Chapter V: The Malay (4)

Our early ancestors were remarkable for their frugality, and it is supposed that luxurious, or, at least, full living was introduced by the Danes: it has been even asserted that the verb _gormandize_ was derived from _Gormond_, a Danish king, who was persuaded by Alfred to be baptized. Erasmus observed that the English were particularly fond of good fare. William the Conqueror, and Rufus, were in the habit of giving most splendid entertainments; and the former monarch was such an irascible epicure, that, upon one occasion, an underdone crane having been served up by the _master of the cury_, he would have knocked him down but for the timely interference of his _dapifer_, or purveyor of the mouth. This office of _dapifer_, with that of _lardrenius_, _magnus coquus_, _coquorum prepositus_, and _coquus regius_, were high dignitaries in those days. Cardinal Otto, the pope's legate, being at Oxford in 1238, his brother was his _magister coquorum_; and the reasons assigned for his holding that office were his brother's suspicious fears "_ne procuraretur aliquid venenosum, quod valde timebat legatus_." These officers were not unfrequently clergymen, who were elevated to the bench for their valuable services.

Whatever barbarity the ancients may have shown in preparing their dainty dishes, none could have surpassed in refinement of cruelty. Their method of roasting and eating a goose alive, is thus directed: "Take a goose or a duck, or some such _lively creature_, (but the goose is best of all for the purpose,) pull off all her feathers, only the head and neck must be spared; then make a fire round about her, not too close to her, that the smoke do not choke her, and that the fire may not burn her too soon, nor too far off, that she may not escape the fire; within the circle of the fire, let there be small cups and pots full of water, wherein salt and honey are mingled, and let there be set also chargers full of sodden apples, cut into small pieces in the dish. The goose must be all larded and basted over with butter, to make her the more fit to be eaten, and may roast the better. Put the fire about her but do not make too much haste, when as you see her begin to roast; for by walking about, and flying here and there, being cooped in by the fire that stops her way out, the unscared goose is kept in; she will fall to drink the water to quench her thirst and cool her heart, and all her body, and the apple sauce will cleanse and empty her, and when she wasteth, and consumes inwardly, always wet her head and heart with a wet sponge, and when you see her giddy with running and begin to stumble, her heart wants moisture, and she is roasted enough. Take her up and set her before your guest, and she will cry as you cut off any part from her, and will be almost eaten up before she is dead. _It is mighty pleasant_ to behold."

Our forefathers were most ingenious in these diabolical fancies, we find in Portar's Magick the way how to persuade a goose to roast _herself_ if you have a lack of cooks.

The heroic conduct of French cooks has been recorded in history, and compared with the noble devotion of the ancients. Vatel, maitre d'hotel of Louis XIV., put an end to his wretched existence in consequence of fish not having arrived in time for dinner. On this sad event being reported to his sovereign, he both praised and blamed his courage; and, to use the words of Madame de Sevigne, he perished "a force d'avoir de l'honneur a sa maniere; on loua fort et l'on blama son courage." It is strange that Napoleon should have used the very same expressions when speaking of one of his most distinguished generals. In more modern times we have heard of persons who expected that clerical functions should be combined with various lay duties, as appears by the following curious advertisement in a late paper:

"Wanted, for a family who have bad health, a sober, steady person, in the capacity of doctor, surgeon, apothecary, and man-midwife. He must occasionally act as butler, and dress hair and wigs. He will be required sometimes to read prayers, and to preach a sermon every Sunday. A good salary will be given." This was certainly an economical speculation for the use of soul and body.

Cooks have sometimes been obliged to resort to pious frauds; and it is related of our Richard Coeur de Lion, that, being very ill during the holy wars, he took a strange fancy for a bit of pork, but, as no pig could be procured, a plump Saracen child was roasted as a substitute; and it was remarked that Richard was ever after partial to pork.

There is little doubt but that our forefathers were harder livers than the present generation: even within the memory of man, drinking to excess is a vice seldom observed, excepting in some individuals belonging to the old school. The hours of refection have been singularly altered; and while our fashionable circles seldom sit down to table before eight o'clock in the evening, we find in olden chronicles that even royalty was used to dine at nine in the morning, more especially upon the Continent. In the Heptaemeron of the Queen of Navarre we find an account of the manner of spending the day:

"As soon as the morning rose, they went to the chamber of Madame Oysille, whom they found already at her prayers; and when they had heard during a good hour her lecture, and then the mass, they went to dine at ten o'clock, and afterwards each privately retired to his room, but did not fail at noon to meet in the meadow. Vespers heard, they went to supper; and after having played a thousand sports in the meadow they retired to bed."

During the reign of Charles V. of France, the court dined at ten, supped at seven, and retired to rest at nine. Holinshed gives the following curious description of our early diet: "Our tables are oftentimes more plentifully garnished than those of other nations, and this trade has continued with us since the very beginning; for, before the Romans found out and knew the way into our country, our predecessors fed largely upon flesh and milk, whereof there was great abundance in this isle, because they applied their chief studies unto pasturage and feeding.

