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Besides, my wife and I think that all the world will be glad to read you. Mis- erere met. Poor gourmands; I cannot imagine they have been so long misunderstood. I have for them a fatherly love. They are so smart, and their eyes are so bright. If the profession of author has its pleasures, it has also its thorns, and I leave all this to my heirs.

Have you the courage to act thus? J have heard it said that ghosts are singularly flattered by the praise of the living, and this is a sort of blessing I wish to reserve for myself in another world. Are you equally certain of the punctuality of your heirs? AUTHOR My manuscript will be corrected, neatly copied, quite prepared for the press; the printing is all that will have to be done.

FRIEND Believe me, your heirs will have enough to do to arrange with the Church, with law, medicine, and themselves, so xxxiv DIALOGUE that the time, if not the will, must fail them to devote themselves to the various tares which precede, accompany, and follow the issue of a work, however little the size may be.

The subject is fashionable, and good-natured friends are as much gourmands as any one else. This should quiet you. Besides, do you not know that the gravest people have sometimes written light works: the President Montesquieu, for example? He has written the Temple of Gnidus, and it may be maintained that there is more real usefulness in thinking of what is at the same time a neces- sity, a pleasure, and an everyday occupation, than in say- ing that there were, more than two thousand years ago, a couple of dirty brats, one of whom ran through the bushes of Greece after the other, who had no desire to run away.

Not atall; I have merely betrayed myself as an author. And this reminds me of a scene in English comedy that 1 M. You shall judge for yourself. It is about the Quakers, and you know that those who are attached to this sect thee and thou the whole world, dress simply, never go to war, take no oaths, act deliber- ately, and, above all, never get in a rage. The hero of the piece is a young and handsome Quaker, who appears on the stage in a brown coat, broad-brimmed hat, and combed-down hair.

This does not prevent him from falling in love. A fool, who is his riva], emboldened by his outward ap- pearance, and his supposed hidden feelings, ridicules and annoys him so much, that the young man, warming up little by little, falls into a rage, and thrashes with a master- hand the impertinent person who provokes him. You have already, as you admit, betrayed yourself. I have captured you, and I take you to my bookseller. I will tell you that there is more than one person who has noised abroad your secret.

It is said that M. Berriat-Saint-Prix, who was a good consulting lawyer, has written a novel in many volumes. This is because my age is to his like that of a father to a son, and that although he has become a man of importance in every respect, he would grieve if I spoke to him in another way.

Do not imagine that you can frighten me. Your skill revives invalids; your dexterity surprises them; your sensibility consoles them. Every one knows this; but I will reveal to all Paris — rising — to all France — bridling up — to the entire universe, the only fault I know in you. Here the friend takes his hat, and goes out smiling, thinking that he has made a convert.

Those who know me will divine that I speak of Dr. Thinking of him, I was led back to those who were be- fore his time; and I saw with pride that my arrondissement of Belley, in the Department of the Ain, my native place, had for a long time the honour of giving to the world doctors of the highest distinction, and I could not resist the inducement of erecting a modest monument to them in a short notice. In the days of the Regency, Drs. Genin and Civoct were practitioners of the first class, and brought back to their country a wealth honourably acquired.

The first was entirely Hippocratic, and proceeded in form; the second, amongst whose patients were many fair ladies, was more gentle and more accommodating: res novas molientem, as Tacitus expresses it. Towards , Dr. La Chapelle distinguished himself in the perilous career of a military surgeon. We have several good works from his pen, and we owe to him the treatment of inflammation on the chest by fresh butter, a method which cures like a spell when it is used in the first thirty-six hours of the attack.

Dubois obtained the greatest success in the treatment of low spirits, which then was a fashion- able malady, and quite as common as the ailments of the xxxix BIOGRAPHY nerves which have replaced it. The popularity which he obtained was so much the more remarkable, as he was far from being a handsome man. Unhappily he arrived too early at an independent for- tune, and fell into a career of laziness, contenting himself with being a good story-teller and an amiable companion.

At the end of the reign of Louis XV, Dr. Coste, a na- tive of Chatillon, came to Paris. He was bearer of a letter of Voltaire for the Duke of Choiseul, whose goodwill he had the good fortune to gain during his first visit. Protected by this nobleman and by the Duchess of Grammont, his sister, young Coste made rapid progress; and after a few years Paris commenced to count him among the most hopeful doctors. The same protection which had brought him out tore him away from this tranquil and fruitful career to place him at the head of the medical department of thearmy that France sent to America to help the United States, which were fighting for their independence.

After having ful- filled his mission, Dr. Coste returned to France, passed the unfortunate period of almost without being noticed, and was elected Mayor of Versailles, where even now the memory of his active, mild, and fatherly government is still preserved. I smiled when I wrote this article, for it reminded me of a great academician, whose eulogy had to be delivered by Fontenelle. The de- funct only knew how to play at every game, and, nevertheless, the per- petual secretary had the talent of devising a very fair panegyric of the usual length.

Bonaparte named him one of the three general inspectors of the Army. Medical Service, and the doctor was constantly the friend, the protector, and the father of those young men who were destined to this career. Finally, he was named doctor of the Royal Hospital of the Invalides, and discharged those duties until his death. Coste the Order of St. Coste died some years ago, leaving a venerated memory, a fortune entirely of a philosophical extent, and an only daughter, the wife of M.

Delalot, who has dis- tinguished himself in the Chamber of Deputies by his lively and deep eloquence, which did not prevent his failure. One day when we dined with M. Favre, the clergyman at St. Laurent, our townsman, Dr. Coste told me of the serious quarrel he had had that very day with the Comte de Cessac, then Minister and Director of the War Depart- ment, on the subject of an economy that the latter wished to propose in order to please Napoleon.

This economy consisted in subtracting from the sick soldiers half of their portion of toast and water, and washing the lint which was taken away from their wounds to use it a second or a third time. The doctor protested with violence against a plan that he considered abominable, and he was so full of his subject that he fell into a rage, as if the object of his wrath had been still present. I do not know if the count was really converted, and if he left his plan in his portfolio, but what is certain is, that xh BIOGRAPHY the sick soldiers were ever after permitted to drink as much as they liked, and that all lint that had been used was thrown away.

His prac- tice was gentle, his system expectant, and his diagnosis certain. He was named Professor in the Faculty of Medicine. His style was simple, but his lessons were fatherly and fruitful. Honours crowded on him unsought, and he was named physician to the Empress Marie-Louise. But he did not enjoy this place very long; the empire fell to pieces, and the doctor himself was carried away by a disease of the leg, against which he had fought all his life.

Bordier was of a tranquil humour, a benevolent character, and thoroughly trustworthy. Towards the end of the eighteenth century Dr. Bichat appeared; Bichat, of whom all the writings bear the im- press of genius, who employed his life in works made to advance science, who united with the patience of sluggish minds outbursts of enthusiasm, and who, dying in his thirtieth year, merited that public honours should be given to his memory. Later, there came Dr. He edited with skill the Journal of Health, and died at the age of forty in the West Indies, where he had gone in order to complete the treatises which he had projected on the yellow fever and the black vomit.

At the present time Dr. Richerand stands on the highest ladder of operative medicine, and his Elements of Physiology have been translated in all languages. No one has a word more consoling, a hand more kind, or a sharper knife. As useful as lucky a practitioner, he preserves notes of all the maladies of his patients, and is able at each new invasion to exhibit a table of all the variations of their sanitary state.

The present being thus certain, the future prepares itself, inasmuch as under the wings of these powerful pro- fessors young men of the same country are being trained, who promise to imitate such honourable examples. Now Drs. Janin and Manjot drive along Paris. Manjot Rue du Bac, No. His ideas are happy, and he ought soon to communicate them to the public. I hope that every well brought up reader will pardon this digression of an old man who resides thirty-five years in Paris, but who has not forgotten either his country or his compatriots.

It costs me already much to pass sub silentio so many doctors whose remembrance subsists venerated in their native country, and who, although they have not had the advantage of shining on a grand stage, are not less than the above gifted with science and merit.

I have merely placed in order mate- rials I had collected long ago. This is an amusing occupation, which I reserved for my old age. Considering the pleasures of the table from every point of view, I soon saw that something better than a cookery-book might have been made out of the subject, and that a great deal might be said about such essential and constant functions that have a direct influence on health, happiness, and even on business affairs.

When once this dominant idea was seized by me, all the rest ran naturally; I looked around me, took notes, and often, in the middle of the most sumptuous festivals, I should have felt bored but for the pleasure of looking at the guests. To fulfil the task I proposed to myself, it was necessary to be a physician, a chemist, a physiologist, and even more or less of a classical scholar.

But I pursued these studies without the slightest pretension to be an author; I was urged on by a praiseworthy curiosity; by the fear of lagging behind my cen- tury, and by the desire of being able to talk without disad- vantage with learned men, in whose company I always had a desire to be.

I am especially an amateur physician; and this has be- come to me almost a mania. I had the pleasure of hearing a murmur of curiosity run through the amphitheatre, xlv PREFACE each student asking his neighbour who the distinguished foreign professor was who honoured the company with his presence. There is also another day of which the remembrance is, I think, as dear to me; it is the day when I presented to the Ad- ministrative Council of the Society for the Encouragement of National Industry the irrorator, an instrument of my own invention, which is nothing more than a forcing-pump with which any one can perfume rooms.

I brought in my pocket my well-filled machine; I turned the cock, and there escaped with a hissing sound an odoriferous vapour that, rising even unto the ceiling, fell in little drops on individuals and papers. I saw then with an inexpressible pleasure the most learned heads of the capital bow down under my irroration, and I was thoroughly glad when I observed that the wettest were also the most happy.

