by Mark Twain
AT THE APPETITE-CURE
This establishment's name is Hochberghaus. It is in Bohemia, a shortday's journey from Vienna, and being in the Austrian Empire is of coursea health resort. The empire is made up of health resorts; it distributeshealth to the whole world. Its waters are all medicinal. They arebottled and sent throughout the earth; the natives themselves drinkbeer. This is self-sacrifice apparently--but outlanders who have drunkVienna beer have another idea about it. Particularly the Pilsnerwhich one gets in a small cellar up an obscure back lane in the FirstBezirk--the name has escaped me, but the place is easily found: Youinquire for the Greek church; and when you get to it, go right alongby--the next house is that little beer-mill. It is remote from alltraffic and all noise; it is always Sunday there. There are two smallrooms, with low ceilings supported by massive arches; the arches andceilings are whitewashed, otherwise the rooms would pass for cells inthe dungeons of a bastile. The furniture is plain and cheap, there is noornamentation anywhere; yet it is a heaven for the self-sacrificers, forthe beer there is incomparable; there is nothing like it elsewhere inthe world. In the first room you will find twelve or fifteen ladies andgentlemen of civilian quality; in the other one a dozen generals andambassadors. One may live in Vienna many months and not hear of thisplace; but having once heard of it and sampled it, the sampler willafterward infest it.
However, this is all incidental--a mere passing note of gratitude forblessings received--it has nothing to do with my subject. My subjectis health resorts. All unhealthy people ought to domicile themselves inVienna, and use that as a base, making flights from time to time to theoutlying resorts, according to need. A flight to Marienbad to get ridof fat; a flight to Carlsbad to get rid of rheumatism; a flight toKalteneutgeben to take the water cure and get rid of the rest of thediseases. It is all so handy. You can stand in Vienna and toss a biscuitinto Kaltenleutgeben, with a twelve-inch gun. You can run out thither atany time of the day; you go by phenomenally slow trains, and yet insideof an hour you have exchanged the glare and swelter of the city forwooded hills, and shady forest paths, and soft cool airs, and the musicof birds, and the repose and the peace of paradise.
And there are plenty of other health resorts at your service andconvenient to get at from Vienna; charming places, all of them; Viennasits in the centre of a beautiful world of mountains with now and then alake and forests; in fact, no other city is so fortunately situated.
There is an abundance of health resorts, as I have said. Among them thisplace--Hochberghaus. It stands solitary on the top of a densely woodedmountain, and is a building of great size. It is called the AppetiteAnstallt, and people who have lost their appetites come here to getthem restored. When I arrived I was taken by Professor Haimberger to hisconsulting-room and questioned:
'It is six o'clock. When did you eat last?'
'At noon.'
'What did you eat?'
'Next to nothing.'
'What was on the table?'
'The usual things.'
'Chops, chickens, vegetables, and so on?'
'Yes; but don't mention them--I can't bear it.'
'Are you tired of them?'
'Oh, utterly. I wish I might never hear of them again.'
'The mere sight of food offends you, does it?'
'More, it revolts me.'
The doctor considered awhile, then got out a long menu and ran his eyeslowly down it.
'I think,' said he, 'that what you need to eat is--but here, choose foryourself.'
I glanced at the list, and my stomach threw a hand-spring. Of allthe barbarous lay-outs that were ever contrived, this was the mostatrocious. At the top stood 'tough, underdone, overdue tripe, garnishedwith garlic;' half-way down the bill stood 'young cat; old cat;scrambled cat;' at the bottom stood 'sailor-boots, softened withtallow--served raw.' The wide intervals of the bill were packed withdishes calculated to gag a cannibal. I said:
'Doctor, it is not fair to joke over so serious a case as mine. I camehere to get an appetite, not to throw away the remnant that's left.'
He said gravely: 'I am not joking; why should I joke?'
'But I can't eat these horrors.'
'Why not?'
He said it with a naivete that was admirable, whether it was real orassumed.