"In Scotland, likewise, they have given themselves unto very ample and large diet, wherein as for some respect nature doth make them equal with us, so otherwise they far exceed us in over much and distemperate gormandize, and so engross their bodies, that divers of them do oft become unapt to any other purpose than to spend their time in large tabling and belly cheer. In old times these North Britons did give themselves universally to great abstinence; and in time of war their soldiers would often feed but once, or twice at the most, in two or three days, especially if they held themselves in secret, or could have no issue out of their bogs and morasses, through the presence of an enemy; and in this distress they used to eat a certain kind of confection, whereof so much as a bean would qualify their hunger above common expectation. In those days, also, it was taken for a great offence over all to eat either goose, hare, or hen, because of a certain superstitious opinion which they had conceived of these three creatures. Amongst other things, baked meats, dishes never before this man's (James I.) days seen in Scotland, were generally so provided for by virtue of this act, that it was not lawful for any to eat of the same under the degree of a gentleman, and those only but on high and festival days. In number of dishes and changes of meat, the nobility of England (whose cooks are for the most part musical-headed Frenchmen and strangers) do most exceed; sith there is no day in manner that passeth over their heads, wherein they have not only beef, mutton, veal, lamb, kid, pork, cony, capon, pig, or so many of these as the season yieldeth, but also some portion of the red and fallow deer, beside great variety of fish and wild fowl, and thereto sundry other delicates, wherein the sweet hand of the seafaring Portingale is not wanting; so that for a man to dine with one of them, and to taste of every dish that standeth before him, is rather to yield unto a conspiracy, with a great deal of meat for the speedy suppression of natural health, than the use of a necessary mean to satisfy himself with a competent repast, to sustain his body withal. The chief part, likewise, of their daily provision is brought in before them commonly in silver vessels, if they be of the degree of barons, bishops, and upwards, and placed upon their tables; whereof when they have taken what it pleaseth them, the rest is reserved, and afterwards sent down to their serving-men and waiters.

"The gentlemen and merchants keep much about one rate, and each of them contenteth himself with four, five, or six dishes, when they have but small resort; or, peradventure, with one or two, or three at the most, when they have no strangers. And yet their servants have their ordinary diet assigned, besides such as is left at their masters' boards, and not appointed to be brought thither the second time, which, nevertheless, is often seen, generally in venison, lamb, or some especial dish whereon the merchantman himself liketh to feed when it is cold.

"At such times as the merchants do make their ordinary or voluntary feasts, it is a world to see what great provision is made of all manner of delicate meats from every quarter of the country, wherein, beside that they are often comparable herein to the nobility of the land, they will seldom regard any thing that the butcher usually killeth, but reject the same as not worthy to come in place. In such cases, also, _geliffes_ of all colours, mixed with a variety in the representation of sundry flowers, herbs, trees, forms of beasts, fish, fowls, and fruits; and thereunto _marchpane_ wrought with no small curiosity, tarts of divers hues and sundry denominations; conserves of old fruits, foreign and home-bred; suckets, codiniacs, marmalades, sugar-bread, ginger-bread, florentines, wild-fowl, venison of all sorts, and sundry outlandish confections, altogether seasoned with sugar, (which Pliny calls _mel ex arundinibus_, a device not common nor greatly used in old times at the table, but only in medicine, although it grew in Arabia, India, and Sicilia,) do generally bear the sway, besides infinite devices of our own not possible for me to remember. Of the potato, and such _venerous_ roots as are brought out of Spain, Portingale, and the Indies, to furnish our banquets, I speak not, wherein our _Mures_, of no less force, and to be had about Crosby Ravenswath, do now begin to have place.

"And as all estates do exceed in strangeness and number of costly dishes, so these forget not to use the like excess in wine, insomuch as there is no kind to be had (neither any where more store of all sorts than in England, although we have none growing with us; but yearly the proportion of twenty or thirty thousand tun and upwards, notwithstanding the daily restraints on the same brought over to us) whereof at great meetings there is not some store to be had. Neither do I mean this of small wines only, such as claret, white, red, French, &c. which amount to about fifty-six sorts, according to the number of regions from whence they come; but also of the thirty kinds of Italian, Grecian, Spanish, Canarian, &c., whereof _Vernage_, _Cate-pument_, _Raspis_, _Muscadell_, _Romnie_, _Bastard Fire_, _Osey_, _Caprike_, claret, and malmsey, are not least of all accounted of, because of their strength and value. For as I have said of meat, so, the stronger the wine is, the more it is desired, by means thereof in old times, the best was called _Theologicum_ because it was had from the clergy and religious men, unto whose houses many of the laity would often send for bottles filled with the same, being sure that they would neither drink nor be served of the worst, or such as was any ways mingled or brewed by the vintner; nay, the merchant would have thought that his soul should have gone straightways to the devil, if he should have served him with any other than the best. Furthermore, when they have had their course which nature yieldeth, sundry sorts of artificial stuff, as _ypocras_ and wormwood wine, must in like manner succeed in turns, besides stale ale and strong beer, which nevertheless bears the greatest brunt in drinking, and are of so many sorts and ages as it pleaseth the brewer to make.

"In feasting, the artisans do exceed after their manner, especially at bridals, purifications of women, and such like odd meetings, where it is incredible to tell what meat is consumed and spent; each one bringing such a dish, or so many as his wife and he do consult upon, but always with this consideration, that the _leefer_ (the more liberal) friend shall have the best entertainment. This is also commonly seen at these banquets, that the good man of the house is not charged with any thing, saving bread, drink, house-room, and fire.

