustom themselves to swallow hot water, that they might be able to attack scalding dishes before less fireproof guests would dare to taste them.

Sinon maintained that cookery was the basis of all arts and sciences: natural philosophy taught us the seasoning of dishes; architecture directed the construction of stoves and chimneys; the fine arts, the beautiful symmetry of each dish; and the principles of war were applied to the drilling and marshalling of cooks, confectioners, and scullions, posting proper sentries to watch the fires, and videttes to keep off idle intruders. That man is a "cooking animal" is considered one of his proudest attributes, and a proper bill of fare may be considered as the _ne plus ultra_ of human genius!

It may be easily imagined that when good living became a science, _sponging_ upon the wealthy _Amphitryons_ became an art amongst the needy _bons vivants_, and parasites, as in the present day, were ever seen fawning and cringing for their dinner. These sycophants stuck so close to their patrons, that they were called shadows. Thus Horace:

----Quos Moecenas adduxerat umbras.

They were also called flies, [Greek: gyias], by the Greeks, and _Muscae_ by the Romans; no doubt from their constant buzzing about the object of their devotion. Plautus calls an entertainment free from these despicable guests, _Hospitium sine muscis_. Horus Apollo tells us that in Egypt a fly was the symbol of an impudent fellow; because, although driven away, it will constantly return. We have, however, reason to believe that the term _parasite_ was originally applied to the followers of princes, Patroclus was the parasite of Achilles, and Memnon of Idomeneus; it was only in later times that the appellation was given to despicable characters and "_trencher friends_."

Our Shakspeare had adopted the term of the ancients, as appears in the following passages:

In such as you,
That creep like _shadows_ by him, and do sigh
At each his needless heavings.

And again--

Feast-won, fast-lost, one cloud of winter showers.
These _flies_ are couched.

While climate points out the most suitable articles of food, it exercises a singular influence over their qualities and properties, more especially in vegetable substances. We find plants which are poisonous in some countries, edible and wholesome in others. Next to climate, culture and soil modify plants to a singular degree: flowers which yield a powerful perfume in some latitudes, are inodorous in others; and, according to climate, their aroma is pleasant or distressing. A striking proof of this fact can be adduced from the well-known effects of perfumes in Rome; where the inhabitants, especially females, cannot support the scent even of the rose, which has been known to produce syncope, illustrating the poet's line to

Die of a rose in aromatic pain.

This variety in the action of vegetable substances is more particularly observable in such as are considered medicinal. Opium, narcotics, and various drugs, are more powerful in warm climates than in northern regions. The Italian physicians express astonishment at the comparatively large doses prescribed by our practitioners.

Cultivation brings forth singular intermediate productions; and by its magic power we have seen the coriaceous and bitter almond transformed into the luscious peach, the sloe converted into the delicious plum, and the common crab transformed into the golden pippin. The same facts are observed in vegetables; the celery sprung from the nauseous and bitter _apium graveolens_, and the colewort, is metamorphosed into the cabbage and the cauliflower. All cruciform plants degenerate within the tropics, but acquire increased energies in cold countries.

Recent experiments in Germany have demonstrated that in times of scarcity, the wood of several trees may be converted into a nutritious substance. The fibres of the beech, birch, lime, poplar, fir, and various other trees, when dried, ground, and sifted into an impalpable powder, constitute a very palatable article of food. If cold water be poured on this ligneous flour, enclosed in a linen bag, it becomes milky, and considerable pressure and kneading is required to express the amylaceous or starchy part of it. Professor Von Buch, in his travels through Norway and Lapland, has fully described the Norwegian _barke brod_. We find the savages scattered along the coast of the great austral continent mixing up a paste of the bark of the gum-tree with the ants and the other insects, with their larvae, which they find in it. Ground dried fish and fish-bones have from time immemorial been converted into bread; Arrianus tells us that Nearchus found several nations on the shores of the Red Sea living upon a bread of this description.

