Men of letters are courted on account of their talent, and because their conversation is in general piquant, and because it has for some time been established, that every society should have its man of letters.

These gentlemen always come a little too late:  they are not however received the most on that account, for they have been anxiously expected:  they are petted up to induce them to come again, are flattered to make them brilliant, and as they find all this very natural, they grow used to it and become genuine gourmands.

    Devotees.

Among the friends of gourmandise are many very devout persons.

By the word devotee, we understand what Louis XIV. and Moliere did, persons the piety of whom consists in external observances; pious and charitable persons have nothing to do with this class.

Let us see how they effect this—­among those who work out their salvation, the greatest number seek the mildest method.  Those who avoid society, sleep on the ground and wear hair cloth, are always exceptions.

Now there are to them certain damnable things never to be permitted, such as balls, plays, and other amusements.

While they and those who enjoy them are abominated, gourmandise assumes an altogether different aspect, and becomes almost theological.

Jure divino, man is the king of nature and all that earth creates was produced for him.  For him the quail becomes fat, the mocha has its perfume, and sugar becomes beneficial to the health.

Why then should we not use with suitable moderation the goods which Providence offers us, especially as we continue to look on them as perishable things, and as they exalt our appreciation of the Creator.

Other not less weighty reasons strengthen these—­can we receive too kindly those persons who take charge of our souls?  Should we not make a meeting with them pleasant and agreeable?

Sometimes the gifts of Comus come unexpectedly.  An old college companion, an old friend, a penitent who humbles himself, a kinsman who makes himself known or a protege recalls them.

This has ever been the case.

Convents were the true ware-houses of the most adorable delacies:  for that reason they have been so much regretted. [Footnote:  The best liquors in France were made of the Visitandines.  The monks of Niort invented the conserve of Angelica, and the bread flavoured with orange flowers by the notes of Chiteau-Thierry is yet famous.  The nuns of Belley used also to make a delicious conserve of nuts.  Alas, it is lost, I am afraid.]

Many monastic orders, especially the Bernardins paid great attention to good cheer.  The cooks of the clergy reached the very limits of the art, and M. de Pressigny (who died Archbishop of Besancon) returned from the conclave which elected Pro Sesto, he said the best dinner he ate in Rome was given by the General of the Capuchins.