Chapter 2

"Oui, Thirsis, c'est le vin qui nous fait rejeunir, Et qui bannit de nos pensees; Le regret de choses possees, Et le crainte de l'avenir."

Yes, Thirsis, 'tis the vine's prolific juice Can youth and beauty re-produce, Banish the sad regret of former years, And of futurity the fears.

In the next place, wine is a sovereign remedy against a particular species of sorrow or chagrin, I mean a sort of inward wearisomeness, which the French call _ennui_. I shall explain myself a little farther, and for my expositor I cannot make choice of a fitter person than Mr. de St. Evremont[4], who, after having discoursed a little on this subject, adds, "That good cheer with one's friends, is a sovereign remedy against this kind of chagrin; for besides that conversation at such times becomes more free and gay, it insensibly sweetens it. It is certain that wine rouses up the forces of nature, and gives our soul a vigour capable to drive away all sorts of uneasiness. I know very well that certain morose people, at least externally so, and in appearance, will shew a great deal of aversion for a remedy, the delights of which they do not, however, too much despise. But all grimace aside. I don't trouble myself with their ill-understood severities, since the most severe philosopher in the world has advised us to make use of this remedy; and the most morose of our illustrious men have submitted, if we may say so, their most austere virtues to the charms of this sweet pleasure; and the most well-bred people have not disdained its usage."

In a word, (I must speak a little French now and then,)

[5]Le vin fait que les annees, Nous durent moins que les journees.

Wine makes whole years to pass away, And seem much shorter than one day.

But it does more than all this, it even assuages choler; it is an admirable cataplasm for rage. To cite a vast number of examples to prove this important truth would be superfluous. Amongst the many illustrious ones I could instance, I shall content myself to mention that of the Emperor Maximin[6], who, having been declared an enemy to the people of Rome, by the senate, fell into such a rage and fury, that no other way could be thought on to bring him back to his natural temper than by making him drunk.

But let us return to the two principal qualities of wine, which consist in driving away care and sorrow, and exciting mirth and joy.

A certain French author[7] has a few verses on this subject, which, as not _mal-apropos_, I shall here insert. Talking of the good qualities of wine, he says,--

"Tu sais, mon cher Thirsis, qu'il a le privilege D'etouffer les ennuis dont l'aigreur nous assiege. Et que cette liqueur chasse de nos esprits, Tous les facheux pensers dont nous sommes surpris, C'est ce qui nous oblige a cherir la bouteille."

You know, dear Thirsis, and full well you know, To wine this privilege we owe, It stifles all those sad invading cares Which irksome chagrin ever wears.

This sprightful liquid makes us brisk and gay, And drives effectually away Those thoughts vexatious that surprise our soul, And makes us cherish the full bowl.

Seneca, whom I have mentioned in the foregoing chapter, confirms what has been said, "Sometimes," says he, "one must go even so far as drunkenness; not, indeed, that it may drown us, but drown our cares: for drunkenness washes away care, and moves the very bottom of the soul. And as it is a sovereign remedy against some distempers, so is it a perfect cure for heaviness and sorrow. _Nonnunquam usque ad ebrietatem veniendum, non ut mergat nos, sed ut deprimat curas. Eluit enim curas, et ab imo animae movet, et ut morbis quibusdam, ita tristitiae medetur_[8]. On this account certainly it was, Pliny maintained that Nepenthe, whose virtues Homer so much exaggerates, was nothing in the world but generous wine.

Horace, in like manner, insists that wine is the only proper expeller of the most racking cares.

Neque Mordaces aliter diffugiunt sollicitudines[9].

Nor otherwise are cank'ring cares remov'd.

And thus advises the sage Plancus to have recourse to this remedy:--

"Sic tu sapiens finire memento Tristitiam, vitaeque labores Molli, Plance, mero."[9a]

So, thou, sage Plancus, this _memento_ keep, To lull the cares and toils of life asleep With cordial juleps of old mellow wine; The grand and universal anodyne.

In another place he thus beautifully sounds the praises of drunkenness:--

"Ebrietas quid non designat? operta recludit Spes jubet esse ratas: in praelia trudit inertem, Sollicitis animis onus eximit: addocet artes. Facundi calices, quem non fecere disertum? Contracta quem non in paupertate solutum."[9b]

In drunkenness what pow'rful magic lies, What's most envelop'd from researching eyes, (Transparent thing!) it evidently shows, The innocent no dark disguises knows. By her commands our hopes maturely rise, Push'd on to war the coward dauntless dies, And sinking minds beneath unwieldy care, Cast off the load, and move with sprightful air. To her, all arts their origin must owe: What wretch so dull but eloquent must grow, When the full goblets with persuasive wine, Inebriate with bright elegance divine, The drunken beggars plume like proudest kings, And the poor tipsy slave in fetters sings.