"Heretofore there hath been much more time spent in eating and drinking than commonly is in these days; for whereas of old we had breakfasts in the forenoon, _beverages_ or _nuntions_ after dinner, and thereto _rere suppers_, generally when it was time to go to rest (a toy brought in by Hard Canutus), now these odd repasts, thanked be God! are very well left, and each one in manner (except here and there some young hungry stomach that cannot fast till dinner-time contenteth himself with dinner and supper only). The Normans, disliking the gormandize of Canutus, ordained, after their arrival, that no table should be covered above once in the day; which Huntingdon imputeth to their avarice: but, in the end, either waxing weary of their own frugality, or suffering the cockle of old custom to overgrow the good corn of their new constitution, they fell to such liberty, that in often feeding they surmounted Canutus surnamed the Hardy; for whereas he covered his table but three or four times in the day, they spread their cloths five or six times, and in such wise as I before rehearsed. They brought in also the custom of long and stately sitting at meat, which is not yet left, although it be a great expense of time, and worthy reprehension; for the nobility and gentlemen, and merchantmen, especially at great meetings, do sit commonly till two or three of the clock at afternoon, so that with many it is an hard matter to rise from the table to go to evening prayer, and return from thence to come time enough to supper."

The early prevalence of drinking in England seems to have been derived from our foreign intercourse. In the reign of Elizabeth and James I. we find various statutes against ebriety.

Tom Nash, in his "Pierce Pennilesse" says, "Superfluity in drink is a sin that ever since we have mixed ourselves with the Low Countries is counted honourable; but, before we knew their lingering wars, was held in that highest degree of hatred that might be. Then, if we had seen a man go wallowing in the streets, or lain sleeping under the board, we should have spit at him, and warned all our friends out of his company."

According to our laws intoxication is looked upon as an aggravation of any offence. Sir Edward Coke calls a drunkard _voluntarius daemon_. The Romans thought differently: with them intoxication was often deemed an extenuation of guilt, "Per vinum delapsis capitalis poena remittitur." The Greeks, more severe, had a law of Pittacus that enacted the infliction of a double punishment on those who committed a crime when drunk.

That hard drinking was introduced from Flanders and Holland, and other northern countries, seems probable from the derivation of many of the expressions used in carousing. The phrase of being "half-seas over," as applied to a state of drunkenness, originated from _op zee_, which in Dutch meant _over sea_; and Gifford informs us that it was a name given to a stupifying beer introduced in England from the Low Countries, and called _op zea_; thus Jonson in the Alchemist:

I do not like the dulness of your eye;
It hath a heavy cast, 'tis _up see Dutch_.

An inebriating draught was also called an _up see freeze_, from the strong _Friesland_ beer. The word "carouse," according to Gifford and Blount, is derived from the name of a large glass, called by the Danes _ruuse_, or from the German words _gar_, _all_, and _ausz out_: hence drink _all out_.

Nash, in the work above quoted, says, "Now he is nobody that cannot drink _super nagulum_, carouse the hunters' _hoope_, quaff _upsee freze crosse_, with healths, gloves, mumpes, frolickes, and a thousand such domineering inventions." The origin of these slang terms is not quite evident. Drinking _super nagulum_, or on the nail, was a northern custom which consisted in only leaving one drop in the cup, which was poured upon the thumb-nail, to prove that justice had been done to the potation or toast; and that, to use the language of modern drinkers, the glass was _cleared_. This custom is alluded to by Bishop Hall in his "Mundus alter et idem," in which the Duke of Tenderbelly exclaims, "'Let never this goodly-formed goblet of wine go jovially through me:' and then he set it to his mouth, stole it off every drop, save a little remainder, which he was by custom to set upon his thumb's nail and lick it off." In Fletcher we find the phrase

I am thine _ad unguem_;

which meant he was ready to drink with him to this extent. The term _hoop_ alludes to the marks of hoops being traced upon drinking-pots to point out certain measures. Jack Cade says, "The three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops, and I will make it felony to drink small beer!" Hence probably the common saying of "drinking deep," or to the last hoop. The _peg tankard_ was another measured vessel used in the jollifications of our forefathers, and is still to be found in some parts of England, more especially in Derbyshire. Pegge in his "Anonymiana," thus describes them: "They have in the inside a row of eight pins, one above the other, from top to bottom; the tankard holds two quarts, so that there is a gill of ale between each peg or pin. The first person who drank was to empty to the first peg, the second was to drink to the next, and so on; by which means the pegs were so many measures to the compotators, making them all drink alike or the same quantity." In Archbishop Anselm's Canons made in the council at London in 1102, priests are enjoined not to go to drinking-bouts, nor to _drink pegs_: "Ut presbyteri non eant ad potationes, nec ad _pinnas_ bibant."

_Gloves_, also called _shoeing-horns_, were relishes to encourage drinking, like our modern _devils_, introduced for a similar purpose. Bishop Hall says in his description of a carousal, "Then comes me up a service of _shoeing-horns_ of all sorts,--salt cakes, red-herrings, anchovies, and gammon of bacon, and abundance of such _pullers on_." Massinger thus describes these incentives:

I usher
Such an unexpected dainty bit for breakfast
As never yet I cooked; 'tis not _botargo_,
Fried frogs, potatoes marrow'd, cavear,
Carps' tongues, the pith of an English chine of beef,
Nor our Italian delicate oil'd mushrooms,
And yet a _drawer on too_; and if you show not
An appetite, and a strong one, I'll not say
To eat it, but devour it, without grace too,
(For it will not stay a preface,) I am shamed,
And all my past provocatives will be jeer'd at.