Thinking now and then of the grave lucubrations to which the extent of my subject has led me, F have had a sincere fear of being tiresome. For I also have sometimes yawned over the writings of others. I have done all that is in my power to avoid this reproach; I have only skimmed the various subjects that might lend them- selves to it; I have filled my book with anecdotes, of which some are personal to myself; I have left on one side a great number of facts both extraordinary and singular, that a wholesome criticism ought to have rejected; I have roused attention by mak- ing plain and popular a certain knowledge which the learned appear to have reserved for themselves.

If, in spite of all my efforts, I have not presented to my readers a science easy of digestion, I shall be just as tranquil, very certain that the majority will absolve me on account of my intention. Is it my fault that I am an old man?

Is it my fault that, like Ulysses, I have seen the manners and towns of many nations? Am I, then, worthy of blame for having given a little of my biography? Finally, the reader should consider that I spare him my political Memoirs, which deserve to be read as well as many others, inasmuch as for thirty-six years past I have been in the best places to see men and events pass. Above all, care should be taken not to assign me a place among compilers; if I had been reduced to this, my pen might have been quiet, and I should not have lived the less happy for it.

I say, like Juvenal — Semper ego auditor tantum! Finally, I have done much for my own satisfaction. I have given the names of several of my friends, who did not expect it; I have recalled some pleasing recollections; I have settled others that might have escaped me, and as we say in familiar style, I took my coffee.

But I am certain that all the others will tell him to be silent, and that an imposing majority will receive with pleas- ure such effusions of a praiseworthy sentiment. I know them by heart. But perhaps the gods have ordained it otherwise; and if 80, this is the cause of the will of the gods.

I know more or less well five living languages. This makes an enormous repertory of words of various patterns. When I have need of an expression, and I do not find it in the French compartment, I take it from the next one; and thus the reader has to translate me or divine my meaning; — it is his fate. I could have done otherwise, but I am prevented by a spirit of system, to which I hold in an invincible manner. I am perfectly convinced that the French language which I use is comparatively poor.

What is to be done in this case? To borrow or steal. I do both, inasmuch as these borrowings are not subject to restitution, and as the robbery of words is not punishable by the penal code. An idea of my boldness may be imagined, when it is known that I call volante, from the Spanish, any man I have ordered to go on an errand, and that I had determined to Frenchify the English word to sip, which signifies to drink in small portions. But I exhumed the French word siroter, to which nearly the same meaning is given.

To which I reply calmly that I am far from denying the merit of these authors, either expressed or implied; but what then? Nothing, except that, if they succeeded in their per- formance on an inferior instrument, they would have played xviii PREFACE much better on a superior one. We may conceive that Tartini would have played still better on the violin if his bow had equalled that of Baillot in length.

I do belong to the neologists, and even to the romanticists; the latter find out many hidden treasures; the former are like sailors who go about to find afar the provender they want. The Northern peoples, and especially the English, have over us in this respect an enormous advantage.

Genius is there never hampered by expressions; it either creates or borrows them. It is thus that in all subjects which admit depth and energy, our translators only produce pale and colourless copies. Once I heard at the Institute an amusing discourse on the danger of neology, and on the necessity of keeping our lan- guage as it was when the authors of the golden age fixed its limits.

Besides, we must change words when manners and ideas endure continual modifications. If we do things like the ancients, we do not do them in the same way; and there are entire pages in some French books that are intranslatable either into Latin or Greek. Each language has had its birth, its apogee, and its decline; and none of those which have been famous, from the time of Sesostris to that of Philip Augustus, exists except in monu- ments.

The French language will have the same destiny, and xlix PREFACE in the year , if anybody reads me at all, he will only read me with the aid of a dictionary. I once had on this subject a discussion of a furious char- acter with the pleasant M. Andrieux, of the French Academy. I made my attack in good order; I charged vigorously, and I would have succeeded if he had not made a prompt retreat, to which I interposed no obstacle, as I remembered that happily for himself, he was entrusted with a letter in the new Dictionary.

I shall conclude by an important observation, which I have kept until the last. We must count at least siz. Sight, which embraces space, and instructs us, by the means of light, of the existence and the colours of the bodies around us. Hearing, which receives through the medium of the air the motion caused by vibrating or sonorous bodies. Smell, by means of which we become aware of the odours possessed by substances. Taste, by which we appreciate everything that has a flavour, or is eatable.

Touch, of which the object is the consistence and the surface of bodies. Finally, genesic or physical love, which attracts one sex towards the other, and of which the object is the reproduc- tion of the species. It is surprising that, almost to the days of Buffon, such an important sense should have been unknown, and should have remained confounded or rather annexed to touch. And if taste, which has for its object the preservation of the individual, is undoubtedly a sense, the same title must also be given to the organs destined : for the preservation of the species.

We must therefore give to the genesic sense the place in the senses which cannot be refused to it, and we may leave to posterity the task of assigning its particular rank. If we were permitted, even in imagination, to refer to the first moments of the existence of the human genus, it is also permissible to believe that the first sensations were direct; that is to say, that each one saw dimly, heard vaguely, smelt indiscriminately, ate without taste, and enjoyed himself coarsely.

Thus, touch rectifies the errors of vision; sound, by means of articulate speech, becomes the interpreter of every sentiment; taste is aided by sight and smell; hearing compares sounds, appreciates distances; and the genesic sense has invaded the organs of all the other senses. Strange as this proposition may appear, it is neverthe- less easily proved, for in no language used by the ancients can we express ourselves clearly about these three great motives of society as it exists at present.

Thus they can employ their mind, and even their learning, during a whole evening. The genealogy of sciences, even the most abstract, is such, that they are merely the immediate result of the con- tinuous efforts that we make to gratify our senses. These senses, our favourites, are nevertheless far from being perfect, and I shall not stop to prove this. I shall merely observe that sight, an ethereal sense, and touch, which is at the other end of the scale, have acquired, in time, a very remarkable additional power.

By the means of spectacles, the eye escapes, so to say, from the senile obliteration which oppresses the majority of other organs. The telescope has discovered stars formerly unknown and inaccessible to all means of measurement; it has pene- trated distances so great that luminous and necessarily immense bodies present themselves to us only as nebulous and almost imperceptible spots.

The microscope has made us acquainted with the interior configuration of bodies; it has shown us vegetation and plants of which hitherto we scarcely suspected the exist- ence. Finally, we have seen animals a hundred thousand times smaller than the smallest which are perceived by the naked eye; these little animals nevertheless move, feed, and multiply, which leads us to suppose that they have organs so minute that the imagination cannot conceive it.

On the other side, mechanics have multiplied our power; man has executed all that he could imagine, and has re- 2 , ON THE SENSES moved burdens which nature itself had made inaccessible to his weakness. With the aid of implements and of the lever, man has sub- jugated all nature; he has made it submit to his pleasure, his wants, and his caprices.

He has convulsed the surface of the globe, and a feeble biped has become the king of the creation. Sight and touch, thus increased in their capacity, might have belonged to some species much superior to man, or rather the human species would have been quite something else, if all the senses had been improved in this manner. We must remark, nevertheless, that though touch has acquired a great development as a muscular power, civilisa- tion has done almost nothing for it as a sensitive organ; but we must not despair, remembering that the human species is still very young, and that it is only after a long series of centuries that the senses can enlarge their domain.

For example, it is only for about four centuries that harmony has been discovered, an altogether celestial science, which is to sound exactly what painting is to colour. Certainly, the ancients knew how to sing, accompanied by instruments in unison; but they limited their knowledge to this; they knew neither to decompose sounds, nor to appreciate their relations.

It was only in the fifteenth century that time was 1 We know that people have maintained the contrary, but this idea is a worthless one. If the ancients had been acquainted with harmony, their writings would have preserved to us some precise notion on this matter, instead of a few obscure phrases, which may mean anything.

Besides, we can follow the birth and the progress of harmony in the monuments left to us. We are indebted for it to the Arabs, who gave us the organ, which, producing at the same time several continuous sounds, evoked the first idea of harmony. That discovery, made so late and nevertheless so natural, has doubled the sense of hearing; it shows that it has two faculties in some sort independent of each other, of which one receives the sounds, and the other marks the resonance.

Some German doctors say that persons sensible of harmony have one sense more than others. As for those to whom music is but a confused mass of sounds, we may remark that nearly every one of them sings in discord. And we must believe either that amongst them the auditory apparatus is made in such a manner as only to receive short vibrations without undulation, or rather, that the two ears not being of the same diapason, the difference in length and sensibility of their constituent parts makes them only transmit to the brain an obscure and undefined sensation, like two instruments which play neither in the same key nor in the same time, and do not produce any continuous melody.

Who knows if touch will not have some day its turn, and if some happy accident will not open to us in this quarter some source of new enjoyments? This is the more probable, as tactile sensibility exists over all the body, and may con- sequently be excited everywhere. We have seen that physical love has taken posses- sion of all the sciences; it acts in this case with that tyranny that always characterises it. Taste, that more prudent, more measured faculty, though not less active; taste, we say, has accomplished the same aim with a slowness which ensures its durable suc- cess.

Elsewhere we shall consider its progress. We may, how- ever, already observe, that any person who has been present at a sumptuous repast, in a hall decorated with mirrors, paintings, sculpture, flowers, odoriferous with perfumes, adorned with pretty women, filled with the sounds of a delicious harmony, will not need a great mental effort to convince himself that all sciences have been laid under contribution to enhance and enshrine becomingly the pleasures of taste.

Let us now glance ina general manner at the sys- tem of our senses that we have taken in their entirety, and we shall see that the Author of Creation had two objects, of which one is the consequence of the other; the preserva- tion of the individual to assure the duration of the species.

Such is the destiny of man, considered as a sensitive being; and it is towards this double object that all his actions are directed. The eye perceives external objects, reveals the marvels by which man is environed, and teaches him that he is a portion of a great whole. The sense of touch watches to give us, by the means of pain, information of any immediate hurt. The hand, as a faithful servant, has not only prepared its defence, assured its steps, but has seized in preference those objects that instinct makes him think fit to repair the losses caused by the maintenance of life.