After all this, will any one accuse me for a plagiary, and that I steal from the most common places? No matter. I have company enough: do not all modern authors do so? However, I shall not, for all that, pass over in silence what Ovid has said of this same drunkenness. The passage is this:--

"Vina parant animos, faciuntque coloribus aptos. Cura fugit, multo diluiturque mero. Tunc veniunt risus, tunc pauper cornua sumit, Tunc dolor et curae, rugaque frontis abit. Tunc aperit mentes, aevo rarissima nostro Simplicitas, artes excutiente Deo."[9c]

As I am nothing less than a poet, I shall not presume _to dance with the Nine Sisters_, to make use of the thought of the ingenious Sarasin. However, here follows an Ode of Anacreon, which may supply the place of a translation of those verses of Ovid.

I.

When I hold a full glass in my hand, I laugh and I merrily sing; I think I have sov'reign command And the treasures possess of a king.

II.

Let who will try their fate in the field, In war all their days let them pass: No arms but the bottle I'll weild, Fill, boy, then, a thundering glass,

III.

If Bacchus the victory gain, On the ground tho' I'm motionless laid; All agree it, _a truth very plain_, 'Tis better be _drunk_ than be _dead_.

And very probably the Greek philosopher had wine in view, when he caused an inscription to be made over his door in these words, in capitals, "Here are remedies for all sorts of afflictions: here are cures for all distempers of the soul."

The philosopher so often quoted by Seneca, desired no more than bread and cheese, to rival Jupiter in happiness. For my part, though I am no less a philosopher, yet I desire nothing to effect this but good wine. For when I take a hearty glass, I find myself so much transported with joy, that I could almost cry out with that little fool in the Latin comedy[10], "Now could I pardon any one that would kill me, so much afraid am I lest some accident may trouble the purity of my happiness, and mingle some ungrateful bitter with the exquisite sweets I now enjoy." And, indeed, it is amongst bottles and glasses that one may truly say,

"Mediis videat discumbere in astris, Cum Jove, et Iliaca porrectum sumere dextra Immortale merum[11]."

Far from the earth remov'd in realms above, I seem amongst the stars to sit with Jove: Lolling in ease celestial, lie supine, And taste from Ganymede immortal wine.

And without doubt Asclepiades had all this in his head, when he maintained that the gods produced nothing that equalled wine in goodness. Philostratus is much of the same sentiment, who after having taken notice of the edict of the Emperor Domitian, who forbad men to be castrated, and vines to be planted, he adds, that this admirable emperor did not reflect that he made the earth in some sort an eunuch, at the same time that he spared men.

Varro sounded the praise of drunkenness in terms no less pathetic.

"Vino nil quicquam jucundius eluet, Hoc continet coagulum convivii; Hoc hilaritatis dulce seminarium Hoc aegritudinem ad medendam invenerunt."[11a]

Than wine no orient jewels finer play, And dart more pleasantly their glittering ray. This vital juice, the cream of all the feast, Strong cement, close uniting every breast, The sweet prolific seed of gay desires, Bright mirth, and gen'rous amity inspires. This was found out a certain remedy To set mankind from all distempers free.

Monsieur La Motte, whom I must ever admire for his inimitable Court Fables, before mentioned, will furnish us with a beautiful ode to close this chapter[12].

"Bacchus contre moi tout conspire, Viens me consoler de mes maux: Je vois au mepris de la lire Couronner d'indignes rivaux.

Tout me rend la vie importune Une volage me trahit, J'eus peu de bien de la fortune, L'injustice me le ravit.

Mon plus cher ami m'abandonne, En vain j'implore son secours, Et la calomnie empoisonne. Le reste de mes tristes jours.

Bacchus viens me verser a boire Encore----bon----je suis soulage, Chaque coup m'ote la memoire Des maux qui m'avoient afflige.

Verse encore----je vois l'allegresse Nager sur le jus precieux. Donne, redouble----O douce yvresse! Je suis plus heureux que les dieux."

Help, Bacchus, or I'm quite undone, All things against my peace conspire; Unworthy rivals many a one, I find, despising song and lyre.

