no believer in the doctrine of metempsychosis. But on the influence man's diet has on his conduct no less than his constitution he is very sure: "It is certain that an adequate practical recognition of the value of proper food to the individual in maintaining a high standard of health, in prolonging healthy life (the prolongation of unhealthy life being small gain either to the individual or to the community), and thus largely promoting cheerful temper, prevalent good-nature, and improved moral tone, would achieve almost a revolution in the habits of a large part of the community."[1]
Sir Henry is, perhaps, a little hard upon our forefathers. They thought more on these things, and had a clearer view of them, than he allows. A glance at the voluminous pages of Burton (author of "The Anatomy of Melancholy," not the gentleman who has done his best to spoil the "Arabian Nights" for us); a glance at this book, I say, might have shown Sir Henry how much the ancients thought and wrote—and how wisely too—on the stomachic influence. And always through the years wise men who studied the character and conduct of their kind have commended moderation in gratifying the appetite, and lashed indulgence. Milton, for instance, in a famous passage, has chanted in his solemn music the praises of a sleep which
"Was aery light from pure digestion bred";
and Pope, in coarser strains, but with equal truth, reminded his fellows
"On morning wings how active springs the mind
That leaves the load of yesterday behind!"
A little thought will bring a hundred such passages to the memory.
But their way of thinking was not ours. They spoke generally, and left "the mean, peddling details" alone. "Be not unsatiable in any dainty thing, nor too greedy upon meats, for excess of meats bringeth sickness, and surfeiting will turn into choler. By surfeiting have many perished, but he that taketh heed prolongeth life." That was the text and bearing of their sermons. They did not believe in a written law for regulating these things. Tiberius, says Tacitus, held that man a fool who at the age of thirty years needed another to tell him what was best to eat, drink, and avoid ("Ridere solebat eos, qui post tricesimum ætatis annum ad cognoscenda corpori suo noxia vel utilia alicujus consilli indigerent"). It may be remembered, by those who think with Ensign Northerton, that Mr. Sponge (who knew more of Mogg than Tacitus) said pretty much the same thing to Mr. Jogglebury Crowdy, when the latter's unseemly want of that knowledge had helped to spoil a day's hunting. And between Tiberius and Mr. Sponge comes a host of authorities, all harping on the same string. "There is," says Bacon, "a wisdom in this beyond the rules of physic: a man's own observation, what he finds good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve health." The melancholy
- ↑ "Food and Feeding," by Sir Henry Thompson, F. R. C. S., etc., third edition, 1884.
