Early training exercises great power over the stomach as well as over the mind. In savage life, where the supplies of food are precarious, a single meal may be copious enough to serve for two or three days together. The monks of La Trappe make it part of their religion to eat only once a-day, and nothing but vegetable food—unless when sick, in which case milk is allowed; but it is long before they become reconciled to the restriction. I once travelled for three days in a French diligence with one of the order, then on his way from Italy to the Monastery of La Trappe, near Nantes, and observed that he scrupulously adhered to his single meal. He had a dispensation, however, authorizing him to eat animal food and use wine during his journey; and I was surprised at the extent to which he availed himself of the permission, by devouring at one time a store sufficient to last for a week instead of a day. But, as in the case of the Boa constrictor in similar circumstances, a deep lethargy immediately succeeded, and it was not till four or five hours afterwards that his almost apoplectic features became again animated and expressive: long before next meal, however, his renewed appetite betrayed itself by expressive glances towards the comforts of the breakfast-table.

Nature, then, has fixed no particular hours for eating, but has left us to adapt our regimen to our respective ages, constitutions, and modes of life. Where the mode of life is uniform, fixed hours may be adopted; where it is irregular, we ought to be guided by the real wants of the system as indicated by appetite.

According to this principle, meals ought to be early or late in proportion to the habits of the individual. If, adhering to the order of Nature, we work by day and sleep by night, then early breakfast, early dinner, and an early evening meal, will undoubtedly be the most conducive to sound digestion and the enjoyment of health. But if, against the laws of Nature, we rise from bed late in the forenoon, reserve our activity till late in the afternoon, and do not go to sleep till two or three hours before day-break, then assuredly the late breakfasts and dinners of the fashionable society of the present day are the best for our comfort that can be devised; and the chief error lies in the practice of those who, while they in other respects live in conformity with nature, adopt the hours which are suitable for those only who turn night into day and day into night.

The proper time for taking breakfast depends a good deal on the individual constitution and mode of life. Those who eat supper ought not to breakfast till one or two hours at least after rising; but persons who dine late and eat nothing afterwards require breakfast sooner. Individuals of a delicate frame are often unable for either bodily or mental exertion in the morning, and are invariably injured by any attempt at exercise or serious thinking before breakfast; but strong healthy persons and those in whom digestion is naturally slow, may enjoy and even be benefited by two or three hours of activity before their morning meal, especially if accustomed to eat supper. Experience is the only sure guide in such cases, but, as a general rule, breakfast about half an hour or an hour after rising will be found most beneficial; and those who rise very early will do well to follow the French custom of taking a cup of coffee or tea, and bread, on getting up, and reserve their appetite for a more substantial breakfast three hours later. This is an invaluable rule for students, who often seriously impair their digestive functions by studying for hours in the morning, regardless of the craving of the system for nourishment and support.

If exposure of any kind is to be incurred in the morning, whether to the weather or to the causes of disease, it becomes a matter of much importance that breakfast or some substitute for it, should be taken previously. It is well known that the system is more susceptible of infection, and of the influence of cold, miasma, and other morbid causes, in the morning before eating than at any other time; and hence it has become a point of duty with all naval and military commanders, especially in bad climates, always to give their men breakfast before exposing them to morning dews or other noxious influences. Sir George Ballingall even mentions a regiment quartered in Newcastle, in which typhus fever was very prevalent, and in which, of all the means used to check its progress, nothing proved so successful as an early breakfast of warm coffee. In aguish countries, also, experience has shewn that the proportion of sick among those who are exposed to the open air before getting any thing to eat is infinitely greater than among those who have been fortified by a comfortable breakfast. Where there is any delicacy of constitution, the risk is of course increased.