Smell explores them, as deleterious substances have al- most always an unpleasant odour. Finally, taste decides; the teeth are put in action, the tongue is united to the palate to taste, and soon the stomach commences assimilation. In this state an unknown languor is felt, objects seem less vivid, the body bends, the eyes are closed, everything disappears, and the senses are in an absolute repose.

At his waking, man sees that nothing has changed around him. Nevertheless, a secret fire ferments in his bosom, and a new organ is developed. He feels that his existence must be shared with some one. This active, unquiet, and imperious sentiment is com- mon to both sexes.

It attracts them, unites them, and when the germ of a new existence is fecundated, each in- dividual may sleep in peace. They have fulfilled the most holy of their duties in assuring the duration of the species.! Such are the general and philosophical principles I wish to place before my readers to bring them naturally to the more special examination of the organ of taste. Called to treat nearly the same subject, we have merely drawn a simple sketch. But the readers will know how to complete the colouring.

Taste is the one of our senses which places us in relation with sapid bodies by means of the sensation they produce in the organ destined to appreciate them. Taste, which has for its excitants appetite, hunger, and thirst, is the base of many operations whereof the result is that the individual grows, develops, preserves himself, and repairs the losses caused by vital evaporations.

Organised bodies are not all nourished in the same man- ner. The Author of Creation, equally varied in His methods as certain in His effects, has assigned them various modes of preservation. Vegetables, the lowest in the scale of living beings, are nourished by roots which, implanted into the native soil, select by the action of a peculiar mechanism different sub- stances which have the property of serving for their growth and their preservation. Going a little higher in the scale, we find bodies gifted with animal life, but deprived of locomotion.

They are produced in a medium that favours their existence, and special organs extract all that is necessary to sustain the portion of life and of duration which has been given to them. They do not seek food, but, on the contrary, it comes to seek them.

A particular instinct warns him when to eat; he seeks, he seizes the objects which he imagines possess the property of satisfy- ing his wants; he eats, is restored, and thus during his life goes through the career assigned to him.

Taste itself may be considered under three aspects. In physical man it is the mechanism by means of which he appreciates savours. Considered in moral man, it is the sensation which any organ impressed by a savoury body excites in the common centre. Finally, considered under its material aspect, taste is the property which a body possesses to impress an organ and to originate sensation. It invites us, by pleasure, to repair the continual losses which we suffer by the action of life.

It aids us to select, among the various substances which Nature presents to us, those which are alimentary. In this choice, we shall see hereafter that taste is power- fully aided by the sense of smell; as a general principle, it may be laid down that nutritive substances are repulsive neither to smell nor to taste. It is not easy to determine exactly wherein the faculty of taste consists. It is more complicated than it ap- pears.

Certainly the tongue plays a great part in the mech- anism of taste, for, considering it as gifted with rather strong muscular power, it enfolds, turns, presses, and swal- lows the food. The cheeks, as well as the maxillary and sublingual glands, form the saliva, equally necessary for mastica- tion and the formation of the nourishing mass. They, as well as the palate, are gifted with a portion of the appre- ciative faculties; I do not know if even in certain cases the gums do not participate a little in it; and without the odora- tion which is preserved in the back part of the mouth, the sensation of taste would be obtuse and wholly im- perfect.

The persons who have no tongue, or whose tongue has been cut out, possess the sensation of taste very fairly. Many books speak of the first case; the second has been sufficiently explained to me by a wretched man whose tongue the Algerians had cut out for having, with some of his comrades in captivity, formed a project of escaping and running away. This man, whom I met at Amsterdam, where he gained his living by running errands, had some education, and it was easy to communicate with him in writing.

After having observed that all the fore part of the tongue down to the frenulum had been cut away, I asked him if he still recognised any taste in what he ate, and if the sensa- tion of taste had survived the cruel operation which he had undergone. He also told me that cutting away the tongue was com- mon in some African kingdoms; that it was applied espe- cially to those who were thought to have been chiefs of a plot, and that special instruments were used for this opera- tion.

I wanted him to describe them, but he exhibited on this topic such a sorrowful disinclination that I did not insist. I reflected on what he had said, and, carrying my thoughts back to those centuries of ignorance, when the tongues of blasphemers were pierced and cut, I came to the conclusion that these punishments were of African origin, and imported at the return of the Crusaders.

Five or six different opinions have been broached as to the manner in which the sensation of taste operates; I have also mine, and it is as follows: — The sensation of taste is a chemical operation, made in the humid way, as we called it formerly; that is to say, 12 OF TASTE that it is necessary for the sapid molecules to be dissolved by some fluid to be finally absorbed by the nervous ganglia, papilla, or suckers which cover the interior of the organ of taste.

This system, new or not, is based on physical proofs that are almost palpable. Pure water does not cause a sensation of taste, because it does not contain any sapid particle. Dissolve in it a grain of salt, or some drops of vinegar, the sensation will take place.

Other drinks, on the contrary, impress us, because they are nothing else but liquids more or less charged with ap- preciable particles. The mouth would be uselessly filled with the divided particles of an insoluble body, for the tongue would ex- perience a sensation of touch alone, and not of taste. As to solid and tasty bodies, it is necessary that the teeth should divide them, that they should be impreg- nated with the saliva and other tasting fluids, and that the tongue should press them against the palate to express a juice, which, then sufficiently charged with sapidity, is appreciated by the gustatory papilla, which deliver to the substance thus triturated the passport it requires to be admitted into the stomach.

This system, which will yet receive further develop- ments, answers without effort the principal questions which may present themselves. For if we ask what is understood by a sapid body, we re- ceive the reply that it is any soluble body fit to be absorbed by the organ of taste. In a word, nothing is sapid but that which is already dissolved or easily soluble. The number of savours is infinite, as each soluble body has a special savour, which does not entirely resemble that of any other.

Savours are also modified by their simple, double, or multiple aggregation; so that it is impossible to classify them, from the most pleasant to the most disagreeable, from the strawberry to the colocynth. Thus every one who has yet tried to do this has almost failed.

This result ought not to amaze us, for, it being granted that endless series of simple savours exist, which may be modified by their reciprocal union, in any number and in any quantity, a new language would be necessary to ex- plain all these results, mountains of folios to describe them, and as yet unknown numeric characters to label them. Those who come after us will know more about it, and it is no longer permitted to doubt that chemistry will reveal to them the causes or the primitive elements of savours.

The order I have indicated for myself has gradu- ally brought me to the moment when I shall fender to smell the rights that belong to it, and the recognition of the important services it renders to us in the appreciation of savours; for, amongst the authors whom I have perused, I have not found one who appears to have done entire and complete justice to it. For myself, I am not only persuaded that without the participation of smell there is no perfect taste, but I am even tempted to believe that smell and taste only form one sense, of which the mouth is the laboratory and the nose the chimney; or to speak more exactly, that the tongue tastes tactile substances, and the nose gases.

This theory may be rigorously defended. Nevertheless, as I do not pretend to found a sect of my own, I only ven- ture to expose it, to indicate to my readers a subject of thought, that they may see that I have carefully studied the subject I am treating. Now, I shall continue my dem- onstration on the subject of the importance of smell, if not as a constituent part of taste, at least as a necessary ad- junct.

All sapid bodies must be necessarily odorous, which places them as well in the empire of smell as in the empire of taste. This is proved by three experiments, which any one may make successfully. When the nasal mucous membrane is irritated by a violent cold in the head, taste is entirely obliterated.

In anything we swallow, there is no taste. The tongue nevertheless remains in its normal state. Second experiment. If we eat whilst holding tight our nose, we are much astonished only to experience the sensation of taste in an obscure and imperfect manner. By this means, the most disgusting medicines are swallowed almost without tasting them.

Third experiment. We see the same effect if, at the moment we have swallowed, instead of bringing back the tongue to its usual place, we keep it close to the palate. In this case, the circulation of the air is intercepted, the organs of smell are not affected, and taste does not occur. These different effects depend upon the same cause, the lack of codperation of the smell, which makes the sapid body to be appreciated only on account of its juice, and not for the odoriferous gas that emanates from it.

These principles being thus laid down, I regard it as certain that taste gives rise to sensations of three dif- ferent orders, namely: direct sensation, complete sensation, and reflex sensation. Direct sensation is that first perception which arises from the immediate operation of the organs of the mouth, whilst the appreciable body is yet found on the point of the tongue.

Complete sensation is that which is composed of this first perception, and of the impression which originates when the food abandons this first position, passes into the back part of the mouth, and impresses the whole organ. Let us apply this theory, and see what takes place in a man who eats and drinks.

He who eats a peach, for example, is at first agreeably struck by the odour which emanates from it; he puts it in his mouth, and feels a sensation of freshness and of sour- ness which induces him to continue; but it is only at the moment when he swallows it, and when the mouthful passes under the nasal fossa, that the perfume is revealed to him.

This completes the sensation which a peach ought to produce. By Jove! Good Heavens! The same thing also occurs, but with much more energy, whenever the taste is disagreeably affected. Look at this sick man, whom the faculty constrains to swallow an enormous glass of a black draught, such as wax drunk in the reign of Louis XIV.

His eyes expand, as if at the approach of danger: disgust is on his lips, and already his stomach begins to rise. Nevertheless he is ex- postulated with; he takes courage, gargles his throat with brandy, holds his nose, and drinks So long as the detestable beverage fills the mouth and lines the organ, the sensation is confused and the condi- tion bearable, but at the last mouthful after-tastes begin to be developed, nauseous odours arise, and the features of the patient express a horror and a disgust which is only braved through fear of death.

