Chapter XII: Section IX: On Forming Temperate Habits

'Be temperate in all things,' is an excellent rule, and of very high authority.

_Drunkenness_ and _Gluttony_ are vices so degrading, that advice is, I must confess, nearly lost on those who are capable of indulging in them. If any youth, unhappily initiated in these odious and debasing vices, should happen to see what I am now writing, I beg him to read the command of God, to the Israelites, Deut. xxi. The father and mother are to take the bad son 'and bring him to the elders of the city; and they shall say to the elders, this our son will not obey our voice: he is a _glutton_ and a _drunkard_. And all the men of the city shall stone him with stones, that he die.' This will give him some idea of the odiousness of his crime, at least in the sight of Heaven.

But indulgence _far short_ of gross drunkenness and gluttony is to be deprecated; and the more so, because it is too often looked upon as being no crime at all. Nay, there are many persons, who boast of a refined taste in matters connected with eating and drinking, who are so far from being ashamed of employing their thoughts on the subject, that it is their boast that they do it.

Gregory, one of the Christian fathers, says: 'It is not the _quantity_ or the _quality_ of the meat, or drink, but the _love of it_, that is condemned:' that is to say, the indulgence beyond the absolute demands of nature; the hankering after it; the neglect of some duty or other for the sake of the enjoyments of the table. I believe, however, there _may_ be error, both in _quantity_ and _quality_.

This _love_ of what are called 'good eating and drinking,' if very unamiable in grown persons, is perfectly hateful in a _youth_; and, if he _indulge_ in the propensity, he is already half ruined. To warn you against acts of fraud, robbery, and violence, is not here my design. Neither am I speaking against acts which the jailor and the hangman punish, nor against those moral offences which all men condemn, but against indulgences, which, by men in general, are deemed not only _harmless_, but _meritorious_; but which observation has taught me to regard as destructive to human happiness; and against which all ought to be cautioned, even in their boyish days.

Such indulgences are, in the first place, very _expensive_. The materials are costly, and the preparation still more so. What a monstrous thing, that, in order to satisfy the appetite of one person there must be one or two others _at work constantly_.[3] More fuel, culinary implements, kitchen room: what! all these merely to tickle the palate of four or five people, and especially people who can hardly pay their bills! And, then, the _loss of time_--the time spent in pleasing the palate!

"A young man," says an English writer, "some years ago, offered himself to me, as an _amanuensis_, for which he appeared to be perfectly qualified. The terms were settled, and I requested him to sit down, and begin; but looking out of the window, whence he could see the church clock, he said, somewhat hastily, 'I _cannot_ stop _now_ sir, I must go to _dinner_.' 'Oh!' said I, 'you _must_ go to dinner, must you! Let the dinner, which you _must_ wait upon to-day, have your constant services, then; for you and I shall never agree.'

"He had told me that he was in _great distress_ for want of employment; and yet, when relief was there before his eyes, he could forego it for the sake of getting at his eating and drinking three or four hours sooner than was necessary."

This anecdote is good, so far as it shows the folly of an unwillingness to deny ourselves in small matters, in any circumstances. And yet punctuality, even at meals, is not to be despised.

_Water-drinkers_ are universally _laughed at_: but, it has always seemed to me, that they are amongst the most welcome of guests, and that, too, though the host be by no means of a niggardly turn. The truth is, they give _no trouble_; they occasion _no anxiety_ to please them; they are sure not to make their sittings _inconveniently long_; and, above all, their example teaches _moderation_ to the rest of the company.

Your notorious 'lovers of good cheer' are, on the contrary, not to be invited without _due reflection_. To entertain one of them is a serious business; and as people are not apt voluntarily to undertake such pieces of business, the well-known 'lovers of good eating and drinking' are left, very generally, to enjoy it by themselves, and at their own expense.

But, all other considerations aside, _health_, one of the most valuable of earthly possessions, and without which all the rest are worth nothing, bids us not only to refrain from _excess_ in eating and drinking, but to stop short of what might be indulged in without any _apparent_ impropriety.

The words of ECCLESIASTICUS ought to be often read by young people. 'Eat modestly that which is set before thee, and _devour_ not, lest thou be _hated_. When thou sittest amongst many, reach not thine hand out first of all. _How little is sufficient for a man well taught! A wholesome sleep_ cometh of a temperate belly. Such a man _riseth up in the morning_, and is _well at ease with himself_. Be not too hasty of meats; for excess of meats bringeth sickness, and choleric disease cometh of gluttony. By surfeit have many perished, and he that _dieteth himself prolongeth his life_. Show not thy valiantness in wine; for wine hath destroyed many.'

How true are these words! How well worthy of a constant place in our memories! Yet, what pains have been taken to apologize for a life contrary to these precepts! And, what punishment can be too great, what mark of infamy sufficiently signal, for those pernicious villains of talent, who have employed that talent in the composition of _Bacchanalian songs_; that is to say, pieces of fine and captivating writing in praise of one of the most odious and destructive vices in the black catalogue of human depravity!