'Why not? Because--why, doctor, for months I have seldom been able toendure anything more substantial than omelettes and custards. Theseunspeakable dishes of yours--'
'Oh, you will come to like them. They are very good. And you must eatthem. It is a rule of the place, and is strict. I cannot permit anydeparture from it.'
I said smiling: 'Well, then, doctor, you will have to permit thedeparture of the patient. I am going.'
He looked hurt, and said in a way which changed the aspect of things:
'I am sure you would not do me that injustice. I accepted you in goodfaith--you will not shame that confidence. This appetite-cure is mywhole living. If you should go forth from it with the sort of appetitewhich you now have, it could become known, and you can see, yourself,that people would say my cure failed in your case and hence can fail inother cases. You will not go; you will not do me this hurt.'
I apologised and said I would stay.
'That is right. I was sure you would not go; it would take the food frommy family's mouths.'
'Would they mind that? Do they eat these fiendish things?'
'They? My family?' His eyes were full of gentle wonder. 'Of course not.'
'Oh, they don't! Do you?'
'Certainly not.'
'I see. It's another case of a physician who doesn't take his ownmedicine.'
'I don't need it. It is six hours since you lunched. Will you havesupper now--or later?'
'I am not hungry, but now is as good a time as any, and I would like tobe done with it and have it off my mind. It is about my usual time,and regularity is commanded by all the authorities. Yes, I will try tonibble a little now--I wish a light horsewhipping would answer instead.'
The professor handed me that odious menu.
'Choose--or will you have it later?'
'Oh, dear me, show me to my room; I forgot your hard rule.'
'Wait just a moment before you finally decide. There is another rule. Ifyou choose now, the order will be filled at once; but if you wait, youwill have to await my pleasure. You cannot get a dish from that entirebill until I consent.'
'All right. Show me to my room, and send the cook to bed; there is notgoing to be any hurry.'
The professor took me up one flight of stairs and showed me into a mostinviting and comfortable apartment consisting of parlour, bedchamber,and bathroom.
The front windows looked out over a far-reaching spread of green gladesand valleys, and tumbled hills clothed with forests--a noble solitudeunvexed by the fussy world. In the parlour were many shelves filled withbooks. The professor said he would now leave me to myself; and added:
'Smoke and read as much as you please, drink all the water you like.When you get hungry, ring and give your order, and I will decide whetherit shall be filled or not. Yours is a stubborn, bad case, and I thinkthe first fourteen dishes in the bill are each and all too delicate forits needs. I ask you as a favour to restrain yourself and not call forthem.'
'Restrain myself, is it? Give yourself no uneasiness. You are going tosave money by me. The idea of coaxing a sick man's appetite back withthis buzzard-fare is clear insanity.'
I said it with bitterness, for I felt outraged by this calm, cold talkover these heartless new engines of assassination. The doctor lookedgrieved, but not offended. He laid the bill of fare of the commode at mybed's head, 'so that it would be handy,' and said:
'Yours is not the worst case I have encountered, by any means; stillit is a bad one and requires robust treatment; therefore I shall begratified if you will restrain yourself and skip down to No. 15 andbegin with that.'
Then he left me and I began to undress, for I was dog-tired and verysleepy. I slept fifteen hours and woke up finely refreshed
at ten thenext morning. Vienna coffee! It was the first thing I thought of--thatunapproachable luxury--that sumptuous coffee-house coffee, compared withwhich all other European coffee and all American hotel coffee is merefluid poverty. I rang, and ordered it; also Vienna bread, that deliciousinvention. The servant spoke through the wicket in the door andsaid--but you know what he said. He referred me to the bill of fare. Iallowed him to go--I had no further use for him.
After the bath I dressed and started for a walk, and got as far as thedoor. It was locked on the outside. I rang, and the servant came andexplained that it was another rule. The seclusion of the patient wasrequired until after the first meal. I had not been particularly anxiousto get out before; but it was different now. Being locked in makes aperson wishful to get out. I soon began to find it difficult to put inthe time. At two o'clock I had been twenty-six hours without food. Ihad been growing hungry for some time; I recognised that I was not onlyhungry now, but hungry with a strong adjective in front of it. Yet I wasnot hungry enough to face the bill of fare.