If the liquid be, on the contrary, merely insipid, as, for example, a glass of water, there is no taste or after-taste. Nothing is felt, nothing is thought of: we merely drink, and that is all. Taste is not so richly endowed as hearing: the latter can appreciate and compare many sounds at the same time; but taste, on the other hand, is actually simple — that is to say, that two flavours at once are equally in- appreciable.

But it may be doubled and multiplied in succession — that is to say, that in one act of deglutition we may ex- perience successively a second and even a third sensation, each of which gradually becomes more weak, and which are described by the words after-taste, bouquet, or fra- grance.

So, when a chord is struck, a skilful ear may dis- tinguish one or many series of consonances, of which the number is as yet imperfectly known. These are only the exclu- sive appanage of a small number of the elect, and it is by their means that the various substances submitted to their examination may be classified.

These transient diversities vibrate yet for along time in the organ of taste. Without having the least idea of it, gastronomes will assume an appropriate position, and their judgments are always pronounced with outstretched neck, and with the nose upon the larboard tack. Let us now philosophically examine the pleasure or pain occasionally caused by taste. We find, first of all, the application of this truth unfor- tunately too general, that man is much better organised for sorrow than for pleasure.

In fact, the injection of sharp, acrid, or bitter substances of the strongest character, can make us experience sensa- tions extremely painful or sorrowful. It is even maintained that hydrocyanic acid only kills so promptly because it produces an agony so keen that the vital forces cannot endure it without succumbing. Agreeable sensations, on the other hand, only run through a not very extensive scale, but as there is a very sensible difference between that which is insipid and that which flatters the taste, the interval is not so great be- tween that which is recognised as good and that which is reputed as excellent.

This is proven by the following ex- amples: Firstly, a dry and hard piece of boiled beef; secondly, a piece of veal; thirdly, a pheasant done to a turn. Finally, because in eating we receive a certain in- definable and special comfort, which arises from the intui- tive consciousness that we repair our losses and prolong our existence by the food we eat. We have been brought up in the pleasant belief that amongst all the animals which walk, swim, creep, or fly, man is the one whose taste is most perfect.

This belief is liable to be upset. Gall, relying on some examinations, says that there are many animals who have the organs of taste more de- veloped and, therefore, more perfect than those of man. This is a very unpleasant doctrine, and smacks of heresy.

Man, by divine right king of all creation, and for whose 20 OF TASTE benefit the earth has been covered and peopled, must necessarily be provided with organs which can adequately appreciate all that is sapid amongst his subjects. The tongue of animals does not exceed the reach of their intelligence. In fishes, it is only a movable bone; in birds, it is generally a membranous cartilage; in quadrupeds, it is often covered with scales or asperities, and, moreover, has no circumflex motions.

The tongue of man, on the other hand, by the delicacy of its texture and the various membranes with which it is environed and surrounded, sufficiently indicates the sub- limity of the operations for which it is destined. I have, besides, discovered at least three movements unknown to animals, and which I name spication, rotation, and verrition. The first is when the tongue, in a conical shape, comes from between the lips that compress it; the second, when the tongue moves circularly in the space comprised between the interior of the cheeks and the palate; the third, when the tongue, curving upwards or downwards, gathers anything which remains in the semi- circular canal formed by the lips and the gums.

Man, on the contrary, is omnivorous. Everything which is eatable is subject to his enormous appetite; hence, as a consequence, his gustatory powers must be proportionate to the general use he has to make of them. In fact, the power of taste is of a rare perfection in man, and we have only to convince ourselves of this by seeing it in operation. The lips prevent its going back; the teeth take hold of it and crush it; the saliva imbibes it; the tongue mixes it and turns it over and over; an aspiratory motion pushes it towards the gullet; the tongue raises it up to let it slide down; the sense of smell perceives it as it goes along, and it is thrown into the stomach, to undergo ulterior trans- formations.

But throughout this operation there is not a single particle, a drop, or an atom, which has not been submitted to the appreciative power. It is on account of this perfection that gourmandise belongs exclusively to man. This gourmandise is even contagious, and we impart it readily to the animals which we have appropriated to our use, and which, to a certain extent, have become our com- panions, such as elephants, dogs, cats, and even parrots.

If some animals have the tongue larger, the palate more developed, the gullet wider, it is because this tongue, act- ing as a muscle, is destined to move great weights; the palate to press, the gullet to swallow larger portions; but any sound analogy is opposed to the inference that their sense of taste is more perfect. Besides, since taste can only be judged by the nature of the sensation which it carries to a common centre, the im- pression received by the animal cannot be compared with that experienced by man; this latter is clearer and more precise, and necessarily supposes a superior quality in the organ which transmits it.

Finally, can we hope for any improvement in a faculty susceptible of such a point of perfection that the gour- mands of Rome distinguished, by taste alone, the fish 22 OF TASTE caught between the bridges from that which had been caught lower down. Do we not see some in our own days that can distinguish by its superior flavour the thigh on which the partridge leans while sleeping? And have we not plenty of gourmets who are able to indicate the latitude under which a wine has ripened, as certainly as a pupil of Biot or Arago can foretell an eclipse?

What follows from all this? Up to the present time we have only examined taste from a physical point of view, and, unless in some anatomical details which few will regret, we have kept to the level of science. But here does not finish the task which is imposed on us, because it is especially from its moral point of view that this reparative sense draws its impor- tance and glory. We have therefore arranged, in analytical order, the theories and the facts which compose the totality of this history, in such a manner that instruction without fatigue will be the result.

Thus, in the chapters which are about to follow, we shall show how sensations of taste, by being repeated and re- flected, have perfected the organ and extended the sphere of its powers: how the desire for food, which was at first but an instinct, has become an important passion, which has a marked influence on all which relates to society.

We shall follow chemistry to the very moment when she has penetrated into our subterranean laboratories to enlighten our food-preparers, to lay down principles, to create methods, and to unveil causes which up till then had remained hidden. Finally, we shall see how, by the combined power of time and experience, a new science has suddenly appeared amongst us, which feeds, restores, preserves, persuades, consoles, and, not content with throwing, with an open hand, flowers over the career of each individual, contrib- utes also powerfully to the strength and the prosperity of kingdoms.

If, in the midst of such grave lucubrations, a piquant anecdote, a pleasant remembrance, or some souvenir of a life of many ups and downs, should come on the tip of my pen, it may slip freely to relieve a little the attention of my readers. Their number will not affright us, and we shall be glad to talk with them; for, if they are men, we are cer- tain that they are as indulgent as well informed; and, if they are ladies, they, of course, are charming.

Here the professor, full of his subject, lets his hand drop, and rises into the higher regions. Tue sciences are not like Minerva, who sprang in full armour out of the brain of Jupiter; they are the daughters of Time, and were matured insensibly, at first, by an accumulation of the methods indicated by experience, and later by the discovery of the principles which may be deduced from the combination of these methods.

Thus the first old men who, on account of their discre- tion, were called to the bedside of invalids, whose com- passion induced them to dress wounds, were also the first physicians. The shepherds of Egypt, who observed that some stars, after a certain time, were always to be found in the same place in the heavens, were the first astronomers. In the course of the last sixty years that have just passed away, many new sciences have taken their places in the system of our knowledge, and among others, stereotomy, descriptive geometry, and the chemistry of gases.

All these sciences, cultivated during an infinite number of generations, will make so much the more progress, as printing frees an author from the danger of retrograding. Gastronomy has appeared, in her turn, and all the sister sciences have made way for it. What, indeed, can be refused to a science which sustains us from the cradle to the grave, which enhances the pleas- ures of love and the intimacy of friendship, which disarms hatred, renders business more easy, and offers us, in the short journey of life, the only recreation which, not being followed by fatigue, makes us yet find relief from all others?

Without doubt, as long as the food-preparations were entrusted to salaried servants, and the secrets of the craft remained underground, as long as cooks alone kept the matter to themselves, and books of directions alone were written, the results of such labours were merely the prod- ucts of an art. But finally, perhaps too late, learned men approached the subject. They examined, analysed, and classified alimentary sub- stances, and reduced them to their most simple constit- uents.

They studied food in its transitory or permanent effects for some days, some months, or even for a whole life- time. Whilst all these things were taking place in the studies of men of science, it was said aloud in the drawing-rooms that a science which nourishes men is probably worth at least as much as one which teaches them to kill each other; poets sang the praises of the table, and the books on good cheer displayed deeper views and maxims of a more general interest.

Such are the circumstances which have preceded the advent of gastronomy. Gastronomy is the rational knowledge of all that relates to man as an eater. Its object is to watch over the preservation of men, by means of the best nourishment possible. It arrives thereat by laying down certain principles to direct those who look for, furnish, or prepare the things which may be converted into food. Thus it is gastronomy that sets in motion farmers, vine- growers, fishers, hunters, and the numerous family of cooks, whatever may be their title, or under whatever qualification they may disguise their occupation of pre- paring food.

Finally, with political economy, by the resources which it furnishes to the authorities for taxation, and by the means of exchange which it establishes among nations. Gastronomy rules the entire life; for the tears of the new- born babe call for the breast of the nurse, and the dying man receives still with some pleasure the last cooling drink, which, alas! It has to do, also, with all the states of society; for it presides at the banquets of assembled kings, and also cal- culates the number of minutes of ebullition which a fresh egg requires to be properly boiled.

The material subject belonging to gastronomy is every- thing which may be eaten; its direct object, the preserva- tion of individuals, and its means of execution; cultivation which produces, commerce which exchanges, industry which prepares, and experience which invents the means of turning everything to the best account.

Gastronomy considers taste in its pleasures as well as in its pains. It also considers the action of food on the morals of man, on his imagination, his mind, judgment, courage, and perceptions, either wak- ing, sleeping, working, or resting. It is gastronomy that determines the degree of esculence of every alimentary object, for all are not presentable at table under the same circumstances.

