IE he &rt of Ufitfua 
 
) 
 
 >// 
 
 T II K 
 
 AND OF 
 
 ATTAINING HIGH HEALTH 
 
 WITH 
 
 A FEW HINTS ON SUPPERS. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED 
 
 ANECDOTES OF DINING, CONNECTED WITH DISTIN- 
 GUISHED INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 BY A 
 
 BON VIVANT 
 
 It is well known that to constitute a perfect entree there must he 
 
 observed a certain coherence and harmony anion,,' the dishes 
 
 so t'.iat fish may not interfere with fowl, or stew take the 
 place of roast. How should we be shocked to see a syl- 
 labub responsive to sirloin— a rod's head yoked to a 
 mince pie — or a Irican lean shouldering a plate 
 of cherries? In like manner there must 
 be a sort of adaptation or homogeneous- 
 ness among the frui sts assembled— so 
 that the old may not be confound- 
 ed with the young— the high 
 with the homelj — the 
 rou.s,-h with the re- 
 iined."— Leigh 
 Hunt. 
 
 /<£ 
 
 
 
 NEW YOkK: 
 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 33 ROSE STREET. 
 

 ■tf 
 
 & 
 
 ^ 
 
 *y 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1RT4, 
 
 By ROBERT M. DE WITT, 
 In the offic: of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
THE 
 
 ART OF DINING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 According to the Lexicons, the Greek 
 for dinner is Ariston, and therefore, for the 
 convenience of the terms, and without 
 entering into any inquiry, critical or anti- 
 quarian, I call the art of dining Aristology, 
 and those who study it, Aristologists. The 
 maxim, that practice makes perfect, does 
 not apply to our daily habits ; for, so far 
 as they are concerned, we are ordinarily 
 content with the standard of mediocrity, or 
 something rather below. Where study is 
 not absolutely necessary, it is by most 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 people altogether dispensed with ; but it 
 is only by an union of study and practice, 
 that we can attain any thing like perfec- 
 tion. Anybody can dine, but very few 
 know how to dine, so as to ensure the 
 greatest quantity of health and enjoyment 
 — : - deed many people contrive to destroy 
 their health ; and as to enjoyment, I shud- 
 der when I think how often I have been 
 doomed to only a solemn mockery of it ; 
 how often I have sat in durance stately, to 
 go through the ceremony of dinner, the 
 essence of which is to be without cere- 
 mony, and how often in this land of liberty 
 I have felt myself a slave ! 
 
 There are three kinds of dinners — soli- 
 tary dinners, every-day social dinners, and 
 set dinners; all three involving the consi- 
 deration of cheer, and the last two of 
 
THE ART 1' DIXING. 7 
 
 society also. Solitary dinners, I think, 
 ought to be avoided as much as possible, 
 because solitude tends to produce thought, 
 and thought tends to the suspension of the 
 digestive powers. When however, dining 
 alone is necessary, the mind should be 
 disposed to cheerfulness by a previous 
 interval of relaxation from whatever has 
 seriously occupied the attention, and by 
 directing it to some agreeable object. As 
 contentment ought to be an accompaniment 
 to every meal, punctuality is essential, and 
 the diner and the dinner should be ready 
 at the same time. A chief maxim in din- 
 ing with comfort is, to have what you want 
 when you want it. It is ruinous to have 
 to wait for first one thing and then another, 
 and to have the little additions brought, 
 when what they belong to is half or entirely 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 finished. To avoid this a little foresight 
 is good, and, by way of instance, it is 
 sound practical philosophy to have mustard 
 upon the table before the arrival of toasted 
 cheese. This very omission has caused 
 as many small vexations in the world, as 
 would by this time make a mountain of 
 misery. Indeed, I recommend an habitual 
 consideration of what adjuncts will be re- 
 quired to the main matters ; and I think an 
 attention to this, on the part of females, 
 might often be preventive of sour looks and 
 cross words, and their anti-conjugal con- 
 sequences. There are not only the usual 
 adjuncts, but to those who have any thing 
 of a genius for dinners, little additions 
 will sometimes suggest themselves, which 
 give a sort of poetry to a repast, and please 
 the palate to the promotion of health. As 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 our senses were made for our enjoyment, 
 and as the vast variety of good things in 
 the world were designed for the same end, 
 it seems a sort of impiety not to put them 
 to their best uses, provided it does not 
 cause us to neglect higher considerations. 
 The different products of the different sea- 
 sons, and of the different parts of the earth, 
 afford endless proofs of bounty, which it 
 is as unreasonable to reject, as it is to abuse. 
 It has happened, that those who have made 
 the gratification of the appetite a study, 
 have generally done so to excess, and to 
 the exclusion of nobler pursuits ; whilst, 
 on the other hand, such study has been 
 held to be incompatible with moral refine- 
 ment and elevation. But there is a happv 
 mean, and as upon the due regulation of 
 the appetite assuredly depends our physical 
 
10 THE ART OF JJ I N I N 
 
 well-being, and upon that, in a great mea- 
 sure, our mental energies, it seems to me 
 that the subject is worthy of attention, for 
 reasons of more importance than is ordi- 
 narily supposed. 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 There is in the art of dining a matter 
 of special importance, — I mean attendance 
 — the real end of which is to do that for yon 
 which you cannot so well do for yourself. 
 Unfortunately this end is generally lost 
 sight of, and the effect of attendant is to 
 prevent you from doing that which you 
 could do much better for yourself. The 
 cause of this perversion is to be found 
 in the practice and example of the rich 
 and ostentatious, who constantly keep 
 up a sort of war-establishment, or esta- 
 blishment, adapted to extraordinary, in- 
 stead of ordinary occasions, and the con- 
 sequence is, that, like all potentates who 
 
12 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 follow the same policy, they never really 
 taste the sweets of peace ; they are in a 
 constant state of invasion by their own 
 troops. It is a rule at dinners not to 
 allow you to do any thing for yourself, and 
 I have never been able to understand how 
 even salt, except it be from some supersti- 
 tion, has so long maintained its place on 
 table. I am always in dread, that, like the 
 rest of its fellows, it will be banished to 
 the sideboard, to be had only on special 
 application. I am rather a bold man at 
 table, and set form very much at defiance, 
 so that if a salad happens to be within my 
 reach, I make no scruple to take it to me ; 
 but the moment I am espied, it is nipped 
 up from the most convenient into the most 
 inconvenient position. That such absurd- 
 ity should exist among rational beings, and 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 13 
 
 in a civilized country, is extraordinary ! 
 See a small party with a dish of fish at 
 each end of the table, and four silver 
 covers unmeaningly starving at the sides, 
 while every thing pertaining to the fish 
 comes, even with the best attendance, pro- 
 vokingly lagging, one thing after another, 
 »o that contentment is out of the question ; 
 and all this is done under pretence that it 
 is the most convenient plan. This is an 
 utter fallacy. The only convenient plan 
 is to have every thing actually upon the 
 table that is wanted at the same time, and 
 nothing else ; as for example, for a party 
 of eight, turbot and salmon, with doubles 
 of each of the adjuncts, lobster-sauce, 
 cucumber, young potatoes, cayenne, and 
 Chili vinegar, and let the guests assist one 
 another, which, with such an arrangement, 
 
14 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 they could do with perfect ease. This is 
 undisturbed and visible comfort. I am 
 speaking now only with reference to small 
 parties. As to large ones, they have long 
 been to me scenes of despair in the way 
 of convivial enjoyment. A system of 
 simple attendance would induce a system 
 of simple dinners, which are the only din- 
 ners to be desired. The present system I 
 consider strongly tainted with barbarism 
 and vulgarity, and far removed from real 
 and refined enjoyment. As tables are now 
 arranged, one is never at peace from an 
 arm continually taking off, or setting on a 
 side dish, or reaching over to a wine-cooler 
 in the centre. Then comes the more 
 laborious changing of courses, with the 
 leanings right and left, to admit a host of 
 dishes, that are set only to be taken off 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 15 
 
 again, after being declined in succession 
 by each of the guests, to whom they are 
 handed round. Yet this is fashion, and not 
 to be departed from. With respect to 
 wine, it is often offered when not wanted ; 
 and when wanted, is perhaps not to be had 
 till long waited for. It is dreary to observe 
 two guests, glass in hand, waiting the 
 butler's leisure to be able to take wine 
 together, and then perchance being helped 
 in despair to what they did not ask for ; 
 and it is still more dreary to be one of the 
 two yourself. How different, ^vhere you 
 can put your hand upon a decanter at the 
 moment you want it! I could enlarge 
 upon and particularize these miseries at 
 great length ; but they must be only too 
 familiar to those who dine out, and those 
 who do not may congratulate themselves 
 
16 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 on their escape. I have been speaking 
 hitherto of attendance in its most perfect 
 state : but then comes the greater incon- 
 venience, and the monstrous absurdity of 
 the same forms with inadequate establish- 
 ments. Those who are overwhelmed with 
 an establishment, are, as it were, obliged in 
 self-defence to devise work for their attend- 
 ants, while those who have no such rea- 
 son ape an example which, under the most 
 appropriate circumstances, is a state of re- 
 straint and discomfort, but which, when 
 followed merely for fashion's sake, be- 
 comes absolutely intolerable. I remember 
 once receiving a severe frown from a lady 
 at the head of her table, next to whom I 
 was sitting, because I offered to take some 
 fish from her, to which she had helped me, 
 instead of waiting till it could be handed 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 17 
 
 to me by her one servant : and she was 
 not deficient either in sense or good breed- 
 ing ; but when people give in to such follies 
 they know no mean. It is one of the 
 evils of the present day, that every body 
 strives after the same dull syle — so that 
 where comfort might be expected, it is 
 often least to be found. State, without the 
 machinery of state, is of all states the 
 worst. In conclusion of this part of my 
 subject, I will observe, that I think the 
 affluent would render themselves and their 
 country an essential service if they were to 
 fall into the simple, refined style of living, 
 discarding every thing incompatible with 
 real enjoyment; and I believe, that if the 
 history of overgrown luxury were traced, 
 it has always had its origin from the vulgar 
 rich — the very last class worthy of imita- 
 
IS THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 tion. Although I think a reduction of 
 establishment would often conduce to the 
 enjoyment of life, I am very far from 
 wishing to see any class curtailed in their 
 means of earning their bread ; but it ap- 
 pears to me, that the rich might easily find 
 more profitable and agreeable modes of 
 employing the industrious, than in minis- 
 tering to pomp and parade. 
 
 I will now give you, dear reader, an 
 account of a dinner I have ordered this 
 very day at Lovegrove's, at Black wall, 
 where if you never dined, so much the 
 worse for you. This account will serve 
 as an illustration of my doctrines on dinner- 
 giving better than a long abstract dis- 
 course. The party will consist of seven 
 men besides myself, and every guest is 
 asked for some reason — upon which good 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 1U 
 
 fellowship mainly depends, for people, 
 brought together unconnectedly, had, in 
 my opinion, better be kept separate. 
 Eight I hold to be the golden number, 
 never to be exceeded without weakening 
 the efficacy of concentration. The dinner 
 is to consist of turtle, followed by no other 
 fish but white bait, which is to be follow- 
 ed by no other meat but groise, which are 
 to be succeeded simply by apple fritters 
 and jelly ; pastry on such occasions being 
 quite out of place. With the turtle, of 
 course there will be punch, with the white 
 bait champagne, and with the grouse claret : 
 the two former I have ordered to be par- 
 ticularly well iced, and they will all be 
 placed in succession upon the table, so that 
 we can help ourselves as we please. I 
 shall permit no other wines, unless, per- 
 
20 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 chance, a bottle or two of port, if particu- 
 larly wanted, as I hold variety of wines a 
 great mistake. With respect to the ad- 
 juncts, I shall take care that there is cay- 
 enne, with lemons cut in halves, not in 
 quarters, within reach of every one, for 
 the turtle, and that brown bread and but- 
 ter in abundance is set upon the table for 
 the white bait. It is no trouble to think 
 of these little matters beforehand, but they 
 make a vast difference in convivial con- 
 tentment. The dinner will be followed 
 by ices, and a good dessert, after which 
 coffee and one glass of liqueur each, and 
 no more ; so that the present may be en- 
 joyed rationally without, inducing retro- 
 spective regrets. If the master of a feasi 
 wishes his party to succeed, he must know 
 how to command, and not let his guests 
 
r HE ART OF D I X T X O. 2 1 
 
 run riot, each according to his own wild 
 fancy. Such, reader, is my idea of a din- 
 ner, of which I hope you approve ; and I 
 cannot help thinking that if parliament 
 were to grant me 10,000/. a year, in trust, 
 to entertain a series of worthy persons, it 
 would promote trade and increase the 
 revenue more than any hugger-mugger 
 measure ever devised. 
 
THE ART OF DINING 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I shall begin this chapter with stating 
 that the dinner at Blackwall, mentioned 
 before, was served according to my di- 
 rections, both as to the principal dishes 
 and the adjuncts, with perfect exactness, 
 and went off with corresponding success. 
 The turtle and white bait were excellent : 
 the grouse not quite of equal merit ; and 
 the apple fritters so much relished, that 
 they were entirely cleared, and the jelly 
 left untouched. The only wines weif. 
 champagne and claret, and they both gave 
 great satistaction. As soon as the liqueurs 
 were handed round once, I ordered them 
 out of the room ; and the only heresy 
 
r H E ART OF DIM N G. Z.) 
 
 committed was by one of the guests asking 
 for a glass of bottled porter, which I had 
 not the presence of mind instantly to for- 
 bid. There was an opinion broached that 
 some ilounders water-zoutcheed, between 
 the turtle and white bait, would have been 
 an improvement, — and perhaps they would. 
 I dined again yesterday at Blackwall as a 
 guest, and I observed that my theory as to 
 adjuncts was carefully put in practice -o 
 that I hope the public will be a gainer. 
 
 In order to bring the dinner system to 
 perfection according to my idea, it would 
 be necessary to have a room contrived on 
 the best possible plan for eight persons, as 
 the greatest number. I almost think six 
 even more desirable than eight ; but be- 
 yond eight, as far as my experience goes, 
 there is always a division into parties, or a 
 
24 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 partial languor, or sort of paralysis either 
 of the extremities or centre, which has 
 more or less effect upon the whole. For 
 complete enjoyment a company ought to 
 be one ; sympathizing and drawing toge- 
 ther, listening and talking in due propor- 
 tions — no monopolists, nor any ciphers. 
 With the best arrangements much will 
 depend upon the chief of the feast giving 
 the tone, and keeping it up. Paulus 
 iEmilius, who was the most successful 
 general, and best entertainer of his time, 
 seems to have understood this well ; for he 
 said that it required the same sort of spirit 
 to manage a banquet as a battle, with this 
 difference, that the one should be made as 
 pleasant to friends, and the other as formi- 
 dable to enemies, as possible. I often 
 think of this excellent saying at large 
 
THE ART OF DIN IN G. 2i> 
 
 dinner parties, where the master and mis- 
 tress preside as if they were the humblest 
 of the guests, or as if they were over- 
 whelmed with anxiety respecting their 
 cumbrous and pleasure-destroying arrange- 
 ments. They appear not to have the 
 most distant idea of the duties of com- 
 manders, and instead of bringing their 
 troops regularly into action, they leave 
 the whole army in reserve. They should 
 at least now and then address each of their 
 guests by name, and, if possible, say some- 
 thing by which it may be guessed who 
 and what each person is. I have witness- 
 ed some ridiculous and almost incredible 
 instances of these defects. I remember 
 once at a large dinner party at a great 
 house, the lion of the day not being called 
 out once, and going away without the 
 
20 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 majority of the company suspecting who 
 he was. On a similar occasion, as a very 
 distinguished man left the drawing-room, 
 a scarcely less distinguished lady inquired 
 who that gentleman was, who had been 
 talking so long to her, — though she had 
 sat opposite to him at dinner. It appears 
 to me that nothing can be better contrived 
 to defeat its legitimate end, than a large 
 dinner party in the London season — six- 
 teen, for instance. The names of the 
 guests are generally so announced that it 
 is difficult to hear them, and in the earlier 
 part of the year, the assembling takes 
 place in such obscurity, that it is impos- 
 sible to see. Then there is often a tedious 
 and stupifying interval of waiting, caused 
 perhaps by some affected fashionable, 
 some important politician, or some gor- 
 
T H E ART O F DIM N G . 27 
 
 geously-decked matron, or it may be by 
 some culinary accident. At. last comes the 
 formal business of descending into the 
 dining-room, where the blaze of light pro- 
 duces by degrees sundry recognitions ; but 
 many a slight acquaintance is prevented 
 from being renewed by the chilling mode 
 of assembling. In the long days the light 
 is more favourable, but the waiting is 
 generally more tedious, and half the guests 
 are perhaps leaving the park, when they 
 ought to be sitting down to dinner. At 
 table, intercourse is prevented as much as 
 possible by a huge centre-piece of plate 
 and flowers, which cuts off about one half 
 the company from the other, and some 
 very awkward mistakes have taken place 
 in consequence, from guests having made 
 personal obsei vations upon those who were 
 
28 THE ART OF DIM N 
 
 actually opposite to them. It seems strange 
 that people should be invited, to be hid- 
 den from one another. Besides the centre- 
 piece, there are usually massive branches, 
 to assist in interrupting communication ; 
 and perhaps you are placed between two 
 persons with whom you are not acquainted, 
 and have no community of interest to in- 
 duce you to become so, for in the present 
 overgrown state of society, a new acquaint- 
 ance, except for some particular reason, is 
 an encumbrance to be avoided. When the 
 company is arranged, then comes the per- 
 petual motion of the attendants, the per- 
 petual declining of what you do not want, 
 and the perpetual waiting for what you do, 
 or a silent resignation to your fate. To 
 desire a potato, and to see the dish handed 
 to your next neighbour, and taking its 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 29 
 
 course in a direction from you, round an 
 immense table, with occasional retrograde 
 movements, and digressions, is one of the 
 unsatisfactory occurrences which frequent- 
 ly take place ; but perhaps the most dis- 
 tressing incident in a grand dinner is, to 
 be asked to take champagne, and, after 
 much delay, to see the butler extract the 
 bottle from a cooler, and hold it nearly 
 parallel to the horizon, in order to calculate 
 how much he is to put into the first glass 
 to leave any for the second. To relieve 
 him and yourself from the chilling diffi- 
 culty, the only alternative is to change 
 your mind, and prefer sherry, which, 
 under the circumstances, has rather an 
 awkward effect. These and an infinity 
 of minor evils are constantly experienced 
 amid the greatest displays, and they have 
 
30 THE ART OF DIN INC, 
 
 from sad experience made me come to the 
 conclusion, that a combination of state and 
 calculation is the horror of horrors. Some 
 good bread and cheese, and a jug of ale, 
 comfortably set before me, and heartily 
 given, are heaven on earth in comparison. 
 1 must not omit to mention, among other 
 obstacles to sociability, the present exces- 
 sive breadth of fashionable tables for the 
 purpose of holding, first, the cumbrous 
 ornaments and lights before spoken of; 
 secondly, in some cases, the dessert, at the 
 same time with the other side dishes ; and 
 lastly, each person's cover, with its ap- 
 purtenances ; so that to speak across the 
 table, and through the intervening objects, 
 is so inconvenient, as to be nearly imprac- 
 ticable. To crown all, is the ignorance 
 of what you have to eat, and the impossi- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 31 
 
 bility of duly regulating your appetite. To 
 be sure, in many particulars you may form 
 a tolerably accurate guess, as tbat, at one 
 season, there will be partridges in the third 
 course, and at another, pigeons, in dull 
 routine. No wonder that such a system 
 produces many a dreary pause, in spite of 
 every effort to the contrary, and that one 
 is obliged, in self-defence, to crumble 
 bread, sip wine, look at the paintings, if 
 there are any, or if there are not, blazon 
 the arms on the plates, or, lastly, retreat 
 into oneself in despair, as I have often and 
 often done. When dinner is over, there is 
 no peace till each dish in the dessert has 
 made its circuit, after which the wine 
 moves languidly round two or three times, 
 and then settles for the rest of the evening, 
 and coffee and small talk finish the heartless 
 
32 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 affair. I do not mean to say that such dinner 
 parties as I have been describing have not 
 frequently many redeeming circumstances. 
 Good breeding, wit, talent, information, 
 and every species of agreeable quality are 
 to be met with there ; but I think these 
 would appear to much greater advantage, 
 and much oftener, under a more simple 
 and unrestrained system. After curiosity 
 has been satisfied, and experience ripened, 
 I imagine most people retire from the 
 majority of formal dinners rather wearied 
 than repaid, and that a feeling of real en- 
 joyment is the exception, and not the rule. 
 In the long run, there is no compensation 
 for ease ; and ease is not to be found in 
 state and superabundance, but in having 
 what you want when you want it, and 
 with no temptation to excess. Thelegiti- 
 
T II F. ART O .. . ; N IN O. 3& 
 
 nKite objects of dinner are to refresh the 
 body, to please the palate, and to raise the 
 social humour to the highest point ; but 
 these objects, so far from being studied, in 
 general are not even thought of, and dis- 
 play and an adherence to fashion are their 
 meagre substitutes. Hence it is, that gen- 
 tlemen ordinarily understand what pertains 
 to dinner-giving so much better than ladies, 
 and that bachelors' feasts are so popular. 
 Gentlemen keep more in view the real 
 ends, whereas ladies think principally 
 of display and ornament, of form and 
 ceremony — not all, for some have excellent 
 notions of taste and comfort ; and the cul- 
 tivation of them would seem to be the 
 peculiar province of the sex, as one of 
 the chief features in household manage- 
 ment. There is one female failing in re- 
 3 
 
34 THE ART OF 1) I M N G. 
 
 spect to dinners, which I cannot help here 
 noticing, and that is a very inconvenient 
 love of garnish and flowers, either natural 
 or cut m turnips and carrots, and stuck on 
 dishes, so as greatly to impede carving 
 and helping. This is the true barbarian 
 principle of ornament, and is in no way 
 distinguishable from the " untutored In- 
 dian' s" fondness for feathers and shells. 
 In both cases the ornament is an encum- 
 brance, and has no relation to the matter 
 on which it is placed. But there is a still 
 worse practice, and that is pouring sauce 
 over certain dishes to prevent them from 
 looking too plain, as parsley and butter, or 
 white sauce over boiled chickens. I cannot 
 distinguish this taste from that of the Hot- 
 tentot besmearing himself with grease, or 
 the Indian with red paint, who, T suppose. 
 
THE ART OF D I N I N ti 35 
 
 nave both the same reason for their prac- 
 tice. To my mind, good meat well cook- 
 ed, the plainer it looks the better it looks, 
 and it certainly is better with the accesso- 
 ries kept separate till .ised, unless they 
 form a part of the dish. 
 
J AE ART OF DINING. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In my last chapter, I promised tj give 
 my ideas of what dinners ought to be. I 
 shall begin with repeating a preceding 
 passage. 
 
 " In order to bring the dinner system to 
 perfection according to my idea, it would 
 be necessary to have a room contrived 0,1 
 the best possible plan fo. eiffht persons, as 
 the greatest number. I almost think six- 
 even more desirable than eight ; but beyond 
 ei^ht, as far as my experience goes, 
 there is always a division into parties, 
 or a partial languor, or a sort of para 
 vsis either of the extremities or centre 
 
T HE ART OF DINING. 37 
 
 which has more or less effect upon the 
 whole. For complete enjoyment, a com- 
 pany ought to be one ; sympathizing and 
 drawing together, listening and talking in 
 due proportions — no monopolists, nor any 
 ciphers." — I am now supposing the whole 
 object to be the perfection of dinner par- 
 ties, without reference to number of family 
 or acquaintance, and without reference to 
 display or any other consideration : but I 
 suppose every other consideration post- 
 poned to convivial enjoyment alone. Spa- 
 cious and lofty rooms destroy, or at least 
 weaken, that feeling of concentration 
 which is essential to perfect fellowship. 
 There is a sort of evaporation ol one- 
 self, or flying off into the void, which im- 
 pairs that force of attention necessary to 
 give and receive complete enjoyment. A 
 
38 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 party, to use a familiar phrase, should be, 
 as it were, boxed up, comfortably packed, 
 with room enough, but not to spare, or, as 
 the French revolutionists used to have it, 
 should be "one and indivisible." Those 
 who have dined in the very small rooms, 
 called cabinets particidiers, at the restau- 
 rateurs at Paris, must have remarked the 
 beneficial influence of compactness in pro- 
 moting hilarity, and banishing abstraction 
 and restraint ; but those rooms have no 
 other desirable qualification but their small- 
 ness, which is often extreme, and they 
 have not been originally contrived for the 
 purpose for which they are used, yet they 
 have a capability of producing more of a 
 festive disposition than is to be found 
 amid space and display. Dining-rooms 
 in London are in general, I think, very 
 
THK ART OF DIM N G. 30 
 
 tasteless and uninspiring in themselves, 
 and, when set out, they are decorated after 
 the barbarian style, rather for display, than 
 with reference to their use. 
 
