Chapter 3

I will therefore give an account of my recreations, and the relish which I find at this stage of life, in order to convince the public (which may likewise be done by all those who know me) that the state I have now attained to is by no means death, but real life; such a life, as by many is deemed happy, since it abounds with all the felicity that can be enjoyed in this world. And this testimony they will give, in the first place, because they see, and not without the greatest amazement, the good state of health and spirits I enjoy; how I mount my horse without any assistance, or advantage of situation; and how I not only ascend a single flight of stairs, but climb up an hill from bottom to top, afoot, and with the greatest of ease and unconcern; then how gay, pleasant, and good-humoured I am; how free from every perturbation of mind, and every disagreeable thought; in lieu of which, joy and peace have so firmly fixed their residence in my bosom, as never to depart from it. Moreover, they know in what manner I pass my time, so as not to find life a burden; seeing I can contrive to spend every hour of it with the greatest delight and pleasure, having frequent opportunities of conversing with many honourable gentlemen, men valuable for their good sense and manners, their acquaintance with letters, and every other good quality. Then, when I cannot enjoy their conversation, I betake myself to the reading of some good book. When I have read as much as I like, I write; endeavouring, in this as in everything else, to be of service to others, to the utmost of my power. And all these things I do with the greatest ease to myself, at their proper seasons, and in my own house; which, besides being situated in the most beautiful quarter of this noble and learned city of Padua, is, in itself, really convenient and handsome, such, in a word, as it is no longer the fashion to build; for, in one part of it, I can shelter myself from extreme heat; and, in the other, from extreme cold, having contrived the apartments according to the rules of architecture, which teach us what is to be observed in practice. Besides this house, I have my several gardens, supplied with running waters; and in which I always find something to do, that amuses me. I have another way of diverting myself, which is going every April and May; and, likewise, every September and October, for some days, to enjoy an eminence belonging to me in the Euganean mountains, and in the most beautiful part of them, adorned with fountains and gardens; and, above all, a convenient and handsome lodge; in which place I likewise now and then make one in some hunting party suitable to my taste and age. Then I enjoy for as many days my villa in the plain, which is laid out in regular streets, all terminating in a large square, in the middle of which stands a church, suited to the condition of the place. This villa is divided by a wide and rapid branch of the river Brenta, on both sides of which there is a considerable extent of country, consisting intirely of fertile and well-cultivated fields. Besides, this district is now, God be praised, exceedingly well inhabited, which it was not at first, but rather the reverse; for it was marshy; and the air so unwholesome, as to make it a residence fitter for snakes than men. But, on my draining off the waters, the air mended, and people resorted to it so fast, and increased to such a degree, that it soon acquired the perfection in which it now appears: hence, I may say with truth, that I have offered this place, an alter and a temple to God, with souls to adore him: these are things which afford me infinite pleasure, comfort, and satisfaction, as often as I go to see and enjoy them.

At the same seasons every year, I revisit some of the neighbouring cities, and enjoy such of my friends as live there, taking the greatest pleasure in their company and conversation; and by their means I also enjoy the conversation of other men of parts, who live in the same places; such as architects, painters, sculptors, musicians, and husbandmen, with whom this age certainly abounds. I visit their new works; I revisit their former ones; and I always learn something, which gives me satisfaction. I see palaces, gardens, antiquities; and with these, the squares and other public places, the churches, the fortifications, leaving nothing unobserved, from whence I may reap either entertainment or instruction. But what delights me most, is, in my journies backwards and forwards, to contemplate the situation and other beauties of the places I pass through; some in the plain, others on hills, adjoining to rivers or fountains; with a great many fine houses and gardens. Nor are my recreations rendered less agreeable and entertaining by my not feeling well, or not hearing readily every thing that is said to me; or by any other of my faculties not being perfect; for they are all, thank God, in the highest perfection; particularly my palate, which now relishes better the simple fare I eat, wherever I happen to be, than it formerly did with the most delicate dishes, when I led an irregular life. Nor does the change of beds give me any uneasiness, so that I sleep every where soundly and quietly, without experiencing the least disturbance; and all my dreams are pleasant and delightful.

It is likewise with the greatest pleasure and satisfaction I behold the success of an undertaking so important to this state, I mean that of draining and improving so many uncultivated pieces of ground, an undertaking begun within my memory; and which I never thought I should live to see compleated; knowing how slow republics are apt to proceed in enterprises of great importance. Nevertheless, I have lived to see it; and was even in person, in the marshy places, along with those appointed to superintend the draining of them, for two months together, during the greatest heats of summer, without ever finding myself the worse for the fatigues of inconveniences I suffered; of so much efficacy is that orderly life, which I every where constantly lead.