Some should be eaten before they have arrived at their entire development, as capers, asparagus, sucking-pigs, pigeons, and other animals which are eaten when they are young; others, the moment they have attained all the per- fection destined for them, as melons, most fruits, mutton, beef, and all animals eaten when full grown; others, when they commence to be decomposed, as medlars, woodcocks, and especially pheasants; others, finally, after the opera- tions of art have taken from them their deleterious quali- ties, as the potato, the cassava root, and others.

It is also gastronomy that classifies all these substances according to their diverse qualities, which indicates those that should go together, and which, taking into account the quantity of nourishment they contain, distinguishes those which ought to form the basis of our repasts from those that are mere accessories, and also from those which, though being no longer necessary, are nevertheless an agreeable distraction, and become the necessary accom- paniment of convivial gossip.

It teaches us to prepare them, preserve them, and, above all, to present them in such an order, that the pleasure con- tinually increases, until gratification ends and abuse begins. Some knowledge of gastronomy is necessary to all men, inasmuch as it tends to augment the sum of hap- piness which is allotted to them.

This utility augments in proportion as it is applied to the most comfortable classes of society; finally, it is indispensable to those who, en- joying a large income, receive much company, either be- cause in this respect they think they must keep up an ap- pearance, follow their own fancy, or yield to fashion. There is this special advantage that they take even a personal interest in the manner wherein their table is kept, that they are able to superintend, up to a certain point, the compulsory guardians of their confidence, and even on many occasions to direct them.

The Prince de Soubise one day intended to give a feast which was to finish with a supper, and he asked that the bill of fare should be shown to him. Fifty hams! Do you want to feed all my regi- ment? Give the order, and I will put these fifty hams that annoy you into a glass phial not much larger than my thumb. The prince smiled, nodded assent, and so the item was passed. We know that among the men who are still al- most primitive, no matter of importance is treated except at table; it is in the midst of banquets that savages decide on war or peace, and we need not go far to see that villagers do all their business at the public-house.

This observation has not escaped those who frequently deal with the most weighty affairs. They saw that a man with a full stomach was very different from a man fasting; that a certain bond was formed at table between hosts and guests; that it made guests more apt to receive certain impressions and to submit to certain influences. Thus was born political gastronomy. Dinners have become a means of government, and the fate of peoples are decided at a banquet.

This is neither a paradox nor even a novelty, but a simple observation of facts. If we look at any historian, from the time of Herodotus up to our own days, it will be seen that, without even excepting conspiracies, no great event ever took place that was not previously concocted, planned, and determined upon at a banquet.

Such is, at the first glance, the domain of gas- tronomy — a domain fertile in results of every sort, and which cannot be extended except by the discoveries and inventions of those who cultivate it. Nay, in a few years gastronomy will have its academicians, its courses of lec- tures, its professors, and prizes. At first, some zealous and wealthy gastronomer will establish at his own home periodical assemblies, where the most learned theorists will unite with artists to discuss and investigate the various branches of alimentary science.

Thereupon, for such is the history of all academies, the government will interfere, codify, protect, and establish some institution; it will take an opportunity to compensate the public for all orphans made in war, for all the Ariadnes who have been made to shed tears by the summons to combat. The man of influence will be happy to associate his name with so necessary an institution. This name will be re- peated from age to age with those of Noah, Bacchus, Trip- tolemus, and other benefactors of humanity; he will be among ministers what Henri IV is amongst kings; his praise will be in every mouth, though no statute will be required to enforce this.

Motion and life occasion in the living body a constant loss of substance, and the human body, which is a complicated machine, would soon be unfit for use, if Providence did not provide it with a compensating bal- ance, which marks the very moment when its powers are no longer in equilibrium with its wants. This monitor is the appetite. We understand by this word the first impression of a desire to eat. Appetite is announced by a little languor in the stomach and a slight sensation of fatigue.

At the same time the mind is occupied with objects analogous to its wants; memory remembers the things that flattered the taste; imagination fancies it sees them — in fact, it is something like a dream. The stomach becomes sensitive, the gastric juices are excited and the internal gases are displaced with noise, the mouth becomes moist, and all the digestive powers are under arms, like soldiers ready for action who merely await the word of command.

After a few moments there may be spasmodic motions, gaping and pain; one feels hungry. Hence I have deduced the apophthegm: Of all the quali- ties of the cook the most indispensable is punctuality. To support this grave maxim, I shall relate what I have observed myself at a party where I was, quorum pars magna fui, and where the pleasure of observing saved me from anguish and misery.

I was one day invited to dine at the house of a high pub- lic functionary. I was struck, when coming in, by the air of consterna- tion which I saw amongst the company. People whispered together and looked into the courtyard through the win- dow; some faces indicated stupefaction; certainly some- thing extraordinary had happened. I approached one of the guests whom I thought could most likely satisfy my curiosity, and asked him what was the matter.

The first hour passed well enough; those who were inti- mate sat near to each other; commonplace topics were worn out, and people amused themselves with conjectures as to the reason of our dear host being called to the Tuileries. At the second hour we began to perceive a few symptoms of impatience.

People looked anxiously at each other, and the first to grumble were three or four guests who, having found no place to sit in, were not in a comfortable position to wait. At the third hour the discontent became general, and everybody complained.

Our attention was diverted for a moment by an appari- tion. One of the guests, better acquainted with the house than the others, had found his way to the kitchens, and now returned out of breath. Pale, terrified, seeing nothing, he crouched in an easy chair, crossed his little hands on his big belly, and closed his eyes not to sleep, but to await death.

It came not, however. Everybody arose with a spontaneous movement. Liveliness succeeded to dejection, and in five minutes we were at table. She is the same young girl who some years ago so much resembled my Clementine ; she has, however, much altered. She is now tall and very pretty, but in quite another style from Clementine. Laurence has immortalised my Clementine ; he painted her just as she took her flight from this world. The Opera is excellent.

They are playing ' Othello,' the c Barber,' and ' Zelmira. It contains no mediocrities, and the first singers are the best Italians. The Opera affords me great delight, for my life is so monotonous that the sound of something quite different.

April Here everyone is occupied only with Spain and the Italian Opera. If the war goes on as well as the Opera, Europe is saved. I do not know whether Victor heard Lablache sing in Milan. He seems to me like the ' Stephansthurm ' that tried to sing with its great bell, but he also brings out tones that would do honour to a nightingale.

All Vienna is in spirit on the Ebro. The progress of the French war operations makes the same impression here as if it were a victorious Austrian army. May 1. This day's date has a pleasant sound, but the weather does not correspond with the time of year. This day is generally an epoch in Vienna life. All walk to the public promenade and surrender them- selves to the pleasure of the first signs of spring.

Un- happily it has hardly begun to grow green, and the first shoots are still in bud. My poor garden is much more like the age of infirmity than that of youthful freshness. If it goes on in this way I shall lose the trees which I saved in It is literally true that it has not rained. What must touch most painfully the feelings of great speakers like the British Ministers is, that while reading the Parliamentary debates Europe shrugs its shoulders!

In all the dreary wastes of the daily journals I have not found a word, not one single word, in their praise. It is just the Eadical papers that have the sharpest and most vigorous criticisms. What, then, does Canning want? Whose part will he take?

What is he about? For, after all, a man must have some object or end in view. A fine century for this sort of men for fools who pass for intellectual but are empty ; for moral weaklings, who are always ready to threaten with their fists from a distance when the opportunity is good. When obliged to contemplate all this, as I am, to hear everything and read everything that I must hear and read this really requires a kind of endurance which almost amounts to virtue. But how fruitless is this virtue and how toilsome its exercise!

What a pity it is that Wellington is so timid ; a man with so upright a heart and so noble a countenance! May The anniversary of my birth is dear to me, for but for that event I could neither have loved nor hated. I am busy preparing for the reception of my family ; my sad, solitary life comes to an end, and my heart once more awakes.

I am not made for loneli- ness and I need life about me. The absolute stillness around is to me a symbol of death. I like too to see the delight in social life in other men. I do not trust anchorites : they are mostly tiresome or tired out, and, what is worse, they are often wicked men.

My family arrived this day, I having gone some miles to meet them. They are all in good health ; my wife and children look extremely well, and the latter whom I have not seen for three years are much grown. I should have known Leon- tine, but the little one Princess Hermine has entirely altered. She is very like my mother, possesses there- fore some of my charms. Victor is very well. The children cried with joy to see me again. What com- forts me is that long absence has weakened the deep.

I have quite altered the place, and put out of sight everything that would remind her of that sad time. Providence has given to the lapse of time great power over human feeling, and this is not the least of its blessings. Spanish affairs go on as they must go now that they have been taken in hand. What a miserable Power is that which is founded on error, is only supported by lies, and has no strength but the weakness of its opponents. This is a portrait of Liber alism.

No sooner are its pretensions examined than they are seen to be without foundation ; and when its resources are investigated nothing is forthcoming. And yet there are people who claim to be intelligent who hold by Liberal theories and glory in their results.

That which hinders so many persons from obeying truth, from giving themselves up to it entirely, is the utter want of all tinsel peculiar to it. It is the destiny of truth to be developed with ever-increasing power ; we grasp it in its early immaturity, and when the day comes that it shines forth in all its innate splendour it makes its way without our help, and all merit seems to belong to it alone.

Those who have nourished it in its early beginning, and have watched over its progress to perfection, are quickly wiped out of the memory of men. This is not a result flattering to vanity, and they are few who devote themselves to that which confers so little on their love of self. This is my confession of faith and my judgment on myself. I once more live in domestic happiness, as if I had never been without it, and enjoy it with true delight. Victor is much liked here ; he is. Certainly his good carriage and pleasant manners strike one in comparing him with the other young men here.