 From the architect to the table decora- 
 tor, there seems to be a total absence of 
 genius for the real objects to be aimed at. 
 Justness of proportion, harmony of co- 
 louring, and disposition of light, are the 
 most desirable qualities in any room, but 
 especially in a dining-room, without any 
 individual ornaments or objects to distract 
 the attention ; so that the moment one 
 enters, there may be a feeling of fitness, 
 which is productive of undisturbed satis- 
 faction, and disposes the mind to the best 
 state for enjoyment. Attention should be 
 directed to produce an effect from the 
 whole, and not by the parts. For this 
 
40 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 reason light should be thrown in the least 
 observable manner, and not ostentatiously 
 from ornamental objects. There should 
 be the pleasing effect of good light, with 
 the least perception whence it comes. 
 There is no art in lighting a table by 
 cumbrous branches ; but there is in throw- 
 ing a light upon it, like some of Rem- 
 brandt's paintings, and the effect is ac- 
 cordingly. The first is vulgar ; the latter 
 refined. In the same manner light from 
 windows should be admitted only with 
 reference to the table ; and during dinner 
 the view should be shut out to prevent dis- 
 traction. With respect to the proportions 
 of a room, they should be studied with 
 reference to the table, which, as I have 
 said, should in my opinion be of the size 
 to accommodate not more than eight per- 
 
THE ART OF DINING 41 
 
 sons. In point of width, I would not 
 have more space than necessary for the 
 convenient circulation of the least possi- 
 hle number of attendants. In point of 
 length there should be room for a side- 
 board at one end, and a sufficient space 
 from the fireplace at the other ; so that 
 the length of the room would be somewhat 
 greater than the width. In respect to 
 height, it should be proportioned to the 
 length and width, and therefore the height 
 would not be considerable. A high room 
 is certainly not favourable to conversation, 
 because it is contrary to the principal of 
 concemration ; and the prejudice in favour 
 of height arises from its effect considered 
 with respect to large parties, and to over- 
 loaded tables. I would have the door in 
 the side, at the end near the sideboard, 
 
42 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 and the windows on the side opposite. As 
 to colouring, the same rule ought to be ob- 
 served as in every thing else, that is, to 
 study general effect. To suit all seasons 
 best, I think the walls ought to be of 
 rather a sober colour, with drapery of a 
 warm appearance for cold weather, and the 
 contrary for hot. Perhaps it may be 
 thought by many, that all these particulars 
 are very immaterial, and that the consider- 
 ation of them is very trifling ; but my 
 opinion is, that in all our actions, whether 
 with reference to business or pleasure, it is 
 a main point, in the first place, to produce a 
 suitable disposition ; and as dining is an 
 occurrence of every day of our lives, or 
 nearly so, and as our health and spirits 
 depend in a great measure upon our vivid 
 enjoyment of this our chief meal, it seems 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 13 
 
 to me a more worthy object of study than 
 those unreal occupations about which so 
 many busy themselves in vain. But I am 
 forgetting an important matter in the din- 
 ing-room ; I mean the due regulation of 
 the temperature, upon which comfort so 
 much depends, and from want of attention 
 to which, there is annually so much suffer- 
 ing both from heat and cold. In hot wea- 
 ther the difficulty is the greatest, and is 
 best to be overcome by attention to ventila- 
 tion and blinds. In winter there is little 
 difficulty, with due care and no stinginess, 
 which latter is apt to appear both in having 
 the fire only lighted just before dinner, and 
 in not keeping it up properly to the end of 
 the party ; and I do here protest against 
 the practice I have often witnessed, of let- 
 tiug*the fire actually go out in cold weather 
 
4 1 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 before the guests. There is nothing more 
 cheerless or of more inhospitable appear- 
 ance. On the other hand, a bright blazing 
 fire has a very inspiring effect on entering 
 the dining-room, and is an object worthy 
 of special attention to those who wish 
 their parties to succeed. Moreover, in 
 such a room as I have described, the open- 
 ing after dinner on a dreary day to admit a 
 cheerful fire would be a very inspiring mo- 
 ment with an agreeable party brought into 
 perfect unison by a well-imagined, well- 
 executed repast — a scene to kindle equally 
 attachment to one's friends, and love of 
 one's country. The cultivation of the 
 fireside is one of the greatest import, pub- 
 lic and private. 
 
 Having said, I think, every thing I have- 
 to say as to the arrangement of the dining- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 4.1 
 
 room till I come to the table, I will here 
 dedicate a word or two to its necessary ap- 
 pendage, the kitchen, which I would have 
 literally an appendage, and not, as at pre- 
 sent, a distant and unconnected establish- 
 ment. As I said before, I am now sup- 
 posing the whole object to be the perfec- 
 tion of dinner parties, without reference to 
 any other consideration, and therefore, I 
 put aside custom, fashion, and prejudice, 
 as enemies to the true theory and practice, 
 and I boldly advance my own opinions. I 
 must beg the reader to bear in mind, that 
 I am speaking with reference to small par- 
 ties, and that I am an advocate for dinners 
 which, as nearly as can be calculated, are 
 just enough, and no more. I speak not 
 of the bustle of preparation for twelve, 
 sixteen or twenty people, with about four 
 
4G THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 times as much as they can possibly con- 
 sume, and with a combination of over- 
 powering heat and disagreeable scents. 
 I have in view a quiet, little kitchen with- 
 out noise, or annoying heat, or odour, save 
 some simple savory one, provocative of 
 the appetite, and incapable of offending 
 the most fastidious. Such an establish- 
 ment would I have immediately adjoining 
 my dining-room, and communicating with 
 it by an entrance close to the sideboard, 
 closed during the process of dinner by a 
 curtain only, so that the dishes could be 
 brought in without noise, or current of air, 
 or constant opening or shutting of a door. 
 As Matthew Bramble, i.i Humphrey 
 Clinker, talks in his delights of the coun- 
 try, of eating trout struggling from the 
 stream, T would have mv dishes served 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 17 
 
 glowing, or steaming, from the kitchen- 
 stoves — a luxury not to be compensated, 
 and a quality which gives a relish, other- 
 wise unattainable, to the simplest, as well 
 as the most highly finished dishes. Let 
 those who have sense and taste conceive a 
 compact dinner, quietly served in simple 
 succession according to such an arrange- 
 ment, with every thing at hand, and in the 
 best possible state, and compare it with a 
 three-course repast, imported under cover, 
 in tedious processsion, from under ground. 
 
48 THE ART OF DININ O. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 To those who are the slaves of custom 
 or fashion, or who have never thought for 
 themselves, the doctrines on the art of din- 
 ing laid down in the last chapter must 
 appear startling, absurd, or impossible to 
 be carried into practice, except in a very 
 limited number of cases. The simple 
 style I propose is as different from the 
 ornamented and cumbrous one now in 
 vogue, as the present cropped, unpowder- 
 ed, trousered mode of dress is from that 
 of a gentleman's in the middle of the last 
 century, when bags, swords, buckles, and 
 gold lace were universally in use ; and I 
 might be thought as much out of the 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 49 
 
 way in my notions by some, as any one 
 would have been in the year 1750, who 
 should have advocated the dress of 1835. 
 But simplicity and convenience have tri- 
 umphed in our dress, and I have no doubt 
 they will equally do so in time in our 
 dinners. With respect to the practicabi- 
 lity of my system, I lay down rules which 
 I think the sound ones, with a view to 
 their being approached as nearly as cir- 
 cumstances will permit. For instance, I 
 am of opinion a party, to be the most satis- 
 factory, should not exceed eight persons, 
 and therefore I would keep as near that 
 number as possible. I think it is a very 
 material point to have a dinner served up 
 quite hot, and therefore I would have a 
 kitchen as close to the dining-room as con- 
 veniently it could be. I differ from those 
 4 
 
50 THE/ )F DINING. 
 
 who like large parties, and who think the 
 kitchen ought to be remote, and I frame 
 my rules accordingly, and would bring my 
 practice as near my rules as circumstances 
 would allow. I should prefer two small 
 parties simply regaled, to one large one 
 with an overloaded repast, and I would 
 make all my arrangements with reference 
 to the style I think best, and keep to it as 
 strictly as I could. As it appears to me 
 that the more intent we are upon what we 
 are doing, the greater is our enjoyment, I 
 have dwelt in the article in my last chapter 
 upon the means of preventing distraction 
 at the dinner-table — not that I mean all that 
 I have said always to be adhered to, but I 
 give it by way of guide and specimen. I 
 endeavour to exhibit the true philosophy 
 of dining, leaving the practice to be modi- 
 
THE ART OF DINING 51 
 
 fied according to tastes and circumstances, 
 and as I am decidedly of opinion that the 
 true philosophy of dining would have 
 great influence upon our well being, bodily 
 and mental, and upon the good ordering of 
 our social habits, I think it well worth 
 serious attention. The above observations 
 apply as well to what I am going to say as 
 to what I have said ; the application of my 
 rules must depend upon circumstances. 
 
 I concluded the article on dining in my 
 last chapter with promising to treat, in the 
 present, of the table, the dinner, and the 
 mode of conducting it. A great deal of the 
 pleasure of the party depends upon the 
 size of the table being proportioned to the 
 number of those sitting at it. The other 
 day, when dining alone with a friend of 
 mine, I could not help being constantly 
 
52 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 sensible of the unsocial influence of too 
 large a table. The circular form seems to 
 me to be the most desirable, and as tables 
 are now made with tops of different sizes, 
 to put on as occasion requires, those who 
 think it worth while can adapt their table 
 to their party with what precision they 
 please. According to my system of serv- 
 ing the dishes in succession, the only thing 
 to be considered in the size of the table, 
 is convenient room for sitting, so as 
 neither to be crowded nor to be too far 
 apart. For any number not exceeding 
 four, I think a square or oblong table quite 
 as comfortable as a round one. With 
 respect to setting out a table, every thing 
 should be brilliantly clean, and nothing 
 should be placed upon it except what is 
 wanted ; and every thing wanted, which 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 53 
 
 can ( onveniently be upon the table, should 
 be there, so as to dispense as much as pos- 
 sible with attendance, and thereby avoid the 
 trouble of asking for things, and the frequent 
 occurrence, even with the best arrange- 
 ments, of having to wait. I rather think 
 the best mode of lighting a table has not 
 yet been discovered. I think it desirable not 
 to have the lights upon it, nor indeed any 
 thing which can interrupt the freest com- 
 munication between the guests, upon which 
 sociability greatly depends. The art of 
 throwing the most agreeable light upon a 
 table is well worth cultivating. Instead 
 of those inconvenient and useless centre- 
 pieces which I have already denounced, I 
 would have a basket of beautiful bread, 
 white and brown, in the middle of the 
 table, with a silver fork on each side, so 
 
54 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 that the guests could help themselves, which 
 would be oerfectly easy with a pariy not 
 exceeding eignt, which limit I understand 
 in all I say. I would have the wine piaced 
 upon the table in such manner as to oe as 
 much as possible within the reach ot each 
 person, and I hold stands for the decanters 
 to be impediments, and coolers also, ex- 
 cept, perhaps, in very hot weather. Ii the 
 wine is served at a proper temperature, it 
 will in general remain so, as long as ought 
 to be necessary ; but it is often set upon the 
 table before it is wanted, for show. As I 
 am an enemy to a variety of wines, I think 
 one wine glass only most convenient at 
 dinner, nor do I think in general that 
 water glasses for the wine glasses are of 
 much use. I like to simplify as much as 
 possible ; and instead of the supernumera- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 55 
 
 ries we now see, I would have one or more 
 sels of cruets upon the table, according to 
 the size of the party, and containing those 
 things which are continually wanted, and 
 which it is desirable to have at hand. 
 When they are to be asked for, they are 
 not used half so much as when they are 
 within reach. Whatever dish is placed 
 upon the table, it ought to be preceded by 
 all its minor adjuncts, and accompanied by 
 the proper vegetables quite hot, so that it 
 may be enjoyed entirely, and at once. 
 Plow very seldom this is fully experienced, 
 for. want of previous attention, or from the 
 custom of sacrificing comfort to state and 
 form ! I suppose I hardly need add that 
 I am an advocate for the use of dumb 
 waiters ; and the smaller the party is, the 
 more they are desirable, because attendants 
 
56 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 are a restraint upon conversation and upon 
 one's ease in general, in proportion to the 
 limited number at table. I will conclude 
 this part of my subject with recommend- 
 ing, in the arrangements of the dining- 
 room, and the setting out of the table, 
 Madame de Sta'el's description of Corinne's 
 drawing-room, which she says, was " sim- 
 ply furnished, and with every thing con- 
 trived to make conversation easy and the 
 circle compact," as nearly^ as possible the 
 reverse of what is aimed at in English 
 dinners of the present day. 
 
 With respect to the dinner itself, there 
 are two kinds of dinners — one simple, con- 
 sisting of few dishes, the other embracing 
 a variety. Both kinds are good in their 
 way, and both deserving attention ; but 
 for constancy, 1 greatly prefer the simple 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 57 
 
 style. As it is not my purpose to give a 
 series of bills of fare, after the manner of 
 the authors of books on cookery, I shall 
 perhaps find it difficult to make my notions 
 on dinners sufficiently comprehended. I 
 mean only to lay down a few general rides, 
 and leave the application to the genius of 
 those who read them. In the first place, 
 it is neceesary not to be afraid of not hav- 
 ing enough, and so to go into the other 
 extreme, and have a great deal too much, 
 as is almost invariably the practice. It is 
 also necessary not to be afraid of the 
 table looking bare, and so to crowd it with 
 dishes not wanted, or before they are 
 wanted, whereby they become cold arid 
 sodden. " Enough is as good as a feast," 
 is a sound maxim as well in providing as 
 in eating. The advantages of having only 
 
58 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 enough are these ; it saves expense, trouble, 
 and attendance; it removes temptation and 
 induces contentment, and it affords the best 
 chance of having 1 a well-dressed dinner, 
 by concentrating the attention of the cook. 
 The having too much, and setting dishes 
 on the table merely for appearance, are 
 practices arising out of prejudices, which, 
 if once broken through, would be looked 
 upon, and deservedly, as the height of vul- 
 garity. The excessive system is a great 
 preventive of hospitality, by adding to the 
 expense and trouble of entertaining, while 
 it has no one advantage. It is only pur- 
 sued by the majority of people for fear of 
 being unlike the rest of the world. In 
 proportion to the smallness of dinner ought 
 to be its excellence, both as to quality of 
 materials and the cooking;. In order to en- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 59 
 
 sure the best quality of materials, it is ne- 
 cessary to have some intercourse with the 
 tradesmen who provide them, that they 
 may feel an interest in pointing out and 
 furnishing whatever happens to be most 
 desirable ; and judicious criticisms on the 
 cooking, whether in blaming or commend- 
 ing, are essential to keeping up a proper 
 degree of zeal. There is a mean in these 
 things between too much meddling and 
 total negligence, and I think it is to be 
 lamented on many accounts, that there is 
 so much of the latter on the part of the 
 higher classes toward those with whom 
 they deal. Both parties would find their 
 account in a mutual good understanding. 
 To order dinner well is a matter of inven- 
 tion and combination. It involves novelty, 
 simplicity, and taste ; 
 
60 T UK ART O F DINING, 
 
 generality of dinners, there is no character 
 but that of dull routine, according to the 
 season. The same things are seen every- 
 where at the same periods ; and as the 
 rules for providing limit the range very 
 much, there are a great many good things 
 which never make their appearance at all, 
 and ,a great many others, which, being 
 served in a fixed order, are seldom half 
 enjoyed ; as, for instance, game in the 
 third course. This reminds me of a dinner 
 I ordered last Christmas-day for two persons 
 besides myself, and which we enjoyed 
 very much. It consisted of crimped cod, 
 woodcocks, and plum-pudding, just as much 
 of each as we wanted, and accompanied 
 by champagne. Now this dinner was both 
 very agreeable and very wholesome from 
 its moderation ; but the ordinary course 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 01 
 
 would have been to have preceded the 
 woodcocks by some substantial dish, 
 thereby taking away from their relish, and 
 at the same time overloading the appetite. 
 Delicacies are scarcely ever brought till 
 they are quite superfluous, which is unsa- 
 tisfactory if they are not eaten, and perni- 
 cious if they are. When the materials 
 and the cooking are both of the best, and 
 the dinner is served according to the most 
 approved rules of comfort, the plainest, 
 cheapest food has attractions which are 
 seldom to be found in the most laboured 
 attempts. Herrings and hashed mutton, 
 to those who like them, are capable of 
 affording as much enjoyment, when skil- 
 fully dressed, as rare and costly dishes. I 
 think it would be a great improvement to 
 introduce, as a mode of enjoying easy 
 
0:1 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 society, small parties to plain savoury 
 dinners, without state or ceremony. They 
 need not supersede more expensive repasts, 
 but might be adopted as a variety and 
 a relief. At present such a thing is 
 scarcely heard of as asking half a dozen 
 people to a dinner, unless it be an affair of 
 trouble and expense. If people can dine 
 alone in a plain manner, they could do so 
 in society much more agreeably. 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 03 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Suppose a party of eight assembled in a 
 room and at a table arranged according to 
 what I have said in the preceding chap- 
 ter, to a dinner, either plain or costly, and, 
 in the latter case, either of few dishes 
 or of considerable variety ; I would have 
 every dish served in succession, with its 
 proper accompaniments, and between each 
 dish there should be a short interval, to be 
 filled up with conversation and wine, so as 
 to prolong the repast as much as possible, 
 without inducing excess, and to give time 
 to the digestive powers. By means of 
 such intervals, time would be given to the 
 cook, and to the attendants, so that no hing 
 
f'A THE ART OF DININO. 
 
 would have to wait for the guests, nor 
 would the guests have to wait for any- 
 thing, due preparation being made for each 
 dish before its arrival, without bustle or 
 omissions. In dinners of few dishes they 
 ought to be of rather a substantial kind ; 
 but, when composed of variety, the dishes 
 should be of a lighter nature, and in the 
 French style. It must be confessed that a 
 French dinner, when well dressed, is ex- 
 tremely attractive, and, from the lightness 
 felt after a great variety of dishes, it cannot 
 be unwholesome ; though I do not think, 
 from my own experience and observation, 
 that the French mode of cookery is so 
 favourable to physical power as the En- 
 glish. If I might have my choice, I should 
 adopt the simple English style for my 
 regular dint, diversifying it, occasionally 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 05 
 
 with the more complicated French style. 
 Although I like, as a rule, to abstain from 
 much variety at the same meal, I think it 
 both wholesome and agreeable to vary the 
 food on different days, both as to the mate- 
 rials and the mode of dressing them. The 
 palate is better pleased, and the digestion 
 more active, and the food, I believe, assi- 
 milates in a greater degree with the system. 
 The productions of the different seasons 
 and of different climates point out to us un- 
 erringly that it is proper to vary our food ; 
 and one good general rule I take to be, to 
 select those things which are most in sea- 
 son, and to abandon them as soon as they 
 begin to deteriorate in quality. Most peo- 
 ple mistake the doctrine of variety in their 
 mode of living. They have great variety 
 at the same meals, and great sameness at 
 
66 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 different meals. Let me here mention, 
 what I forgot before, that after the dinner 
 on Christmas-day, we drank mulled claret 
 — an excellent thing, and very suitable to 
 the season. These agreeable varieties are 
 never met with, or even thought of, in the 
 formal routine of society, though they con- 
 tribute much, when appropriately devised, 
 to the enjoyment of a party, and they admit 
 scope for invention. I think, in general, 
 there is far too little attention paid to vary- 
 ing the mode of dining according to the 
 temperature of the seasons. Summer din- 
 ners are for the most part as heavy and as 
 hot as those in winter, and the consequence 
 is, they are frequently very oppressive, 
 both in themselves and from their effect on 
 the room. In hot weather they ought to 
 bo light, and of a cooling nature, and uccom- 
 
THE A R T C F D 1 X I K G. 07 
 
 panied with agreeable beverages well iced, 
 rather than with pure wine, especially of 
 the stronger kinds. I cannot think there 
 is any danger from such diet to those who 
 use it moderately. The danger, I appre- 
 hend, lies in excess from the pleasure felt 
 in allaying thirst and heat. The season in 
 which nature produces fruit and vegetables 
 in the greatest perfection and abundance, is 
 surely that in which they ought to be most 
 used. During the summer that cholera 
 was the most prevalent, I sometimes dined 
 upon pickled salmon, salad, and cider, and 
 nothing else ; and I always found they 
 agreed with me perfectly, besides being 
 very agreeable. Probably, if I had taken 
 them in addition to more substantial food, 
 so as to overload my appetite, it might have 
 been otherwise, and yet that course would 
 
08 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 have been adopted by many people by way 
 of precaution. In hot weather the chief 
 thing to be aimed at is. to produce a light 
 and cool feeling, both by the management 
 of the room and the nature of the repast. 
 In winter, warmth and substantial diet 
 afford the most satisfaction. In damp 
 weather, when the digestion is the weak- 
 est, the diet ought to be most moderate in 
 quantity, but rather of a warm and stimu- 
 lating nature ; and in bracing weather, I 
 think plain, substantial food the most appro- 
 priate. By studying to suit the repast to 
 the temperature, the greatest satisfaction 
 may be given at the cheapest rate. Iced 
 water is often more coveted than the 
 richest wine. 
 
 One of the greatest luxuries, to my mind, 
 in dining, is to be able to command plenty 
 
THE ART OF DINING. GO 
 
 of good vegetables, well served up. But 
 this is a luxury vainly hoped for at set 
 parties. The vegetables are made to figure 
 in a very secondary way, except, indeed, 
 while they are considered as great delica- 
 cies, which is generally before they are at 
 their best, and then, like other delicacies, 
 they are introduced after the appetite has 
 been satisfied ; and the manner of handing 
 vegetables round is most unsatisfactory 
 and uncertain. Excellent potatoes, smok- 
 ing hot, and accompanied by melted butter 
 of the first quality, would alone stamp 
 merit on any dinner ; but they are as rare 
 on state occasions, so served, as if they 
 were of the cost of pearls. Every body 
 of genuine taste is delighted with a display 
 of vegetables of a superior order ; and if 
 great attention was bestowed upon that part 
 
70 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 of dinners instead of upon the many other 
 dishes, dinners would be at once more 
 wholesome and more satisfactory to the 
 palate, and often less expensive. I have 
 observed, that whenever the vegetables are 
 distinguished for their excellence, the din- 
 ner is always particularly enjoyed ; and if 
 they were served, as I have already recom- 
 mended, with each dish, as they are most 
 appropriate and fresh from the dressing, it 
 would be a great improvement on the pre- 
 sent stvle. With eome meats something 
 of the kind is practised, as pease with 
 ducks, and beans with bacon, and such 
 combinations are generally favourites ; but 
 the system might be much extended, and 
 with great advantage, by due attention. 
 With respect to variety of vegetables, I 
 think the same rule applies as to other 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 dishes. I would not have many sorts on 
 the same occasion, but would study ap- 
 propriateness and particular excellence. 
 There is something very refreshing in the 
 mere look of fine vegetables, and the 
 entrance of a well-dressed dish of meat, 
 properly accompanied by them and all their 
 adjuncts, would excite a disposition to 
 enjoyment much greater than can the un- 
 meaning and unconnected courses now 
 placed before our eyes. This is a matter 
 of study and combination, and a field for 
 genius. It is a reasonable object of atten- 
 tion, inasmuch as it is conducive to real 
 enjoyment, and has nothing to do with 
 mere display. In French cookery, vegeta- 
 bles meet with attention much more propor- 
 tionate to their importance than in ours, 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 and appropriateness in serving them is 
 much more studied. 
 