What is more, I am in the greatest hopes, or rather sure, to see the beginning and completion of another undertaking of no less importance, which is that of preserving our estuary or port, that last and wonderful bulwark of my dear country, the preservation of which (it is not to flatter my vanity to say it, but merely to do justice to the truth) has been more than once recommended by me to this republic, by word of mouth, and in writings which cost me many nights study. And to this dear country of mine, as I am bound by the laws of nature to do every thing, from which it may reap any benefit, so I most ardently wish perpetual duration, and a long succession of every kind of prosperity. Such are my genuine and no trifling satisfactions; such are the recreations and diversions of my old age, which is so much the more to be valued than the old age, or even youth, of other men, because being freed, by God's grace, from the perturbations of the mind, and the infirmities of the body, it no longer experiences any of those contrary emotions, which torment a number of young men, and many old ones destitute of strength and health, and every other blessing.

And if it be lawful to compare little matters, and such as are esteemed trifling, to affairs of importance, I will further venture to say, that such are the effects of this sober life, that at my present age of eighty-three, I have been able to write a very entertaining comedy, abounding with innocent mirth and pleasant jests. This species of composition is generally the child and offspring of youth, as tragedy is that of old age; the former being by its facetious and sprightly turn suited to the bloom of life, and the latter by its gravity adapted to riper years. Now, if that good old man [Sophocles], a Grecian by birth, and a poet, was so much extolled for having written a tragedy at the age of seventy-three, and, on that account alone, reputed of sound memory and understanding, though tragedy be a grave and melancholy poem; why should I be deemed less happy, and to have a smaller share of memory and understanding, who have, at an age, ten years more advanced than his, written a comedy, which, as every one knows, is a merry and pleasant kind of composition? And, indeed, if I may be allowed to be an impartial judge in my own cause, I cannot help thinking, that I am now of sounder memory and understanding, and heartier, than hew was when ten years younger.

And, that no comfort might be wanting to the fulness of my years, whereby my great age may be rendered less irksome, or rather the number of my enjoyments increased, I have the additional comfort of seeing a kind of immortality in a succession of descendants. For, as often as I return home, I find there, before me, not one or two, but eleven grandchildren, the oldest of them eighteen, and the youngest two; all the offspring of one father and one mother; all blessed with the best health; and, by what as yet appears, fond of learning, and of good parts and morals. Some of the youngest I always play with; and, indeed, children from three to five are only fit for play. Those above that age I make companions of; and, as nature has bestowed very fine voices upon them, I amuse myself, besides, with seeing and hearing them sing, and play on various instruments. Nay, I sing myself, as I have a better voice now, and a clearer and louder pipe, than at any other period of life. Such are the recreations of my old age.

Whence it appears, that the life I lead is chearful, and not gloomy, as some persons pretend, who know no better; to whom, in order that it may appear what value I set on every other kind of life, I must declare, that I would not exchange my manner of living or my grey hairs with any of those young men, even of the best constitution, who give way to their appetites; knowing, as I do, that such are daily, nay hourly, subject, as I have observed, to a thousand kind of ailments and deaths. This is, in fact, so obvious, as to require no proof. Nay, I remember perfectly well, how I used to behave at that time of life. I know how inconsiderately that age is apt to act, and how foolhardy young men, hurried on by the heat of their blood, are wont to be; how apt they are to presume too much on their own strength in all their actions; and how sanguine they are in their expectations; as well on account of the little experience they have had for the the time past, as by reason of the power they enjoy in their own imaginations over the time to come. Hence they expose themselves rashly to every kind of danger; and, banishing reason, and bowing their necks to the yoke of concupiscence, endeavour to gratify all their appetites, not minding, fools as they are, that they thereby hasten, as I have several times observed, the approach of what they would most willingly avoid, I mean sickness, and death. Of these two evils, one is troublesome and painful, the other, above all things, dreadful and insupportable; insupportable to every man, who has given himself up to his sensual appetites, and to young men in particular, to whom it appears a hardship to die an early death; dreadful to those, who reflect on the errors, to which this mortal life is subject, and on the vengeance, which the justice of God is wont to take on sinners, by condemning them to everlasting punishment. On the other hand, I, in my old age (praise to the Almighty) am exempt from both these apprehensions; from the one, because I am sure and certain, that I cannot fall sick, having removed all the causes of illness by my divine medicine; from the other, that of death, because from so many years experience I have learned to obey reason; whence I not only think it a great piece of folly to fear that, which cannot be avoided, but likewise firmly expect some consolation, from the grace of Jesus Christ, when I shall arrive at that period.

