The Physiology of Taste by Brillat Savarin (suggested reading .TXT) 📕

burden they

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

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

 

Nobody contradicted me.

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

conversation became animated, he became serious and almost morose.

 

From this and other observations, I deduced the following

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

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

gases it contains.

 

OBJUGATION.

 

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

for the severity with which they treat their invalids.

 

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

has to give up all we have previously thought agreeable.

 

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

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

 

A reasonable physician should never lose sight of the natural

tendency of our inclinations, nor forget to ascertain if our

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

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

most hypochondriac faces.

 

Besides, they know that their severe prescriptions are almost

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

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

People, however, will die.

 

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

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

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

over the furnishment and the service of the various houses.

 

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

sustained by much experience, and that the most fortunate

practitioners rely on my system.

 

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

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

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

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

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

a napkin to wipe his lips with.

 

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

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

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

bottle.”

 

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

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

made him drink large quantities of water.

 

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

to fulfil the requisition of the prescription, and contribute to

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

limpid as possible.

 

The patient received it kindly and sought to drink it with

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

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

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

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

place nearly equal to that of men of medical faculty.

 

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

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

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

amelioration.

 

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

that modern works were deficient in power because authors now

drank only eau sucree.

 

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

consequences.

 

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

perhaps by their multitude; but posterity, judging with more

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

productions of Racine and Moliere which when written were coldly

received.

 

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

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

field of literature has become fertile. The stream of Hippocrene

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

language of protection, and gourmandise overwhelms them with its

choicest favours.

 

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

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

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

of letters.

 

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

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

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

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

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

gourmands.

 

DEVOTEES.

 

Among the friends of gourmandise are many very devout persons.

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

exceptions.

 

Now there are to them certain damnable things never to be

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

 

While they and those who enjoy them are abominated, gourmandise

assumes an altogether different aspect, and becomes almost

theological.

 

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

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

its perfume, and sugar becomes beneficial to the health.

 

Why then should we not use with suitable moderation the goods

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

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

the Creator.

 

Other not less weighty reasons strengthen these—can we receive

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

not make a meeting with them pleasant and agreeable?

 

Sometimes the gifts of Comus come unexpectedly. An old college

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

kinsman who makes himself known or a protege recalls them.

 

This has ever been the case.

 

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

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

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

Niort invented the conserve of Angelica, and the bread flavoured

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

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

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

 

Many monastic orders, especially the Bernardins paid great

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

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

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

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

the Capuchins.

 

CHEVALIERS AND ABBES.

 

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

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

we mean the Chevaliers and the Abbes.

 

How completely gourmand they were. Their expanded nostrils, their

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

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

manner.

 

There was something military in the bearing of the Chevaliers.

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

horizontal looks of approbation at both the master and mistress of

the house.

 

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

reached out their hands as the cat snatches chestnuts from the

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

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

describe.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

LONGEVITY OF GOURMANDS.

 

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

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

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

a scientific dissertation recently read at the academy, by Doctor

Villermet.

 

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

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

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

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

comfortable. All know that in this respect there is extreme

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

the Chaussee d’ Antin.

 

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

compared the most sterile and fertile together, and always

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

in proportion universally as the means of subsistence improve.

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

know that death will deliver them soon.

 

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

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

those who are poorer four do.

 

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

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

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

all portions of their organization are better sustained, nature

has more resources, and the body incomparably resists destruction.

 

This physiological truth may be also sustained by history, which

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

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

subsistence, such times have ever been accompanied by contagious

disease and a great increase of mortality.

 

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

if those who had advanced it had introduced into their

calculations the truths developed by Doctor Villermet.

 

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

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

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

however, forgot the dangers of infancy, indulged in general

calculations, and the speculation failed.

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

Napoleon always on such occasions paid him deference and respect.

 

MEDITATION XIII.

 

GASTRONOMICAL TESTS.

 

IN the preceding chapter, we have seen that the distinctive

characteristics of those who have more pretension than right to

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

spread table, their eyes are