 I think I have now said all I had to say 
 respecting dinners. My object has been 
 to point out what I consider to be the true 
 philosophy, and to put people upon the 
 right scent of what ought to be done, 
 rather than to particularize it. Those 
 who wish to succeed, can only do so to 
 much extent, by first getting into the right 
 course, and then thinking for themselves, 
 with such aids as they can derive from 
 observation, and the best treatises on cook- 
 ery. The chief point to be aimed at, is 
 to acquire a habit of thinking only of the 
 real object of dining, and to discard all 
 wish for state and display in a matter 
 which concerns our daily enjoyment of 
 health and pleasure. I consider my ob- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 73 
 
 serrations on the art of dining as part of 
 what I had to say on attainment of high 
 health, from the necessary dependence of 
 our health upon the judicious and satisfac- 
 tory manner in which we make our prin- 
 cipal meal. I think the art of dining, pro- 
 perly understood, is especially worthy the 
 attention of females of all classes, accord- 
 ing to their respective means. It comes 
 peculiarly within the province of domestic 
 economy, and is indeed one of its most 
 important features. But females ought to 
 be especially on their guard, in this essen- 
 tial affair, not to divert their views from 
 realities to show, to which they have a 
 strong propensity. There are many things 
 in which they can indulge their taste for 
 ornament, provided it is not carried too 
 far, with advantage to themselves and to 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 the satisfaction of others ; but in the arti- 
 cle of dinners it is misplaced, because 
 destructive of something of much more 
 importance ; and the realities, when in full 
 force, have quite sufficient attractions with- 
 out any attempt to heighten them by 
 " foreign aid." In conformity with my 
 dislike to show or display in every thing 
 connected with dinners, I prefer a service 
 of plain white ware — the French manu- 
 facture, I believe, or an imitation of it — to 
 plate or ornamented china. There is a 
 simplicity in white ware, and an appearance 
 of cleanliness and purity, which are to me 
 particularly pleasing, besides which it is, 
 I always think, indicative of a proper feel- 
 ing, and a due attention in the right direc- 
 tion. As to desserts, I am no great friend 
 to them. I enjoy fruit much more at ai y 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 7f) 
 
 other time of the day, and at any other 
 meal ; besides which, I think they are 
 unwholesome from being- unnecessary. 
 At any rate, I would have them in great 
 moderation, and confined to a few kinds 
 of ripe fruit. Preserved fruits are in my 
 opinion cloying after dinner, and I believe 
 injurious to the digestion of a substantial 
 meal, and confectionary I think still worse. 
 Desserts are made instruments of show as 
 much or more than dinners, and though, un- 
 like dinners, they cannot well be spoiled by 
 it, yet it makes them a perpetual source of 
 temptation to excess. It is most unphilo- 
 sophical to set things before people, and to 
 tell them they need not. take them unless 
 they please. Contentment and safety 
 mainly depend upon having nothing before 
 us except what we ought to take. 
 
7 ) THE iST OF D IT: INC. 
 
 I purpose in my next chapter coming to 
 a conclusion on the subject of the art of 
 dining. My remaining topics are, wine, 
 the means of limiting dinners to small par- 
 ties, and the effect of such limit upon the 
 mode of carrying on society in the most 
 convenient and agreeable manner. It 
 seems to me, that great improvements are 
 practicable, at least with those who prefer 
 real enjoyment to mock, and who like ease 
 and liberty better than state and restraint. 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Before I proceed to the topics I pro- 
 posed to discuss in this chapter, I wish 
 just to add one observation to what I have 
 said in a former one, on the introduction 
 of delicacies at dinner. I have there ob- 
 served that " delicacies are scarcely ever 
 brought till they are quite superfluous, 
 which is unsatisfactory if they are not 
 eaten, and pernicious if they are." Fre- 
 quently when I have expressed my senti- 
 ments on this subject in conversation, the 
 objection made has been, that it would be 
 difficult, or too expensive, if delicacies 
 were introduced in the early part of din- 
 ner to provide enough. The answer is, 
 
73 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 that it is not necessary to have a sufficient 
 supply for each guest to make a dinner 
 upon, but enough to afford each a reasona- 
 ble portion before the appetite is palled. 
 For instance, at a party of six persons, if 
 the dinner consisted of soup, fish, a joint, 
 and three woodcocks, I maintain it would 
 be much better to serve the woodcocks 
 before the joint, both on the score of en- 
 joyment and of health — of enjoyment, 
 because a delicacy, when the appetite is 
 nearly satisfied, loses a great part of its 
 relish, and is reduced to the level of plainer 
 food while the appetite is keen — of health, 
 because it is much more easy to regulate 
 the appetite when the least tempting dishes 
 are brought last. By serving delicacies 
 first, people would dine both more satis- 
 fictorily and more moderately, and eater- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 79 
 
 tainments would be less costly and less 
 troublesome. I have often seen a course 
 of game taken away, nearly or quite un- 
 touched, which would almost have dined 
 the party, and much more agreeably than 
 on the preceding dishes. The truth is, 
 and a melancholy one too, that set dinners 
 are managed more with a view to the 
 pageant than the repast, and almost in 
 every particular, besides that of delicacies, 
 there is a sacrifice of enjoyment to an 
 unmeaning and vulgar-minded style. Let 
 us hope that some daring and refined 
 spirits will emancipate us from such bar- 
 barous thraldom, and that we may see a 
 rivalry of inventive genius instead of the 
 present one of cumbrous pomp. Simpli- 
 city, ease, and sound sense are making 
 progress in many things relating to our 
 
80 THE ART OF DIN IN 
 
 way of living ; and surely they will not 
 be excluded from one of the most import- 
 ant of our temporal concerns. 
 
 A matter suggests itself to me here, 
 which it is expedient not to pass over ; I 
 mean the practice of persons in different 
 stations of life, or enjoying different de- 
 grees of affluence, in their intercourse with 
 each other, all adopting, as far as they are 
 able, the same style of entertainment. The 
 formal, stately style is certainly not that 
 of the greatest enjoyment, but it is tolera- 
 ble only when it is adequately kept up, 
 and with a disciplined establishment. 
 Those who maintain large establishments, 
 feel a necessity to find them employment 
 to prevent greater inconveniences, but for 
 those who have only a moderate household 
 1o go out of their way for the purpose of 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 81 
 
 badly imitating what is rather to be avoided 
 altogether, is the height of folly. I do not 
 know any thing more unsatisfactory than a 
 state occasion, where the usual mode of 
 living is free from all state. It excites my 
 pity, and wearies me ; and I cannot be at 
 my ease while I am conscious that the en- 
 tertainers are giving themselves trouble, and 
 suffering anxiety to a greater degree than 
 it is probable they can be recompensed, 
 and are perhaps incurring expense which 
 is inconvenient, and for which some com- 
 fort is to be sacrificed. In whatever style 
 people live, provided it, is good in its kind, 
 they will always have attractions to offer 
 by means of a little extra exertion well 
 directed within their own bounds, but when 
 they pass those bounds, they forego the 
 
 advantages of variety and ease. It is 
 6 
 
P2 THE ART CF I'l K 1^0. 
 
 almost always practicable to provide some- 
 thing out of the common way, or some- 
 thing common better than common ; and 
 people in different situations are the most 
 likely to be able to produce an agreeable 
 variety. The rule generally followed is to 
 think what the guests are accustomed to, 
 whereas it should be reversed, and what 
 they are not accustomed to should rather 
 be set before them, especially where the 
 situation of the entertainer, or his place of 
 residence, affords any thing peculiar. By 
 adopting such a course, persons of mode- 
 rate income may entertain their superiors 
 in wealth without inconvenience to them- 
 selves, and very much to the satisfaction 
 of their guests — much better than by 
 laboured imitations of their own style 
 Contrast should be aimed at, and men used 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 83 
 
 to state and luxury are most likely to be 
 pleased with comfort and simplicity. We 
 all laugh at the idea of a Frenchman in his 
 own country, thinking it necessary to treat 
 an Englishman with roast beef; but it is 
 the same principle to think it necessary to 
 entertain as we have been entertained, un- 
 der different circumstances. There are 
 people in remote parts of the country, who, 
 having the best trout at hand, and for no- 
 thing, send for turbot at a great expense to 
 entertain their London guests; and in- 
 stances of the like want of judgment are 
 innumerable. In general it is best to give 
 strangers the best of the place ; they are 
 then the most sure to be pleased. In 
 entertaining those who are in a different 
 class from ourselves, it is expedient to pro- 
 vide for them what they are not used to, 
 
84 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 and that which we are most in the way of 
 procuring of superior quality. Many peo- 
 ple, from their connexion with foreign 
 countries, or with different parts of their 
 own, are enabled to command with ease to 
 themselves what are interesting rarities to 
 others, and one sure way to entertain with 
 effect is, as I have before recommended, to 
 cultivate a good understanding with those 
 with whom we deal for the supply of the 
 table. By way of illustration of what I 
 have said, on the subject of choice plain 
 dinners, I will give an account of one I 
 once gave in the chambers of a friend of 
 mine in the Temple, to a party of six, all 
 of whom were accustomed to good living, 
 and one of whom was bred at one of the 
 most celebrated tables in London. The 
 dinner consisted of the following dishes, 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 85 
 
 served in succession, and with their re- 
 spective adjuncts carefully attended to, 
 First, spring soup from Birch's on Corn- 
 hill, which, to those who have never 
 tasted it, I particularly recommend in the 
 season, as being quite delicious ; then a 
 moderate sized turbot, bought in the city, 
 beautifully boiled, with first-rate lobster- 
 sauce, cucumber, and new potatoes ; after 
 that, ribs of beef from Leadenhall market, 
 roasted to a turn, and smoking from the 
 spit, with French beans and salad ; then a 
 very fine dressed crab ; and lastly, some 
 jelly. The owner of the chambers was 
 connected with the city, and he undertook 
 specially to order the different articles, 
 which it would have been impossible to 
 exceed in quality ; and though the fish and 
 beef were dressed by a Temple laundress, 
 
86 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 they could not have been better served, I 
 suppose principally from the kitchen being 
 close at hand, and her attention not being- 
 distracted ; and here I must remark that 
 the proximity of the kitchen was not the 
 least annoyance to us in any way, or indeed 
 perceptible, except in the excellence of the 
 serving up. The beef deservedly met 
 with the highest praise, and certainly I 
 never saw even venison more enjoyed. 
 The crab was considered particularly well 
 introduced, and was eaten with peculiar 
 zest, and the simplicity of the jelly met 
 with approval. The dessert, I think, con- 
 sisted only of oranges and biscuits, followed 
 by occasional introductions of anchovy 
 toast. The wines were champagne, port, 
 and claret. I have had much experience 
 in the dinner way, both at large and at 
 
THE ART OF DINING. ^7 
 
 small parties, but I never saw such a vivid- 
 ness of conviviality, either at or after din- 
 ner, which I attribute principally to the 
 real object of a dinner being the only one 
 studied ; state, ornament, and superfluity 
 being utterly excluded. I hold this up as 
 an example of the plain, easy style of en- 
 tertaining. There was nothing which any 
 body may not have with the most .mode- 
 rate establishment and the smallest house, 
 perhaps not always in exactly the same 
 perfection as to quality of materials, but 
 still sufficiently good, with a little trouble 
 and judgment. 
 
 It is the mode of dinner that I wish to 
 recommend, and not any particular dishes 
 or wines. Common soup made at home, 
 fish of little cost, any joint, the cheapest 
 vegetables, some happy and inexpensive 
 
88 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 introduction, like the crab, and a pudding, 
 with sherry and port, provided every thing 
 is good in quality, and the dishes are 
 well dressed, and served hot and in succes- 
 sion, with their adjuncts, will ensure a 
 quantity of enjoyment, which no one need 
 be afraid to oner, and so it will be with 
 any combination in the same style ; but 
 then it is absolutely necessary not to over- 
 do the thing on the one hand, and on the 
 other, to direct the attention entirely in the 
 right course ; to think nothing of display 
 or fashion, but only of realities, and to 
 dispose every thing for comfort and ease. 
 Such dinners admit of an endless variety 
 of combination, and by more or less addi- 
 tional expense, often very trifling, may be 
 made greatly sought after. There is one 
 precaution which I would recommend to 
 
r II E ART OF Dl N IN G. 89 
 
 those who step out of the common way in 
 entertaining, and that is to make some 
 mention of what they mean to do at the 
 time they give their invitation, otherwise a 
 sort of disappointment may be sometimes 
 felt, which is destructive of that disposi- 
 tion to be pleased, which guests ought to 
 feel. For instance, speaking from my 
 own experience, I greatly prefer small 
 parties to large ones, and simple dinners to 
 overloaded ones ; but it has happened to 
 me, that if, from the style of the invitation, 
 I have made up my mind to a state parly, 
 I have been disappointed at finding a small 
 one, though I should have preferred it in 
 the first instance ; and so it might be to 
 invite any one to a simple dinner, however 
 excellent, without giving some notice. 
 There is often a little art in giving an invi- 
 
'JO THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 tation, not only so as to prevent disap- 
 pointment, but to prepare the invited for 
 any particular circumstance, in order that 
 they may come with the proper disposi- 
 tion, created by anticipation. I recollect 
 at the dinner I have above described, I 
 stated, in my invitations, verbal and writ- 
 ten, what I meant to attempt, and the 
 names of the party. As the success of it 
 so strongly illustrates my positions in 
 favour of compactness of dining-room, of 
 proximity of kitchen, of smallness of 
 party, of absence of state and show, of un- 
 divided attention to excellence of dishes, 
 and to mode of serving them in single 
 succession, I am tempted to add the names 
 here by \va)' of authentication, and to show 
 that my guests were competent judges, not 
 to be le.l away from want of experience. 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 91 
 
 The party consisted of Lord Abinger, then 
 Sir James Scarlett, Sir John Johnstone, 
 the present member for Scarborough, Mr. 
 Young, private secretary to Lord Mel- 
 bourne, Mr. R. Bell, of the firm of Bell 
 Brothers, who occupied the chambers and 
 acted as caterer, and lastly, my excellent 
 friend, the late Honourable George Lamb, 
 whose good humoured convivial qualities 
 were held in high estimation by all who 
 knew him, and who on this occasion out- 
 shone himself. I had seen him on many 
 and many a festive and joyous occasion, 
 both amid the revelries of the northern 
 circuit and in private society, but I never 
 saw him, or any other man, in such height 
 of glee. Such a scene could not take place 
 at a table set out, however well, in the 
 customary style. There could not be ll.e 
 
92 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 same ease and inspiration, the same satis- 
 faction, and concentration of mind on what 
 is to be done, the same sympathetic bring- 
 ing together of a party over one thing at 
 once. What is there in state and show to 
 compensate for this enjoyment? They 
 are the resources by which dulness seeks 
 to distinguish itself, and it is pity that 
 those who are capable of better things, 
 should submit to such trammels. In pro- 
 portion as the set-out is brilliant, I have 
 observed the company is generally dull, and 
 every ornament seems to me an impediment 
 in the way of good fellowship. I must add 
 a word or two to what I have said respect- 
 ing the mode of giving invitations, upon 
 which, I think, more depends than at first 
 sight appears. If a formal invitation on a 
 large card requesting the honour. &c., at 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 03 
 
 three weeks' notice, were to be received, 
 and the party should prove to be a small, 
 familiar one to a simple dinner, however 
 good, some disappointment would almost 
 unavoidably be felt, partly because the 
 mind would have been made up to some- 
 thing different, and partly on account of the 
 more laboured preparation. It is in gene- 
 ral, I think, advisable to give some idea to 
 the invited what it is they are to expect, 
 if there is to be any thing out of the com- 
 mon way, either as to company or repast ; 
 at any rate, it is expedient not to mislead, 
 as some people are very much in the habit 
 of doing, and then receiving their company 
 with an apology, which throws a damp 
 over the affair in the very outset. Now, 
 instead of a formal invitation, let us sup- 
 pose one to such a dinner as the under- 
 
PI THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 mentioned, couched in these words : " Can 
 you dine with me to-morrow 1 — I shall 
 have herrings, hashed mutton, and cran- 
 berry tart. My fishmonger sends me word 
 herrings are just in perfection, and I have 
 some delicious mutton, in hashing which I 
 shall direct my cook to exercise all her art. 
 I intend the party not to exceed six, and, 
 observe, we shall sit down to table at half- 
 past seven. I am asking as follows." 
 Now I should greatly prefer such an invi- 
 tation to a formal one in general terms, 
 and I suppose most other people would do 
 the same. It would show an intentness 
 and right understanding on the matter in 
 hand, from which the happiest results 
 might be expected, and the guests would 
 go filled with the most favourable predis- 
 positions, which is starting at an advan- 
 
1 UK ART OF DINING. 1)5 
 
 tai^e ; for at parties in general, it requires 
 some time before they can be raised to any 
 thing 1 like the proper tone of fellowship. 
 Such a style puts dinner-giving within 
 almost every body's reach, and would 
 induce a constant flow of easy hospitality, 
 instead of a system of formal parties, " few 
 and far between." The same mode is 
 equally desirable in invitations to simple 
 dinners of the most costly, or rarest dishes, 
 and in some respects more so, as the anti- 
 cipations would be more vivid. I have 
 heard it frequently objected to the simple 
 style that some of the guests, when there 
 is little or no choice, may not be able to 
 make a dinner; but this objection is en- 
 tirely obviated by particularizing, as above, 
 what the dinner is to consist of, and those 
 whom it does not please, can then decline 
 
Ofi THE ART OF DININP. 
 
 the invitation. A simple dinner, well 
 served, to a party of a similarity of taste, 
 cannot fail to have peculiar success ; it 
 makes perfect the union. These snug 
 little parties, I must confess, have very 
 much the air of being confined to bachelor 
 ones, but I think them equally applicable 
 to a mixture of the sexes. Ladies are very 
 apt to suppose that men enjoy themselves 
 the most when they are not present. They 
 are in a great measure right, but for a 
 wrong reason. It is not that men prefer 
 their own to a mixture of female society, 
 but that females delight in a number of 
 observances, and in forms, upon some of 
 which I have already touched, and upon a 
 certain display and undeviating order, which 
 conspire to destroy that enjoyment, which 
 they seem to think they are debarred from. 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 97 
 
 The fault is their own. If they will study 
 my doctrines, and fall a little into the her- 
 ring-and-hashed-mutton system, they will 
 soon find a difference in their favour. In 
 their management of dinners, let them 
 think only of what contributes to real en- 
 joyment. Such a system will afford them 
 plenty of scope for the display of their 
 taste in realities, instead of in vanities, 
 which have no charms for men in the arti- 
 cle of conviviality. If they wish to witness 
 any thing like the enjoyment I have 
 desciibed to have taken place at my din- 
 ner in the Temple, they must adopt some- 
 thing of the same course to ensure it. 
 Side-dishes, centre-pieces filled with 
 flowers, and such encumbrances and impe- 
 diments, are fatal to it. They may make 
 their election, but they cannot have both. 
 7 
 
93 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 I rather believe they think their system 
 necessary to keep up a proper degree of 
 respect to themselves, and that without it 
 men would become too careless and unci- 
 vilized ; but this I apprehend to be a mis- 
 take. There may be well-regulated ease 
 without running into disorder and brutality, 
 and whatever facilitates the social inter- 
 course between the sexes, will of course 
 increase refinement on the part of the men. 
 I think it would be a vast improvement in 
 society if the practice of familiar dining 
 were introduced — parties not exceeding 
 eight, without the trouble of dressing be- 
 yond being neat and clean, with simple 
 repasts, costly or otherwise, according to 
 the means or inclinations of the givers, and 
 calculated to please the palate, and to pro- 
 mote sociabilitv and health. I will ex- 
 
plain myself farther on this head ii. my 
 next chapter, till which I must defer the 
 consideration of mv remaining topics on 
 the art of dining. 
 
1 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 CHAPTER VITT 
 
 As the season for fires is approaching, 
 or rather, from the wet weather, is arrived, 
 I must make an observation or two upon 
 that important head. A cheerful fire is 
 our household sun, which I, for one, like to 
 have ever shining upon me, especially in the 
 coming months of November and Decem- 
 ber, when the contrast between that and 
 the external fogs and mud is most striking 
 and agreeable. A good fire is the next 
 best substitute for a summer sun, and, as our 
 summer sun is none of the brightest, we 
 are wise to make the most of its successor. 
 An Englishman's fireside has, time out of 
 mind, been proverbial ; and it shows 
 
THE ART OF DIXISO. 101 
 
 something of a degenerate spirit not to 
 keep up its glories. There is an unfortu- 
 nate race, who labour under a constant 
 pyrophobia, or dread of fire, and who can- 
 not bear the sight of it, or even the feel, 
 except from a distance, or through a 
 screen. When we have to do with such, 
 we must compromise as well as we can 
 between comfort and consideration ; but 
 I am speaking to the real enjoy ers of the 
 goods of life, without any morbid infirmity 
 about them. A bright, lively fire I reckon 
 a most excellent dinner companion, and in 
 proper fire weather I would always have 
 it, if I may so say, one of the party. For 
 instance, two or three at each side of the 
 table, one at the top, and the fire at the bot- 
 tom, with the lights on the mantelpiece ; 
 but then, to have this disposition in perfec- 
 
102 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 tion, the room should be something after 
 the plan I have recommended in my fourth 
 chapter. Under such circumstances, T 
 think if melancholy herself were one of 
 the guests, she could not but forget her 
 state. A fire is an auxiliary at dinner, 
 which diffuses its genial influence, with- 
 out causing distraction. As Shakspeare 
 says of beauty, " it is the sun that maketh 
 all things shine ;" and as Dryden sings 
 after Horace, 
 
 " With well-heap'd logs dissolve the cold, 
 And feed the genial hearth with fires ; 
 Produce the wine that makes us bold, 
 And sprightly wit and love inspires." 
 
 It might be supposed, from the way in 
 which the fire is ordinarily treated during 
 dinner, that it was a disagreeable object, 
 or a common enemy. One or more per- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 103 
 
 sons are made to turn their backs upon it, 
 and in that position screens are obliged to 
 be added to prevent fainting. This is a 
 perverse mode of proceeding, arising partly 
 from the ill-adaptation of dining-rooms to 
 their use, partly from the custom of crowd- 
 ing tables, and partly from the risk of 
 oppressiveness, where there are large 
 numbers and overloaded dinners ; so that 
 in this, as in most instances, one abuse 
 engenders another, and the expediency of 
 adhering to a rational system is clearly 
 manifested. We are the creatures of 
 habit, and too seldom think of changing 
 according to circumstances. It was but the 
 other day I dined where the top of the 
 table was unoccupied; but though the 
 weather was cold and wet, the master of 
 the house maintained his position at the 
 
104 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 bottom with his back to the fire, protected 
 by a screen. If I conld have wheeled 
 him round, " the winter of my discontent" 
 would have been made " glorious sum- 
 mer," and I should have dined with com- 
 plete satisfaction. 
 
 The conservancy of fires ought princi- 
 pally to fall within the superintendence of 
 the female part of a family, because they 
 are least seldom out of the way, and it is 
 a subject of very great importance in the 
 maintenance of domestic comfort, espe- 
 cially where the males, eith er from plea- 
 sure or business, are exposed to the vicis- 
 situdes of weather. Let any one call to 
 mind the difference between two houses 
 where good and bad fires are kept. To 
 the labouring classes a good fire at meals 
 is the greatest source of health and enjoy- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 105 
 
 men ; and at public houses a cheerful 
 blaze seen through the windows, is a bait 
 well understood to catch the labourer re- 
 turning from his work to a comfortless 
 home. If he once gets 
 
 " planted unco right, 
 
 Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely," 
 
 there is no chance of his quitting, till, like 
 Tarn O'Shanter, he is compelled by neces- 
 sity. The essential quality of a fire is to 
 be bright without being too hot, and the 
 best and quickest mode of restoring a 
 neglected fire is to stir out the ashes, and 
 with the tongs to fill up the spaces between 
 the bars with cinders. If carefully done, 
 it is surprising how soon this process will 
 produce an effective and glowing fire. 
 While I w \s writing the above, a friend 
 
106 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 of mine called to propose that we should 
 dine together at the Athenaeum, and he 
 would send a brace of grouse he had just 
 received. We dined very satisfactorily, 
 but agreed that a perfect edition of our din- 
 ner would have been as follows : — First, a 
 dozen and a half of small oysters, not 
 pampered, but fresh from their native bed, 
 eaten simply, after the French fashion, 
 with lemon-juice, to give an edge to the 
 appetite. In about twenty minutes, the 
 time necessary for dressing them, three 
 fine flounders water-zoutcheed, with brown 
 bread and butter — a dish which is better 
 served at the Athenaeum than any where I 
 know. At a short interval after the 
 flounders, the grouse, not sent up together, 
 but one after the other, hot and hot, like 
 mutton chops, each accompanied by a 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 107 
 
 plate of French beans. With the floun- 
 ders half a pint of sherry, and with the 
 grouse a bottle of genuine claret, which we 
 get for three and sixpence a bottle ; after 
 which, a cup each of strong hot coffee. 
 This is a style of dining, which made us 
 think of the gorgeous, encumbered style 
 with pity and contempt, and I give these 
 particulars by way of study, and as a step 
 toward emancipation. After my desultory 
 manner I must here mention an instance 
 of Darbaric ornament I witnessed a short 
 time since at a dinner which, substantially, 
 was excellent. I had to carve a tongue, 
 and found my operations somewhat im- 
 peded by a couple of ranunculuses stuck, 
 into it, sculptured one in turnips, and the 
 other in carrot. It was surrounded by a 
 thin layer of spinach, studded with small 
 
1 08 THE ART OF D I X I N G. 
 
 stars, also cut in carrot. What have 
 ranunculuses and stars to do with tongue 
 and spinach ? To my mind, if they had 
 been on separate and neighbouring dishes, 
 and unadorned, it would have been much 
 more to the purpose. 
 