It is thus evident that all substances from the animal and vegetable kingdom appear to afford more or less nutriment, provided that they contain no elements unlike the animal matter of the being they are intended to nourish. All others are either medicinal or poisonous. Food may be considered nourishing in the ratio of its easy digestion or solution. Magendie attributes the nutritious principle to the greater or lesser proportion of nitrogen or azote. According to his view of the subject, the substances that contain little or no nitrogen are the saccharine and acid fruits, oils, fats, butter, mucilaginous vegetables, refined sugar, starch, gum, vegetable mucus, and vegetable gelatin. The different kinds of corn, rice and potatoes, are elements of the same kind. The azotical aliments, on the contrary, are vegetable albumen, gluten, and those principles which are met with in the seeds, stems and leaves of grasses and herbs, the seeds of leguminous plants, such as peas and beans, and most animal substances, with the exception of fat.

To this doctrine, it was objected, that animals who feed upon substances containing little nitrogen, and the field negroes, who consume large quantities of sugar, might be adduced as an exception. Magendie replies, that almost all the vegetables consumed by man and animals contain more or less nitrogen--that this element enters in large quantity in the composition of impure sugar--and lastly, that the nations whose principal food consists in rice, maize, or potatoes, consume at the same time milk and cheese.

To support his theory, this physiologist had recourse to various curious experiments on dogs, whom he fed with substances which contained no nitrogen. During the first seven or eight days, the animals were brisk and active, and took their food and drink as usual. In the course of the second week they began to get thin, although their appetite continued good, and they took daily between six and eight ounces of sugar. The emaciation increased during the third week; they became feeble, lost their appetite and activity, and at the same time ulcers appeared in the cornea of their eyes. The animals still continued to eat three or four ounces of sugar daily, but, nevertheless, became at length so feeble as to be incapable of motion, and died on a day varying from the 31st to the 34th: and it must be recollected that dogs will live the same length of time without any food.

The same were the results where dogs were fed upon gum, and butter; when they were fed with olive oil and water the phenomena were the same, with the exception of ulceration of the cornea.

In Denmark, a diet of bread and water for a month is considered equivalent to the punishment of death. Dr. Stark died in consequence of experiments which he instituted on himself to ascertain the effects of a sugar diet.

Muller has justly observed that these experiments of Magendie have thrown considerable light on the causes and the mode of treatment of the gout and calculous disorders. The subjects of these diseases are generally persons who live well and eat largely of animal food; most urinary calculi, gravelly deposits, the gouty concretions, and the perspiration of gouty persons, contain an abundance of uric acid, a substance in which nitrogen is contained in a large proportion. Thus, by diminishing the proportion of azotical substance in the food, the gout and gravelly deposits may be prevented.

The experiments of Tiedemann and Gmelin have confirmed those of Magendie, whose curious observations on the necessity of varying diet I shall transcribe.

1. A dog fed on white bread, wheat, and water, did not live more than fifty days.

2. Another dog, who was kept on brown soldiers' bread did not suffer.

3. Rabbits and guineapigs who were fed solely on any one of the following substances--oats, barley, cabbage, and carrots,--died of inanition in fifteen days; but they did not suffer when these substances were given simultaneously or in succession.

4. An ass fed on dry rice, and afterwards on boiled rice, lived only fifteen days; a cock, on the contrary, was fed with boiled rice for several months with no ill consequence.

5. Dogs fed with cheese alone, or hard eggs, lived for a long time; but they became feeble and lost their hair.

6. Rodent animals will live a very long time on muscular substances.

7. After an animal has been fed for a long period on one kind of aliment, which, if continued, will not support life, allowing it the former customary food will not save it: he will eat eagerly, but will die as soon as if he had continued to be restricted to the article of food which was first given him.

Dr. Paris is of opinion that all that these experiments tend to prove is, that animals cannot exist upon highly-concentrated aliment. Horses fed on concentrated aliment are liable to various disorders, originating from diseased action of the stomach and liver, broken wind, staggers, blindness, &c.

Professor Muller has given an excellent definition of indigestion. "It is a state of the digestive organs in which either they do not secrete the fluid destined for the solution of the aliment, or they are in such a condition of irritability or atony, that by the mechanical irritation of the food, painful sensations and irregular motions are exerted."