The _botargo_ was a relish made of mullet's roes, and highly seasoned, much in use among the Italians.

Amongst many other curious frolics of hard drinkers, we find the use of what they called _flap-dragons_, or _snap-dragon_, which consisted in igniting combustible substances, which were swallowed while floating on the glass of liquor. Johnson describes them "a play in which they catch raisins out of burning brandy, and, extinguishing them by closing the mouth, eat them." This prank is not uncommon to the present day in boarding-schools in certain festive entertainments of the _young ladies_.

Drunkenness being considered a beastly propensity, its gradations were fixed by animal comparisons. In a curious treatise on drunkards by George Gascoigne, we find the following illustration of these degrees: "The first is _ape-drunk_, and he leaps and sings and hallos and danceth for the hearers; the second is _lion-drunk_, and he flings the pots about the house, calls the hostess w----, breaks the glass windows with his dagger, and is apt to quarrel with any man that speaks to him; the third is _swine-drunk_, heavy, lumpish, and sleepy, and cries for a little more drink and a few more clothes; the fourth is _sheep-drunk_, wise in his own conceit, when he cannot bring forth a right word; the fifth is _maudlin-drunk_, when a fellow will weep for kindness in the midst of his drink, and kiss you, saying, 'By G--! Captain, I love thee! Go thy ways; thou dost not think so often of me as I do of you; I would I could not love thee so well as I do!' and then he puts his finger in his eye and cries; the sixth is _martin-drunk_, when a man is drunk, and drinks himself sober ere he stir; the seventh is _goat-drunk_, when in drunkenness he hath no mind but in lechery; the eighth is _fox-drunk_, when he is crafty drunk, as many of the Dutchmen be, which will never bargain but when they are drunk. All these species, and more, I have seen practised _in one company at one sitting_."

Drunkenness has at various periods been resorted to in religious and political fervour. Daring the usurpation of Cromwell, the Cavaliers were wont to drink their king's health in bumpers of wine in which some crumbs of bread had been thrown, exclaiming, "God send this _crum-well_ down!" and Whitelocke, in his Memorials, records the following barbarous Catilinian orgies: "Five drunkards agree to drink the king's health in their blood, and that each of them should cut out a piece of his buttock, and fry it upon the gridiron, which was done by four of them, of whom one did bleed so exceedingly that they were fain to send for a chirurgeon, and so were discovered. The wife of one of them, hearing that her husband was amongst them, came to the room, and, taking up a pair of tongs, laid about her, and so saved the cutting of her husband's flesh."

The laws enacted to prevent drunkenness at various periods and by different governments, are curious. Domitian ordered all the vine-plants in the Roman territory to be rooted out. Charles IX. of France issued a similar edict. In 1536, under Francis I, a law was passed sentencing drunkards to imprisonment on bread and water for the first offence; a public whipping punished a second infringement; and, on reiteration, banishment and the loss of ears. The ancients, equally aware of the danger that arose from intoxication, were also anxious to prevent it. Draco inflicted capital punishments. Lycurgus destroyed the vineyards. The Athenians had officers, named _ophthalmos_, to prevent excesses in liquor drinking. In Rome, patricians were not allowed the use of wine until they had attained their thirty-fifth year. Wine was only drunk pure in the beginning of sober repasts in honour of _Deus Sospes_, and afterwards mixed with water in honour of _Jupiter Servator_. Notwithstanding these wise examples in support of prudent precepts, it appears that drunkenness was a common vice amongst the Romans. Tiberius was surnamed _Biberius_; and it was said of the parasite Bibulus, "dum vixit, aut bibit aut minxit." Aurelianus had officers of his household whose duty was to intoxicate foreign ambassadors; and Cato's partiality for the juice of the grape has been recorded by Horace,

Narratur et prisci Catonis
Saepe mero caluisse virtus.

In the middle ages, drinking was resorted to by the monks as a religious libation; and they also drank to the dead, a custom which was condemned as idolatrous. These excesses were restrained by various regulations, and in 817 the quantity of wine allowed each monk was fixed at five pints. Charlemagne, in his Capitularies, forbids the provocation of drinking healths and hob-nobbing (_pleger et trinquer_). Temperance societies are not modern institutions. In 1517, Sigismund de Dietrichstein established one under the auspices of St. Christopher; a similar association was formed in 1600 by Maurice Duke of Hesse, which, however, allowed a knight to drink seven _bocaux_, or glasses, at each meal, but only twice in the day. The size of these _bocaux_ is not recorded, but no doubt it was an endeavour to obtain a comparative condition of sobriety. Another temperate society, under the name of the Golden Ring, was instituted by Frederic V. Count Palatine.