My wife's health is apparently much improved, and I put aside my fears for the future. Although I only see my family at breakfast and dinner it is the greatest comfort to me. Man is not intended to be alone, and those who assert the contrary are unhealthy either in mind or heart.

July 2. I have been in bed for ten days in consequence of taking cold. Four days ago I thought myself well enough to be up all day, which had the evil result of sending me to bed again for three days. To- day I feel the return of health, but I shall not be quite restored till the twenty-one days are over. I know by experience that so much time is needed when once fever attacks me.

July What a pity it is that the Queen of the Sea and the sometime ruler of the world should lose her salutary influence. What has become of the great and noble British Empire? What has become of its men and its orators, its feeling for right and duty, and its ideas of justice? This is not the work of a single individual, of one weak and feeble man ; Canning is but the personification of the symptoms of the terrible malady which runs through every vein of the father- land a malady which has destroyed its strength and threatens the weakened body with dissolution.

That which Palmella thinks of doing to-morrow, or perhaps even began yesterday, he has already attempted in Brazil. What he desires and is now doing consists simply in making use of the so-called remedies which our clever generation has discovered. His prescription runs thus : You see death before you, take poison ; but our fathers said, You are poisoned, take an anti- dote.

This kind of cure seems too simple in our day that is, to a generation so flooded with light. There are, however, some very practical men, who know very well what our fathers knew that poison is deadly ; but this is the very reason why others recommend it to free from death.

And who are these wise men who boldly place themselves on the standpoint of truth? The Eadicals! I will do them full justice. I thoroughly understand them, and I much prefer people whom I understand to those who are not to be understood chiefly because they are themselves groping about in darkness.

August 9. In the last few days I have sent off despatches in every direction. Everywhere there is confusion of ideas, weakness in carrying them out, and disgust for those who desire only the good, and for that very reason strive for nothing but the triumph of sound common sense. The Emperors Francis and Alexander will meet at the beginning of October. The Eussian monarch has invited the Austrian, who has accepted the invitation with the greatest pleasure.

The Emperor Alexander desired that it should be kept secret for his sake, and for the sake of the cause which both monarchs look upon as their own. Great and extraordinary interests are bound up in this meeting. It will make much. My views regarding Turkey are different from those generally entertained.

Turkey does not make me anxious, but France and Spain. Pozzo di Borgo will certainly not rejoice over the meeting. We shall at the most be eight days together, which is time enough for those who understand how to make use of it. It is not yet decided whether the journey to Italy will take place at the beginning or the end of the winter.

August Vienna is empty. Six rational people are not to be brought together. I say rational, not pleasant, people ; for six pleasant persons is a number difficult to bring together in any country and at any time whatever. For some years this day was, to me, always signa- lised by an effusion of Napoleonic temper : the blows of the great exile of St. Helena either fell on me or were dealt to some one in my presence. Years have passed away since those now famous days, but the power of the date is still so fresh that on each return of it past im- pressions return so forcibly that I feel as if I were placed once more where I was then so much against my will.

The Bonaparte family are having an answer written to Las Cases. Several of its members accuse him of lying and calumny. The fact is that with regard to the family it was not Las Cases, but Napoleon who lied, or at least said what his brothers and sisters did not like to hear. The meeting of the two mon- archs is fixed for October 6. Of course I shall be there.

The thing in itself, apart from the importance of what it includes, will have an effect like the firing of. I am far from being, a friend of noise, but if it cannot be avoided I endeavour to use it for positive and salutary ends. This is, too, under the given circumstances, part of my plan.

My head is at work, and my blood boils. God grant that something may come of it, and that that something may be good. The mistaken steps taken by Villele since Verona are quite explained by what he has done to-day.

The measure is now full, and he will only add to the awkwardness of his position with- out attaining his object. The French, who are gifted with much imagination, think they can understand the Eevolution because they have endured it. This is just as if a woman who has had several children should say she perfectly understands confinements. Both forget that there are two entirely different things the fact of enduring and the art of assisting.

There was but one single man in France who understood how to master the Eevolution, and that man was Bonaparte. The King's Government inherited from him, not the Eevo- lution, but the counter-Ee volution, and they have not known how to make use of this inheritance. I judge of the Eevolution more truly than most men who have been in the midst of it.

It is with me as with those who watch a battle from very high ground. It is only from thence that everything is seen ; in the midst of the fray the eye cannot reach beyond a given circle, and that circle is always small. From the mistakes which the French Government have already made in Spain, no one can say what the end will be : if it turns out well which is possible , then it will be the good bursting forth and triumphing of itself over everything in spite of both friends and foes.

This is my view, and. France is to-day like a vessel on a stormy sea guided by inexperienced pilots. I expect to leave Vienna on September 16, stay four or five days at my house in the country, go to Czerno- witz on October 3, and return to Vienna about Octo- ber 25 or From Rzeszow. Arrival at Lemberg illness. Fertility of Galicia.

Detained in Lemberg. Arrival of Dr. Jager Nesselrode sent by the Emperor Alexander to Lemberg. The unhappy situation of the invalid. Nesselrode and Tatist- scheif in Lemberg. The town of Lemberg. From Neutitschein. Rzeszow, September 25, I have arrived here a few minutes before the post leaves, and I cannot deny myself the pleasure of sending you news of myself and my proceedings.

And good news too ; I accomplished the journey most happily and quickly. The same day that I started I arrived at Teschen at eleven in the evening. Yesterday at nine I reached Bochnia, and here I am at Ezeszow at five o'clock. I shall leave to-morrow at daybreak, so as to be at Lem- berg by eight or nine in the evening. The country is quite different from what I had imagined. It is very beautiful and highly cultivated. The entrance into Galicia is mountainous, and is like Upper Austria; then comes the plain, enclosed and wooded and very pretty.

What spoils the country is that Jews are met at every step ; no one is to be seen but Jews: they swarm here. I travel with M. I hope you have all returned happily to Vienna, and that the cause which deprived me of the pleasure of having Victor with me has disappeared. Lemberg, September I arrived here a little after midnight, after a very rapid journey. I stopped an hour at Lan9ut, which I saw thoroughly ; then I took luncheon at Przeworsk.

Lan9ut is a very fine country house in the style of Louis XV. Przeworsk is simple but very pretty ; it is not a chateau, but an English house, neat and pretty. Here I awoke with one of those rheumatic feverish attacks which keep me in bed for two or three days without rhyme or reason. The doctor does not think my pulse bad, but I am in a continual perspiration. To-day I am better that is to say, I perspire less. I shall, however, remain in bed for three days, to prevent a return of the malady.

I can tell you nothing of Lemberg, for I have seen nothing. My house is very fine and well arranged. September Yesterday I wrote to you from my bed ; my indisposition it has never been any- thing more is passing away. The doctor has not once found me with fever, but merely a slight irritation which disappeared in the evening of the first day. I remain in bed, however, for two days ; first to make sure of my recovery, and then to avoid being overdone with audiences, presentations, and fetes of every kind.

Potocka made a point of my passing the Eubicon. I only just escaped having to get up from my bed to be present at the ball, by means of the most vigorous pro- testations. For the rest, say nothing about it, for the poor people here are excellently disposed, but they are so thoroughly miserable that it would be difficult to know how to preserve them from ruin. This country. There are many parts of Galicia where a pound of beef costs one kreutzer ; here it costs three.

Two measures of oats cost a florin, Vienna value. One must not laugh at people so unhappy. October 2. I have not written to you for the last two days, for I have nothing to say but to complain of annoyances here. My health is a little deranged in the same way that has given me so much trouble sometimes in Vienna. Since the departure of the Emperor's physician I have seen the best doctor here. As my illness is more catarrhal than rheumatic, and as my eyes are also much inflamed, I have sent for a physician, a pupil of Beer and a friend of Jager, who has done all that was necessary for me.

My maladies, too, are all decreasing ; you know I must always go through the neuvaine. My doctors declare that, so far as doctors are infallible, there ought to be nothing to prevent my starting on my travels again next Monday. You can understand how this accident annoys me. My illness is nothing, and I must take it patiently, for it seems to be part of my nature periodically to pass through these crises.

I only suffer from annoyance, for I have not even any fever ; but business weighs upon me, body and mind. No one else can do what has to be done, and this thought is in itself enough to cause fever. October I am now quite well, my dear, after having passed thirteen days in all kinds of illness. I now feel convalescent, and indeed I feel it so strongly that I must have been really ill.

I was fortunate. I feel that he at once seized on the peculiarities of my nature, and especially on the singularities and anomalies caused by so trying a life. My illness was partly from cold and partly the conse- quence of the anxieties of the Congress. Now, to cure the first of these maladies is very possible, but I defy any physician in the world to cure the second ; so that my nervous system fell into a state of febrile agitation. God has preserved me and raised me from my bed of suffering, and the interview at Czernowitz has termi- nated, or will terminate, just as I desired.

The Empe- ror will return here on the 1 2th. Nesselrode will come to conclude the work with me here. It will be the work of twenty-four hours. Jager arrived here this evening ; he will give you an account of the state in which he found me. My health begins to recover from the shock it has sustained, and my recovery will be confirmed by the excellent state of affairs, I shall have some months without severe labour. Nesselrode arrived here last night ; he was with me this morning for two hours.

The Emperor Alexander sent him to me to obtain my ' placet ' to all the despatches. Far from refusing it, I was able to approve with all my heart. All this business, which I may date from my bed at Lemberg, will do honour to the two Emperors. All that Jager told me of the family pleased me ex- ceedingly ; I assure you that good news will improve my health more than medicine.

My malady was com- plicated by moral anxieties ; consequently, moral remedies are the most efficacious, and none are so much so as news of your health. I am most thankful for the oranges you had the happy inspiration to send me ; I had tried every possible way to procure them here, but in vain. Hier bliihen die Citronen nicht! Jager found me already getting better. I was delighted to see him, because he knows me so thoroughly, and his approbation of all that had been done by the doctor here reassured me.