 At length 1 am come to the considera- 
 tion of that important accompaniment to 
 dinner — wine, in the management of which 
 there is ordinarily a lamentable want of 
 judgment, or rather a total absence of it. 
 Besides an actual want of judgment, there 
 is frequently a parsimonious calculation on. 
 the one hand, or an ostentatious profusion 
 and mixture on the other, both destructive 
 in their different ways, of true enjoyment. 
 The art in using wine is to produce the 
 greatest possible quantity of present glad- 
 ness, without any future depression. To 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 109 
 
 tliis end, a certain degree of simplicity is 
 essential, with due attention to seasons and 
 kinds of food, and particularly to the rate 
 of filling the glass. Too many sorts of 
 wines confuse the palate and derange 
 digestion. The stronger wines, unless 
 very sparingly used, are apt to heat in hot 
 weather, and the smaller kinds are unsatis- 
 factory when it is cold. The rate at 
 which to take wine is a matter of great 
 nicety and importance, and depends upon 
 different circumstances at different times. 
 Care and observation can alone enable any 
 one to succeed in this point. The same 
 quantity of wine, drunk judiciously or 
 injudiciously, will produce the best or the 
 worst effects. Drinking too quick is much 
 more to be avoided than drinking too slow. 
 The former is positively, the latter nega- 
 
110 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 tively, evil. Drinking too quick confuses 
 both the stomach and the brain ; drinking 
 too slow disappoints them. After long 
 fasting, begin slowly and after a solid 
 foundation, and quicken by degrees. After 
 exhaustion from other causes than fasting, 
 reverse this order. Small wines may be 
 drunk with less caution as to rate than the 
 fuller bodied. As soon as the spirits are a 
 little raised, slacken the pace, contrary to 
 the usual practice, whicli is to quicken it. 
 When the proper point of elevation is 
 attained, so use the glass as just to keep 
 there, whereby enjoyment is prolonged 
 without alloy. The moment the palate 
 begins to pall, leave off. Continuation after 
 that will often produce a renewed desire, 
 the gratification of which is pernicious. 
 This state is rather an unfitness for leaving 
 
THE ART OF DINING. Ill 
 
 off than a fitness for going on. In respect 
 to simplicity, I think four kinds of wine 
 the very utmost ever to be taken at one 
 time, and with observance of what wines 
 go well together ; as sherry, champagne, 
 port, and claret ; but they should be drunk 
 in uniform order, and not first one and 
 then another, and then back again, which 
 is a senseless and pernicious confusion. 
 For my own part, I rather like one kind 
 of wine at a time, or at most two ; and I 
 think more is lost than gained by variety. 
 I should lay down the same rules as to 
 wines, as I have already done as to meats ; 
 that is simplicity on the same day, and 
 variety on different days. Port only, 
 taken with or without a little water, at din- 
 ner, is excellent ; and the same of claret. 1 
 think on ordinary occasions, such a system 
 
11*21 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 is by far the most agreeable. Claret, I 
 mean genuine, undoctored claret, which, in 
 my opinion, is the true taste, is particularly 
 good as a dinner wine, and is now to be 
 had at a very reasonable price. I would 
 not wish better than that given at the 
 Athenaeum at three and sixpence a bottle. 
 Rhenish wines are very wholesome and 
 agreeable, drunk simply without other 
 wines ; I do not think they harmonize 
 well with champagne. As to seasons, the 
 distinction is obvious that light wines are 
 the best in summer : but then care should 
 be taken, for the sake of health, that they 
 are sound ; and with much fruit, perhaps, 
 a little of stronger wine is advisable. In 
 winter generous wine is to be preferred, 
 and it is a pleasant variety to have it occa- 
 sionally spiced or mulled, especially in 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 113 
 
 very dreary weather, or after severe ex- 
 posure. In hot weather, beverages of 
 various kinds, having wine for their found- 
 ation, and well iced, are very grateful. 
 There is scarcely any luxury greater in 
 summer than wine and water, cooled with 
 a lump of ice put into it, though it is sel- 
 dom practised in this country. In Italy, 
 a plate of pure ice is regularly served 
 during the hot season. In England, un- 
 fortunately, a great deal of money is wasted 
 on excess, while simple luxuries are al- 
 most altogether neglected. The adaptation 
 of wines to different kinds of food is a 
 matter not to be neglected. The general 
 rule is to drink white wine with white 
 meats, and red with brown, to which may 
 be added, that light wines are most suita- 
 ble to light dishes, or to the French style, 
 8 
 
Ill THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 and the stronger to substantial dishes, or 
 the English style ; but this latter rule has 
 many exceptions. I must not here pass over 
 altogether the excellencies of malt liquor, 
 though it is rather difficult to unite the use 
 of it judiciously with that of wine. When 
 taken together, it should be in great mode- 
 ration, but I rather prefer a malt liquor day 
 exclusively now and then, by way of vari- 
 ety, or to take it at luncheon. There is 
 something extremely grateful in the very 
 best table beer, and it is to be lamented it 
 is so rarely to be met with in the perfec- 
 tion of which it is capable. That beverage 
 at dinner, and two or three glasses of first 
 rate ale after, constitute real luxury, and I 
 believe are a most wholesome variety. 
 Good porter needs no praise, and bottled 
 porter iced, is, in hot weather, most re- 
 
THE ART OF D1XIXO. 115 
 
 freshing. Cider cup, lemonade, and iced 
 punch in summer, and hot in winter, are 
 all worthy of their turns ; but I do not 
 think their turns come as often as they 
 ought to do. We go on in the beaten track, 
 without profiting by the varieties which 
 are to be found on every side. 
 
 What I have hitherto said has been with 
 a view principally to individual guidance 
 in the use of wine, though much of it may 
 be applied to the management of parties. 
 In the management of parties, so far as re- 
 lates to wine, judgment, liberality, attention, 
 and courage are necessary ; and calcula- 
 tion, inattention, ostentation, profusion, 
 and excess, are the vices to be guarded 
 against. I always take for granted, that 
 whatever wine is produced, it is to be good 
 of its knid. Judgment is necessary in 
 
116 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 knowing what wines are suitable to the 
 season, the food, and the description of 
 guests ; in what order to serve them, at 
 what rate to drink, and when to stop. 
 Liberality is necessary to furnish promptly 
 and cheerfully the requisite supply ; atten- 
 tion is necessary to execute what the judg- 
 ment suggests ; and courage is necessary 
 to keep the erring, either from ignorance 
 or refractoriness, in the right path, and to 
 stop at the right point. The master of a 
 feast should be master in deed as well as in 
 name, and on his judicious and confident 
 control depends for the most part real 
 convivial enjoyment ; but he should govern 
 rather by imperceptible influence than by 
 any outward demonstration, or appearance 
 of interference. He should set the wine in 
 circulation at the earliest fitting moment, 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 117 
 
 for want of attention to which there is 
 often a flagging at the outset. He should 
 go on rather briskly at first, and should 
 then contrive to regulate its pace according 
 to the spirits of the party. He should 
 cause the wines to be served in their pro- 
 per order, and should preserve that order 
 as much as in him lies, both by his own 
 example, and by good humoured recom- 
 mendation. He should let his guests know 
 what he intends, so that they may have 
 an opportunity of regulating themselves 
 accordingly ; as, if he thinks proper to pro- 
 duce only a certain quantity of any parti- 
 cular wine, he should say so. Uncertainty 
 is fatal to convivial ease, and the reintro- 
 duction of any kind of wine, after other 
 wines have intervened, is specially to be 
 avoided. This error arises either from 
 
118 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 want of courage in allowing a violation of 
 propriety, or from a calculation that there 
 would be enough, when there turns out not 
 to be enough, and then hesitating to supply 
 the deficiency at the proper moment. He 
 should be liberal as long as liberality is 
 beneficial, and as soon as he perceives that 
 the proper point to stop at is arrived, he 
 should fearlessly act upon his perception. 
 There is a liberal, hearty manner, which 
 prevents suspicion, and enables the pos- 
 sessor to exercise his judgment not only 
 without offence, but with approbation. 
 Calculation, however studiously concealed, 
 sheds a baneful influence over conviviality, 
 what nothing can counteract. Inattention 
 causes things either to go on wrong, or not 
 to go on at all. Ostentation excites disgust 
 or contempt, and destroys enjoyment for 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 119 
 
 the sake of display, by introducing variety 
 without reference to reason. Profusion 
 produces the same effect from ignorance or 
 mistaken liberality. There may be excess 
 without variety, though it is not so proba- 
 ble. It is much more often the result of 
 want of courage in the master of the feast, 
 than of inclination on the part of the 
 guests, and good government in the begin- 
 ning is the surest guarantee of a temperate 
 termination. In what I have said, I have 
 supposed the giver of an entertainment to 
 have means at his command ; but where 
 it is not so, the plainest wines, provided 
 they are sound, and are heartily and judi- 
 ciously given according to the rules I have 
 laid down, cannot fail to give satisfaction 
 to the reasonable, and more satisfaction too 
 than the most costly, with the many draw- 
 
120 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 backs which usually accompany them. 
 They are for the most part exposed to the 
 same fate that I have already described to 
 await delicacies in food ; that is, they are 
 so mixed up and encumbered with other 
 things, as to be deprived of their relish, 
 and reduced to the level of their inferiors, 
 or even below. It is to be wished that 
 those who are not in the way of giving 
 costly wines, would never attempt it ; be- 
 cause they are only putting themselves to 
 inconvenience, and their guests to greater. 
 It is a very serious tax upon one's palate 
 and veracity, to be obliged to drink and 
 pronounce upon compounds with names to 
 which they have not the most remote pre- 
 tension. What I have said heretofore 
 about dinners applies equally to wines. 
 Let people keep to their own proper style, 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 121 
 
 and endeavour to excel in what is within 
 their ordinary reach. A little extra atten- 
 tion and a little extra expense are then 
 productive of satisfactory results, and they 
 are sure to please others without any sacri- 
 fice of what is due to themselves. I have 
 yet to make some particular observations 
 on the use of champagne, which I must 
 defer, with two or three other topics, to 
 my next chapter. 
 
122 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I concluded my last chapter with pro- 
 mising to make some observations on the 
 use of champagne. Of whatever materials 
 composed, I never knew a party that could 
 be said to go off ill, where there was a judi- 
 ciously liberal supply of good champagne. 
 I say judiciously liberal, because there 
 may be too much, as well as too little, 
 though the error, comparatively speaking, 
 is seldom on the side of excess ; but I have 
 seen, when a party has been raised to 
 what I call the champagne point of convi- 
 viality, that an extra quantity has caused a 
 retrograde mo rement, by clogging the 
 
T II E ART OF D I N I N G. 1 23 
 
 digestive powers. In this, as in all other 
 matters relating to the table, but here espe- 
 cially, much must depend upon the eye, 
 the judgment, and the resolution of the 
 master. He must have liberality to give, 
 attention and skill to regulate, and courage 
 to stop. There are two classes of dinner- 
 givers to whom I do not address myself on 
 this subject, because I know it would be 
 in vain. The first is that class who began 
 their career, and had their habits formed, 
 during the war, when champagne was 
 double the price it is now. They gave it 
 then like drops of blood, and I have never 
 yet seen an instance of liberalization. 
 The second class is that who merely give 
 it as a part of their state, and deal it out to 
 the state prisoners round their table only 
 to tantalize them. I have no hope, then, 
 
124 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 of producing any effect except upon those 
 who date their assumption of table govern- 
 ment on this side the battle of Waterloo, 
 and who have, or are capable of acquiring, 
 the same contempt of show that I myself 
 have. 
 
 To give champagne fair play, it ought to 
 be produced at the very beginning of din- 
 ner, or at any rate after one glass of sherry 
 or Madeira. Any other wines rather unfit 
 the palate for it. The usual mode is, as 
 with other delicacies, to produce it after the 
 appetite is somewhat palled, and I have 
 often thought it particularly ungallant and 
 ungracious, where there are ladies, to keep 
 it back till a late period of dinner ; and 
 such a practice often presents an absurd 
 contrast of calculation and display. Ac- 
 cording to my doctrines, the champagne 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 125 
 
 should be placed upon the table, so that all 
 may take what they like, when they like, 
 till the presiding genius pronounces in his 
 own mind that there has been enough, 
 which is not difficult to a practised eye. 
 This supposes a supply at discretion up to 
 the champagne point, which is very agree- 
 able on particular occasions, or now and 
 then without any particular occasion, but 
 would not be convenient to most people, 
 or even desirable, if convenient. I am far 
 from objecting to a limited supply, even 
 the most limited — that is, one glass round ; 
 but I do object to the period when it is 
 usually served, and to the uncertainty with 
 which it is served. Where it is handed 
 round, and meant to be so only once, 
 twice, or any greiter fixed number of 
 times, to which limits there can be no 
 
i 20 T li E ART OF DINING. 
 
 objection, the rule I would lay down is, 
 that it should be handed round after the 
 first glass of sherry, and if more than 
 once, without any other wine between, 
 and that it should be contrived to notify 
 beforehand what the supply will be. ' It 
 might be thought rather awkward to make 
 the communication. That, I think, would 
 depend on custom and tact. I am sure I 
 should have no hesitation in making it, 
 and, at any rate, the awkward effects often 
 arising from uncertainty would be much 
 greater. What can exceed the awkward- 
 ness of two persons who are going to take 
 wine together, beating about the bush to 
 get each the other to propose champagne — 
 a scene I have frequently witnessed be- 
 tween the best bi ?d people ? What can ex- 
 ceed the awkwardness of asking for it when 
 
T II K ART OF DINING. 127 
 
 there is no more, or of waiting till a fresh 
 supply is brought, contrary to the original 
 intention ? All these awkwardnesses are 
 the consequences of uncertainty, and are 
 much at variance with the ease that is 
 essential to conviviality. An annunciation 
 that there is champagne without limit, or. 
 that it will be handed round once, or twice, 
 or oftener, saves these embarrassments. If 
 it is placed upon the table, I would make 
 a similar annunciation, as indeed I always 
 do, that there is to be one bottle, two, or 
 more, or at discretion. Then people 
 know what they are about, and are at their 
 ease, for want of which there is no com- 
 pensation. By means of previous annun- 
 ciation even the entertainers of the old 
 school, and the nnn of state, might make 
 their calculation available to a satisfactory 
 
128 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 purpose. The advantages of giving cham- 
 pagne, with whatever limit, at the begin- 
 ning of dinner, are these : that it has the 
 greatest relish, that its exhilarating quality 
 serves to start the guests, after which they 
 seldom flag, and that it disposes people to 
 fake less of other wines after, which is a 
 relative, and sometimes even an absolute, 
 saving to the pocket of the host, and it is 
 undoubtedly a saving to the constitutions 
 of his guests. With wines as with meats, 
 serving the most delicate first, diminishes 
 consumption, — a desirable effect in all 
 respects. I know that a couple of glasses 
 round of champagne at the beginning of 
 dinner, will cause a less consumption, and 
 with better effect, than the same quantity, 
 or more, at a later period ; and where 
 there are laJie?, the portion they choose to 
 
THE ART OF D I N IN G. 129 
 
 take, is most grateful to them upon this 
 plan, and often the only wine they wish to 
 accept. At the present price of cham- 
 pagne, if it is judiciously given, I believe it 
 is on many occasions little or no additional 
 expense, and its effect is always contribu- 
 tive of exhilaration. By promoting ex- 
 hilaration it promotes digestion, and by 
 diminishing the consumption of other and 
 perhaps stronger wines, is consequently 
 favourable to health. No other wine pro- 
 duces an equal effect in increasing the suc- 
 cess of a party ; and a judicious cham- 
 pagne giver is sure to win the good-will and 
 respect even of those who can command it 
 at pleasure, because a great deal depends 
 upon the mode of dispensing it. If it is 
 handed round often, it should not be 
 handed round quick, at least after the 
 9 
 
130 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 second glass, but at such intervals as the 
 host points out. If it is placed upon the 
 table within every one's reach, his nicely 
 regulating power is necessary to give it 
 sufficient, but to restrain over circulation. 
 As the only anxiety of many, who give 
 parties regardless of expense, is that they 
 should go off well, I must repeat that they 
 cannot fail, if there is a liberal supply 
 of good champagne, heartily given. Of 
 course there will be various degrees of 
 success depending upon various circum- 
 stances, but champagne can always turn 
 the balance to the favourable side, and 
 heartiness in giving will compensate for 
 many defects in other particulars. I must 
 here add, that in little fetes champetres 
 champagne has great efficacy, and is a spe- 
 cific against that want of spirit that not 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 131 
 
 un frequently occurs ; also on any convivial 
 occasion, where there is an absence of 
 something desirable in the way of comfort 
 or convenience, or where any disappoint- 
 ment has happened, champagne is the most 
 powerful auxiliary in remedying the omis- 
 sion, and making it forgotten. In short, 
 where champagne goes right nothing can 
 well go wrong. I think it quite a waste to 
 produce it unless it is iced, or at least of the 
 temperature of cold spring water, and in 
 hot weather its coldness is one of its most 
 effective qualities. The less it is mixed 
 with other wines, the better it agrees with 
 any one, and the objectionable effects attri- 
 buted to it are often in reality the result of 
 too much combination with other liquids. 
 Taken simply and in due quantity, I think 
 there are few constitutions to which it 
 
132 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 would not be beneficial, and I have fre- 
 quently seen invalids who I have thought 
 would have been all the better for an alter- 
 ative course of it. 
 
 With respect to the kind of champagne 
 to be preferred, that depends, I think, upon 
 the occasion. The kind I have been allud- 
 ing to throughout this chapter is the spark- 
 ling. I know many people affect to hold 
 it in utter contempt in comparison with 
 the still ; but I suspect not a few of them 
 do so to show their grandeur and their 
 learning, rather than from their real taste. 
 Undoubtedly still champagne, generally 
 speaking, is a higher class of wine, and in 
 a more perfect state than the sparkling ; 
 but it is almost as difficult to compare the 
 two, as it would bo to compare champagne 
 with port. Still champagne is suitable to 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 133 
 
 a grave party, talking over matters of state. 
 But the sparkling is much better adapted 
 to give brilliancy and joyousness, and for 
 that purpose I believe would be preferred 
 by almost every body. Its very appear- 
 ance is inspiring. In wines there is about 
 the same difference between these two, 
 that in poetry exists between Paradise 
 Lost and the Rape of the Lock. When 
 sparkling champagne is opened, the cork 
 should not fly out as from a bottle of soda 
 water : when it does, it marks that the 
 wine is in too crude a state, and has not 
 been sufficiently fermented. I think its 
 good qualities are the most effective, when 
 it is somewhat more active than merely 
 creaming ; when it has a certain liveliness, 
 combined with flavour and coldness, which 
 makes it, according to my taste, delight 
 
134 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 fully grateful. I believe I am now come to 
 the end of the observations I had to make 
 upon the use of champagne. I will here 
 supply a slight omission in the proper place, 
 on the subject of desserts. I have stated 
 that I was no great friend to them, but I 
 must mention that the most eligible mode 
 I ever saw of serving them was by group- 
 ing the fruit upon a low, wooden plateau, 
 which was placed in the middle of the 
 table. It was the least trouble in setting 
 on, it left the greatest space, and had the 
 richest and most tasteful appearance. I 
 doubt whether after dinner is a proper 
 time to serve ice, that is, if dinners are 
 arranged, as I have recommended in a 
 former chapter, according to the season. 
 I am rather inclined to think that ice would 
 be better alone, and later in the evening. 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 135 
 
 It certainly spoils the palate for a time 
 for wine, and is principally grateful, before 
 the dessert, in counteracting the heating 
 and oppressive effects of over-grown 
 repasts. 
 
 My next topic is the means of limiting 
 dinners to small parties, and the effect of 
 such limit in carrying on society in the 
 most convenient and agreeable manner. 
 The apparent impediments to small parties 
 are large families and numerous acquaint- 
 ance. I shall here assume that small par- 
 ties are the most desirable, if attainable, 
 and that the system I advocate of moderate 
 repasts, whether simple as to the number 
 of dishes, or varied, and totally free from 
 state and ostentation, is the best. In such 
 a system the trouble of cooking and serv- 
 ing would be much less than in the present 
 
130 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 mode of entertaining company, and the 
 whole business less complicated and 
 anxious, and as far as acquaintance are 
 concerned, one party might be divided into 
 two without any increase of household 
 care, but the reverse. If it is considered 
 necessary to have a numerous company on 
 the same day, I should think it advisable 
 to divide them into two or more tables ; 
 because, as it is impossible there should be 
 a unity of party at a table above a certain 
 size, there is the best chance of it by such 
 divisions as may each secure a unity. By 
 a unity I mean where there is general con- 
 versation only, instead of particular or par- 
 tial. It is absurd to call that one party 
 which is broken into many, but which sits 
 at one table. Sociability would be much 
 promoted by at once forming it into divi- 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 1 37 
 
 sions at different tables. I have heard of 
 this being- practised at ball suppers with 
 the greatest success, and I do not see why 
 there should not be equal success at din- 
 ners. It is alway to be borne in mind that 
 setting out a dinner-table is a far less ope- 
 rose business according to my doctrines, 
 than according to prevailing custom, and 
 that setting out and serving two tables for 
 eight persons each, would not be so much 
 trouble as it now is to set out and serve one 
 table for sixteen ; whereas, in the former 
 case, there would be two agreeable parties, 
 instead of one dull one in the latter. The 
 same principle applies most strongly where 
 there is a large family. Division of tables 
 on occasion of entertaining company would 
 then in my opinion be particularly conve- 
 nient and advantageous ; and I should think 
 
138 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 that often dinners at different hours of 
 the day, according to the avocations or in- 
 clinations of a large family, and their inti- 
 macies, would greatly promote its well- 
 being. It might suit some to dine at one 
 hour and some at another, and to entertain 
 their particular friends in an easy way, 
 with a reunion of the whole in the evening, 
 when numbers may meet advantageously. 
 A free, simple style of living would admit 
 of this without difficulty. Suppose, for 
 instance, one part of a large family dining 
 at four o'clock, with or without any stran- 
 gers, and another at seven, according to 
 their previous arrangements, and all meet- 
 ing in the drawing-room, or disposing of 
 themselves according to their different pur- 
 suits. One of the great advantages of a 
 simple stately style of living is, that it 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 139 
 
 admits of so much liberty in various ways, 
 and allows of many enjoyments, which 
 the cumbrous style totally prevents. I 
 think it would be the perfection of society 
 if there were a constant current of small 
 dinner parties for the purpose of enjoyment 
 only, and a general mixing - up on easy 
 terms in the evening, according to each 
 person's circle of acquaintance. I have 
 heard people say that they have tried to 
 get evening society, according to the 
 French manner of droppers-in, but that 
 they have never been able to succeed. 
 The truth is, that no individual, or small 
 number of individuals, will ever make such 
 a plan succeed for long together. It must 
 be the general custom in order to have per- 
 manent and complete success. I have 
 frequented houses in that way at times, 
 
Ill T II E ART 01 DIM N 0. 
 
 but always found it more irksome than 
 agreeable, simply from the uncertainty of 
 finding the inmates at home, and the 
 repeated disappointments of finding them 
 out. These objections would vanish if 
 the custom of receiving in an evening were 
 general, because if one family was not at 
 home, another would be, and a person in 
 search of society would be sure to find it 
 somewhere, instead of returning unsuc- 
 cessful. It is an annoyance to prepare, 
 and make up one's mind, for society, and 
 then not to meet with it. The temptation 
 to remain at home is too strong to venture 
 upon a speculation where there are so 
 many chances against success. But if 
 any one had a number of acquaintances in 
 the same quarter, who received in an even- 
 ing, an inclination for society might always 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 1^1 
 
 be gratified with sufficient certainty to 
 induce the attempt. Some visible sign, 
 indicating whether they received at any 
 house on any given evening, or whether 
 the number was full, would save trouble to 
 visiters, and would ensure complete priva- 
 cy, whenever desired, or society to the 
 extent desired, and not beyond. It would 
 be a great improvement in the world, and 
 a great advantage to the rich, if they would 
 spend that portion of their means, which 
 they dedicate to social intercourse, in pro- 
 curing real enjoyment for their visitants, 
 rather than in that state and display, for 
 which no reasonable person cares, or 
 which, it may be more truly said, every 
 reasonable person dislikes and despises. 
 If, for instance, a rich man were to give 
 simply excellent dinners, and provide his 
 
142 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 guests with accommodation at places of 
 public amusement, he would give them 
 more satisfaction than by inviting them to 
 the most sumptuous entertainments, and 
 would most likely much increase his own 
 enjoyment. Such a practice would tend 
 greatly to improve public amusements, and 
 would add to their interest by giving bril- 
 liancy to the scene. There are many ways 
 in which those who have a command of 
 means, have opportunities of rendering 
 social intercourse with them peculiarly 
 advantageous and interesting to persons of 
 smaller fortunes ; but, as it is, in general, 
 the richer the host the duller the enter- 
 tainment, principally because expense is 
 lavished in the wrong direction, without 
 taste, or invention, or rational end. 
 