Whether the influence of temperate societies or their advocates will tend to diminish the consumption of wine and spirituous liquors in the British empire, it is difficult to say. Hitherto every act of interference, either from individuals or on the part of the legislature, has proved not only abortive, but has increased the evil it was intended to remedy. The imposition of heavy duties only threw the distillation of spirits into the hands of illicit speculators instead of respectable capitalists; and, as M'Culloch justly remarks, "superadded the atrocities of the smuggler to the idleness and dissipation of the drunkard." During the latter part of the reign of George I. and the earlier period of George II. gin-drinking was so prevalent, that it was denounced from the pulpit and the press. At length ministers determined to make a vigorous effort to put a stop to the further use of spirituous liquors except as a cordial or medicine. To accomplish this end, a duty of twenty shillings was laid on spirits, exclusive of a heavy licence duty to retailers, while a fine of 100_l._ was levied on all defaulters. But instead of the anticipated effects, this act produced results directly opposite: the respectable dealers withdrew from a trade proscribed by the legislature; and the sale of spirits fell into the hands of the lowest and most profligate characters. The officers of the revenue were hunted down by the populace, and did not dare to enforce the law; and Tindal, in his Continuation of Rapin, says, "within two years of the passing of this act, it had become so odious and contemptible, that policy as well as humanity forced the commissioners of excise to mitigate its penalties." During these two years twelve thousand persons were convicted of offences connected with the sale of spirits, while no exertion could check the torrent of smuggling, and seven millions of gallons illicitly distilled were annually consumed in London and its environs. Our present consumption of British, Colonial and Foreign spirits is immense, but not equal to what it was at the period alluded to. The following is the account of this consumption in 1832:

In England, 1,530,988 imperial gallons, Foreign.
3,377,507 " Colonial.
7,259,287 " British.
In Scotland, 69,236 gallons, Foreign.
112,026 " Colonial.
5,407,097 " British.
In Ireland, 33,413 " Foreign.
24,432 " Colonial.
8,657,756 " British.

In that year, 1832, the total amount of spirits that paid duty in the United Kingdom was 2,646,258 gallons, yielding a revenue of 8,483,247_l._ In the same year the appearance and dread of the cholera produced a singular increase in the consumption of brandy. In the preceding year, 1831, the entries for home use in England had amounted to 1,194,717 gallons; but during this state of alarm, it increased to 1,508,924; in 1833, the danger having subsided, the consumption declined to its former level, and did not exceed 1,356,620 gallons.

From the above observations it may be inferred, that no penal enactments, no denunciations of canting senators or fanatic preachers, will ever succeed in checking the evils which must arise from excesses in the use of spirituous liquors. Gluttony and drunkenness can only be combated by the salutary effects of good example held out by the superior classes of society; by a gradual improvement in the moral education of the lower grades, for whom salutary amusements should be procured when a cheerful repose from their weekly labour will no longer be considered a breach of the sabbath. Diffusion of knowledge and habits of industry will do more than sanctimonious admonitions, and the Penny Magazines may be considered more hostile to gin-drinking than the ranting of pseudo-saints.

In regard to the quantity that we should eat, no rules can be established, as individuals differ widely from each other, both as to their capacity and their inclination. Mr. Abernethy maintained, that it would be well if the public would follow the advice of Mr. Addison, given in the Spectator, of reading the writings of L. Cornaro, who, having a weak constitution, which he seemed to have ruined by intemperance, so that he was expected to die at the age of 32, did at that period adopt a strict regimen, allowing himself only 12 ounces daily. To this remark Dr. Paris very properly observes, "When I see the habits of Cornaro so incessantly introduced as an example for imitation, and as the standard of dietetic perfection, I am really inclined to ask with Feggio, 'Did God create Lewis Cornaro to be a rule for all mankind in what they were to eat and drink?'"

In regard to the dyspeptic, Dr. Philips has given the very best advice in the following paragraph:

"The dyspeptic should carefully attend to the first feeling of satiety. There is a moment when the relish given by the appetite ceases; a single mouthful taken after this oppresses a weak stomach. If he eats slowly and carefully attends to this feeling, he will never overload the stomach." To this Dr. Paris adds, "Let him remember to _eat slowly_." "This is an important condition--for when we eat too fast we introduce a greater quantity of food into the stomach than the gastric juice can at once combat with; the consequence of which is, that hunger may continue for some time after the stomach has received more than would be sufficient, under the circumstances, to induce satiety."

The introduction of French cookery in every part of England amongst the wealthy will render attention to dietetic rules still more important than in former days; although Dean Swift, in his time, observed, "That modern epicurism had become so prevalent, that the world must be encompassed, before a washerwoman can sit down to breakfast."

INFLUENCE OF IMAGINATION.

Innumerable are the diseases that arise from our busy fancy. We are all subject to the tyrannic sway of imagination's empire. Under this mighty influence man displays energies which lead him boldly to dare danger and complicated sufferings, or he is reduced to the most degraded state of miserable despondency. These diseases are the more fearful, since they rarely yield to physical aid, and it is seldom that moral influence is sufficiently persuasive to combat their inveteracy. It is idle to tell the timid hypochondriac that he is not ill; the mere circumstance of his believing himself sick, constitutes a serious disorder. His constant apprehensions derange his functions until an organic affection arises. The patient who fancies that he labours under an affection of the heart disturbs the circulation, which is ever influenced by our moral emotions, till at last this disturbance occasions the very malady which he dreaded. These aberrations of the mind arise from various causes,--mental emotions, constitution, climate, diet, hereditary disposition, education. Tertullian called philosophy and medicine twin sisters; both may become powerful agents in controlling our imagination.