Besides, though I am sensible that I must, like others, reach that term, it is yet at so great a distance, that I cannot discern it, because I know I shall not die except by mere dissolution, having already, by my regular course of life, shut up all the other avenues of death, and thereby prevented the humours of my body from making any other war upon me, than that which I must expect from the elements employed in the composition of this mortal frame. I am not so simple as not to know, that, as I was born, so I must die. But that is a desirable death, which nature brings on us by way of dissolution. For nature, having herself formed the union between our body and soul, knows best in what manner it may be most easily dissolved, and grants us a longer day to do it, than we could expect from sickness, which is violent. This is the death, which, without speaking like a poet, I may call, not death, but life. Nor can it be otherwise. Such a death does not overtake one till after a very long course of years, and in consequence of an extreme weakness; it being only by slow degrees, that men grow too feeble to walk, and unable to reason, becoming blind, and deaf, decrepid, and full of every other kind of infirmity. Now I (by God's blessing) may be quite sure that I am at a very great distance from such a period. Nay, I have reason to think, that my soul, having so agreeable a dwelling in my body, as not to meet with any thing in it but peace, love, and harmony, not only between its humours, but between my reason and my senses, is exceedingly content and well pleased with her present situation: and of course, that a great length of time and many years must be requisite to dislodge her. Whence it must be concluded for certain, that I have still a series of years to live in health and spirits, and enjoy this beautiful world, which is, indeed, beautiful to those, who know how to make it so, as I have done, and likewise expect to be able to do, with God's assistance, in the next; and all by the means of virtue, and that divine regularity of life, which I have adopted, concluding an alliance with my reason, and declaring war against my sensual appetites; a thing which every man may do, who desired to live as he ought.

Now, if this sober life be so happy; if its name be so desirable and delightful; if the possession of the blessings which attend it, be so stable and permanent, all I have still left to do, is to beseech (since I cannot compass my desires by the powers of oratory) every man of a liberal disposition, and sound understanding, to embrace with open arms this most valuable treasure of a long and healthy life; a treasure, which as it exceeds all the other riches and blessings of this world, so it deserves above all things to be cherished, sought after, and carefully preserved. This is that divine sobriety, agreeable to the Deity, the friend of nature, the daughter of reason, the sister of all the virtues, the companion of temperate living, modest, courteous, content with little, regular, and perfect mistress of all her operations. From her, as from their proper root, spring life, health, chearfulness, industry, learning, and all those actions and employments worth of noble and generous minds. The laws of God and man are all in her favour. Repletion, excess, intemperance, superfluous humours, diseases, fevers, pains, and the dangers of death, vanish, in her presence, like clouds before the sun. Her comeliness ravishes every well-disposed mind. Her influence is so sure, as to promise to all a very long and agreeable existence; the facility of acquiring her is such, as ought to induce every one to look for her, and share in her victories. And, lastly, she promises to be a mild and agreeable guardian of life; as well of the rich as of the poor; of the male as of the female sex; the old as of the young; being that, which teaches the rich modesty; the poor frugality; men, continence; women, chastity; the old, how to ward off the attacks of death; and bestows on youth firmer and securer hopes of life. Sobriety renders the senses clear, the body light, the understanding lively, the soul brisk, the memory tenacious, our motions free, and all our actions regular and easy. By means of sobriety, the soul delivered, as it were, of her earthly burthen, experiences a great deal of her natural liberty: the spirits circulate gently through the arteries; the blood runs freely through the veins; the heat of the body, kept mild and temperate, has mild and temperate effects: and, lastly, our faculties, being under a perfect regulation, preserves a pleasing and agreeable harmony.

O most innocent and holy sobriety, the sole refreshment of nature, the nursing mother of human life, the true physic of soul as well as of body. How ought men to praise thee, and thank thee for thy princely gifts! since thou bestowest on them the means of preserving this blessing, I mean life and health, than which it has not pleased God we should enjoy a greater on this side of the grave, life and existence being a thing so naturally coveted, and willingly preserved, by every living creature. But, as I do not intend to write a panegyric on this rare and excellent virtue, I shall put an end to this discourse, lest I should be guilty of excess, in dwelling so long on so pleasing a subject. Yet as numberless things may still be said of it, I leave off, with an intention of setting forth the rest of its praises at a more convenient opportunity.