I am quite myself again now. My illness was one of those tiresome affections, catarrhal or rheumatic, which always send me to bed for ten days or a fortnight. In the usual state of things the incon- venience for it is not a real illness would have passed off as on former occasions.

But just imagine my situ- ation. Alone the only man knowing anything of the business in bed at Lemberg, and the two Emperors tete a tete at Czernowitz. Two results only possible, immediate war between Eussia and the Porte or imme- diate peace ; and I, holding peace in my hands, and alone knowing the means of securing peace, ill in bed! I swear to you that no common strength of mind and will was needed to keep me from giving way. I did not succumb morally, but my physique received a terrible shock.

I was fifteen nights without sleeping, and I was on the brink of a nervous fever. Now I have told you everything. I am still weak, but as my appe- tite is returning I shall soon regain my strength. Heaven has protected me in the midst of these troubles and anxieties. I had so far advanced matters before the meeting took place that the force of things of itself brought them to a termination without me.

Peace is secured ; everything is arranged in a marvellous manner, and the triumph is complete. This is a blessing for all Europe, and particularly for me ; it gives me some chance of the repose after which I sigh like a bird. The Emperor left yesterday. I am here with Nesselrode and TatistschefF, busy with the numerous despatches that we have to send off to all parts of the world, and also with the nomination of a Eussian agent at Constantinople. I hope, however, to be able to leave either this week or next.

We learned yesterday the deliverance of the King of Spain ; I await the particulars with curiosity. If this deliverance is complete that is to say, if there is no defect in the armour peace is given to Europe for some time ; and the coincidence of peace in the East and in the West is not the least singular of these facts. I beg you, my dear, to arrange everything so that on arriving at Vienna I can at once go to my rooms.

If God grant me six months of quiet, and I can pass them in a good climate, away from business, or at any rate not in its very midst, I think I should recover ten years of life and health. I seize a few moments before the departure of a courier I am sending to Vienna to tell you, my dear, that I am going on well. My strength begins to return, my appetite is good, and I try to accustom myself to the air by taking a short drive every morning.

This is the least I can do when I remember the nice little journey of leagues which I must take as soon as possible. To-morrow I shall fix the day for my departure : it will probably be Saturday. I have finished my business with Nesselrode, who has gone this morning to rejoin his master. Tatist- scheff leaves to-morrow for St.

Petersburg, and I should like to rest two or three days longer. I was greatly tempted to leave on Friday, but I have relinquished the idea from respect to human nature. They want me to. I have never seen people so in love with their native town as they are here. The road to the right is said to give a view like that of Naples ; that to the left is like the Briihl near Vienna.

A nearer view shews a town in a hole, and this hole wants both water and trees. The town is half fine and half ugly. There are many houses in it better constructed than those in Vienna, for there is some architectural style about them ; then intervals either empty or crowded with barracks.

The Eastern aspect begins to make its appearance. I cannot tell you, my dear, how happy I am to leave this place ; I am dreadfully weary of it. All my life I shall remember the month of October Tarnow, October I left Lemberg the day before yesterday. I slept the first night at Przemysl, the same place where a month ago to a day I had the ill luck to fall ill. Yesterday I slept at Ezeszow. To-morrow I shall make a very short stay.

I shall sleep at Bochnia, the day after at Bielitz, a place on the frontier of Galicia. In all this I follow the Emperor's directions, for he wishes me everywhere to lodge where he has been. Consequently I am everywhere excellently well accommodated. I have the houses of the captains of the Circles.

The courier who precedes me regulates the temperature of the rooms, so that I am everywhere as if at home. In Poland politeness requires that a room should be made excessively hot when prepared for a guest. The temperature was, however, moderated for me, to the great astonishment of the proprietors of the houses, who had been preparing to receive me, as an invalid, with a temperature two or three degrees in excess of what mere politeness required.

For the rest I cannot sufficiently praise the anxious kindness of the Emperor. He did not pass a single day without coming to see me at Lemberg ; he sat for hours by the side of my bed, or, after his return to Czer- nowitz, in my sitting-room, not to talk business, but to amuse me and chat about trifles. It was he who chose my physician at Lemberg, telling me he would have left me his own, but that he was convinced Dr. Massow was the better man. All along the road I found it was the Emperor who had arranged for my accommodation and given the most exact orders that I should be treated exactly as himself.

Well as I had long known the true friendship of the Emperor, I confess that I should not have believed him capable of such delicate atten- tions. In the midst of all this some very odd things necessarily occurred, which I will tell you, and they will make you laugh. When it was decided that I could not accompany his Majesty to Czernowitz, and I had chosen Mercy to take my place, I sent the latter to inform the Emperor.

The Emperor, with his usual bonhomie, then said to Mercy, ' We should make a fine embassy of that. I know but little of the affair ; you knew nothing till yesterday. Between us we should make a miserable figure. He will do more with him in half an hour than you and I in eight days. However, everything was arranged, and well arranged too. The Emperor of Eussia, when he sent Nesselrode who remained with me eight days to manage everything , wrote me a letter which was not that of a monarch, but of a friend disappointed of the meeting to which he had looked forward.

I beg you. You will not mention the story of Mercy. According to my reckon- ing I shall be at Vienna on November 2 by dinner time. Neutitschein, October Here I am in Mora- via, my dear that is to say, in a civilised country, and so near to Vienna that the courier will be there in thirty hours. I have never seen anything more striking than the change from Galicia to Moravia.

The country is the same, and is as fine on one side as the other ; but the first village on this side is the first. No rags ; the houses neat and the inhabitants well clothed ; no Jews ; no squalor, misery, and death.

Two days ago, in a very low temperature, I saw peasants working in the fields with no garments but a shirt, and their children from two to four years old sitting naked in the field their parents were tilling. I was inclined to cry out like the French soldier, ' Ah! I could have wept over the one and embraced the others.

Vienna, November 8. I was very ill ; certain external conditions so increased my malady that I should soon have arrived at that bourne from whence no one returns. A merciful God and the Emperor Alexander saved me, and everything went so well that my presence in Czernowitz, anxious as I was to be there, was not necessary. Everything is concluded and peace maintained ; for which honour is due to the Russian Emperor, who kept his word to the Austrian minister.

He was, moreover, endlessly good to me ; he gave me proofs of his sympathy, not of the common- place kind customary to monarchs, but as from one man bound to another by the same noble aims. For eight days Nesselrode was with me at Lemberg ; he could not in everything take the place of his Imperial master, but he strove to carry out his intentions with that hearty loyalty we know in him. I am still weak and thin. My own physician, who has watched me since my return, tells me that the severe attack I have had is a proof that my nature is stronger than I sup- posed, but advises me to avoid all great efforts of the brain.

The counsel is more easily given than fol- lowed. Happily the situation in general is such as to assist me. It is a real piece of good fortune for me that my convalescence and that of Europe advance with equal steps. I have not had so little work to do for a long time, the whole social body is inclined to improve. Many parts are already healthy ; others are becoming so : those that are unhealthy share the fate of withered branches they break off.

The French Eadical papers take the greatest pains to avoid the confession that they have been entirely mistaken : they are now trying lies and calum- nies and prophecies. My lungs are still very much affected, and if they were not sound it might go badly with me. I still need five or six weeks to make a thorough recovery.

I should not require as many days if I could but fly over the Alps. My numerous ties, however, will not allow this, and it is a part of my torture to see the snowy mountain-tops and not to be able to get over them. The only news that reaches me is from London, and it is always the same.

English diplomacy at present is careful to spoil whatever lies within its reach. People in London see so wrongly that they will go wrong there again as they have so often gone wrong before. But Canning's nature is still a very remarkable one. In spite of all his lack of dis- cernment the genius which he undoubtedly has, and which I have never questioned, is never clouded. He is certainly a very awkward opponent ; but I have had opponents more dangerous, and it is not he who chiefly compels me to think of him.

This says everything. On July 18 Canning thought that the French expedi- tion would miscarry. It has, however, succeeded ; and then forthwith he represented the question, which had become a European one, as purely English, and, indeed,.

At any rate he should not have allowed his despatch of July 18 to go forth. December I daily ask myself wherefore Providence has sent me into the world too soon or too late. It is a sad lot for a statesman to have to fight his way among perpetual storms. The world enjoys a few moments of peace all the more from being exposed to continual storms, and I should have been happy in a time when I could have had an equal amount of both.

Had destiny willed it, I could have fulfilled my part as a statesman, and with little trouble made for myself a name ; but the course of my life has been amid gales and storms, and such adverse influences bend the body more than the soul. If I had been fifty years old fifty years ago I should have been a more imposing figure than I am now. You are not, perhaps, sir, aware of the exist- ence of a circular despatch which the Cabinet of Wurtemberg has addressed to its diplomatic agents a propos of that which the ambassadors of the three monarchs have received after the conferences at Verona.

This document has only come to our knowledge through a copy sent to us from Frankfurt, since which its exist- ence has been confirmed by the envoy of Wurtemberg at Berlin. Every courier brings us from different direc- tions extracts from this despatch, and it will very likely appear immediately in some French or English journal, while the Imperial Court itself has never been officially informed of a matter in which it has so direct an interest. The despatch in question No. It seems to the Emperor that a manifesto so unexpected and so unprovoked cannot be approached except in the system and forms of that solidarity which, happily for the interests of Europe, is established between his Imperial Majesty and his august friends and allies.

Meanwhile the Emperor our master cannot hesitate a moment, for his part, to deny any portion ' of the heritage of influence in Europe arrogated to himself by Napoleon. Neither the conduct of his Cabinet at Yerona nor the terms of the declaration furnish the slightest pretext for such an accusation. All Europe has been a witness of the cares and efforts with which his Imperial Majesty has con- stantly met the torrent of general disorganisation advancing so rapidly over peoples and empires.