My life's entirely irksome grown, By an inconstant I'm betray'd, On that small fortune, once my own, Injustice has severely prey'd.

Forsaken by my dearest friend, In vain his succour I implore; And calumnies rank poisons send, And what is left of life devour.

Bacchus, some wine; fill higher yet Again----so----I some comfort find; Each smiling glass makes me forget Those evils that have rack'd my mind.

Some more----I see gay images On the rich surface sprightly move, Fill double----O sweet drunkenness! I'm happier than the gods above.

[Footnote 1: Virgil. AEneid. lib. vi. v. 713.]

[Footnote 2: Lib. 3. Etymol.]

[Footnote 3: Rec. Poes.]

[Footnote 4: Miscel. vol. i.]

[Footnote 5: Rec. de Poes.]

[Footnote 6: Jul. Capit. Hist. Aug. Script. fol. p. 359.]

[Footnote 7: Nicol. Rec. de Vers. p. 44.]

[Footnote 8: Seneca de Tranquil.]

[Footnote 9: Lib. i. ode 18.]

[[Footnote 9a: Horace, _Odes_ I.vii.17-19.]]

[[Footnote 9b: Horace, _Epistulae_ I.v.16-20.]]

[[Footnote 9c: Ovid, _Ars Amatoria_ I.237-242.]]

[Footnote 10: Nunc est profecto cum me patior interfici, ne hoc gaudium aliqua contaminetur aegritudine. --_Eunuch._]

[Footnote 11: Statii Sil. 2. lib. iv.]

[[Footnote 11a: Varro, Menippean Satires, fragment from _Est modus matulae_.]]

[Footnote 12: Ode ix. Anacr.]

CHAP. III.

THAT IT IS GOOD FOR ONE'S HEALTH TO GET DRUNK SOMETIMES.

Although mirth and joy be absolutely necessary to health, yet it must be allowed that there are a great many pleasures very injurious and prejudicial to it; and we should act with precaution in using those we make choice of[1]. But this precaution is not necessary in those we seek in the sweet juice of the grape. So far is drunkenness from prejudicing our health, that, on the contrary, it highly preserves it. This is the sentiment of the most able physicians. These worthy gentlemen are arbiters of life and death. They have over us, _jus vitae et necis_. We must therefore believe them. _Ergo_, let us heartily carouse. Every one knows that Hippocrates, the prince of physicians, prescribes getting drunk once a month, as a thing very necessary to the conservation of health; for, according to him, in the words of a certain French lady [2],

"Une utile et douce chaleur Fait qu'on pense au sortir de table Avoir pris de cet or potable, Qui triomphe des ans, qui chasse la douleur, Qui fait tout, et qui par malheur N'a jamais ete qu'une fable."

When from the bottle, flush'd with wine, we rise, The brisk effluvia brighten in our eyes; This sweet and useful warmth still makes us think, That cups of potable rich gold we drink, Which baffles time, and triumphs over years, Drives away grief, and sad perplexing cares; Does all, and yet in fables sweet disguise, O dire mishap! its only essence lies.

"Avicenna and Rasis, most excellent physicians of Arabia, say[3], that it is a thing very salutary and wholesome to get drunk sometimes."

Monsieur Hofman confirms what has been just now said in relation to Avicenna, and adds thereto the testimony of another physician. "Avicenna," says he[4], "absolutely approves getting drunk once or twice every month, and alleges for it physical reasons." --Dioscorides says, "That drunkenness is not always hurtful, but that very often it is necessary for the conservation of health." --Homer says, "That Nestor, who lived so long, tossed off huge bocals of wine[5]."

Monsieur Hofman believes also, that wine is an excellent preservative against distempers, and of an admirable use in their cure. In like manner, several divines believe, that there is no manner of harm in getting drunk, when it is done for health's sake and not for pleasure. In this class one may reckon Pere Taverne, a Jesuit[6]. These are his words: "Drunkenness," says he, "is a mortal sin, if one falls into it for pleasure only; but if one gets drunk for any honest end, as for example, by direction of one's physician in order to recover health, there is no manner of harm in it at all."

But, however, not to digress too much from our subject, to preserve their health the Africans drink a great deal of wine; and this they do to help the digestion of the vast quantity of fruits they eat.

Montaigne[7] tells us, that he heard Silvius, an excellent physician of Paris, say, "That to keep up the powers of the stomach, that they faint not, it would be very proper to rouze them up once a month by this wholesome excess. And if we believe Regnier, a young physician does not see so far as an old drunkard[8].