 In order to make a dinner go orT well, a 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 143 
 
 good deal often depends upon the giver's 
 mode of receiving his company. In the 
 hrst place, he should always be ready ; he 
 should receive cordially, so as to let his 
 guests feel inspired by an air of welcome ; 
 and he should set them well off together 
 by the introduction of suitable topics. It 
 is usually seen that the host receives his 
 guests almost as if they were strangers to 
 him, and after a word or two leaves them 
 to manage for themselves as well as they 
 can, by wandering about, or turning over 
 books, or some resource of that sort, if 
 they happen not to be well known to some 
 of the company ; and even persons who 
 are in the habit of meeting, often seem to 
 be actuated by a feeling of mutual reserve 
 for want of being well started by the host. 
 It frequently requires some time after the 
 
14 1 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 dinner has commenced, to take off the 
 chill of the first assembling, and in respect 
 to individuals, it sometimes never is taken 
 off during the whole party. During din- 
 ner it is expedient for the head of the feast 
 to keep his eye upon every thing around 
 him, and not to occupy himself exclu- 
 sively, as many do, with those immedi- 
 ately near, or, what is worse, to sink into 
 fits of abstraction or anxiety. The alacrity 
 and general attention of the host furnish 
 the spring from which the guests usually 
 take their tone, and where they are not 
 well known to each other, it is good to 
 address each frequently by name, and to 
 mention subjects on which they have some 
 common interest. There is also much 
 tact required in calling into play diffident 
 or reserved merit, and in preventing too 
 
THE ART OF DINING. 145 
 
 much individual monopoly of conversa- 
 tion, however good. In order to have 
 perfect success, the guests must be capa- 
 ble of being well mixed up together, and 
 the host must be capable of mixing them, 
 which unfortunately few are; but many 
 are much more capable than they appear 
 to be, if they would turn their attention to 
 the subject. These latter observations are 
 more applicable to large parties than to 
 small ones, but they do apply to both. 
 
 I have now come to the conclusion of 
 what occurs to" me on the subject of Aristo- 
 logy, or the Art of Dining and giving din- 
 ners, which subject the reader will perceive 
 I have treated in the most familiar and per- 
 haps in too careless a way. I have written 
 off-hand, as matter suggested itself from 
 the stores of experience. I have always 
 10 
 
146 THE ART OF DINING. 
 
 advanced what I thought to be right, with- 
 out the slightest fear of being sometimes 
 wrong ; and I have given myself no thought 
 as to exposure to ridicule, or any thing else. 
 My object is in this, as in every other 
 subject on which I touch, to set my read- 
 ers to think in the right track, and to direct 
 them in their way as well as I can. 
 
ipieji aim @^ 
 
 ®ttuininQ Ifefflii health. 
 
 J 47 
 
THE ART 
 
 ATTAINING HIGH HEALTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 If my readers are like myself, it will be 
 satisfactory to them to know what autho- 
 rity I have for treating on the subject of 
 attaining high health, and what is my ex- 
 perience. My acquaintance of later years 
 are accustomed to treat my precepts as theo- 
 retical, and to maintain that I am indebted 
 for the health they see me enjoy, to an ori- 
 ginally very strong constitution ; with what 
 truth the following statement will show. 
 
 Some months before I was born, my 
 
 149 
 
150 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 mother lost a favourite child from illness, 
 owing, as she accused herself, to her own 
 temporary absence ; and that circumstance 
 preyed upon her spirits and affected her 
 health to such a degree, that I was brought 
 into the world in a very weakly and 
 wretched state. It was supposed I could 
 not survive long, and nothing, I believe, but 
 the greatest maternal tenderness and care 
 preserved my life. During childhood I 
 was very frequently and seriously ill — 
 often thought to be dying, and once pro- 
 nounced to be dead. I was ten years old 
 before it was judged safe to trust me from 
 home at all, and my father's wishes to place 
 me at a public school were uniformly 
 opposed by various medical advisers, on 
 the ground that it would be my certain 
 destruction. Besides continual bilious 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 151 
 
 and inflammatory attacks, for several years 
 I was grievously troubled with an affection 
 of the trachea, and many times, after any 
 excess in diet or exertion, or in particular 
 states of the weather, or where there was 
 new hay or decayed timber, my difficulty 
 of breathing was so great, that life was 
 miserable to me. On one occasion at 
 Cambridge I was obliged to send for a sur- 
 geon in the middle of the night, and he told 
 me the next morning he thought I should 
 have died before he could open a vein. I 
 well remember the relief it afforded my 
 agony, and I only recovered by living for 
 six weeks in a rigidly abstemious and most 
 careful manner. During these years, and 
 for a long time after, I felt no security of 
 my health. At last, one day when I had 
 shut myself up in the country, and was 
 
152 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 reading with great attention Cicero's trea- 
 tise De Oratore, some passage, I quite for- 
 get what, suggested to me the expediency 
 of making the improvement of my health 
 my study. I rose from my book, stood 
 bolt upright, and determined to be well. 
 In pursuance of my resolution, I tried 
 many extremes, was guilty of many 
 absurdities, and committed many errors, 
 amidst the remonstrances and ridicule of 
 those around me. I persevered neverthe- 
 less, and it is now, I believe, full sixteen 
 years since I have had any medical advice, or 
 taken any medicine, or any thing whatever 
 by way of medicine. During that period 
 I have lived constantly in the world, for 
 the last six years in London without ever 
 being absent during any one whole week, 
 and I have never foregone a single engage- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 1 53 
 
 ment of business or pleasure, or been con- 
 fined one hour, with the exception of two 
 days in the country from over exertion. For 
 nine years I have worn neither great-coat 
 nor cloak, though I ride and walk at all 
 hours and in all weathers. My dress has 
 been the same in summer and winter, my 
 under garments being single and only of 
 cotton, and I am always lightly shod. 
 The only inconvenience I suffer is occa- 
 sionally from colds ; but with a little more 
 care I could entirely prevent them, or, if I 
 took the trouble, I could remove the most 
 severe in four-and-twenty hours. I do not 
 mean it to be understood, that the same 
 simple means would produce so rapid a 
 cure in all persons, but only in those who 
 may have acquired the same tendency to 
 health that I have — a tendency of which ] 
 
154 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 believe all persons are much more capable 
 than they suppose. 
 
 In the course of my pursuit after health, 
 I once brought myself to a pure and buoy- 
 ant state, of which previously I had no 
 conception, and which I shall hereafter 
 describe. Having attained so great a 
 blessing, I afterwards fell off to be content 
 with that negative condition, which I call 
 the condition of not being ill, rather than 
 of being well. Real health produces an 
 elasticity and vigour of body and mind, 
 which makes the possessors of it, in the 
 characteristic words of the Ploughman 
 poet, 
 
 " O'er all the ills of life victorious." 
 
 And now having, I hope, excited the 
 curiosity of my readers, and inspired them 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 155 
 
 with some degree of confidence as to my 
 qualifications for the task I have under- 
 taken, I shall in my next chapter proceed 
 to details. 
 
156 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 After making many blunders in my 
 endeavours to improve my health, I disco- 
 vered that I had fallen into the great, but, 
 I believe, common error of thinking how 
 much food I could take in order to make 
 myself strong, rather than how much I 
 could digest to make myself well. I 
 found that my vessels were overcharged, 
 and my whole frame encumbered with 
 superfluities, in consequence of which I 
 was liable to be out of order from the 
 slightest exciting causes. I began to take 
 less sleep and more exercise, particularly 
 before breakfast, at which meal I confined 
 myself to half a cup of tea and a very 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 157 
 
 moderate quantity of eatables. I dined at 
 one o'clock from one dish of meat and one 
 of vegetables, abstaining - from every thing 
 else, and I drank no wine, and only half 
 a pint of table-beer. At seven I had tea, 
 observing the same moderation as at break- 
 fast, and at half past nine a very light sup- 
 per. If I was ever hungry during any 
 other part of the day, I took a crust of 
 bread or some fruit. xWy care was neither 
 to anticipate my appetite, nor to overload 
 it, nor to disappoint it — in fact, to keep it 
 in the best possible humour. I continued 
 this course almost invariably for several 
 months. It was now the middle of a very 
 6.13 summer, and I was residing at home 
 in the country, alone with my mother, who 
 was a remarkably easy and accommodating 
 person, and to the contentment she inspired 
 
158 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 me with, I attribute a good deal of the ex 
 traordinary state I arrived at. She used 
 frequently to say she could not help look- 
 ing at me, my features were so changed. 
 Indeed, I felt a different being, light and 
 vigorous, with all my senses sharpened. 
 I enjoyed an absolutely glowing existence. 
 I cannot help mentioning two or three 
 instances in proof of my state, though I 
 dare say they will appear almost ridiculous, 
 but they are nevertheless true. It seems 
 that from the surface of an animal in per- 
 fect health, there is an active exhalation 
 going on, which repels impurity ; for when 
 I walked on the dustiest roads, not only 
 my feet, but even my stockings, remained 
 free from dust. By way of experiment, I 
 did not wash my face for a week, nor did 
 any one see, nor I feel, any difference. 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 159 
 
 One day I took hold of the branch of a tree 
 to raise myself from the ground, when I 
 was astonished to feel such a buoyancy as 
 to have scarcely any sense of weight. In 
 this state all my sensations were the real 
 and marked indications of my wants. No 
 faintness, or craving, but a pleasurable 
 keenness of appetite told me when to eat. 
 I was in no uncertainty as to when I ought 
 to leave off, for I ate heartily to a certain 
 point, and then felt distinctly satisfied, 
 without any feeling of oppression. No 
 heaviness, but a pleasing composure preced- 
 ed my desire for rest, and I woke from one 
 sound, glowing sleep, completely refreshed. 
 Exercise was delightful to me, and enough 
 of it was indicated by a quiescent tenden- 
 cy, without any harassing sensation of 
 fatigue. I felt, and believe I was inacces- 
 
1 60 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 sible to disease ; and all this I attribute to 
 the state of my digestion, on which it 
 seems to me entirely depends tlie state of 
 man. Being in health, it is easy to keep 
 so, at least where there are facilities of 
 living rationally ; but to get into health 
 while living in the wurld, and after a long 
 course of ignorance or imprudence, is of 
 difficult attainment. 
 
 I do not consider it at all necessary, or 
 even desirable, to be strict in diet, when 
 the constitution is once put into good 
 order ; but to accomplish that end, it is 
 certainly essential. It also requires great 
 observation and attention to know what to 
 practise and what to avoid in our habits of 
 life ; and I see people constantly doing 
 what is precisely the most prejudicial to 
 them, without the least consciousness of 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 161 
 
 their errors. It is now so long sime I 
 was in the same state myself, that 1 iiid 
 some difficulty in recollecting with suin- 
 cient exactness what I might have thought 
 it necessary to lay down for the benefit of 
 valetudinarians. I will, however, in my 
 next chapter give some of the most impor- 
 tant particulars. 
 
 11 
 
162 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 This is the golden rule — Content the 
 stomach, and the stomach will content you. 
 But it is often no easy matter to know how ; 
 for like a spoiled child, or a wayward wife, 
 it does not always know its own wants. 
 It will cry for food when it wants none — 
 will not say when it has had enough, and 
 then be indignant for being indulged — will 
 crave what it ought to reject, and reject 
 what it ought to desire ; but all this is 
 because you have allowed it to form bad 
 habits, and then you ignorantly lay upon 
 poor nature your own folly. Rational dis- 
 cipline is as necessary for the stomach, as 
 for the aforesaid child, or the aforesaid 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 103 
 
 wife, and if you have not the sense or the 
 resolution to enforce it, you must take the 
 consequences ; but do not lay the fault 
 upon another, and especially one generally 
 so kind, if you would but follow her sim- 
 ple dictates. " I am always obliged to 
 breakfast before I rise — my constitution 
 requires it," drawls out some fair votary 
 of fashion. " Unless I take a bottle of 
 port after dinner," cries the pampered 
 merchant, " I am never well." " With- 
 out my brandy and water before I go to 
 bed, I cannot sleep a wink," says the com- 
 fortable shopkeeper ; and all suppose they 
 are following nature ; but sooner or later 
 the offended goddess sends her avenging 
 ministers in the shape of vapours, gout, or 
 dropsy. 
 
 Having long gone wrong, you must get 
 
1 G i ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 right by degrees ; there is no summary 
 process. Medicine may assist or give 
 temporary relief; but you have a habit to 
 alter — a tendency to change — from a ten- 
 dency to being ill to a tendency to being 
 well. First study to acquire a composure 
 of mind and body. Avoid agitation or 
 hurry of one or the other, especially just 
 before and after meals, and while the pro- 
 cess of digestion is going on. To this 
 end, govern your temper — endeavour to 
 look at the bright side of things — keep down 
 as much as possible the unruly passions 
 — discard envy, hatred, and malice, and 
 lay your head upon your pillow in charity 
 with all mankind. Let not your wants 
 outrun your means. Whatever difhculties 
 you have to encounter, be not perplexed, 
 but think only what it is right to do in the 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 1 G5 
 
 sight of Him who seeth all things, and 
 bear without repining the result. When 
 your meals are solitary, let your thoughts 
 be cheerful ; when they are social, which 
 is better, avoid disputes, or serious argu- 
 ment, or unpleasant topics. " Unquiet 
 meals," says Shakspeare, " make ill diges- 
 tions ;" and the contrary is produced by 
 easy conversation, a pleasant project, wel- 
 come news, or a lively companion. I 
 advise wives not to entertain their hus- 
 bands with domestic grievances about 
 children or servants, nor to ask for money, 
 nor produce unpaid bills, nor propound 
 unseasonable or provoking questions ; and 
 I advise husbands to keep the cares and 
 vexations of the world to themselves, but 
 to be communicative of whatever is com- 
 fortable, and cheerful, and amusing. 
 
166 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 With respect to composure of body, it 
 is highly expedient not to be heated by 
 exercise, either when beginning a meal, 
 or immediately after one. In both cases 
 fermentation precedes digestion, and the 
 food, taken into the stomach, becomes 
 more or less corrupted. I will mention 
 two strong instances. A pig in high 
 health was driven violently just after a full 
 meal ; it dropped down dead, and at the 
 desire of some labourers, who thought it 
 was too good to be lost, a butcher forth- 
 with proceeded to dress it. When the 
 hair was scalded off, the skin presented in 
 some places a somewhat livid hue, and 
 when the stomach was opened, the con- 
 tents were so extremely offensive, that all 
 present, of whom I was one, were obliged 
 to fly, and the carcass almost immediately 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 1 67 
 
 became a mass of putridity. The second 
 case was that of a man in the service of a 
 relation of mine, who, after a harvest sup- 
 per, and a hot day's labour, was thrown 
 in a wrestling match, by which he instantly 
 died, and decomposition took place so 
 rapidly, that it was with difficulty his body 
 within four and twenty hours could be 
 placed in a coffin. While I was subject 
 to the affection of the trachea before men- 
 tioned, I frequently brought on the most 
 distressing attacks, and sometimes instan- 
 taneously, by heating myself just before or 
 after meals. Even dressing in a hurry 
 ought to be avoided previously to a meal, 
 and I should advise all, especially invalids, 
 to be ready a little beforehand, as the mind 
 is also often in a state of hurry prejudicial 
 to digestion. A.fter meals, stooping, lean- 
 
168 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 ing against the chest, going quick up 
 stairs, opening or shutting a tight drawer, 
 pulling off boots, packing up, or even 
 any single contortion or forced position of 
 the body, has each a tendency to cause 
 fermentation, and thereby produce bile, 
 heartburn, difficulty of breathing, and 
 other derangements. I have often experi- 
 enced ill effects from washing my feet at 
 night instead of in the morning, fasting, 
 which is decidedly the safest time. Of 
 course, persons in high health may allow 
 themselves liberties, but those who are at 
 all liable to indigestion, cannot be too 
 observant of even their most trifling ac- 
 tons. In my next chapter I shall take up 
 the subject of diet. 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 1G0 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I must begin with a few remarks on my 
 last chapter. I have there dwelt on the 
 ill consequences of being heated by exer- 
 cise just before or after meals. There 
 is one case which seems to be almost an 
 exception ; I mean that of dancing imme- 
 diately before or after supper — at least, I 
 never suffered any inconvenience from it 
 in my ailing days, though I cannot speak 
 from much experience. Bui further, I do not 
 call to mind any instances in other persons, 
 and at any rate they cannot be so common 
 as would be the case from any other mode 
 of equal exertion under similar circum- 
 stances. The reason I take to be this — 
 
170 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 that from the enlivening effect upon the 
 spirits, the digestive powers are able to 
 overcome any tendency to fermentation ; 
 and if that be so, it proves the extreme 
 healthfulness of the exercise, when taken 
 rationally and for its own sake, instead of, 
 as it usually is, as an exhibition, in over- 
 crowded and over-heated rooms at the 
 most unseasonable hours. 
 
 I particularly recommended in my last 
 chapter attention to the state of the mind, 
 because the effect of the spirits is very 
 great and often even instantaneous in acce- 
 lerating or retarding the digestive powers; 
 and upon the digestive powers immediately 
 depends whatever happens to our physical 
 being. Whenever food is taken into the 
 stomach, it begins directly to undergo ? 
 change, either from the action of the gas- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 171 
 
 trie juice, which is the desirable one, or 
 from that of the natural heat. In the latter 
 case, a sensation of fulness and weight is 
 first produced, and then of more active un- 
 easiness, as fermentation proceeds ; and at 
 last, when digestion commences, it is upon 
 a mass more or less corrupted, according 
 to the quantity and nature of the food, the. 
 time it Iras remained, the heat of the body, 
 and perhaps other circumstances. The 
 mind will frequently regulate all this, as 
 I have repeatedly experienced ; for a 
 feeling of lightness or oppression, of fer- 
 mentation or quiescence, will come or go 
 as the spirits rise or fall, and the effect is 
 generally immediately perceptible in the 
 countenance, and felt throughout the whole 
 frame. Such influence has the mind on 
 the digestive powers, and the digestive 
 
172 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 powers on the body; and when we 
 speak of a -ight or heavy heart, we con- 
 found it with a less romantic organ. The 
 heart, it is true, will beat quicker or slower, 
 but the lightness or heaviness we feel, is 
 not there. There is no sickness of the heart ; 
 it needs no cordial ; and the swain who 
 places his hand in front, whatever the polite 
 may think, is the right marksman. There 
 lies our courage, and thence proceed our 
 doubts and fears. These truths should 
 make us careful how we live ; for upon the 
 digestive organ mainly depend beauty and 
 strength of person, and beauty and strength 
 of mind. Even the most eminently gifted 
 have never been proof against its derange- 
 ment. It is through the digestion that grief 
 and all the brooding affections of the mind, 
 affect the frame, and make the countenance 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 173 
 
 fallen, pa. "3, and liny, which causes Shak- 
 speare to call it " hard-favoured grief," and 
 to say that "grief is beauty's canker." 
 On the other hand, joy, or any pleasurable 
 affection of the mind, which promotes 
 digestion, at the same time fills and lights 
 up the countenance. Often when I have 
 been taking a solitary meal, the appearance 
 of an agreeable companion, or reading any 
 good news, has produced an instantaneous 
 effect upon my digestive organs, and, 
 through them, upon my whole frame. 
 In the same way a judicious medical 
 attendant will, in many cases, by talking 
 his patient into an appetite, or raising his 
 spirits, do him more good than by any 
 medicines. That a!l this is through the 
 stomach, I will prove by two instances. 
 First, no one will dor.bt that the scurvy" 
 
1/4 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 proceeds from the state of that organ, and 
 that through that organ alone it can be 
 cured. Now, I have read in medical 
 writers, that after a tedious voyage sailors, 
 grievously afflicted, have repeatedly been 
 know to have instantaneously experienced 
 a turn in the disorder on the sight of land, 
 and that soldiers besieged have been 
 affected in like manner, on the appear- 
 ance of succour ; that is, the spirits have 
 produced the same effect that medicine or 
 proper food would have produced, which 
 must have been through the same organ. 
 The second instance is what I have seve- 
 ral times observed in my own person. 
 When I have had any local inflammation 
 from hurts, however remotely situated, 
 what has affected my digestion, has at the 
 same moment affected the inflammation. 
 
HIGH HEALTH 175 
 
 Fasting too long, eating too soon, taking 
 too much wine, or having my spirits low- 
 ered, have instantly been unpleasantly per- 
 ceptible in the seat of the inflammation ; 
 while taking food or wine when wanted, 
 or having my spirits raised, have produced 
 the direct contrary effect. How this is 
 effected anatomically, I leave to the scienti- 
 fic to explain. I only know it from obser- 
 vation ; but I do know it, and how to profit 
 by it, and I tell it to my readers that 
 they may profit by it too, which brings me 
 to a repetition of my rule — Content the 
 stomach, and the stomach will content 
 you. 
 
 To the caution I gave against stooping, 
 after meals, I should add that it is particu- 
 larly to be avoided with any thing tight 
 round the body, and the same may be said 
 
170 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 of all the actions I have enumerated. They 
 are also pernicious in proportion as the 
 meal has been full or rich. Any thing 
 greasy or strong, especially the skin of the 
 fat of roast meat, when disturbed by exer- 
 tion, will produce the most disagreeable 
 effects, or perhaps bring on a regular 
 bilious attack. Packing up, preparatory 
 to a long journey by a publi* vehicle, used 
 often to be a cause of serious inconvenience 
 to my health from my mode of doing it. 
 First of all laying in a hearty meal, because 
 I had a great distance to go, the very rea- 
 son why I ought to have been abstemious; 
 then having to finish packing after eating, 
 with more things than room for them, the 
 hurry, vexation and exertion of arranging 
 which, together with the fear of being too 
 late, and bustling off, caused such a fer- 
 
)! I V. H UK ALT H. 
 
 mentation as not only made my journey 
 most uncomfortable, but made me gene- 
 rally out of sorts for some time after. 
 When I had brought myself into a regular 
 state of health, and took care always to be 
 beforehand with my arrangements, eating 
 sparingly, and setting off composedly, I 
 found an immense difference, particularly 
 in the absence of any feeling of being 
 cramped in my limbs, which feeling was 
 always annoying in proportion to my 
 improper living. 
 