'Who,' says the eccentric, but laborious Cobbett, 'what man, ever performed a greater quantity of labor than I have performed? Now, in a great measure, I owe my capability to perform this labor to my disregard of dainties. I ate, during one whole year, one mutton chop every day. Being once in town, with one son (then a little boy) and a clerk, while my family was in the country, I had, for several weeks, nothing but legs of mutton. The first day, a leg of mutton boiled or _roasted_; second, _cold_; third, _hashed_; then, leg of mutton _boiled_; and so on.

'When I have been by myself, or nearly so, I have _always_ proceeded thus: given directions for having _every day the same thing_, or alternately as above, and every day exactly at the same hour, so as to prevent the necessity of any _talk_ about the matter. I am certain that, upon an average, I have not, during my life, spent more than _thirty-five minutes a day at table_, including all the meals of the day. I like, and I take care to have, good and clean victuals; but, if wholesome and clean, that is enough. If I find it, by chance, _too coarse_ for my appetite, I put the food aside, or let somebody do it; and leave the appetite to gather keenness.'

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Now I have no special desire to recommend _mutton chops_ to my readers, nor to hold out the example of the individual whose language I have quoted, as worthy of general imitation. There is one lesson to be learned, however. Cobbett's never tiring industry is well known. And if we can rely on his own statements in regard to his manner of eating, we see another proof that what are called 'dainties,' and even many things which are often supposed to be necessaries, are very far from being indispensable to health or happiness.

I am even utterly _opposed_ to the rapid eating of which he speaks. In New England especially, the danger is on the other side. 'Were it not from respect to others, I never would wish for more than eight minutes to eat my dinner in,' said a merchant to me one day. Now _I_ can _swallow_ a meal at any time, in _five_ minutes; but this is not _eating_. If it is, the teeth were made--as well as the saliva--almost in vain. No! this _swallowing_ down a meal in five or even ten minutes, so common among the active, enterprising, and industrious people of this country, is neither healthy, nor decent, nor economical. And instead of spending only _thirty-five minutes_ a day in eating; every man, woman, and child ought, as a matter of duty, to spend about _twice_ the time in that way. This would give the teeth and salivary glands an opportunity to come up to the work which God in nature assigned them. We may indeed cheat them for a time, but not with impunity, for a day of reckoning will come; and some of our rapid eaters will find their bill (in stomach or liver complaints, or gout or rheumatism) rather large. They will probably lose more time in this way, than they can possibly save by eating rapidly.

The idea of preventing conversation about what we eat is also idle, though Dr. Franklin and many other wise men, thought otherwise. Some of our students in _commons_ and elsewhere, suppose themselves highly meritorious because they have adopted the plan of appointing one of their number to read to the company, while the rest are eating. But they are sadly mistaken. Nothing is gained by the practice. On the contrary, much is lost by it. The bow cannot always remain bent, without injury. Neither can the mind always be kept 'toned' to a high pitch. _Mind_ and _body_ must and will have their relaxations.

I am not an advocate for _wasting time_ or for _eating more_ than is necessary. Nay, I even believe, on the contrary, with most _medical_ men, that we generally eat about twice as much as nature requires. But I do say, and with emphasis, that food must be _masticated_.

Before I dismiss the subject of temperance, let me beseech you to resolve to free yourselves from slavery to _tea_ and _coffee_. Experience has taught me, that they are _injurious to health_. Even my habits of sobriety, moderate eating, and early rising, were not, until I left off using them, sufficient to give me that complete health which I have since had.

I do not undertake to prescribe for others exactly; but, I do say, that to pour down regularly, every day, a quart or two of _warm liquid_, whether under the name of tea, coffee, soup, grog, or any thing else, is greatly injurious to health. However, at present, what I have to represent to _you, is the great deduction which they make, from your power of being useful_, and also from your _power to husband your income_, whatever it may be, and from whatever source arising. These things _cost_ something; and wo to him who forgets, or never knows, till he pays it, how large a bill they make--in the course of a year.

How much to be desired is it, that mankind would return once more, to the use of no other drink than that pure beverage which nature prepared for the sole drink of man! So long as we are in health, we need no other; nay, we have no right to any other. It is the testimony of all, or almost all whose testimony is worth having, that water is the best known drink. But if water is _better_ than all others, _all others are_, of course, _worse than water_.

As to food and drink _generally_, let me say in conclusion, that _simplicity_ is the grand point to aim at. Water, we have seen, is the sole drink of man; but there is a great variety of food provided for his sustenance. He is allowed to select from this immense variety, those kinds, which the experience of mankind generally, combined and compared with his own, show to be _most useful_. He can _live_ on almost any thing. Still there is a _choice_ to be observed, and so far as his circumstances permit, he is in duty bound to exercise that choice. God has said by his servant Paul; 'Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do,' &c.

What we believe to be most useful to us, though at first disagreeable, we may soon learn to prefer. Our habits, then, should be early formed. We should always remember these two rules, however. 1st. The fewer different articles of food used at any one meal, the better; however excellent in their nature those may be which are left untasted. 2. Never eat a moment longer than the food, if well masticated, actually _revives_ and _refreshes_ you. The moment it makes you feel heavy or dull, or palls upon the taste, _you have passed the line of safety_.