We also say with the French poet[9],

"Si Bourdaloue[10] un peu severe Nous dit: craignez la volupte Escobar[10], lui dit on mon pere Nous la permet pour la sante!"

If Bourdaloue, somewhat severe, Warns us to dread voluptuous sweets, Good honest father Escobar, To fuddle for one's health permits.

And, by the bye, if the number of physicians, who used to get drunk, proves any thing, I could insert a good round catalogue, amongst whom I do not find any English doctors, for they are the most abstemious persons in the world; however, being unwilling to trouble my gentle reader with so long a bead-roll, I shall instance only two very illustrious topers of the faculty. The first is no less a man than the great Paracelsus, who used to get drunk very often; and the other is the famous master Dr. Francis Rabelais, who took a singular pleasure to moisten his clay; or to make use of one of his own expressions, _Humer le piot_.

I could, after these, mention Patin[11], who tells us, That when he gave his public entertainment for his _decanat_, or deanship, at which thirty-six of his colleagues assisted, he never saw in all his life so much toping. From all which, however, one may very reasonably infer, that so many able persons would never have drunk so much, had they not thought it was no ways prejudicial to their health.

To conclude, let any one allege this verse as a maxim, that

Pocula non laedunt paucula, multa nocent.

It does no harm to take a glass or two, But in great numbers mighty ills accrue.

And I shall do myself the honour to answer him with another verse, that sometimes

Una salus sanis multam potare salutem[12].

The only health to people hale and sound, Is to have many a tippling health go round.

And that this is true, witness the great Hippocrates, who says,

That what to health conduceth best, Is fuddling once a month at least[13].

[Footnote 1: _Voluptates ut mel summo digito degustandae non plera manu sumendae._ Dionys. Sophron. apud Philostr.]

[Footnote 2: Mad. Deshoul. t. ii. ep. p. 104.]

[Footnote 3: Div. Lec. de P. Messie, part ii. ch. 15.]

[Footnote 4: Hofman, t. ii. 9 dissert. ch. 6.]

[Footnote 5: Bocal, an Italian word, and signifies a pot or jug holding about three pints.]

[Footnote 6: Synopses Theolog. Pract.]

[Footnote 7: Essays, lib. ii. cap. 2.]

[Footnote 8: Satir.]

[Footnote 9: Boileau.]

[Footnote 10: The names of two jesuits, the former a famous preacher, and the other as famous a casuist.]

[Footnote 11: Esprit de Pat. p. 51.]

[Footnote 12: Owen, Ep.] [[John Owen (1564-1622): _possibly_ I.ii.42.]]

[Footnote 13: Qu'il faut a chaque mois. Du moin s'enyvrer une fois. Fureteriana.]

CHAP. IV.

THAT OLD PEOPLE OUGHT TO GET DRUNK SOMETIMES.

Wine taken with some excess is excellent for old people.

---- Ubi jam validis quassatum est viribus aevi Corpus et obtusis ceciderunt viribus artus[1].

When shaken by the powerful force of age The body languid grows, and ev'ry joint Its proper juice exhal'd, all feeble droops.

And is not the reason plain? because it moistens their dry temperament, and nourishes their radical moisture. Hence came the proverb, which says, "That wine is the milk of old men[2]." Tirellus, in his history, declares the same thing, when he says, "That wine is the nutriment of natural heat[3]." Conformably to this truth that old man acted, of whom Seneca makes mention, who being pressed to drink wine cooled in snow, said, "That his age made him cold enough, and that he did not desire to be more cold than he was[4]." Than which, certainly no answer could be more just and true.

Besides, the infirmities of an advanced age require some consolation and diversion. Let us see what Montaigne says, who was not much given to tippling; for he plainly says, that his gout and complexion were greater enemies to drunkenness than his discourse. His words are these, "The inconveniencies attending old age, which stand in need of some support and refreshment, might with reason produce in me a desire of this faculty, since it is as it were the last pleasure that the course of years steals from us. The natural heat, say the boon companions, begins first at the feet; this is the case of infancy; thence it ascends to the middle region, where it continues a long while, and there produces in my mind the only true pleasures of the corporal life; at last exhaling itself like a vapour, it moves upwards, till it comes to the throat, and there it makes its last little stay[5]."