A COMPENDIUM OF A SOBER LIFE

My treatise on a sober life has begun to answer my desire, in being of service to many persons born with a weak constitution, who every time they committed the least excess, found themselves greatly indisposed, a thing which it must be allowed does not happen to robust people: several of these persons of weak constitutions, on seeing the foregoing treatise, have betaken themselves to a regular course of life, convinced by experience of its utility. In like manner, I should be glad to be of service to those, who are born with a good constitution, and presuming upon it, lead a disorderly life; whence it comes to pass, that, on their attaining the age of sixty or thereabouts, they are attacked with various pains and diseases; some with the gout, some with pains in the side, and others with pains in the stomach, and the like, to which they would not be subject, were they to embrace a sober life; and as most of them die before they attain their eightieth year, they would live to a hundred, the time allowed to man by God and nature. And, it is but reasonable to believe, that the intention of this our mother is, that we should all attain that term, in order that we might all taste the sweets of every state of life. But, as our birth is subject to the revolution of the heavens, these have great influence over it, especially in rendering our constitutions robust or infirm; a thing, which nature cannot ward against; for, if she could, we should all bring a good constitution with us into the world. But then she hopes, that man, being endowed with reason and understanding, may of himself compensate, by dint of art, the want of that, which the heavens have denied him; and, by means of a sober life, contrive to mend his infirm constitution, live to a great age, and always enjoy good health.

For man, it is not to be doubted, may by art exempt himself in part from the influence of the heavens; it being common opinion, that the heavens give an inclination, but do not impel us; for which reason the learned say, that a wise man rules the stars. I was born with a very choleric disposition, insomuch that there was no living with me; but I took notice of it, and considered, that a person swayed by his passion, must at certain times be no better than a madman; I mean at those times, when he suffers his passions to predominate, because he then renounces his reason and understanding. I, therefore, resolved to make my choleric disposition give way to reason; so that now, though born choleric, I never suffer anger intirely to overcome me. The man, who is naturally of a bad constitution, may, in like manner, by dint of reason, and a sober life, live to a great age and in good health, as I have done, who had naturally the worst, so that it was impossible I should live above forty years, whereas I now find myself sound and hearty at the age of eighty-six; and were it not for the long and violent fits of illness which I experienced in my youth to such a degree, that the physicians gave me over, and which robbed me of my radical moisture, a loss absolutely irreparable, I might expect to attain the abovementioned term of one hundred. But I know for good reasons that it is impossible; and, therefore, do not think of it. It is enough for me, that I have lived forty-six years beyond the term I had a right to expect; and that, during this so long a respite, all my senses have continued perfect; and even my teeth, my voice, my memory, and my strength. But what is still more, my brain is more itself now than it ever was; nor do any of these powers abate as I advance in years; and this because, as I grow older, I lessen the quantity of my solid food.

This retrenchment is necessary, nor can it be avoided, since it is impossible for a man to live for ever; and, as he draws near his end, he is reduced so low as to be no longer able to take any nourishment, unless it be to swallow, and that too with difficulty, the yolk of an egg in the four and twenty hours, and thus end by mere dissolution, without any pain or sickness, as I expect will be my case. This is a blessing of great importance; yet may be expected by all those, who shall lead a sober life, of whatever degree or condition, whether high, or middling, or low; for we are all of the same species, and composed of the same four elements. And, since a long and healthy life ought to be greatly coveted by every man, as I shall presently shew, I conclude, that every man is bound in duty to exert himself to obtain longevity, and that he cannot promise himself such a blessing without temperance and sobriety.

Some allege, that many, without leading such a life, have lived to an hundred, and that in constant health, though they eat a great deal, and used indiscriminately every kinds of viands and wine; and, therefore, flatter themselves, that they shall be equally fortunate. But in this they are guilty of two mistakes; the first is, that it is not one in an hundred thousand that ever attains that happiness; the other mistake is, that such, in the end, most assuredly contract some illness, which carries them off: nor can they ever be sure of ending their days otherwise: so that the safest way to obtain a long and healthy life is, at least after forty, to embrace sobriety. This is no such difficult affair, since history informs us of so many who in former times lived with the greatest temperance; and I know that the present age furnishes us with many such instances, reckoning myself one of the number: we are all human beings, and endowed with reason, consequently we are masters of our actions.