 12 
 
* 7 8 ART ' F ATTAINING 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 What I have said in preceding chap- 
 ters respecting the state of health I once 
 attained, is not, I find, easily credited by 
 those who have not had similar experience. 
 I subjoin a passage from high professional 
 authority — that of Dr. James Gregory, 
 late Professor of Medicine in Edinburgh — 
 confirmatory of my positions ; and those 
 who will take the trouble to make the com- 
 parison, will find how fully I am borne 
 out. The passage was pointed out to me 
 many years since by a physician, and I 
 extracted it at the time, but had forgotten 
 its contents till I had the curiosity to refer 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 170 
 
 to it the other day, and I now give an 
 abbreviated translation from the original 
 Latin. I believe it is principally taken 
 from Celsns. My most staggering asser- 
 tion I take to be this: "It seems that from 
 the surface of an animal in perfect health 
 there is an active exhalation going on, 
 which repels impurity; for when I walked 
 on the dustiest roads, not only my feet, but 
 even my stockings, remained free from 
 dust." Dr. Gregory says of a person in high 
 health — " the exhalation from the skin is 
 free and constant, but without amounting 
 to perspiration," — exhalatio per cut em 
 libera et const arts, extra vero sudorem, 
 which answers with remarkable precision 
 to "my active exhalation," and the repul- 
 sion of impurity is a necessary conse- 
 quence. In fact it is perspiration so active 
 
180 ART OF ATTAINING. 
 
 as to fly from the skin, instead of remain- 
 ing upon it, or suffering any thing else to 
 remain; just as we see an animal in high 
 health roll in the mire, and directly after 
 appear as clean as if it had been washed. 
 I enter into these particulars, not to justify 
 myself, but to g;;in the confidence of my 
 readers, not only on this particular subject, 
 but generally — more especially as I shall 
 have frequently occasion to advance things 
 out of the common way, though in the way 
 of truth. I have before remarked that 
 well-grounded faith has great virtue in 
 other things besides religion. The want 
 of it is an insuperable bar to improvement 
 in things temporal, as well as in things 
 spiritual, and is the reverse of St. Paul's 
 " rejoiceth in the truth, believeth all things, 
 hopeth all things;" for it believer, nothing 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 181 
 
 and hopes nothing. It is the rule of an 
 unfortunate sect of skeptics in excellence, 
 who at the mention of any thing sound, 
 look wonderfully wise, and shake their 
 heads, and smile inwardly — infallible 
 symptoms of a hopeless condition of hali- 
 knowledge and self-conceit. But to return 
 to the passage, which is as follows : 
 
 " When a man is in perfect health, his 
 mind is not only equal to the ordinary 
 occasions of life, but is able easily to 
 accommodate itself to all sorts of situations 
 and pursuits ; his perception, understanding 
 and memory, are correct, clear, and reten- 
 tive ; he is firm and composed, whether in 
 a grave or a lively humour — is always 
 himself, and never the sport of inordinate 
 a flections or external accidents ; he com- 
 mands his passions instead of obeying 
 
182 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 them ; he enjoys prosperity with modera- 
 tion, and adversity with fortitude, and is 
 roused, not overwhelmed by extraordinary 
 emergencies. These are not only the signs 
 of a healthy mind, but of a healthy body 
 also ; and indeed they do not a little con- 
 tribute to health of body ; for as long as 
 the mind is shut up within it, they will 
 mutually and much affect each other. . . . 
 " The muscles are full and firm, the 
 skin soft, almost moist, and never dry, the 
 colour, especially of the face, fresh and 
 constant, and, whether fair or dark, never 
 approaching to pale or yellow ; the counte- 
 nance animated and cheerful; the eyes 
 bright and lively ; the teeth sound and 
 strong ; the step firm ; the limbs well sup- 
 porting the body ; the carriage erect ; every 
 sort of exercise easy ; and labour, though 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 183 
 
 long and hard, borne without inconveni- 
 ence ; all the organs of sense acute, neither 
 torpid nor too sensitive ; sleep light and 
 long, not easily disturbed, refreshing, and 
 either without dreams, or at least without 
 unpleasant ones, steeping the senses in 
 sweet forge tfulness, or filling the mind with 
 pleasant images. Other signs of a healthy- 
 body are the temperate circulation of the 
 blood, the pulse strong, full, soft, equal, 
 neither too quick nor too slow, nor easily 
 raised beyond the ordinary rate ; the respi- 
 ration full, easy, slow, scarcely apparent, 
 and not much accelerated by exercise ; the 
 voice strong and sonorous, and in men 
 deep, not easily made hoarse ; the breath 
 sweet, at least without any thing to the con- 
 trary ; the mouth moist ; the tongue bright, 
 and not too red , the appetite strong, and 
 
184 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 requiring m stimulants; the thirst mode- 
 rate ; the digestion of all sorts of food 
 easy, without any fermentation, or sensa- 
 tion of oppression ; and the exhalation 
 from the skin free and constant, but with- 
 out amounting to perspiration, except from 
 the concurrence of strong causes." 
 
 There is one very important conclusion 
 to be drawn from the above description, 
 and that is, that a high statp of health is a 
 high moral state, which is the reverse of 
 what would be generally supposed. Dr. 
 Gregory says that a man in perfect health 
 is not the sport of inordinate affections, 
 and that he commands his passions, instead 
 of obeying them, which means, that there 
 is no physical excess to make the affections 
 and passions unruly, but that, like tempe- 
 rate gales, they waft him on his course, 
 
IT T n K HEALTH. I 
 
 instead of driving him out of it. What is 
 generally called high health, is a pampered 
 state, the result of luxurious or excessive 
 feeling, accompanied by hard or exciting 
 exercise, and such a state is ever on the bor- 
 ders of disease. It is rather the madness 
 or intoxication of health, than health itself, 
 and it has a tincture of many of the dan- 
 gerous qualities of madness and intoxica= 
 tion. 
 
180 ART OF A 11 A IN. SO 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Of diet. — Health depends on diet, exer- 
 cise, sleep, the state of the mind, and the 
 state of the atmosphere, and on nothing 
 else that I am aware of. I have been 
 accustomed, for many years, to take the 
 air before I eat, or even drink a drop of 
 liquid, and at whatever time I rise, or what- 
 ever the weather is. Sometimes I am 
 only out for a few minutes ; but even a 
 few draughts of the open air, when taken 
 regularly as part of a system, produce a 
 tonic effect ; and I attribute my constant 
 health more to this practice, than to any 
 other individual thing. Sometimes I walk 
 or ride a considerable distance, or transact 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 187 
 
 business for some hours ; and twice 1 have 
 ridden thirty miles, and sat magisterially 
 for a couple of hours, before breaking my 
 fast, or feeling the slightest inconvenience. 
 This strength arises from habit, and I 
 observe my rule so religiously, that I 
 should have the greatest repugnance to 
 break it, from a thorough conviction of its 
 efficacy. To those who are not in a situ- 
 ation, or have not the resolution, to adopt 
 my practice, I recommend as near an 
 approach to it as possible. I recommend 
 them before taking any thing, either solid 
 or liquid, to perform their ablutions, and to 
 dress completely, and to breathe for a time 
 the freshest air they can find, either in 
 doors or out. I also recommend them to 
 engage themselves in some little employ- 
 meat agreeable to the mind, so as not to 
 
188 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 breakfast till at least an hour and a half or 
 two hours after rising. This enables the 
 stomach to disburden itself and prepare for 
 a fresh supply, and gives it a vigorous 
 tone. I am aware that those who have 
 weak digestions, either constitutionally or 
 from bad habits, would suffer great incon- 
 venience from following my rules all at 
 once. I remember the faintness and pain- 
 ful cravings I used to feel after rising, and 
 like others I mistook weakness for appe- 
 tite ; but appetite is a very different thing 
 — a pleasurable sensation of keenness. 
 Appetite supplied with food produces 
 digestion — not so faintness or craving. 
 The best means — and I always found it 
 effectual — of removing the latter sensa- 
 tions, is to take a little spirit of lavender 
 drop] ed upon a lump of sugar. After 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 189 
 
 that, a wholesome appetite may he waited 
 for without inconvenience, and by degrees 
 a healthy habit will be formed. It is to be 
 observed, that nothing produces a faintness 
 or craving of the stomach in the morning 
 more surely than overloading it overnight, 
 or any unpleasant affection of the mind, 
 which stops digestion ; — and this shows 
 the impropriety of adding more food as a 
 palliative. With respect to the proper 
 food for breakfast, that must depend much 
 upon constitution and way of life, and like 
 most other matters pertaining to health, 
 can best be learnt by diligent observation. 
 I think, as a general rule, abstinence from 
 meat is advisable, reserving that species of 
 food till the middle of the day, when the 
 appetite of a healthy person is the strong- 
 est. But at breakfast, as at all meals, it is 
 
190 A AT OF ATTAINING 
 
 expedient to select what is agreeable to the 
 palate ; being then, as always, specially 
 careful not to let that circumstance lead to 
 excess, even in the slightest degree, but, on 
 the contrary, to observe the often laid 
 down rule of leaving off with an appetite. 
 Some people swallow their food in lumps, 
 washing it down with large and frequent 
 gulps of liquid — an affront to the stomach, 
 which it is sure to resent with all the evils 
 of indigestion, as it is impossible for the 
 gastric juice to set, especially if the body 
 is under the infl lence of motion. Even 
 the motion of the easiest carriage on the 
 smoothest road in such case tends to pro- 
 duce fermentation, and fever, and drinking 
 more, the usual remedy with the igno- 
 rant, aggravates the inconvenience ; the 
 only plan is to wait till the stomach is 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 191 
 
 drained, and digestion can commence. 
 Mastication is good in two ways ; first, to 
 break the food into small pieces, upon 
 which the gastric juice can sooner act ; 
 and secondly, to mix it well with saliva, 
 which is the great facilitator of digestion. 
 This subject of saliva is of great impor- 
 tance. When the salival glands are dry, 
 it is impossible digestion can go on well. 
 They are much affected by the mind ; and 
 joy and grief will produce an instantaneous 
 change, and whatever partakes of joy or 
 grief acts in a corresponding degree. It 
 is for this reason that I have remarked, in 
 a former chapter, that it is expedient at 
 meals to avoid all unpleasant, or even 
 serious topics. Light, agreeable conversa- 
 tion, with moderate mirth and laughter, 
 
192 ART OF ATTAIN! X 
 
 promote digestion, and principally, I 1 . o 
 lieve, by stimulating the salival glands. 
 Hence the wholesomeness of food that 
 is fancied to such a degree as to make the 
 mouth water. Hence the benefit of talk- 
 ing invalids into an appetite ; and fre- 
 quently, the first symptoms of recovery, 
 after a dangerous or even hopeless illness, 
 manifest themselves by desiring some par- 
 ticular food grateful to the palate ; — so 
 persons, who have been given up and left 
 to eat what they chose, have recovered 
 from that very circumstance, when medi- 
 cine and prescribed diet have failed. All 
 this is from stimulus to the saliva-1 glands ; 
 and from it I infer the expediency of 
 allowing invalids, except in things mani- 
 festly detrimental, to follow their fancy, 
 
HIGH HEALTH. ly> 
 
 and, for the same reason, it is desirable to 
 make their meals as cheerful as possible, 
 by the presence of some one agreeable to 
 them, or by any other means 
 
 it* 
 
lf»^ ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 It is observable that animals, accustomed 
 to feed in company, almost always fall off, 
 if placed alone ; and with men in training 
 to fight or run, it is of preat importance to 
 have some one constantly present, to keep 
 their spirits in a phasing state of excite- 
 ment. I will here mention two instances 
 of the effect of the want of mastication. 
 One is in horses ; when any derangement 
 in the teeth prevents them from chewing 
 their food, the hide becomes hard and dry, 
 more like the covering of a hair trunk than 
 of a living being. The other instance is 
 of a young lady, who was subject to 
 dreadful fits, for which no remedy could 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 195 
 
 be discovered, till a physician found out 
 that her teeth were in such a state as 
 effectually to prevent mastication. He 
 adopted the strong measure of causing all 
 her teeth to be drawn, and a fresh set put 
 in, from which time she completely re- 
 covered. A skilful dentist once told me 
 that there were people so ignorant, espe- 
 cially ladies, as to avoid mastication in 
 order to save their teeth ; whereas the very 
 act is beneficial to them, but still more the 
 effect upon the digestion, upon which the 
 soundness of the teeth depends. Instead 
 then of swallowing the food whole and 
 drowning it in liquid, which many think 
 harmless provided it is not strong, the pro- 
 per course is to masticate thoroughly, in a 
 cheerful, composed humour, and to drink 
 in sips, rather than in large draughts, so as 
 
190 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 to reduce what is taken into the stomach 
 into a pulpy state, easily and speedily 
 acted upon by the gastric jnice. If more 
 liquid is required, it is better to take it in 
 moderation an hour or two after eating, 
 when it facilitates instead of impeding 
 digestion ; and by this course exercise, at 
 least of a gentle kind, is allowable, almost 
 without restriction as to time, after meals. 
 A good preventive against a habit of 
 taking large draughts, is to use small cups 
 and glasses till a contrary habit is formed ; 
 and in general I find a wine glass a very 
 good regulator in drinking malt liquor, and 
 that it makes a smaller quantity suffice 
 without the danger of forgetting the rule. 
 With moderation in liquids it is much 
 more easy to measure the appetite, and 
 there is very little danger of taking too 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 197 
 
 much solid food. When the appetite is 
 weak, it is difficult to know where is the 
 proper limit in supplying it, as there is no 
 marked sensation. When it is vigorous, 
 we eat heartily to a certain point, and then 
 feel distinctly satisfied without any oppres- 
 sion. This is a sort of first appetite, and 
 the moment it is satisfied we ought to 
 leave off. If we go on, the stomach seems 
 to suffer a sudden extension, which enables 
 us to eat, without inconvenience at the 
 time, a great deal more than the body 
 requires. Sometimes the extension is 
 longer delayed, and only produced by the 
 action of quantity, or some particular 
 stimulant ; and accordingly we see people 
 refuse to eat more in the first instance, 
 and then go on with great willingness. 
 But all this is pernicious, and produces 
 
TJ8 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 that superfluity in the system, which cre- 
 ates a disposition to disease, and which, 
 when carried far, renders disease danger- 
 ous or fatal. How common it is to hear 
 people remark that they have dined after 
 the first dish, and then to see them go on for 
 an hour, sacrificed to the absurdity of the 
 repast ! Pressing to eat or drink, especially 
 children, is a species of civility more 
 honoured in the breach than in the observ- 
 ance. The appetite ought to be in such a 
 state of vigour, that, when satisfied, the 
 solid food seems immediately to identify 
 itself with the system ; and we ought to 
 feel the liquid we take, instantly, to use 
 FalstafTs phrase, " course from the in- 
 wards to the parts extreme." Then we 
 rise from meals refreshed, not encumbered. 
 The signs of this desirable state, as exhi- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 109 
 
 bited in the countenance, are clearness and 
 smoothness of complexion, thinness of 
 lips and nose, no wrinkles under the eyes, 
 the eyes bright, the mouth inclined to a 
 smile, not drawn down with a sour look, 
 as is the case with an overcharged diges- 
 tion. There should be no fulness in the 
 under lip, or uneasy sensation when 
 pressed, which is a sure sign of derange- 
 ment of the stomach. Most especially, 
 the lower part of the nose should have a 
 clear, healthy appearance, not thickened 
 and full of dark dots and inflammatory 
 impurities, as is so frequently to be 
 observed. The difference between a pure 
 state and that of irregular living is so 
 great, as to produce in many persons an 
 almost complete change of appearance in 
 expression of countenance and personal 
 
200 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 attraction ; and attention to diet is of the 
 first consequence to those who wish to 
 improve or retain their looks, as well as to 
 enjoy the perfect possession of their facul- 
 ties. 
 
 As a proof of the efficiency of diet, I 
 will here mention what I experienced 
 from attention to it on a particular occasion. 
 In the middle of August, 1822, I travelled 
 in a private carriage from Stutgard to Paris 
 without stopping, except for an hour and a 
 half each morning to breakfast, being 
 on the road four days and three nights. 
 The course my companion and myself 
 pursued was this. We had a basket, whicli 
 we kept constantly replenished with poul- 
 try or game, and bread, and fruit. We ate 
 sparingly whenever we felt inclined. We 
 never drank when we ate, but took a little 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 201 
 
 fruit instead. About a couple of hours 
 after a meal, if we felt at all thirsty, we 
 took a little water at the first post-house 
 we came to. By this plan the motion of 
 the carriage did not at all disturb digestion ; 
 and notwithstanding the time of year 
 we were entirely without fever or fever- 
 ishness. We arrived at Paris perfectly 
 fresh, and after taking a warm bath, supped 
 in the Palais Royal. I afterward walked 
 on the Boulevards till past midnight, and 
 rose the next morning at six, in as com- 
 posed a state as I ever was in my life. 
 
 When we left England in the preceding 
 November, my companion felt heated and 
 much inconvenienced by travelling, even 
 so late as ten at night, and we were obliged 
 to remain three days at Lyons to give him 
 time to recover. Between Stutcrard and 
 
202 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 Paris he enjoyed perfect composure, and 
 on our arrival I observed that, notwithstand- 
 ing he wore a pair of tight boots all the 
 way, his ankles were not in the least 
 affected with swelling ; whereas the 
 courier, who did not understand passing 
 through Champagne without tasting the 
 wine, though he was comfortably seated 
 behind the carriage, had his legs so much 
 swelled, that he had some difficulty in get- 
 ting up stairs. By the same course I 
 believe I could travel indefinitely as to 
 time, not only without inconvenience, but 
 in high health. 
 
 The precaution of drinking little, and 
 particularly at a sufficient interval after 
 eating, I take to be essential. I also think 
 it very beneficial to have the opportunity 
 of taking- food in moderation as soon as it 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 203 
 
 is desired, by which the irritation of fast- 
 ing too long is avoided, and the stomach is 
 kept in perpetual good humour. The plan 
 of eating and drinking beforehand, instead 
 of carrying provisions in the carriage, is a 
 very pernicious one, as the food becomes 
 corrupted before it is wanted, and in the 
 mean time produces the uncomforts of 
 fermentation. 
 
204 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Before I resume my remarks on diet, I 
 have a few desultory observations to make. 
 I have frequently had occasion to remark 
 on the very different state of my feet, that 
 sometimes they were not at all inconve- 
 nienced by exercise, and at others liable to 
 blister, or to a sensation of fulness or heat — 
 that at one time I was annoyed by corns, 
 at another perfectly free from them — that 
 the same shoes would be sometimes easy, 
 and at others much too tight — that at seme 
 seasons I walked with perfect freedom and 
 alacrity, at others with a difficulty amount- 
 ing almost to lameness. All these varia- 
 tions, I have long since ascertained, depend 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 205 
 
 entirely upon the. state of the digestion, 
 though I have heard my remarks to that 
 effect turned into ridicule by the unthink- 
 ing. I have now a pair of shoes rather 
 smaller than usual, which have given me 
 an opportunity of making my observations 
 with great accuracy, and I find that by 
 excess of diet, which I have purposely 
 tried, they become so painful that I am 
 obliged to take them off, and even that does 
 not afford instant relief; while they are 
 perfectly easy as long as I take only the 
 requisite quantity of food, and at proper 
 times, — for I have proved that so soon as 
 I have fasted too long, uneasiness com- 
 mences, not to the same extent as from 
 excess, but still that there arises a certain 
 degree of irritability upon which the pres- 
 sure acts. Eating moderately, I find, 
 
206 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 affords instant relief, — that is, Content the 
 stomach, and every other part will be con- 
 tent. Moreover, provided the digestion is 
 in a perfect state, any inconvenience from 
 external causes, such as from the pressure 
 of shoes actually too small, only lasts as 
 long as the external cause acts. The mo- 
 ment the cause is removed, the effect 
 ceases ; but it is otherwise where the frame 
 is out of order from deranged digestion. 
 Then it takes some time for the part 
 affected to recover its tone, or it may be 
 that actual disease is the consequence, 
 according to the force of the cause acting, 
 or the tendency to disease. People die 
 from a wound in the foot, or a cut finger, 
 on account of their previously improper 
 living, which has disposed their bodies to 
 disease, and the wound or cut is the excit- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 207 
 
 ing cause ; but with those in perfect 
 health, cure commences immediately after 
 the injury, whether the injury be great or 
 small, provided it is not in a vital part. 
 Hence, in accidents, it is necessary with 
 most people that they should submit, to the 
 influence of diet and medicine before a cure 
 can be effected ; and the same course is 
 generally pursued before an operation, the 
 only reason being that there are very few 
 who live as they ought to do. The differ- 
 ence in the state of health is so great, that 
 the same blow, which would cause death 
 in one man, would not even produce disco- 
 loration in another. 
 
 Once when I was riding at Rome, my 
 horse suddenly ran up a steep bank, and 
 threw me off behind with great force on 
 my head upon a hard road. I felt a violent 
 
208 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 shake and a very unpleasant sensation for 
 the moment, but experienced no bad con- 
 sequences whatever. For some time pre- 
 viously I had been living very carefully as 
 to diet, and had taken a great deal of exer- 
 cise, otherwise I am confident I should 
 have suffered greatly, if not fatally ; as it 
 was, I had no occasion even to take any 
 precaution, and I felt nothing beyond the 
 one shock. Had my vessels been over- 
 charged, the effect must have been very 
 different. 
 
 But to return to tight shoes. Every 
 body must have observed that they are 
 more inconvenient at the end of the day 
 than at the beginning, and most of all, after 
 a full dinner, though they may not have 
 been aware that over-fasting will produce 
 something of the same effect, and that con- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 209 
 
 sequently the whole is referable to the 
 state of the digestion ; for even the fatigue 
 of the day does not act directly upon the 
 limbs, but first upon the powers of the 
 stomach. Restore them, and the sensa- 
 tion of fatigue disappears. Labour and 
 exercise, when the stomach is too full, or 
 too empty, especially the former, cause 
 great uneasiness ; and as soon as the sto- 
 mach is relieved, the weariness is relieved 
 also. Even that fatigue of the limbs, 
 which seems only removable by rest or 
 sleep, I believe equally depends upon the 
 same cause, and that it is the stomach first 
 which requires repose. Where it only 
 requires food, as I have just remarked, the 
 fatigue of the limbs will disappear without 
 rest ; when it has received too much food, 
 the fatigue will in like manner be relieved 
 14 
 
210 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 as digestion proceeds. I recollect once, 
 when walking a long distance before break- 
 fast, I became at length so wearied, as only 
 to be prevented by my companion from 
 lying down in the road ; and when I had 
 breakfasted, I was immediately fresher 
 than when I started. After eating too 
 heartily, I have experienced still more dis- 
 tressing weariness, which has gradually 
 disappeared, without any cessation of exer- 
 cise, as digestion has proceeded. This is 
 something the same as what is called 
 second wind in boxing or running. It may 
 be said, that when the feet are inconve- 
 niently affected by exercise, they are re- 
 lieved by placing them in a horizontal posi- 
 tion ; but I apprehend that position is 
 chiefly beneficial as affecting the connexion 
 with the stomach, and that for any other 
 
HIGH HE A LTH. 211 
 
 reason, it would be nearly useless — i;i 
 short, it appears to me, that in the stomach 
 is the spring, upon which entirely depends 
 every other function and every other 
 affection of the frame. 
 
 With respect to corns, I have been treated 
 with great ridicule for asserting that they 
 are dependent upon the digestion ; but I 
 have observed these things, and the ridi- 
 culers have not. With me, when I am in 
 the best health, they disappear, and only 
 come, or inconvenience me, in proportion 
 as I am careless. This I have ascertained 
 over and over again. Of course they are 
 made better or worse by different kinds of 
 boots or shoes ; but no kind of boot or shoe 
 will bring them, unless there is a tendency 
 from improper living. Pressure would 
 only affect as long as it lasted, but would 
 
21 I ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 cause no formation, without some super- 
 fluity to work upon. The reason why- 
 corns shoot on the approach of rain is, that 
 the change in the atmosphere more or less 
 deranges the digestion, which causes a 
 throbbing sensation. I have made these 
 remarks because the state of the feet is of 
 so much importance to our comfort and 
 activity, and because I think they are 
 applicable to the general management of 
 ourselves, and may be useful to those who 
 are subject to gout, rheumatism, cramp, 
 and other diseases of the limbs. My prin- 
 cipal aim is to furnish my readers, from 
 my own observation and experience, with 
 sufficient hints to induce them to think, 
 and to notice what happens to themselves. 
 If I am not always perfectly right in what 
 I lay clown, I do not much mind that, pro- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 213 
 
 vided I enable others to get right in detect- 
 ing my errors. I am sure I am not very 
 far from the truth in my principal positions. 
 I believe that species of health is the 
 best, and certainly the most prized, which 
 is the result of study and observation, and 
 which is preserved by constant watchful- 
 ness and resolution. Anxiety and quack- 
 ery are destructive of health, but a reason- 
 able attention is absolutely necessary. 
 Those who constitutionally enjoy robust 
 health, seldom know how sufficiently to 
 value it; besides which, for want of disci- 
 pline, they are not often so well as they 
 think themselves. They frequently mis- 
 take strength for health, though they are 
 very different things — as different as St. 
 Paul's clock from a chronometer. The 
 weaker mechanism often goes the best. 
 