I must put in the time somehow. I would read and smoke. I did it; hourby hour. The books were all of one breed--shipwrecks; people lost indeserts; people shut up in caved-in mines; people starving in besiegedcities. I read about all the revolting dishes that ever famishingmen had stayed their hunger with. During the first hours these thingsnauseated me: hours followed in which they did not so affect me; stillother hours followed in which I found myself smacking my lips over sometolerably infernal messes. When I had been without food forty-five hoursI ran eagerly to the bell and ordered the second dish in the bill, whichwas a sort of dumplings containing a compost made of caviar and tar.
It was refused me. During the next fifteen hours I visited the bellevery now and then and ordered a dish that was further down the list.Always a refusal. But I was conquering prejudice after prejudice, rightalong; I was making sure progress; I was creeping up on No. 15 withdeadly certainty, and my heart beat faster and faster, my hopes rosehigher and higher.
At last when food had not passed my lips for sixty hours, victory wasmine, and I ordered No. 15:
'Soft-boiled spring chicken--in the egg; six dozen, hot and fragrant!'
In fifteen minutes it was there; and the doctor along with it, rubbinghis hands with joy. He said with great excitement:
'It's a cure, it's a cure! I knew I could do it. Dear sir, my grandsystem never failed--never. You've got your appetite back--you know youhave; say it and make me happy.'
'Bring on your carrion--I can eat anything in the bill!'
'Oh, this is noble, this is splendid--but I knew I could do it, thesystem never fails. How are the birds?'
'Never was anything so delicious in the world; and yet as a rule I don'tcare for game. But don't interrupt me, don't--I can't spare my mouth, Ireally can't.'
Then the doctor said:
'The cure is perfect. There is no more doubt nor danger. Let the poultryalone; I can trust you with a beefsteak, now.'
The beefsteak came--as much as a basketful of it--with potatoes, andVienna bread and coffee; and I ate a meal then that was worth all thecostly preparation I had made for it. And dripped tears of gratitudeinto the gravy all the time--gratitude to the doctor for putting alittle plain common-sense into me when I had been empty of it so many,many years.
II
Thirty years ago Haimberger went off on a long voyage in a sailing-ship.There were fifteen passengers on board. The table-fare was of theregulation pattern of the day: At 7 in the morning, a cup of bad coffeein bed; at 9, breakfast: bad coffee, with condensed milk; soggy rolls,crackers, salt fish; at 1 P.M., luncheon: cold tongue, cold ham, coldcorned beef, soggy cold rolls, crackers; 5 P.M., dinner: thick peasoup, salt fish, hot corned beef and sour kraut, boiled pork and beans,pudding; 9 till 11 P.M., supper: tea, with condensed milk, cold tongue,cold ham, pickles, sea-biscuit, pickled oysters, pickled pigs' feet,grilled bones, golden buck.
At the end of the first week eating had ceased, nibbling had taken itsplace. The passengers came to the table, but it was partly to put inthe time, and partly because the wisdom of the ages commanded them tobe regular in their meals. They were tired of the coarse and monotonousfare, and took no interest in it, had no appetite for it. All day andevery day they roamed the ship half hungry, plagued by their gnawingstomachs, moody, untalkative, miserable. Among them were three confirmeddyspeptics. These became shadows in the course of three weeks. There wasalso a bed-ridden invalid; he lived on boiled rice; he could not look atthe regular dishes.
Now came shipwrecks and life in open boats, with the usual paucity offood. Provisions ran lower and lower. The appetites improved, then.When nothing was left but raw ham and the ration of that was down totwo ounces a day per person, the appetites were perfect. At the end offifteen days the dyspeptics, the invalid, and the most delicate ladiesin the party were chewing sailor-boots in ecstasy, and only complainingbecause the supply of them was limited. Yet these were the same peoplewho couldn't endure the ship's tedious corned beef and sour kraut andother crudities. They were rescued by an English vessel. Within ten daysthe whole fifteen were in as good condition as they had been when theshipwreck occurred.