Athenaeus, after Theophrastus, says, That wine drives away those irksome inquietudes to which old people are unhappily subject[6]. And to conclude, the divine Plato assures us, that, "Wine is a medicine as well for the body as the mind, the dryness of old people have great occasion for this kind of moistening, and their severe genius of the brisk gaiety inspired by wine, without which they would not be able to perform their part in the concert, and consequently would be no longer useful members in the commonwealth, which is no other ways supported and preserved than by harmony."

[Footnote 1: Lucret. lib. iii.]

[Footnote 2: Vinum lac senum.]

[Footnote 3: Vina calidi innati pabula.]

[Footnote 4: AEtas meo frigore contenta est.]

[Footnote 5: Essays, lib. ii. cap. 2.]

[Footnote 6: Lib. xi. cap. 7.]

CHAP. V.

THAT WINE CREATES WIT.

As wine increases the quantity of animal spirits, by the fumes which it sends to the brain, it is easy to comprehend that it cannot but be of great advantage to dull and heavy wits; so that one may particularly apply to them the common proverb, "Wine sets an edge to wit[1]." And the emblem of Adr. Junius, in which he represents Bacchus as a youth with wings on, and with this inscription, "Wine kindles wit[2]," agrees admirably well with these people. But the application of both proverb and emblem is no less just in relation to all the world; for it is most certain, that the god Bacchus, by warming the thoughts, renders them more acute, and inspires a greater plenty of witty sallies. For "Bacchus had not the name of Lysian, or Opener, if I may use the term, bestowed upon him for nothing but purely because he opens the mind, by putting it into an agreeable humour, and renders it more subtile and judicious[3]." For this reason it is grown into a proverb, That water-drinkers are not near so knowing as those who drink wine[4].

Plutarch assures us, That wine collects and increases the powers of the mind. He observes also, That it produces excellent effects on the minds of persons, who, though naturally timid, want no penetration. Plato maintains, as I have observed in the foregoing chapter, That wine warms as well the mind as the body. Monsieur Hofman says a great deal more, viz. That experience proves, that those climates which produce good wine, produce also people that "have infinitely more wit than those of the north, who drink nothing but beer. Gryllus believes, That the Greeks were called fathers of wisdom, on account of the excellency of their wine; and, that they lost their ancient lustre by reason of the Turks rooting out their vines. The Heathens placed Pallas and Bacchus in the same temple, to shew, that wine increased their wisdom, and that the Gods were represented wiser than men, only because they drank nectar and ambrosia."

In respect of poets the world was always so sensible of the necessity they lay under, of having their imagination roused by wine, that nobody ever had any good opinion of the productions of a poet that drank water, that _Non est Dythyrambus si aquam bibat_; and wine was called the poets great horse. "There never were any excellent poets," says Mr. Bayle, "that could versify, till after drinking pretty plentifully[5]."

And if we believe Plato, "He could never open the gates of poesy till he was a little beyond himself. The soul can speak nothing grand, or above the common, if it be not somewhat agitated[6]."

Horace[7], who knew by experience this truth, goes yet farther.

Nulla placere diu, nec vivere carmina possint, Quae scribuntur aquae potoribus.

Poor water-drinkers sing an irksome tune, Short-liv'd their numbers, and their airs jejune.

Ovid bewailed himself very bitterly for want of wine in his exile.

"Impetus ille sacer, qui vatum pectora nutrit Qui prius in nobis esse solebat, abest."[7a]

That sacred rage that feeds a poet's breast, Common to me, is now no more possest.

La Motte[8], my beloved Frenchman, has something not unlike it.

"Loin une raison trop timide Les froids poetes qu'elle guide Languissent et tombent souvent. Venez yvresse temeraire, Transports ignorez du vulgaire Tels que vous m'agitiez vivant."

Away, too fearful reason, haste, be gone, Those frozen poets, whom thy phantoms guide, Languish, and often feebly slide, Down to the lowest ebb of wretchless song, Insipid notes, and lifeless numbers sing. O come, sweet drunkenness, thou heady thing, With transports to the vulgar herd unknown, Which agitates my soul, and gives it wing. With kind enthusiasms then ecstatic grown, It takes unusual flights, sublimely soars, Spurns the dull globe below, and endless worlds explores.

One may very well apply to Bacchus, what the same gentleman says of the graces in this ode[9].

"Tout fleurit par vous au Parnasse, Apollon languit, et nous glace, Sitot que vous l'avez quitte, Mieux que les traits les plus sublimes Vous allez verser sur mes rimes Le don de l'immortalite.