But the most curious experiments made on the changes which the food undergoes in the stomach, according to the greater or lesser facility with which it is digested, were those of Dr. Beaumont. This physiologist had the rare opportunity of investigating this subject in a patient of the name of St. Martin, who came under his care in consequence of a gun-shot wound, which left a considerable opening in the stomach, which, when empty, could be explored to the depth of five or six inches by artificial distention. The food and the drink could in this manner be seen to enter it. This enabled him to keep an interesting journal and table, showing the time required for the digestion of different kinds of food, which were taken with bread or vegetables, or both. The following are some of his interesting observations:

_Experiment 33._ At 1 o'clock St. Martin dined on roast beef, bread, and potatoes--in half an hour examined the contents of the stomach, found what he had eaten reduced to a mass resembling thick porridge. At 2 o'clock, nearly all chymified--a few distinct particles of food still to be seen. At half-past four, chymification complete. At 6 o'clock nothing in the stomach but a little gastric juice tinged with bile.

_Ex. 42._ At 8 a.m., breakfast of three hard-boiled eggs, pancakes, and coffee. At half-past eight, found a heterogenous mixture of the articles slightly digested. At a quarter-past ten, no part of breakfast could be seen.

_Ex. 43._ At 2 o'clock same day, dined on roast pig and vegetables. At 3 they were chymified; and at half-past four nothing remained but a little gastric juice.

_Ex. 18_, in a third series. At half-past eight a.m., two drams of fresh fried sausage, in a fine muslin bag, were suspended in the stomach of St. Martin, who immediately afterwards breakfasted on the same kind of sausage, and a piece of broiled mutton, wheaten bread, and a pint of coffee. At half-past eleven, stomach half empty, contents of bag about half diminished. At 2 o'clock p.m., stomach empty and clean, contents of bag all gone with the exception of fifteen grains, consisting of small pieces of cartilaginous and membranous fibres, and the spices of the sausage, which last weighed six grains.

As I have elsewhere observed, various are the theories that have been entertained in regard to digestion, but the experiments of Dr. Beaumont seem to have proved beyond a doubt, that this operation is due to the action of the gastric juice, with which he was enabled to produce artificial digestion. Having obtained one ounce of this solvent from the stomach of his patient, he put into it a solid piece of recently-boiled beef, weighing three drams, and placed the vessel that contained it in a water bath heated to 100 deg. In forty minutes digestion had commenced on the surface of the meat; in fifty minutes, the fluid was quite opake and cloudy, the external texture began to separate and become loose; in sixty minutes, chyme began to form. At 1 p.m. (two hours after the commencement of the experiment), the cellular substance was destroyed, the muscular fibres loose and floating about in fine small threads very tender and soft. In six hours they were nearly all digested--a few fibres only remaining. After the lapse of ten hours, every part of the meat was completely digested. The artificial digestion by these experiments appears to be but little slower than the natural process--they also demonstrate the influence of the temperature, and the quantity of the solvent secretion. Having obtained from St. Martin two ounces of gastric juice, he divided this quantity into two equal portions, and laid in each an equal quantity of masticated roast beef. One he placed in a water bath at the temperature of 99 deg. Farh.--and left the other exposed to the open air at the temperature of 34 deg.; a third similar portion of meat he kept in a phial, with an ounce of cold water. An hour after the commencement of the experiment, St. Martin had finished his breakfast, which consisted of the same meat with biscuit, butter, and coffee. Two hours after the meat had been put into the phial, the portion in the warm gastric juice was as far advanced in chymification as the food in the stomach; the meat in the cold gastric juice was less acted on, and that in the cold water only slightly macerated. In two hours and forty-five minutes from the time that the experiment was begun, the food in the stomach was completely digested, the stomach empty, while even at the end of six hours the meat in the gastric juice was only half digested. Dr. Beaumont, therefore, having procured 12 drams of fresh gastric juice, added now a portion to each of the phials containing meat and gastric juice, and to a portion of the half-digested food which he had withdrawn from the stomach two hours after the commencement of the experiment, and which had not advanced towards solution. After eight hours' maceration, the portions of meat in the cold gastric juice, and in the cold water, were little changed, but, from the time of the addition of the fresh gastric juice, digestion went on rapidly in the other phials, which were kept at the proper heat, and at the end of 24 hours, the meat which had been withdrawn from the stomach after digestion had commenced, were, with the exception of a piece of meat that had not been masticated, converted into a thickish pulpy mass of a reddish-brown colour: the meat in the warm gastric juice was also digested, though less perfectly, while that in the cold gastric juice was scarcely more acted on than the meat in the water, which was merely macerated. Dr. Beaumont now exposed these two phials containing the meat in cold gastric juice, and meat in water, to the heat of the water bath for 24 hours, and the gastric juice, which when cold had no power on the meat, now digested it; while the meat in the water underwent no change, except that towards the end of the experiment, putrefaction had commenced. The antiseptic properties of the gastric juice were fully demonstrated in several other experiments.