'They had suffered no damage by their adventure,' said the professor.
'Do you note that?'
'Yes.'
'Do you note it well?'
'Yes--I think I do.'
'But you don't. You hesitate. You don't rise to the importance of it. Iwill say it again--with emphasis--not one of them suffered any damage.'
'Now I begin to see. Yes, it was indeed remarkable.'
'Nothing of the kind. It was perfectly natural. There was no reason whythey should suffer damage. They were undergoing Nature's Appetite-Cure,the best and wisest in the world.'
'Is that where you got your idea?'
'That is where I got it.'
'It taught those people a valuable lesson.'
'What makes you think that?'
'Why shouldn't I? You seem to think it taught you one.'
'That is nothing to the point. I am not a fool.'
'I see. Were they fools?'
'They were human beings.'
'Is it the same thing?'
'Why do you ask? You know it yourself. As regards his health--and therest of the things--the average man is what his environment and hissuperstitions have made him; and their function is to make him an ass.He can't add up three or four new circumstances together and perceivewhat they mean; it is beyond him. He is not capable of observing forhimself; he has to get everything at second-hand. If what are miscalledthe lower animals were as silly as man is, they would all perish fromthe earth in a year.'
'Those passengers learned no lesson, then?'
'Not a sign of it. They went to their regular meals in the Englishship, and pretty soon they were nibbling again--nibbling, appetiteless,disgusted with the food, moody, miserable, half hungry, their outragedstomachs cursing and swearing and whining and supplicating all day long.And in vain, for they were the stomachs of fools.'
'Then, as I understand it, your scheme is--'
'Quite simple. Don't eat until you are hungry. If the food fails totaste good, fails to satisfy you, rejoice you, comfort you, don't eatagain until you are very hungry. Then it will rejoice you--and do yougood, too.'
'And I am to observe no regularity, as to hours?'
'When you are conquering a bad appetite--no. After it is conquered,regularity is no harm, so long as the appetite remains good. As soon asthe appetite wavers, apply the corrective again--which is starvation,long or short according to the needs of the case.'
'The best diet, I suppose--I mean the wholesomest--'
'All diets are wholesome. Some are wholesomer than others, but all theordinary diets are wholesome enough for the people who use them. Whetherthe food be fine or coarse it will taste good and it will nourish if awatch be kept upon the appetite and a little starvation introduced everytime it weakens. Nansen was used to fine fare, but when his meals wer
erestricted to bear-meat months at a time he suffered no damage and nodiscomfort, because his appetite was kept at par through the difficultyof getting his bear-meat regularly.'
'But doctors arrange carefully considered and delicate diets forinvalids.'
'They can't help it. The invalid is full of inherited superstitions andwon't starve himself. He believes it would certainly kill him.'
'It would weaken him, wouldn't it?'
'Nothing to hurt. Look at the invalids in our shipwreck. They livedfifteen days on pinches of raw ham, a suck at sailor-boots, and generalstarvation. It weakened them, but it didn't hurt them. It put them infine shape to eat heartily of hearty food and build themselves up to acondition of robust health. But they did not know enough to profit bythat; they lost their opportunity; they remained invalids; it servedthem right. Do you know the trick that the health-resort doctors play?'
'What is it?'