The ancients have variously endeavoured to determine the seat of this faculty. Aristotle placed it in the heart, which, from the sense of its oppression observed in acute moral sufferings he considered the origin of our nerves, or sensorium. Avicenus and other philosophers located imagination in the anterior portion of the brain, which he called the _prow_; memory in the posterior part, which he denominated the _poop_, and judgment in the centre of the organ, or what mariners would term _mid-ship_. The notions of Gall and Spurzheim had long since been anticipated by philosophers and physicians, both in regard to the division of the cerebral organ, and the external appearance of the cranium, which denoted their preponderancy. That temperature exercises a powerful influence over our mental faculties is evident. In warm climates we find a greater exaltation of the mind, more enthusiasm and vivid emotion, than in northern latitudes. The East is the land of fancy, illustrated by their wondrous tales of fiction, and their vivid and fantastic imagery, displayed in the chimeras and the arabesques of their palaces and temples. In these regions all the passions are uncontrollable and wild. Love is characterized by furious or dark jealousy, according to the rank and power of the lover; and ambition is signalized by bloodthirsty and promiscuous barbarity. No opposition can be brooked: man is either a ferocious tyrant, or an abject slave; subjection alone preventing the oppressed from being as sanguinary as the oppressor. Government is despotism, and religion fatality and fanaticism. In northern climes, on the contrary, every thing is cold and calculating. The almighty passion of love may prevail; but its demonstrations are morose, concentrated, although not less ferocious than under a southern sky. In the one country, man seeks the dark shelter of the forest, and the solitude of the mountain, to ponder over his grievances, or soliloquise on his sufferings; in the other he courts the roseate bower and the orange grove, to lull him into a soft repose which may calm his feelings by temporary oblivion, to be roused again to action by the stimulus of opium, tobacco, and a burning sun. The ancients were so fully convinced of this influence of the amorphous constitution, that Lucianus tells us that the Abderites (a people so remarkable for their stupidity and sluggishness that _Abderitica mens_ was proverbial), having witnessed the performance of one of Euripides's plays under the fierce solar rays, became fired with such enthusiasm, that they ran about the streets in a wild phrensy, repeating aloud his sublime verses, until the coolness of the evening restored them to reason and to their native torpor. So predominant are these feelings, which owe their character to climate, that they regulate our ideas of a future state, as well as our conduct on earth. The paradise of the Mohammedan is a blessed region of everlasting pleasure and sensual enjoyments; beauteous houris await the soul, which is to luxuriate in corporeal voluptuousness; and the purple wine, forbidden to the living, is to flow in delectable streams, to delight the dead, who may, in the seventh paradise inhabit a land where rivers of wine, and milk, and honey, are ever flowing; where evergreen trees bend under luxurious fruits, whose very pips are transformed into lovely maidens, so sweet--to use their own metaphorical language--that the ocean would lose its bitterness if they did but condescend to spit in its briny waters; and all these enjoyments are secured to the true believer by hosts of guardian angels, who have seventy thousand mouths, and seventy thousand tongues, to praise God seventy thousand times each day in seventy thousand languages: and such is their horror of earthly heat, that in the other world one of the greatest rewards is the delight of being able to sleep under the cool shade of a tree each leaf of which is of such an expanse that a man might travel fifty thousand years under its benign protection. How different is the paradise of Odin! There, it is true, the soul of the departed dwells in magnificent palaces; but what are his enjoyments compared to those of the sensual Asiatic! Instead of soft music, the din of war is constantly to resound in his ear, while he luxuriates in drinking strong beer and hydromel, poured by the fair Valknas, the houris of the Vahalla paradise, into the skulls of his enemies. Their God is called the god of crows; and two of these sable familiars, _Hugin_, who represents the mind, and _Nunnin_, or memory, are constantly perched upon his shoulders, until they take flight to seek information for their master.

To this day it is said that the Tartars fancy, that, in their future abode of bliss, their reward will be a sort of Platonic affection, and a perpetual and undisturbed state of meditation; in short, a celestial _far niente_. So convinced were the ancients of this effect of peculiar temperature, that the morose Heraclitus maintained that the power of the mind arose from a _dry splendour_; that all things were created by solar heat; and when ill himself, he sought health by endeavouring to dispel watery accumulations by the heat of a dunghill. Ptolemy and Posidonius assert, that southern climes engender genius and wit, and are better calculated for the study of things divine; and Plato, Hippocrates, and Galen, on the same principle, affirm that stupidity and forgetfulness are produced by cold and humidity. The celebrated Descartes, in his younger days, states that he felt his enthusiasm moderated by the damps and cold of Holland; and that he ever experienced more facility in pursuing his philosophic studies in winter than in summer. Poets, on the contrary, court the glowing rays of an inspiring sun, and their Phoebus and their Apollo is the conductor and the inspirer of the Muses:

Cynthius aurem vellit et admonuit.