Various philosophers, in idle disquisitions, have endeavoured by the most absurd hypotheses to determine what is the natural food of man, and to show that he is not created omnivorous. The comparison between our species and animals confutes these vain theories. The masticatory and digestive organization of man assigns to him an intermediate rank between carnivorous and herbivorous creatures. The teeth may be said by their figure and construction to bear a relation with our natural food. The teeth of flesh-eating animals rise in sharp prominences to seize and lacerate their prey, and those of the lower jaw shut within those of the superior one. The herbivorous animals are not armed with these formidable weapons, but have broad flat surfaces with intermixed plates of enamel, that they should wear less rapidly in the constant labour of grinding and triturating. In the carnivorous, the jaws can only move backward and forward; in the herbivorous their motion is lateral, as observed in the cow when chewing her cud. Beasts of prey tear and swallow their food in masses, while in others it undergoes a careful communition before it is transmitted to the stomach. The teeth of man only resemble those of carnivorous animals by their enamel being confined to their external surface, while in the freedom of the motion of the jaws from side to side they partake of the conformation of the herbivorous. The teeth and jaws of man are in all respects more similar to those of monkeys than any other animals; only in some of the simiae the canine teeth are much longer and stronger, and denote a carnivorous propensity.

It is to the abuse of this omnivorous faculty that Providence has bestowed upon mankind, that we owe many of the diseases under which our species labours. "Multos morbos, multa fercula fecerunt," sayeth Seneca; yet we are far more temperate in the present age than the ancients during the period of their boasted high civilization and prosperity. Their excesses must have been of the most disgusting nature, since, to indulge more easily in their gluttonous propensities, they had recourse to emetics both before and after their meals. "Vomunt ut edant, edunt ut vomunt, et epulas quas toto orbe conquirunt nec concoquere dignantur," was the reproach of the above-quoted philosopher. Suetonius and Dion Cassius give Vitellius the credit of having introduced this revolting custom into fashion; and splendid vessels for the purpose were introduced in their feasts. Martial alludes to it in the following lines:

Nec coenat prius, aut recumbit, ante
Quam septem vomuit meri deunces.

And Juvenal tells us that the bath was polluted by this incredible act of bestiality,--

Et crudum pavonem in balnea portas.

The sums expended by the ancients on their table exceed all belief. Vitellius expended for that purpose upwards of 3200_l._ daily, and some of his repasts cost 40,000_l._ At one of them, according to Suetonius, 7000 birds and 2000 fishes were served up. Aelius Verus laid out 600,000 sestertii on one meal; and some of the dishes of Heliogabalus cost about 4000_l._ of our money. The excesses of this monster were such, that Herodianus affirms that he wanted to ascertain, not only the flavour of human flesh, but of the most disgusting and nameless substances. The freaks related of this emperor are scarcely credible; but his gastronomic profusion may be easily conceived when we find that his very mats were made with the down of hares or soft feathers found under the wings of partridges! When such ideas of _enjoyment_ prevailed, can we wonder that Philoxenus should have wished that he had the throat of a crane, that he might prolong the delights of eating!