'My system disguised--covert starvation. Grape-cure, bath-cure,mud-cure--it is all the same. The grape and the bath and the mud makea show and do a trifle of the work--the real work is done by thesurreptitious starvation. The patient accustomed to four meals and latehours--at both ends of the day--now consider what he has to do at ahealth resort. He gets up at 6 in the morning. Eats one egg. Tramps upand down a promenade two hours with the other fools. Eats a butterfly.Slowly drinks a glass of filtered sewage that smells like a buzzard'sbreath. Promenades another two hours, but alone; if you speak to himhe says anxiously, "My water!--I am walking off my water!--please don'tinterrupt," and goes stumping along again. Eats a candied roseleaf. Liesat rest in the silence and solitude of his room for hours; mustn't read,mustn't smoke. The doctor comes and feels of his heart, now, and hispulse, and thumps his breast and his back and his stomach, and listensfor results through a penny flageolet; then orders the man's bath--halfa degree, Reaumur, cooler than yesterday. After the bath another egg.A glass of sewage at three or four in the afternoon, and promenadesolemnly with the other freaks. Dinner at 6--half a doughnut and a cupof tea. Walk again. Half-past 8, supper--more butterfly; at 9, to bed.Six weeks of this regime--think of it. It starves a man out and putshim in splendid condition. It would have the same effect in London, NewYork, Jericho--anywhere.'
'How long does it take to put a person in condition here?'
'It ought to take but a day or two; but in fact it takes from one to sixweeks, according to the character and mentality of the patient.'
'How is that?'
'Do you see that crowd of women playing football, and boxing, andjumping fences yonder? They have been here six or seven weeks. They werespectral poor weaklings when they came. They were accustomed to nibblingat dainties and delicacies at set hours four times a day, and they hadno appetite for anything. I questioned them, and then locked them intotheir rooms--the frailest ones to starve nine or ten hours, the otherstwelve or fifteen. Before long they began to beg; and indeed theysuffered a good deal. They complained of nausea, headache, and so on. Itwas good to see them eat when the time was up. They could not rememberwhen the devouring of a meal had afforded them such rapture--that wastheir word. Now, then, that ought to have ended their cure, but itdidn't. They were free to go to any meals in the house, and they chosetheir accustomed four. Within a day or two I had to interfere. Theirappetites were weakening. I made them knock out a meal. That set them upagain. Then they resumed the four. I begged them to learn to knock outa meal themselves, without waiting for me. Up to a fortnight ago theycouldn't; they really hadn't manhood enough; but they were gaining it,and now I think they are safe. They drop out a meal every now and thenof their own accord. They are in fine condition now, and they mightsafely go home, I think, but their confidence is not quite perfect yet,so they are waiting awhile.'
'Other cases are different?'
'Oh yes. Sometimes a man learns the whole trick in a week. Learns toregulate his appetite and keep it in perfect order. Learns to drop out ameal with frequency and not mind it.'
'But why drop the entire meal out? Why not a part of it?'
'It's a poor device, and inadequate. If the stomach doesn't callvigorously--with a shout, as you may say--it is better not to pesterit but just give it a real rest. Some people can eat more meals thanothers, and still thrive. There are all sorts of people, and all sortsof appetites. I will show you a man presently who was accustomed tonibble at eight meals a day. It was beyond the proper gait of hisappetite by two. I have got him down to six a day, now, and he is allright, and enjoys life. How many meals to you affect per day?'
'Formerly--for twenty-two years--a meal and a half; during the past twoyears, two and a half: coffee and a roll at 9, luncheon at 1, dinner at7.30 or 8.'
'Formerly a meal and a half--that is, coffee and a roll at 9, dinner inthe evening, nothing between--is that it?
'Yes.'
'Why did you add a meal?'
'It was the family's idea. They were uneasy. They thought I was killingmyself.'
'You found a meal and a half per day enough, all through the twenty-twoyears?'
'Plenty.'
'Your present poor condition is due to the extra meal. Drop it out. Youare trying to eat oftener than your stomach demands. You don't gain, youlose. You eat less food now, in a day, on two and a half meals, than youformerly ate on one and a half.'
'True--a good deal less; for in those olds days my dinner was a verysizeable thing.'
'Put yourself on a single meal a day, now--dinner--for a few days, tillyou secure a good, sound, regular, trustworthy appetite, then take toyour one and a half permanently, and don't listen to the family anymore. When you have any ordinary ailment, particularly of a feverishsort, eat nothing at all during twenty-four hours. That will cure it. Itwill cure the stubbornest cold in the head, too. No cold in the head cansurvive twenty-four hours' unmodified starvation.'
I know it. I have proved it many a time.