That the energies of our intellectual faculties are under the influence of our food, is a fact long since observed. The stupidity of the athletae, who lived upon coarse bread (coliphium) and underdone meat, was proverbial; even Hercules laboured under the imputation of a mind somewhat obtuse. Our genius, our energies are all affected by our mode of living. The rule of _Sanis omnia sana_, of Celsus, is applicable to very few individuals; and all our faculties may be rendered more keen or less vivid by temperance or excesses. As the nature of our _ingesta_ influences the functions of our digestive organs, so do these organs in their turn influence our moral powers when our physical energies are elevated or depressed. Our courage, our strength of mind, our religious and our moral train of thinking, are under the control of diet. Fasting has ever been considered as predisposing to meditation and ascetic contemplation. Tertullian tells us, that we should approach the altars fasting, or having eaten nothing but dry substances. All the religious ceremonies of the Egyptians were preceded by abstinence, and their sacrificators were allowed neither animal food nor wine. Indeed, the Egyptian priesthood were remarkable for their abstinence and self-denial, fearful, according to Plutarch, that "the body should not sit light upon the soul." Similar precautions were observed with animals, and the ox apis was not allowed to drink the waters of the Nile, as they were considered of a gross and fattening nature; even upon festive days they observed a similar moderation. It was customary, on the 9th day of the month Thoth, for every one to eat fried fish at their doors--the priests only conformed to the custom by burning theirs at the appointed time. In general they abstained from most sorts of pulse, especially beans and lentils, onions, garlic, leeks, mutton, pork; and on certain days of purification, even salt was forbidden. Many of their fasts lasted from seven to forty-two days, during which time they abstained entirely from animal food, from herbs and vegetables, and the indulgence of any passion. Similar privations were observed by all those who attended the mysteries of Juno and Ceres. In Holy Writ we find that it was after abstinence that Divine inspiration illumined the elect. The angel appeared unto Daniel after he had been three weeks without tasting flesh, or wine, or "pleasant bread." In the Acts, x., we find that the vision appeared to Peter, "when he had become hungry and would have eaten." Moses fasted forty days on Mount Sinai. We find in Jonah, that even cattle were frequently subject to this mortification, when he proclaimed in Nineveh that neither man nor beast, herd nor flock, should taste any thing; "let them not feed nor drink water." Congius Ripensis tells us, that the same restriction was imposed by the Lacedaemonians on their Helots and all domestic animals. Fasting was considered by the early Christians as an essential rite. St. Anthony prescribed to his disciples one meal of dry bread, salt and water, in the day without any food on Wednesdays and Fridays. In the monastery of Mocham, in Egypt, a monk of the name of Jonas was beatified for having lived until the age of eighty-five, working hard in the garden, and without any other food than raw herbs and grass steeped in vinegar; this abstemious cenobite added to his claims to canonization by always sleeping in his chair. St. Hilarius only ate fifteen figs and six ounces of barley bread _per diem_. St. Julian Sabus retired to a cavern, where he only luxuriated once in the week on millet-bread, with salt and water; and St. Macarius resolved to outdo him by restraining his sustenance to a few cabbage-leaves every Sunday. Not only did these gastric martyrs attribute their holy visions to abstinence, but they considered it as the source of their longevity. Thus, St. Anthony lived to the age of one hundred and five; St. Paphinus to ninety on dry bread; and St. Paul the Hermit thrived for one hundred and fifty-nine years upon dates. It is not derogatory to their supposed divine mission to say that all these men were as enthusiastic as the fakirs of the east.

So acceptable to the Deity was starvation considered, that at various periods it was enforced by penal laws. Charlemagne denounces the punishment of death on all those who transgressed in this respect; and, by an old Polish edict, any sinner who ate on a fast-day was sentenced to have all his teeth drawn. However, monkish ingenuity endeavoured to elude these severe enactments, by interpreting the letter instead of the spirit; and we find, in the regulations of a German monastery, the following accommodation, "_Liquidum non frangit jejunium_," by which, on days of penance, the monks only took rich soups and succulent broth. In latter days, being permitted to eat fish in Lent, they saw no reason why fowl should not be included, on the authority of Genesis, that the waters brought forth every winged fowl after his kind. This relaxation in culinary discipline called forth loud indignation from many prelates. St. Ambrosius attributes the profligacy of the monks to these excesses; and Tertullian considers the fall of the Israelites as the punishment of their neglect in this respect. Our Shakspeare illustrates this belief in the influence of fasting as preparatory to inspiration.

Last night the very gods shew'd me a vision--
I _fast_ and pray'd for their intelligence.

Not satisfied with this mystification in food, we find some austere monks endeavouring to reduce carnal appetites by other means, such as by blood-letting, _monialem minuere_; and claustral flesh was brought down by phlebotomy and purging at regular periods. To this day we find that well-behaved Turks, during the Ramasan, make it a godly point never to swallow their saliva.

This digression on fasting was somewhat necessary, to show how much our diet tends to modify our being. It is well known that troops will display more activity and courage when fasting than after a meal; and an ingenious physician of our day is perfectly correct when he attributes a daring spirit or a pusillanimous feeling to the influence of our stomach.

Intellectual weakness, frequently brought on by excesses, has proved a rich source to empiricism; hence the belief in mystic and supernatural agencies, and the power of certain nostrums. Coloured fountain water and bread pills have made the fortune of various quacks, when imaginary cures have relieved imaginary diseases. In our days, numerous have been the recoveries attributed to Hohenloe's prayers. Trusting to mystic numbers, three, five, seven, or nine pills have produced effects, when other numbers less fortunate would have failed. To this hour mankind, even in enlightened nations, are fettered by these absurd trammels. Credulity, and superstition her twin sister, have in all ages been the source whence priestcraft, and quackery have derived their wealth. Next to these rich mines we may rank fashion. The adoption of any particular medicine by princes and nobles will endow it with as great a power as that which was supposed to be vested in regal hands in the cure of scrofula, hence called _king's evil_; and we have too many instances of such cures having been effected by a monarch's touch to doubt the fact. The history of the potato is a strong illustration of the influence of authority: for more than two centuries the use of this invaluable plant was vehemently opposed; at last, Louis XV. wore a bunch of its flowers in the midst of his courtiers, and the consumption of the root became universal in France. The warm bath, so highly valued by the Romans, once fell into disrepute, because the Emperor Augustus had been cured by a cold one, which for a time was invariably resorted to. Thus Horace exclaims,

----Caput ac stomachum supponere fontibus audent
Clusinis, Gabiosque petunt et frigida rura.