The Emperor's voice has not always been listened to, his advice has not always been followed ; but his Majesty never expected that any Cabinet could find in his noble and pure intentions a project for interfering with public rights by disquieting innovations. Firm in principle and conscience, the Emperor is not accessible to injus- tice. A very different sentiment fills his mind ; it is that of the most sincere and profound regret at seeing the finest of causes misunderstood by those whose lasting interest it ought to be to defend it.

Stuttgart, January 2, You are aware no doubt that the Courts which did not take part in the Congress of Verona have just received official informa- tion of its existence, its objects, and its results. It is important that your Excellency should be acquainted with the point of view from which your Court regards this interesting document.

Whatever may be the confidence claimed by the enlightenment and disinterestedness of the Powers who have inherited the influence Napoleon had arrogated to himself in Europe, it is difficult not to fear for the inde- pendence of the lesser States if this protection tutelle should be exercised by sovereignty less enlightened or less generous.

Certainly nothing could be more foreign to our thoughts than to dispute with the sovereigns who make so many and painful sacrifices to the maintenance of the monarchical principle that palladium of civilised people the right of watching over the welfare of Europe ; but the means by which this surveillance acts seems to us to introduce principles more or less dis- quieting. Treaties concluded, congresses assembled in the interest of the whole European family, without the States of the second order being permitted to assert.

The causes of independence and the monarchical principle are both blended with the causes of Italy and Spain ; the causes of humanity and religion with the cause of the Greeks ; while the cause of general peace, common to all, does not allow us to consider the objects of the last Congresses, especially that of Verona, as foreign to Powers of the second class : and all these justify our regret that we were excluded, and that the German Confederation was not summoned there, although two of its members were at Verona and the whole can hardly be subordinate to the parts.

No act, no word, of the three monarchs has authorised the Wurtemberg Cabinet to ascribe to them any intention of treating independent States as minors. Far from claiming to exercise any kind of guardianship whatever, these monarchs, even on occasions when their help was implored, have always respected, to the point of scrupulosity, the authority, inde- pendence, and rights of the legitimate sovereigns to whom they have granted their aid.

The monarchs have most certainly the right of watching over their own States, and inviting other States to follow their example ; but this is a very different thing from a claim to the right of general surveillance a chimera gratuitously ima- gined by men who make it their business to calumniate the monarchs. As little have the monarchs introduced disquieting prin- ciples. They have introduced nothing, made no innovations ; the only object of their efforts is to maintain public rights and individual rights as they at present exist.

If we go back to , , and , there have doubt- less been treaties concluded, accepted, and signed, sometimes directly, sometimes by adhesion, by all the European States. At these epochs the sovereigns, founders of the Great Alliance, were considered by the unanimous desire of the Governments as the interpreters of their common interests, and consequently fully authorised to deliberate and treat in the name of the Governments. It would then be very extraordinary if after their having so many times testified the liveliest gratitude for the manner in which they acquitted themselves of this honour- able task, they should be five years afterwards taxed with having done wrong in the services they rendered to Europe.

Since the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle no general treaty has been either concluded or proposed. By what title, under what pretext, can the Wur- temberg Court claim to be admitted to the conferences at Verona? The affairs of Italy only concern the Powers which have treated with the Courts of Naples and Piedmont concern- ing the military occupation of part of their territory.

France and England, though having plenipotentiaries at Verona, have themselves acknowledged that it was the part of those Cabinets who signed the conventions of to arrange with the Courts of Naples and Turin the measures which their own safety and the general state of Italy would allow them to adopt for the relief of the country occupied by the auxiliary troops.

The questions relating to Spain which were discussed at Verona were entirely within the province of the Powers, who believed it to be for their own dignity and interest, as well as that of social order, to occupy themselves with it. Eussia, Austria, and Prussia were obliged to consult other Governments to know whether they ought to break off their diplomatic relations with. What the Cabinet of Stuttgart calls la cause des Grecs was in the eyes of the monarchs who met at Verona reduced to an examination of the most suitable means for preserving peace in the East, a question which requires an exact knowledge, not only of the state of things in those countries, but also of the antecedent negotiations, and in which the ministers of the German States would have probably found considerable difficulty in giving their advice.

The Cabinet of Stuttgart expresses its regret that the Germanic Confederation had not been summoned to the Con- gress of Verona, ' two of its members being there, and the whole can hardly be subordinate to the parts. If the monarchs assembled had intended to occupy themselves with the affairs of Germany, they would not have excluded from their councils the princes called by their position to vote in such questions. But this was not the case, and the circular of December 14 makes no allusion to the affairs of Germany.

The Cabinet of Stuttgart seems to have entirely forgotten the bases of the Federal pact of Germany ; it seems to have forgotten that Austria and Prussia only entered the Confedera- tion under the express clause of the preservation of their character of European Powers.

The duties and dangers attach- ing to this last quality may dictate a course for which they alone are responsible, and in which, according to the Federal laws, they could claim neither the assistance nor the support of the Corps Germanique. In the case of a war with the Turks a great part of the Austrian territory might be invaded, without Austria having the right to regard the expense and the chances of war as common to the Federation.

If Austria and Prussia had attempted to fetter the Corps Germanique by any stipulations, or to compromise the safety of its members by transactions to which they remained strangers, the Cabinet of Stuttgart would have the right to say that ' the whole could.

Vienna, April 19, You know of the manifesto which the Wurtemberg Government has ad- dressed to several of its embassies against the declaration of the sovereigns at Verona. This manifesto would doubt- less have authorised the most rigorous steps, and if the principles of moderation from which we never depart, and our relations with the King of Wurtemberg as a member of the Germanic Confederation, had not deterred us, we.

But whilst we were deliberating with our allies on the common measures most convenient to be taken in a case so unexpected, the King of Wurtem- berg, less struck, as I believe, with our displeasure than with the indiscreet applause of the ' Constitutionnel ' and other French journals of the same stamp, and dreading to be confounded with the avowed partisans of the revolutionary system, caused to be inserted in the ' Stuttgart Gazette ' a sort of retractation of his mani- festo, declaring his entire adhesion to the principles proclaimed in the circular of Verona.

This retrograde movement suggested to us the idea of a last attempt to recall, if it were possible, that sovereign from his un- happy errors. His Cabinet was told in the most con- ciliatory terms that the Emperor gladly accepted the declaration contained in the article of Stuttgart, but that, as a pledge of the sincerity of that profession, he. Not one of our propositions was admitted. After this last fruitless effort we have, con- jointly with the Court of Berlin, decided on confining our future relations with the Wurtemberg Government to those subjects which we are to treat of at the Diet of Frankfurt, suspending all political correspondence, recalling our embassies from Stuttgart, and leaving there only subordinate officers for the expedition of current affairs.

Knowing that his Majesty the Emperor of Eussia sees and judges as we do of the reasons which have led us to this resolution, we are persuaded that this monarch will not be long in placing himself in a similar position to ours with. Sir Eobert Gordon has, within the last few days, received a courier, by whom he has been charged to make me acquainted with a despatch from the prin- cipal Secretary of State, containing questions on which the British Cabinet desires to obtain some light.

Anxious to give this communication all the attention which the gravity of the subject demands, I have begged the English Minister to entrust me with Mr. Canning's despatch. In my reply I shall follow the order of that Minister's questions, and our explanations shall be frank and precise ; they will thus be worthy of two Courts long intimately connected in relations as happy as they are fruitful in beneficial results to the whole of Europe. The first question which the British Cabinet addresses to us touches on a declaration of neutrali ty on our part, which that Cabinet deduces from an article inserted in the Austrian ' Observer ' of February 5.

Canning has, in consequence of this version, confidentially com- municated to us many portions of his diplomatic correspondence relating to the great interest of the moment. He has taken occasion to express the hope ' that the King's Government may be able to find in Austria a support for the efforts he is making to prevent an event war between France and Spain. The article in the c Observer ' is clear and precise, and its object was only to destroy the game of a faction who, to bring about a fall in the funds, and especially in our own, had been endeavouring to make the public look upon a general war as the necessary consequence of any enterprise directed by France against the Spanish revolution.

The Emperor's political sentiments are too notorious for him to enter into explanations in a newspaper article intended for our public. He has con- sidered it sufficient to give the lie to the faction with- out entering into the dispute between the principles of preservation and destruction. The idea of neutrality in this struggle is incom- patible with our political 'System.

Fighting for the same cause for more than thirty years, forced some- times, by events too powerful for him, to suspend his action, but resuming it as often as more favourable circumstances allowed him, the Emperor could not declare himself neutral if a principle were in ques- tion on which the existence of his empire and the well-being of his people depended, a principle which we have never ceased to regard as the fundamental basis of the Alliance, and which, after a quarter of a century of storms and revolutions, has at last given peace to Europe, a peace which the Powers have main- tained with a constancy and scrupulosity unexampled in history, and which has been troubled only by the odious attempts of the habitual disturbers of the peace of nations.

The documents which the British Cabinet have much wished to communicate to us were, according to the confession of the writer, conceived ' with the object. Every action of France on Spain can only flow from two sources.

It may be founded on the principle which we profess, opposed, as it will always be, to those of revolution ; or it may spring from an exclu- sively French policy. France, in the first of these cases, would act in conformity with the principle of the Alliance ; in the second she would deviate from it. Iri the first of these hypotheses, she would have every right to the support of the allies ; in the second, Austria and the other Courts professing the same principles as ourselves would regard France as isolating herself, and by that very fact without a right to their support.

The application of this reasoning appears to us simple, just, and agreeable to the honour and good faith of the monarchs. In bringing forward the truths we have referred to, we by no means pretend to announce anything new to the British Government.

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