214 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 I think that those who are so constituted as 
 to be well with care, have on the whole 
 the most reason to be thankful, as being 
 mosc likely to enjoy permanent well-t)eing 
 of body and mind ; there is often a reck- 
 lessness about constitutional health which 
 is dangerous to both. 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 215 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It requires a great deal of attention, and 
 when living in the world, a great deal of 
 resolution, to observe a proper diet ; and 
 it is only a knowledge of its powerful 
 effect both upon body and mind that is 
 likely to induce sufficient care. When 
 taking meals alone it is most easy to regu- 
 late them ; but I believe meals were meant 
 to be social, and that a little irregularity in 
 agreeable company is better than the best 
 observance in solitude. They who can 
 unite the advantages of the two states are 
 sure to enjoy the easiest digestion. In 
 diet, as in most of our habits, we are apt 
 to be content with too low a standard, 
 
216 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 instead of continually striving to approach 
 the highest point of improvement ; and 
 certainly no study can be more interesting in 
 its progress or more important in its effects. 
 Eating and drinking, reasonably used, are 
 not only extremely pleasant in act, but in 
 their consequences ; and a healthy appe- 
 tite, duly ministered to, would be a source 
 of constant enjoyment without alloy. As 
 we must take nourishment, it appears to 
 me wise to draw as much gratification from 
 it as possible. Epicurism has rather an 
 ill name, but I think very undeservedly, if 
 it does not lead to gluttony, or occupy 
 too great a share of attention. A dainty 
 meal is something pleasant to look forward 
 to, and the expectation of it gives a whole- 
 some edge to the appetite, and makes busi- 
 ness be despatched with alacrity. Let any 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 217 
 
 of my readers call to mind their antici- 
 pations in journeying towards 3. bespoken 
 repast at a favourite inn, and that will put 
 them in the way of appreciating the value 
 in the journey through life of daily antici- 
 pations of satisfactory cheer. To come to 
 particulars : and first of breakfast. — As to 
 this meal, much depends upon constitution 
 and manner of life. Those who are 
 weakly, and those who do not take much 
 exercise, will do well to be rather abste- 
 mious at breakfast, lest they anticipate di- 
 gestion. Those who take exercise before 
 breakfast and rest after, may safely give 
 themselves more latitude than they who 
 observe an opposite course. Moderation 
 in all cases is the safest. 1 have often 
 remarked that pt^nle who make it their 
 
218 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 boast that they always eat a hearty break- 
 fast are rather of a full than a healthy 
 habit ; and I should not think, as a rule, 
 that the practice is favourable to long life. 
 As digestion is liable to be deranged by 
 the various occupations of the morning, it 
 is expedient to be careful botli as to quality 
 and quantity of food. To that end I hold 
 it desirable to avoid much liquid, the fat 
 or skin of meat, much crumb of untoasted 
 bread, especially newly baked bread, all 
 spongy substances, and whatever has a 
 tendency to create thirst. Coffee, unless 
 in a small quantity and diluted with milk, 
 is rather heating : tea, before exercise, or 
 in travelling, I think preferable. In my 
 own case, I find it best to adhere to one 
 moderate sized cup of liquid, whether tea, 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 219 
 
 coffee, or cocoa. I prefer brown bread 
 toasted to any other preparation of flour, 
 and if any addition is wanted, I recom- 
 mend only one on the same occasion, such 
 as eggs, a little meat, bacon, broiled fish, 
 water cresses, or fruit. Variety I think 
 good, but not on the same day, especially 
 as it makes it more difficult to measure the 
 appetite. If any thing is required be- 
 tween breakfast and dinner, something sim- 
 ple and in moderation should by all means 
 be taken, as disappointing the appetite, I be- 
 lieve is much more prejudicial than is gene- 
 rally supposed. Bread and fruit I find very 
 grateful in the middle of the day, and if 
 meat is taken, good table beer, 1 think, is 
 the most refreshing beverage, or where 
 that is not liked, wine and water. As to 
 
220 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 dinner, I am of opinion that the considera- 
 tion of that important meal may most con- 
 veniently be referred to my article on the 
 art of dining. 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 221 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 I now proceed to the few remaining 
 topics I mean to touch upon. The first 1 
 shall take is exercise. Upon this depends 
 vigour of body, and if the mind can be 
 vigorous without, it can be much more so 
 with it. The efficacy of exercise depends 
 upon the time, the quantity, and the manner. 
 The most invigorating time, I should say 
 from experience, is decidedly that during 
 the freshness of the morning air, and be- 
 fore breakfast ; but this will not do for 
 invalids, or persons of very weak consti- 
 tutions, though many underrate their own 
 powers, and think that that is weakness 
 wixich is only the effect of habit. They 
 
222 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 should try their strength by degrees taking 
 moderate doses of exercise at first, and after 
 a small quantity of food, or, what I have 
 before recommended, a few drops of the 
 spirit of lavender on a lump of sugar, the 
 efficacy of which, in preventing faintness 
 or a distressing craving, is great. A few 
 drops of lavender, and a short walk or 
 gentle ride on a fine morning, will give a 
 real appetite to beginners, which may 
 tempt them to persevere till they can per- 
 form with ease and pleasure what would 
 have distressed them exceedingly, or been 
 wholly impracticable in the first instance. 
 I always observe, that being well braced 
 by morning 1 exercise produces an effect 
 that lasts the whole day, and it gives a 
 bloom to the countenance, and causes a 
 general glow, which exercise at no other 
 
II I G H II E / L T II. 22S 
 
 time can. I have heretofore spoken at 
 large of taking exercise with reference to 
 meals, both before and after. As to the 
 other parts of the day besides morning, 
 the time most fit for exercise must depend 
 greatly upon the season. In the depth of 
 winter it is good to catch as much sun as 
 possible, and in the heat of summer to pur- 
 sue the opposite course. The coldest parts 
 of the day, as a rule, are just before sunrise 
 and sunset, especially the former, and I 
 believe they are the most unwholesome to 
 take exercise in. The French, who ob- 
 serve rules respecting health more strictly 
 than we do, are particularly cautious about 
 sunset, on account of the vapour which 
 usually rises at that time, and which they 
 call le serein. The morning air just be- 
 fore sunrise is often, even in warm weather, 
 
224 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 dreadfully chilly and raw, but there is no 
 great danger of people in general exposing 
 themselves to it. It is different at sunset, 
 and it is then well to be on one's guard, 
 especially if there is any feeling of damp, 
 and particular care should be taken not to 
 rest after exercise, or do any thing to 
 check perspiration at that time, from which 
 the most dangerous, and often fatal, mala- 
 dies originate. Though I think the fresh 
 morning air is the most invigorating in its 
 effects, there is no period when I have 
 felt actually so much alacrity and energy, 
 as when taking exercise, either on foot or 
 horseback, at the dead of night, provided 
 the night is clear and dry, and most espe- 
 cially during a fine frost. The body and 
 mind seem to me to be more in unison 
 under such circumstances than at any other 
 
21 I H HE A L Til. 225 
 
 time ; and I suppose from such effects tliat 
 exercise must then be wholesome, but I 
 think it should be after a generous meai, 
 taken some time before. 1 have mentioned 
 this effect of the night air in a former 
 chapter, when speaking of digestion. 
 Persons of different constitutions must 
 judge for themselves at what periods of 
 the day exercise best suits them, but taking 
 care, I must repeat, not to confound the 
 nature of the constitution with the force of 
 habit. The best tests that they are right, 
 will be keenness of appetite, lightness of 
 digestion, and consequent buoyaicy of 
 spirits. 
 
 15 
 
226 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Having treated in my last chapter of 
 the times for taking exercise, I proceed to 
 the consideration of the proper quantity. 
 The quantity of exercise desirable depends 
 upon constitution, time of life, occupation, 
 season, and kind and degree. I am unable 
 to say with precision what kinds of con- 
 stitution require the most exercise. Per- 
 sons in health, of compact or light frame, 
 seem the best adapted to take a great deal 
 with benefit to themselves. Weakly and 
 heavy people are generally distressed by 
 much exertion ; but then it is difficult to 
 distinguish what is the effect of habit, and 
 what of natural constitution. Those who 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 227 
 
 appear to be weak, often make themselves 
 strong by a judicious course of manage- 
 ment, and the heavy frequently improve 
 astonishingly in activity by good training. 
 One thing may be taken as certain, anil 
 that is, that it is wise to go on by degrees, 
 and to increase the quantity of exercise as 
 it is found to be beneficial ; the best tests of 
 which are keenness of appetite and sound- 
 ness of sleep. Over exercise ought al- 
 ways to be avoided ; but that often depends 
 more upon the manner than the quantity. 
 The same quantity may distress, or benefit, 
 as it is taken judiciously or the contrary. 
 Condition also makes an immense differ- 
 ence in the same person. I remember 
 when I entered Switzerland after thr full 
 living of Germany, I was as diflsrent 
 from what I was when I left it, as lead 
 
228 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 from feathers. In the first case the ascent 
 of an ordinary hill distressed me, and at last 
 I enjoyed a buoyancy which seemed quite 
 insensible tc fatigue. Females appear to 
 require a much less quantity of exercise 
 than men ; and it ought to be gentle and 
 agreeable, instead of violent or long con- 
 tinued. With them, also, much depends 
 upon circumstances ; and, in Switzerland, 
 delicate women can take as much ex- 
 ercise without inconvenience, as would 
 distress the strongest of the sex in less 
 invigorating countries. With respect to 
 time of life, the most vigorous periods of 
 course demand the most exercise ; but habil 
 has always a great effect, and it is expe- 
 dient not to relax from indolence instead 
 of inability. As decay comes on, exercise 
 should become moderate, and of short co •- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 229 
 
 tinuance at a time, and should be taken 
 during the most genial periods of the day. 
 Active occupations either altogether super- 
 sede, or diminish the necessity of exer- 
 cise, for exercise' sake ; but sedentary or 
 confined employments require a regular 
 course, in order to ensure any thing like 
 permanent good health ; and the better the 
 air, the more efTVjacious will be the exer- 
 cise. As to seasons, in hot weather the 
 least exercise seems necessary, and that of 
 a gentle kind ; in a moderate temperature, 
 the most may be taken with advantage ; 
 and when it is cold exercise should be 
 brisk, and then, from its bracing quality, a 
 little goes a great way. Quantity of exer- 
 cise depends very greatly upon kind and 
 degree. That which moderately increases 
 the circulation of the blood, so as to cause 
 
230 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 a glow on this side perspiration, the soon- 
 est suffices. Walking or riding at a brisk 
 pace in a bracing air, or not over-strained 
 exertion in some game, which agreeably 
 occupies the mind, will soon produce a 
 sufficient effect. Where the mind is not 
 engaged, much more exercise is required 
 than where it is ; and a small quantity of 
 violent exercise is not so beneficial as a 
 greater quantity of moderate. On the 
 other hand, a greater quantity of sluggish 
 exertion does not possess the efficacy of a 
 smaller quantity of an animating kind. Less 
 of varied exertion, which brings the differ- 
 ent muscles into play, will suffice, than of 
 exertion all of the same kind ; as walking 
 over hill and dale promotes circulation more 
 than walking over a fiat surface, and differ- 
 ent paces in riding are better than a uni- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 231 
 
 form one. Unless exercise produces a 
 glow, it falls short of its proper effect, and 
 it will do this in the shortest time, when it 
 is moderate, varied, and pleasing, and in 
 an invigorating atmosphere. Violent exer- 
 cise produces temporary strength, but with 
 a wear and tear of the constitution, and it 
 often induces a tendency to disease, besides 
 the danger of bodily injury from many 
 causes. 
 
 As to manner of exercising, there is 
 every degree from the easiest carriage to 
 the roughest horse. Carriage exercise is 
 of a very inferior kind in an invigorating 
 point of view, and to the robust is scarcely 
 exercise at all ; but to others it is very bene- 
 ficial, though perhaps rather in the way of 
 taking air than taking exercise, and it has 
 the effect of diverting the mind. To this 
 
232 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 end it is most efficacious amidst new 
 scenes. The most effective mode of all 
 of taking exercise is, I believe, on horse- 
 back, and if it will not put those who can 
 bear it into high health, I think nothing 
 else will. For effect on the health and 
 spirits I know nothing like a brisk ride on 
 a good horse, through a pleasant country, 
 with an agreeable companion, on a beauti- 
 ful day. The exercise is thoroughly 
 efficient, without either labour or fatigue, 
 the mind is entirely in unison with the 
 body, and the constant current of pure air 
 produces the most vigorous tone. I have 
 frequently heard of journeys on horseback 
 restoring health, when every thing else 
 has failed. A solitary ride on an unwilling 
 horse, over well known ground, for the 
 mere sake of the ride, nroduces, compara- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 233 
 
 tively speaking, very little benefit ; and 
 care should be taken to make this kind of 
 exercise, as well as every other, as attrac- 
 tive as possible. Exercise on foot has 
 many advantages. It is the most inde- 
 pendent mode, is within every body's 
 reach, is the least trouble, and can be 
 taken when other modes are not practica- 
 ble, and is very efficacious. The feeling 
 of independence is by no means the least 
 of its advantages, and those who have the 
 free use of their limbs, have no occasion 
 to envy their superiors in wealth their 
 command of carriages and horses, about 
 which there are constant drawbacks. Al- 
 though I delight in a horse at times, yet I 
 often think that on the whole the balance 
 is against him on tie score of freedom and 
 independence. I have made many jour- 
 
234 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 neys or foot, and I do not know that, 
 with good management, there is any mode 
 of travelling which is capable of so much 
 enjoyment with so little alloy. Horse 
 exercise on particular occasions, is cer- 
 tainly the most animating and delightful, 
 but at other times it is attended with greater 
 inconveniences. Exercise on foot derives 
 much of its efficacy from being made 
 attractive. A walk for a walk's sake is 
 only half beneficial, and, if possible, there 
 should be some object in view, something 
 to engage and satisfy the mind. Exercise 
 in games, dancing, fencing, and such ac- 
 complishments, derive a great deal of their 
 benefit from the pleasure taken in them ; 
 and in contested games, care should be 
 taken to avoid anxiety and over-ardent 
 exertion. There 's a middle state of the 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 235 
 
 mind between indifference and too much 
 eagerness, which is the most favourable to 
 health ; as there is a middle circulation of 
 the blood between languor and a state of 
 fever. In taking exercise, this rule should 
 always be observed, to begin and end 
 gently. Beginning violently hurries the 
 circulation, and ending violently is very 
 apt to induce colds and fever, and besides, 
 causes a stiffness in the joints and muscles. 
 The blood should have time gradually to 
 resume its ordinary current, or it has a ten- 
 dency to settle in the small vessels, which 
 is a cause of great inconvenience. Cool- 
 ing gradually will prevent this. 
 
 The next thing I have to consider is 
 sleep, upon the quantity and quality of 
 which health mainly depends. I believe 
 the general custom is to take too much 
 
230 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 sleep. What quantity is really necessary 
 must depend upon various constitutions, 
 and various circumstances in the same con- 
 stitution ; but the rule is, as I think, that 
 we should have one sound sleep, from 
 which we should wake perfectly refreshed, 
 without any heavy or drowsy sensation or 
 any wish to fall asleep again. The length 
 of this sleep will depend upon way of liv- 
 ing, quantity of exertion, mental or bodily, 
 state of the atmosphere, and other causes ; 
 but still the one sound sleep is the true 
 measure. Falling short of this, or exceed 
 ing it, are both prejudicial. The first pro- 
 duces fever, the second languor. Our 
 energy depends in a very great degree 
 upon taking no more than the due quantity 
 of sleep. In order to ensure its quality, 
 we should lie down free from care, and 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 237 
 
 have no anxiety about waking, which is 
 destructive of perfect soundness. Our 
 waking should be entirely voluntary, the 
 result, of the complete restoration of the 
 powers. The quality of sleep depends 
 upon attention to diet, exercise, and state 
 of the mind, and in a great measure upon 
 going to bed in a properly prepared state, 
 neither feverish nor chilly, neither hungry 
 nor overloaded, but in an agreeable compo- 
 sure and state of satisfaction of both body 
 and mind. It is better to retire to rest 
 from society than from solitude, and from 
 cheerful relaxation than from immediate 
 labour and study. The practice, which 
 some people have, of sitting their fire out, 
 and going to bed starved, with their mind 
 fatigued with study, is the reverse of what 
 is expedient ; and sleep under such cir- 
 
238 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 cumstances is of a very unsatisfactory 
 nature. It is rather productive of what 
 Milton calls unrest than rest. Sleep, to 
 enjoy it perfectly, requires observation and 
 attention, and all who wish for high 
 health, will do well to ket:p the subject in 
 their minds, because upon themselves 
 chiefly depends the attainment of this, one 
 of the greatest blessings of life. 
 
HIGH HEALTH. *23fl 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 State of the mind. — Attention to 
 health has a powerful influence on the 
 state of the mind, and the state of the mind 
 has a powerful influence on health. There 
 is one state of the mind which depends upon 
 the health, and another which depends 
 partly upon external circumstances. This 
 latter state, though it cannot be altogether 
 regulated by attention to health, may be ma- 
 terially affected by it, and depression may 
 be diminished and buoyancy increased in a 
 very considerable degree. Where there is 
 nothing particularly to affect the mind in 
 the way of good fortune or of bad, of annoy- 
 ance or of pleasure, its state depends 
 
240 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 almost, if not entirely, upon the state of 
 the health, and the same individual will be 
 happy or miserable in the proportion that 
 the health is regulated. I have known 
 cases of people, who laboured under depres- 
 sion to a most distressing degree, restored 
 to high spirits merely by a long journey 
 on horseback ; and universally, exertion 
 which is productive of interest to the mind, 
 where there is no external cause of annoy- 
 ance, raises the spirits to a state of positive 
 enjoyment, which may be still further 
 increased by attention to temperance, clean- 
 liness, and moderation in sleep. Where 
 the state of the mind depends entirely upon 
 attention to health, I can only refer to what 
 I have recommended in the different chap- 
 ters I have already given on the subject of 
 health. Where it depends upon the infiu- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 241 
 
 ence of external circumstances, I shall also 
 request attention to the tone which per- 
 vades all that I have written with reference 
 to habits of living and modes of thinking ; 
 because I have throughout endeavoured to 
 enforce doctrines founded on reasonable- 
 ness and the spirit of contentment. It is 
 good not to seek after those things, the 
 disappointment of missing which is greater 
 than the pleasure of attaining: and such 
 is the case with all the vanities of the 
 •world. The irksomeness of pursuing, and 
 the emptiness of enjoyment, I think, are 
 generally about equal ; while the mortifica- 
 tion of failure is ever most bitter with 
 respect to things in themselves worthless 
 or troublesome. The greatest of all arts 
 to prevent unhappiness is not to place too 
 much value on the opinion of others. Here 
 16 
 
2i'l ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 is the grand source of all anxiety, the 
 thinking what others will think ; and that 
 is the feeling which is most unfavourable 
 to real health. It suspends and deranges 
 * ho functions to a most prejudicial extent, 
 even about trifles, when serious calamity, 
 which does not touch the pride, is met with 
 calmness and resignation. Pride is mixed 
 up with almost all human feeling, and in 
 proportion as reason and religion can clear it 
 away, the feelings will be sound and healthy, 
 and will contribute to the soundness and 
 health of the body. To desire nothing but 
 what is worth attaining, to proportion our 
 wants to our means of satisfying them 
 without too much sacrifice, to value what 
 we gain or lose as it affects ourselves only, 
 and not as weighed in the balance of others, 
 is the state of mind which will most con- 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 213 
 
 duce to our health. I have heretofore 
 enlarged in several places upon the great, 
 and often sudden effects, the state of the 
 mind has upon that of the body, both to 
 good and ill ; and it is only by constant 
 mental discipline, and by observation, that 
 that tone can be acquired, which gives due 
 smoothness, and regularity, and activity, to 
 physical action. 
 
 The state of the atmosphere has influ- 
 ence upon the health in various degrees. 
 No one is entirely independent of such 
 influence ; but the more we attend to the 
 due regulation of our health, the less we 
 feel outward changes. Persons who have 
 contracted habits of indolence and indul- 
 gence, are the most subject to be affected 
 by atmospheric influences, % and they are 
 often wretched martyrs to them. With 
 
244 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 vessels overcharged and nerves unbraced, 
 the slightest change causes the most dis- 
 tressing sensations. I believe that mode- 
 ration in liquids is one of the best preserva- 
 tives against such evils — I mean liquids of 
 all kinds, for some people think that it is 
 only the strength of liquids that is prejudi- 
 cial, whereas quantity is to be guarded 
 against as well as quality, by those who 
 wish to enjoy good health. Water, tea, 
 and all sorts of slops, ought to. be used 
 with great moderation, or it is in vain to 
 hope for a vigorous tone. A dry, cool 
 atmosphere seems to be the most favour- 
 able to a high state of health, though it 
 may not best suit many morbid constitu- 
 tions, and persons labouring under particu- 
 lar diseases. Temperance and activity will 
 render the constitution almost proof against 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 215 
 
 any baneful influence of the atmosphere, 
 but attention to diet and dress are also 
 advisable, as well as caution as to exposure 
 to the outward air. Besides the ordinary- 
 changes in the atmosphere, a great deal 
 depends upon situation, and therefore those 
 who are able, do well to avail themselves 
 of choosing those situations, which either 
 for temporary reasons, or permanently, 
 agree with them best. A good choice of 
 situation will often produce health, or con- 
 tinue it, more effectually than any thing 
 else. Discrimination is necessary in this : 
 for those situations which are the most 
 favourable to a high state of health, may 
 be dangerous to those who are only making 
 their approaches to it. An invalid or 
 person of delicate constitution, by begin- 
 ning in the valley, may perhaps end a 
 
hardy mountaineer. The influence of the 
 atmosphere is a fit subject for constant 
 observation, and can only be well under- 
 stood by that process ; I mean reasonable 
 observation, and not that of hypochondri- 
 acal and nervous people. 
 
 The last subject I have to touch upon in 
 respect to health, is cleanliness. It is of 
 great importance, and requires much atten- 
 tion and considerable labour in the advance- 
 ment towards health, especially in particu- 
 lar kinds of morbid affections : but in an 
 actual state of high health, it is not only 
 easy of attainment, but it is hardly possible 
 to be avoided. There is an activity, which 
 prevents impurity from within, and repels 
 it from without. There are all degrees, 
 from a sluggish, impure perspiration to an 
 imperceptible radiation. In the first case, 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 247 
 
 continual efforts of cleanliness can still not 
 produce it in a high degree ; and in the 
 second, it is there without any effort at all. 
 People who are laboriously clean, are 
 never very clean; that is, they are not 
 pure. Purity is a sort of self-acting clean- 
 liness ; it arises from attention to system, 
 and cleanliness is a mere outward opera- 
 tion. There are many people, who think 
 themselves very clean, who are only 
 whitened sepulchres ; and, however they 
 labour, will never succeed, unless by 
 attention to something more than soap and 
 water. What I have said in a former 
 chapter on an extreme state of clean- 
 liness, though difficult to be compre- 
 hended, or believed by those who have not 
 put themselves into a high state of health, 
 is yet literally true. Cleanliness contri- 
 
248 ART OF ATTAINING 
 
 bntes to health, and health contributes to 
 cleanliness ; and I cannot too strongly 
 recommend attention to it, at the same time 
 repeating that the outward operation alone, 
 without attention to the system, will prove 
 very inefficient. 
 
 I have now come to a conclusion of my 
 chapters on the art of attaining high health. 
 I could have said a great deal more on 
 many of the heads, and may hereafter 
 touch upon some of them occasionally ; 
 but as my principal aim has been to put 
 my readers in the right way, and to set 
 them to think for themselves, I have 
 thought it better not to enter more into 
 detail. Where I am right, I hope they 
 will follow me, to their own advantage ; 
 and where I am wrong, it may perhaps 
 ead some of them to discover what is 
 
HIGH HEALTH. 241) 
 
 right, for the sake of detecting my errors. 
 If the truth is only discovered between us, 
 I do not much care by which side 
 
fkUxts on Suppers. 
 