The cause of this susceptibility in the morning is not difficult to be discovered. Not only have the stomach, duodenum, and upper intestine, been entirely empty for several hours, but the absorbents and other parts engaged in the function of alimentation have likewise been in a state of repose, and now awake, refreshed, and ready for action. A considerable exhalation from the skin and lungs has, at the same time, been going on; which, taken along with the deposition of new particles to the existing organization, necessarily reduces the quantity and quality of the circulating fluids, and thereby communicates a stimulus to the absorbents which fits them for imbibing that nourishment, of which the system stands peculiarly in need, but which, where legitimate food is denied to them, equally excites them to imbibe any morbid agent which may happen to solicit their action. The great loss of fluid by exhalation during the night, and the consequent demand for liquids in the morning, explain why our first daily meal is almost universally of a more fluid and less substantial description than any of the subsequent ones; while our active exertion and loss of solids during the day create a proportionate demand for a more substantial repast in the afternoon.

The function of absorption then is at its highest pitch of activity in the morning, simply because every part of the frame is craving for a supply to repair the losses which it has sustained; and if the body be exposed to miasma or other impurities, they will be much more easily and speedily absorbed by the skin, the pulmonary membrane, and the stomach, before eating than after the absorbents have been supplied with their legitimate food. This is the true theory of the greater susceptibility of infection and other poisonous influences when the stomach is empty.

So rapid is absorption from the stomach in the morning, that I have repeatedly seen nine tumblers of a saline mineral water taken at eight o’clock, and a very hearty breakfast finished within half an hour after the water was drunk! When in bad health three years ago, I observed almost equal expedition in my own person. I took half a pint of ass’s milk at seven o’clock, and in consequence of coughing violently was frequently seized with vomiting and retching within twenty minutes after taking it; but only twice or thrice was any portion of the milk perceptible, although the stomach was entirely emptied. This was even more remarkable than the other case, inasmuch as milk undergoes digestion, which water does not. In allusion to this rapidity of absorption, Sir Francis Head, in speaking of the quantity of the chalybeate waters swallowed of a morning at the Brunnens of Nassau, humorously remarks, that “one would think that this deluge of cold water would leave little room for tea and sugar; but, miraculous as it may sound, by the time I got to my ‘Hof’ there was as much stowage in the vessel as when she sailed: besides this, the steel created an appetite which was very difficult to govern.”[36]

In setting out early to travel, a light breakfast before starting is a great protection against colds and subsequent fatigue or exhaustion. I am quite aware that robust and healthy men can and do take much active exercise before breakfast, with apparent impunity if not benefit, and I have often done so myself; but experience ultimately taught me that I became sooner exhausted on continuing the exertion through the day, than when I began by eating a little. During the first winter of my studies in Paris, I regularly attended the surgical visits at the Hotel Dieu, which began at six o’clock in the morning and lasted till nine or frequently half-past nine. Not being then aware of the principle under discussion, I ate nothing till my return home; but I felt more weariness before the day was done than the mere exertion ought to have produced. At last, on noticing for a time the regularity with which many of the work-people passing along paid their respects at a small shop, the only one then open, where fancy rolls were sold, along with wine and brandy, I thought of following their example, and trying how far a roll would add to my comfort. I soon found great reason to be pleased with the expedient, and discovered that I was not only less exhausted during the day, but more able to follow the lecture which concluded the visit, and in possession of a keener appetite for breakfast at my return; and ever since, I have acted on the principle now inculcated, and with marked benefit. I was then astonished at the regularity with which the Parisian workmen seemed to take their morning allowance of brandy on their way to their labours, apparently for the very purpose of getting that wholesome energy which they ought to have sought in food alone.

During the prevalence of cholera both here and on the Continent, it was often remarked that a large proportion of the attacks occurred early in the morning, in persons who had gone to bed apparently well. Chronic invalids and persons of a delicate habit of body are also familiar with the fact of the animal heat and general vigour diminishing towards morning. When reduced in strength by pulmonary complaints, I often passed the night in comparative comfort, sure to awake about four or five o’clock with a feeling of chill and absence of animal heat, which I could not dissipate till after receiving sustenance.