Unfortunately, the means which had relieved Augustus killed his nephew Marcellus; and the _Laconicum_ and the _Tepidarium_ were again crowded with the "fashion."

Persecution and its prohibitions have also been most powerful in working upon our imagination. Rare and forbidden fruits will always be considered more desirable than those we can easily obtain. The history of tobacco is a striking instance of this influence of difficulty upon the mind of man. Pope Urban VIII. prohibited its use in any shape, under the penalty of excommunication. It was afterwards forbidden in Russia, under the pain of having the offender's nose cut off. In some cantons of Switzerland the prohibition was introduced in the decalogue, next to the commandment against adultery. Amurath IV. ordered all persons taken in _flagranti delicto_ smoking tobacco, to be impaled, on the principle that its use checked the progress of population. The denunciation of our James I. may be considered as a masterpiece of the imaginary horrors attributed to this obnoxious weed. "It is," he says, "a custome loathsome to the eye, hatefull to the nose, harmefull to the braine, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black stinking fume thereof neerest resembling the horrible Stygian smoake of the pit that is bottomlesse." During the reign of this monarch such a restriction might have been necessary, unless the consumption of tobacco enriched the exchequer: for it appears that some _amateurs_ consumed no less than L500 per annum in smoke. Surely we should reap some flourishing revenue from fashion and credulity, when we find our government awarding L5000 to a _certain_ Johanna Stephens for her discovery of _certain_ medicines for the cure of _calculi_! The same imaginary hope induced many a credulous creature to minister to the necessities of another Johanna, for _certain_ expectations. Alas! how this indefinite _sense_ exhibits the infinite folly of poor humanity!

A morbid imagination, although frequently the source of much misery, will prove in many cases the fountain-head of many noble qualities; its exaltation constitutes genius, which is, in fact, a natural disposition of individual organization sometimes bordering upon insanity. "_Non est magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae_," says Seneca; and Montaigne observes, "De quoi se fait la plus subtile folie que de la plus subtile sagesse? il n'y a qu'un demi-tour a passer de l'une a l'autre." Aristotle asserts that all the great men of his time were melancholy and hypochondriac. The ancient and eastern nations entertained a singular idea regarding men of innate genius, and possessed of more than common attributes; they fancied that they were the first-born, and the offsprings of illicit love: Zoroaster, Confucius, Mahomet, Vishnou, were born of virgins; and Theseus, Hercules, Castor and Pollux, and Romulus, were all illegitimate.

So prone is a lively imagination to a derangement of the intellectual harmony, that the greatest care should be taken during the youthful development to resort to a sound and proper exercise. The constant tendency to wild and supernatural visions, the disregard of every daily and vulgar matter of fact consideration, soaring in regions of fiction, should engage our incessant vigilance, such a state of mind, as Abercrombie justly observes, "tends in a most material manner to prevent the due exercise of those nobler powers which are directed towards the cultivation both of science and of virtue," and Foster has thus beautifully illustrated this subject in his essays.

"The influence of this habit of dwelling on the beautiful fallacious forms of imagination, will accompany the mind into the most serious speculations or rather musings, on the real world, and what is to be done in it and expected; as the image which the eye acquires from looking at any dazzling object, still appears before it wherever it turns. The vulgar materials, that constitute the actual economy of the world, will rise up to its sight in fictitious forms, which it cannot disenchant into plain reality, nor will ever suspect to be deceptive. It cannot go about with sober, rational inspection and ascertain the nature and value of all things around it--in that paradise it walks delighted, till some imperious circumstance of real life call it thence, and gladly escapes thither again when the avocation is past. If a tenth part of the felicities that have been enjoyed, the great actions that have been performed, the beneficial institutions that have been established, and the beautiful objects that have been seen in that happy region, could have been imported into this terrestial place!--what a delightful thing the world would have been to awake each morning to see such a world once more!"

Of the miseries the hypochondriacs experience the following extract of a letter to a physician will afford a specimen: "My poor body is a burning furnace, my nerves red-hot coals, my blood is boiling oil; all sleep has fled, and I am suffering martyrdom. I am in agony when I lie on my back; I cannot lie on either side; and I endure excruciating torture when I seek relief by lying on my stomach; and, to add to my misery, I can neither sit, stand, nor walk." The fancies of hypochondriacs are frequently of the most extraordinary nature: one patient imagines that he is in such a state of obesity as to prevent his passing through the door of his chamber or his house; another impressed with the idea that he is made of glass, will not sit down for fear of cracking; a third seems convinced that his head is empty; and an intelligent American, holding a high judicial seat in our West Indian colonies, could not divest himself of the occasional conviction of his being transformed into a turtle.