 251 
 
HINTS ON SUPPERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I do not know how I came to dismiss 
 the subject of the art of dining without 
 saying a few words in favour of that 
 agreeeable, but now neglected meal, sup- 
 per. The two repasts used to hold divided 
 empire, but dinners have in later years 
 obtained all but an exclusive monopoly, to 
 the decay, I am afraid, of wit, and bril- 
 liancy, and ease. Supper has been in all 
 times the meal peculiarly consecrated to 
 mental enjoyment, and it is not possible 
 that any other meal should be so well 
 
 253 
 
254 HINTS ON SUITERS. 
 
 adapted to that object. Dinner may be 
 considered the nnal of the body, and sup- 
 per that of the mind. The first has for its 
 proper object the maintenance or restora- 
 tion of the corporeal powers • the second 
 is intended in the hours of relaxation from 
 the cares and business of the day, to light 
 up and invigorate the mind. It comes 
 after every thing else is over, and all dis- 
 traction and interruption have ceased, as a 
 pleasing prelude and preparation for the 
 hour of rest, and has a tendency to fill the 
 mind with agreeable images as the last 
 impressions of the day. Compared with 
 dinner, it is in its nature light, and free 
 from state. Dinner is a business ; supper 
 an amusement. It is inexpensive, and 
 free from trouble. The attempt to unite 
 the two meals in one, in the manner now 
 
HINTS ON SUPPERS. 255 
 
 pra?tised, is a miserable failure, unfavour- 
 able to health and to the play of the mind. 
 Nothing places sociability on so good a 
 footing, and so much within the reach of 
 all, as the custom of supping. There is 
 an objection made to suppers, that they 
 are unwholesome. Nothing, I think, can 
 be more unfounded; indeed, I believe 
 them, if properly used, to be most 
 wholesome, and quite in accordance with 
 the dictates of nature. Undoubtedly, large 
 suppers are unwholesome after large din- 
 ners ; but not so, light suppers after mode- 
 rate dinners. I think, if I were to choose, 
 my ordinary course of living would be a 
 simple, well-conceived dinner, instead of 
 the luncheon now in vogue ; then tea, 
 with that excellent adjunct, scarcely ever 
 enjoyed in these days, buttered toast, about 
 
256 HINTS ON SUPPERS. 
 
 the present dinner hour, and a savoury 
 little supper about half past nine or ten 
 o'clock, with a bowl of negus, or some 
 other grateful diluted potation after. I am 
 of opinion there is no system so favourable 
 to vigorous and joyous health as the mode- 
 rate indulgence of a moderate appetite 
 about a couple of hours before retiring to 
 rest, — those hours filled up with the enjoy- 
 ment of agreeable society. In the colder 
 months I have great faith in finishing the 
 day with a warm and nourishing potation. 
 It is the best preparation for one's daily 
 end, sleep, or, as Shakspeare calls it, " the 
 death of each day's life ;" and those with 
 whom it does not agree, may be sure it is 
 not the drink's fault, but their own, in not 
 having pursued the proper course previ- 
 ous!}-. A good drink over a cheerful fire, 
 
HINTS ON SUPPERS. '257 
 
 with a cheerful friend or two, is a good 
 finish, much better than the unsatisfactory 
 ending of a modern dinner party. Jlere I 
 must mention that, in order to have good 
 negus, it is necessary to use good wine, 
 and not, as some people seem to think, 
 any sort of stuff, in any condition. Port 
 negus is delicious, if it is made thus : — 
 Pour boiling water upon a sufficient quan- 
 tity of sugar ; stir it well ; then pour some 
 excellent port, not what has been opened 
 two or three days, into the water, the wine 
 having been heated in a saucepan. Stir 
 the wine and water well together as the 
 wine is poured in, and add a little grated 
 nutmeg. A slice of lemon put jn with 
 the sugar, and a little of the yellow rind 
 scraped with it, make the negus perfect ; 
 but it is very good without, though then, 
 17 
 
258 HINTS ON SUPPERS. 
 
 properly speaking, it should be called wine 
 and water. Supper is an excellent time to 
 enjoy game, and all meats of a delicate 
 nature, and many other little things, which 
 are never introduced at dinners. I am far 
 from wishing to explode dinners as a 
 social meal, but I object to their enjoying 
 a monopoly, and the adoption of the two 
 meals on different occasions would furnish 
 opportunities for an agreeable variety. 
 One frequently hears people object to din- 
 ing early, on the ground that they feel them 
 selves disinclined to do any thing after din- 
 ner ; but this is a false mode of reasoning. 
 After a late dinner there is a disinclination 
 to action, especially if it is an overloaded 
 repast ; but the reason of this is, that the 
 powers have become exhausted, which is 
 a solid argument against late dining with 
 
HINTS ON SUPPERS. 259 
 
 reference to health and spirits. But a 
 moderate dinner in the middle of the day, 
 when the digestive powers are the strong- 
 est, instead of unfitting for action, has the 
 very contrary effect, and a person rises 
 from table refreshed, and more actively 
 inclined than hnfare No one, whose 
 digestion is in good order, complains of 
 the incapacitating effects of luncheon, 
 which is in reality a dinner without its 
 pleasures. Luncheon may be said to be 
 a joyless dinner, and dinner a cumbrous 
 supper, and between the two, they utterly 
 exclude that refreshing little meal, tea. 
 We live in a strange state of perversion, 
 from which many emancipate themselves 
 as much as they can, when the eye of the 
 world is not upon them ; and if every body 
 dared to do as every body would like, 
 
200 HINTS ON SUPPERS 
 
 strange changes would soon appear. If 
 the state prisons were thrown open, an-! 
 the fetters of fashion cast off, \\ hat inward 
 rejoicing there would be among rich and 
 poor, male and female ! What struggles, 
 what pangs, what restraints would be 
 avoided ! What enjoyments, what plea- 
 sures would present themselves, and what 
 elasticity would be given to the different 
 bents of the human mind ? If reason and 
 virtue alone dictated the rules of life, how 
 much more of real freedom wouid be en- 
 joyed than under the present worn-out 
 dynasty of fashion i 
 
HINTS ON SUPPERS. 261 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 In my last chapter, I expressed an in- 
 clination to the adoption, on ordinary occa- 
 sions, of a simple, substantial dinner in the 
 middle of the day, then to tea about the 
 present hour of dinner, and lastly, to a 
 ight supper about a couple of hours before 
 retiring to rest ; but I omitted to enlarge, 
 as much as I think the subject deserves, 
 upon the advantages of such a course to 
 men who are engaged in active occupation 
 away from their homes. To fast from 
 breakfast to a late dinner is unquestionably 
 prejudicial to the great majority of consti- 
 tutions, though habit may prevent present 
 
262 HINTS ON SUPPERS. 
 
 sensations of inconvenience. Luncheon 
 is an unsatisfactory, unsettled meal as to 
 society, and awkward as to the appetite, 
 which being about that time in the most 
 vigorous state, it is difficult and disappoint- 
 ing to restrain it, and inconvenient, with 
 reference to dinner, to satisfy it. Now a 
 simple dinner at or near the place of busi- 
 ness, and in the way of society made sub- 
 servient to business, is free from these dis- 
 advantages. If a meal is taken when the 
 appetite is at the most healthy point of 
 keenness, and no more is eaten than 
 nature just requires, business mav be 
 resumed pleasantly, and without deranging 
 the digestive powers. Then, instead of 
 hurrying over business, dread of interrup- 
 tion, and anxiety to reach, home, there is 
 
HINTS ON SUPPERS. 2 33 
 
 a feeling of satisfaction and a composure 
 which ought always to be aimed at. He 
 who keeps dinner waiting, or is afraid of 
 doing so, is in a constant state of annoy- 
 ance ; and those about him live in almost 
 daily uncertainty, productive of any thing 
 but real comfort. A man on his arrival at 
 home hastens over his toilette, sits down 
 to table hurried and exhausted, oveiloads 
 his appetite, and soon feels heavy, or sinks 
 to sleep, neither enjoying, nor adding to 
 the enjoyment of society, and destroying 
 the invigorating soundness of his nights 
 rest. But tea is a meal that can be pre- 
 pared quickly and at any time ; it causes 
 .10 anxiety or hurry : there is litiie danger 
 of excess ; and, instead ol oppressing, it 
 is the very best restorative of the strength 
 
264 HINTS ON SUPPERS. 
 
 and spirits. After tea, the most exhausted 
 become lively and clear for the remainder 
 of the evening ; the supper hour is subject 
 to no uncertainty, and an inclination to 
 sleep is induced at the desirable period, 
 and not before. To those who return into 
 the country, especially in the summer time, 
 this system, I apprehend, would be found 
 to possess many advantages ; and, in 
 general, I think it would conduce much to 
 improve domestic society. I do not hold 
 it out as a fixed rule to supersede late, 
 dinners, which on many occasions are the 
 most convenient meals for social inter- 
 course, but as a practice which might be 
 frequently, or even ordinarily, adopted 
 with advantage. To those who have al- 
 ways been accustomed to look upon a 
 
HINTS ON SUPPERS. 205 
 
 good dinner as the conclusion of their 
 day's labours, a ly other system appears 
 very meagre and unsatisfactory ; but habit 
 would soon reconcile persons of sense to 
 a change, provided it is a change in which 
 there is really a balance of advantages. 
 On the score of alacrity and vigour of 
 body and mind, I have little doubt but that 
 the system of early dinners and light sup- 
 pers is much preferable to the system now 
 in force ; but then it must be pursued with 
 due attention to the rules of temperance, 
 otherwise the evils of excess would be 
 greater than they are now. The advan- 
 tages of the system in respect to facility 
 and clearness in mental application, I 
 know from experience to be great. An 
 early dinner prevents exhaustion, without 
 
2o6 hints on suppers, 
 
 producing oppression. Tea, as a substan- 
 tial meal, is a most powerful and agreeable 
 auxiliary to the labour of the mind, and 
 supper the most grateful restorative, when 
 the labour is over. On the whole, 1 think, 
 for ordinary occasions, early dining is much 
 more favourable to smoothness of life than 
 late 
 
 When on the subject of salads, in a for- 
 mer chapter, 1 forgot to protest against the 
 vulgar practice 01 chopping lettuce small, 
 more like food for turkeys than human 
 beings. One of the best, and most elegant 
 salads at this season of the year is com- 
 posed of well blanched endive, red beet- 
 root, and fine celery, and it should be 
 
H 1 N T S UN S V P P K R S. 2P>7 
 
 dressed in the manner I have already men- 
 tioned. Salad is a luxury, in general, very 
 inadequately enjoyed at great dinners ; 
 first, because it is seldom dressed with 
 much skill, and secondly, because it is not 
 sufficiently within reach. 
 
 THE END 
 
gl ncctlolc§ _ 
 
 269 
 
ANECDOTES OF DIXIXG, 
 
 CONNECTED "WITH DISTINGUISHED INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 Alligator Sauce.— Buckland, the dis- 
 tinguished geologist, one clay, after dis- 
 secting a Mississippi alligator, gave a 
 dinner, and asked a good many of the 
 most distinguished of his class to dine 
 with him. His house and establishment 
 were in good style and taste. The guests 
 congregated. The dinner table looked 
 splendid, with glass, china and plate, 
 and the meal commenced with excellent 
 soup. " How do you like the soup V 7 
 asked the Doctor, addressing a famous 
 gourmand of the day. " Very well, in- 
 deed," answered the other; " turtle, is it 
 
ANECDOTES. 
 
 not? I only ask because I do not find 
 any green fat." The Doctor shook his 
 head. "I think it has somewhat of a 
 musky taste," says another — "not un- 
 pleasant, but peculiar." " All alligators 
 have," replied Buckland; "the cayman 
 peculiarly so — the fellow I dissected this 
 morning, and which you have just been 
 eating." There was a general rout of 
 guests ; every one turned pale. Half a 
 dozen started up from the table; two or 
 three ran out of the room, and only those 
 who had strong stomachs remained to 
 the close of an excellent entertainment. 
 "See what imagination is," said Buck- 
 land. " If I had told them it was turtle, 
 or terrapin, or bird's nest soup, salt 
 water amphibia or fresh, or the 
 gluten of a fish from the maw of a sea 
 
ANECDOTES. 273 
 
 bird, they would have pronounced it ex- 
 cellent, and their digestion would have 
 been none the worse. Such is preju- 
 dice." " But was it really an alligator ?" 
 asked a lady. " As good a calfs head 
 as ever wore a coronet," answered 
 Buckland. 
 
 Sidney Smith at Dinner. — What mis- 
 eries human beings inflict on each 
 other under the name of pleasure! We 
 went to dine last. Tuesday with Mr. 
 
 , a neighboring clergyman, a 
 
 haunch of venison being the stimulus 
 of the invitation. We set out at five 
 o'clock, drove in a broiling sun for three 
 miles on dusty roads in our best 
 gowns, found squire and parson assem- 
 bled in a small, hot room, the whole 
 house redolent of frvinsr. Talked, as is 
 
274: ANECDOTES. 
 
 our wont, of roads, weather and tur- 
 nips ; that done, began to grow hun- 
 gry, then serious, then impatient. At 
 last a stripling, evidently got up for the 
 occasion, opened the door and beckoned 
 the host out cf the room. After some 
 moments of awful suspense he returned, 
 saving, "The woman assisting in the 
 kitchen had mistaken the soup for dirty 
 water, and had thrown it out, so we 
 must do without it." So we all agreed 
 it was perhaps as well we should, under 
 the circumstances. At last, to our joy, 
 dinner was announced ; but lo! as we 
 entered the dining room, what a gale 
 met our nose! The venison was high, 
 the venison was uneatable, and was 
 obliged to follow the soup with all 
 speed! Dinner proceeded, but our spir- 
 
A X E C D T E S . 
 
 its flagged under these accumulated 
 misfortunes ; then came an ominous 
 pause between the first and second 
 courses ; we looked at each other — what 
 new disaster awaited us? The pause 
 became fearful. At length the door 
 burst open, and the " stripling" rushed 
 in, calling out, "Please, sir, has Betty 
 any right to leather I ?" We roared 
 with laughter. All took part against 
 Betty; obtained the second course with 
 some difficulty; bored each other the 
 usual time; ordered our carriages, ex- 
 pecting our post boys to be drunk, and 
 were grateful to Providence for not per- 
 mitting them to deposit us in a wet ditch. 
 So much for dinners in the country. 
 
 Except the Mayor. — Foote, travelling 
 in the West of England, dined one (lav 
 
27G ANECDOTES, 
 
 at an inn. When the cloth was removed 
 the landlord asked him how he liked his 
 fare. " I have dined as well as any man 
 in England," said Foote. " Except Mr. 
 Mayor," cried the landlord. " I do not 
 except anybody whatever," said he. 
 "But you must," bawled the host. "I 
 won't." "You must." At length the 
 strife ended by the landlord (who was a 
 petty magistrate) taking Foote before 
 the Mayor, who observed it had been 
 customary in that town for a great num- 
 ber of years to always except the Mayor, 
 and accordingly fined him a shilling for 
 not conforming to this ancient custom. 
 Upon this decision Foote paid the shil- 
 ling, at the same time observing that he 
 thought the landlord the greatest fool 
 in Christendom — except Mr. Mayor. 
 
ANECDOTES. 277 
 
 Goose Pie. — Goose pie is, probably, to 
 be reckoned among- the things that have 
 bad their day; but, formerly, goose pie 
 was esteemed a standard dish at Christ- 
 mas, and Yule-tide was not considered 
 to hare been correctly observed unless a 
 great goose pic was laid upon the table. 
 Some people would seem to have 
 thought too much about it ; for we are 
 told by Bishop Warburton of a maniacal 
 person who imagined himself to be 
 transformed into a goose pie. He was 
 no less silly than the goose itself is fre- 
 quently accounted to be. When the 
 Duke of Buckingham was dining one 
 Christmas with Dr. Thomas Sprat, and 
 asked him bow it was that, when the 
 goose was brought to table, it was al- 
 ways placed next to the parson, the 
 
278 ANECDOTES, 
 
 doctor smartly replied, " I cannot tell ; 
 but I shall never again see a goose with- 
 out thinking of your grace." 
 
 A Nod Story. — Bubb Doddington was 
 very lethargic. Falling asleep one day, 
 after dining with Sir Richard Temple 
 and Lord Cobb am, the latter reproached 
 Doddington with his drowsiness. Dod- 
 dington denied having been asleep; and 
 to prove he had not, offered to repeat 
 all Lord Cobliam had been saying. Cob- 
 ham challenged him to do so. Dodding- 
 ton repeated a story, and Lord Cobham 
 owned he had been telling it. " Well," 
 said Doddington, " and yet I did not 
 hear a word of it ; but I went to sleep 
 because I knew that about this time of 
 day you would tell that story." 
 
 Not a Good Dinner. — An Englishman 
 
A >: E C D T E S . 
 
 270 
 
 in Paris went into a restaurant to get lii.s 
 dinner. Unacquainted with the French 
 language, yet unwilling to show his ig- 
 norance, he pointed to the first line on the 
 bill of fare, and the polite waiter brought 
 him a plate of thin soup. This was very 
 well, and when it was despatched he 
 pointed to the second line. The waiter 
 understood him perfectly, and brought 
 him a vegetable soup. " Rather more 
 soup than I want," thought he ; "but 
 it is a Paris fashion." He duly pointed 
 to the third line, and a plate of tapioca 
 broth was brought him. Again to the 
 fourth, and was furnished with a bowl 
 of preparation of arrowroot. He tried 
 the fifth line, and was supplied witli 
 some gruel kept for invalids. The by- 
 standers now supposed th.it they saw 
 
280 ANECDOTES 
 
 an unfortunate individual who had lost 
 all his teeth, and our friend, determined 
 to get as far from soup as possible, 
 pointed in despair to the last line on the 
 bill of fare. The intelligent waiter, who 
 saw at once what he wanted, politely 
 handed him a bunch of toothpicks ! 
 This was too much ; the Englishman 
 paid his bill and left. 
 
 Golden Silence. — Coleridge being 
 seated at dinner opposite to a silent 
 gentleman with a high forehead, theo- 
 rized himself into an exalted opinion 
 of that person's intellectual powers. lie 
 was impatient to hear the stranger ut- 
 ter something profound and original. 
 His wish was presently fulfilled. A 
 dish of apple dumplings having been 
 placed before them, the rigid features 
 
ANECDOTES. 2S1 
 
 of the intellectual gentleman relaxed 
 from a smile to a grin, and rubbing his 
 hands, he exclaimed, " Them's the jock- 
 ey's for my money!" 
 
 A Newtonian Theory. — Newton in- 
 vited a friend to dinner and forgot it. 
 The friend arrived and found the phi- 
 losopher in a fit of abstraction. Din- 
 ner was brought up for "one." The 
 friend, without disturbing Newton, sat 
 down and despatched it. Newton, re- 
 covered from his reverie, looked at the 
 empty dishes, and said, " Well, really, 
 if it wasn't for the proof before my eyes, 
 I could have sworn that I had not yet 
 dined." 
 
 A Bright Story. — The President of 
 the Board of Trade was dining with a 
 well known citizen of Cottonopolis, and 
 
282 ANECDOTES. 
 
 the conversation turned on the subject 
 of the growth and development of 
 America. "I should like," said the 
 host, who is an enthusiastic admirer of 
 the great Republic, "to come back 
 fifty years after my death to see what 
 a fine country America had become." 
 " I believe you would be glad of 
 any excuse to come back," said Mr. 
 Bright. 
 
 About Macaulay. — The pleasant cof- 
 fee room of the " Star and Garter," 
 Richmond (recently burnt to the 
 ground), has, times out of number, 
 been patronized by the most illustri- 
 ous statesmen and politicians. To that 
 same coffee room there was wont to 
 come on Sunday afternoons a gentle- 
 man of rather broad stature, with grey 
 
ANECDOTES. 283 
 
 hair and a large shirt collar. He would 
 dine, always alone, at a particular cor- 
 ner table ; he would take his wine, as a 
 gentleman should ; and, after dinner, it 
 was his humor to build up before hirn 
 a pyramid of tumblers and wine glasses, 
 which he capped with a decanter. This 
 ponderous "crowning of the edifice" 
 usually resulted in the toppling over of 
 the entire structure in irremediable 
 smash. Then the grey haired gentle- 
 man would rise, pay his bill, including 
 the broken glass, and depart. The 
 waiters knew him well. He was Thomas 
 Babington, Lord Macaula}^. 
 
 Wine and Wit. — ' T resort to wine 
 to stimulate my wits,' 1 said a young 
 spendthrift to an eld one. — " Ah," re- 
 plied the veteran, "that is the wr.y I 
 
284: ANECDOTES. 
 
 began, but now I have to resort to my 
 wits to get my wine." 
 
 Lord Derby and the Wine. — A good 
 story about the late Lord Derby is go- 
 ing the rounds. Some time since an 
 admirer of the illustrious earl having 
 heard of his sufferings sent him a case 
 of white wine as a present, with the in- 
 timation that if he would drink that and 
 forsake all other, he would never more 
 be troubled with the gout. The carl 
 having, out of curiosity, tasted the w T ine, 
 returned it, saying, " I've tried both, 
 and I'd rather have the gout." 
 
 Laughable. — It was once observed to 
 Lord Chesterfield that man is the only 
 creature endowed with the power of 
 laughter. " True," replied the earl, 
 " and you may add that he is, perhaps, 
 
ANECDOTES. 285 
 
 the only creature that deserves to be 
 laughed at." 
 
 Number One. — Said Lord John Rus- 
 sell to Hume, at a social dinner, "What 
 do you consider the object of legisla- 
 tion ?" " The greatest good to the 
 greatest number?" " What do you 
 consider the greatest number ?" contin- 
 ued his lordship. " Number one, my 
 lord," was the commoner's prompt 
 reply. 
 
 A Definite Statement. — One day, at 
 the table of the late Mr. Pease (Dean of 
 Ely), just as the cloth was being re- 
 moved, the subject of discourse hap- 
 pened to be that of an extraordinary 
 mortality amongst the lawyers. " We 
 have lost," said a gentleman, "not less 
 than six eminent barristers in as many 
 
286 ANECDOTES. 
 
 months" The dean, who was quite 
 deaf, rose as his friend finished his re- 
 marks, and gave the company grace : 
 "For this and every other mercy, the 
 Lord's holy name be praised." 
 
 A Schismatic — At a dinner party one 
 evening a furious theological controver- 
 sy occurred, when one of the company 
 losing his temper, boisterously said to a 
 stranger who sat next to him, " On 
 which side, sir, are you ? Are you an 
 atheist or a deist ?" " 0, neither, sir," 
 was the immediate reply ; " I am a den- 
 tist." 
 
 A Twist. — Jones had been dining 
 out, and as he lolled helpless in a chair, 
 Mrs. Jones, who had just put one side 
 of her hair in curl papers, regarded the 
 sinner fixedlv, Und exclaimed, "You're 
 
ANECDOTES. 2S7 
 
 drunk, Jones." Jones smiled feebly 
 and replied, "My dear, you are half 
 screwed." Mrs. J. caught sight of the 
 joke in the looking-glass just in time to 
 save a faint. 
 
 American Oysters. — A good story is 
 told of Thackeray. When a dish of large 
 sized oysters were set for the first time 
 before him, he gazed at them for several 
 moments, and then asked what he was 
 to do with them. " Eat them, of course." 
 "Oh, cat them!" said Thackeray, as 
 if a new light had dawned upon him; 
 adding, after a pause, "Well, here 
 goes'" When he had swallowed one, 
 his friend asked him how he felt after 
 it. " I feel," said he, " as if I had swal- 
 lowed a baby!" 
 
 Gilded Misery. — On a certain occa- 
 
288 ANECDOTES. 
 
 sion Lord Alvaney half affronted Mr. 
 Greville, with whom he was dining. The 
 dining room had been newly and splen- 
 didly furnished, whereas the dinner was 
 but a very meagre and indifferent one. 
 While some of the guests were flattering 
 their host on his taste, magnificence, 
 etc., " For my part," said his lordship, 
 " I had rather have seen less gilding 
 and more carving." 
 
 NOV -1 1944 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 014 422 404 8 •