292 DRINKING AN APPETITE ARTIFICIAL, AND AGAINST NATURE. 1528, the three and thirtieth year of his age, upon his way home from Italy. But let us turn to our battel. The incommodities of old age, that stand in need of some refreshment and support, might with reason beget in me a desire of this faculty, it being as it were the last pleasure the course of years deprives us of. The natural heat (say the good-fellows) first seats it self in the feet, that concerns infancy, thence it mounts into the middle region, where it makes a long abode, and produces, in my opinion, the sole true pleasure of human life; all other pleasures, in comparison, sleep. Toward the end, like a vapour that still mounts upward it arrives at the throat, where it makes its final residence, and concludes the progress. I cannot nevertheless understand, how a man can extend the pleasure of drinking beyond thirst, and to forgive in his imagination an appetite artificial, and against nature. My stomack would not proceed so far, it has enough to do to deal with what it takes in for necessity. My constitution, is, not to care to drink, but as it follows eating, and to wash down my meat, and for that reason my last draught is always the greatest: and seeing, that in old age we have our palats furr'd with phlegms, or depraved by some other ill constitution, the wine tasts better to us, as the pores are cleaner washed, and laid more open. At least I seldom taste the first glass well. Anacharsis wondered, that the Greeks drank in greater glasses towards the end of a meal, than at the beginning; which was, I suppose, for the same reason, the Dutch do the same, who then begin the battel. Plato forbids children wine, till eighteen years of age, and being drunk till forty; but after forty gives them leave to please themselves, and to mix a little liberally, in their feasts, the influence of Dionysius, that good deity, who restores young men their good humour, and old men their youth, who mollifies the passions of the soul, as iron is softned by fire; and in his laws allows such merry meetings (provided they have a discreet chief to govern, and keep them in order) for good and of great utility; drunkenness being a true and certain tryal of every ones nature, and withal fit to inspire old men with mettle to divert themselves in dancing, and musick; things of great use, and that they dare not attempt when sober. He moreover says, that wine is able to supply the soul with temperance, and the body with health, nevertheless these restrictions, in part borrowed from the Carthaginians, please him: that they forbear excesses in the expeditions of war; that every judge and magistrate abstain from it, when about the administrations of his place, or the consultations of the publick affairs: that the day is not to be embezled with it, that being a time due to other employments. 'Tis said, that the philosopher Stilpo, when opprest with age, purposely hastned his end by drinking pure wine. The same thing, but not design'd by him, dispatcht also the philosopher Arcesilaus. But 'tis an old and pleasant question, whether the soul of a wise man can be overcome by the strength of wine. Si munitæ adhibet vim sapientiæ.-Hor. lib. 3 Ode 23. If it a head, with it's besotting fume With wisdom fortified t' assault presume. To what vanity does the good opinion we have of our selves push us? The most regular and most perfect soul in the world has but too much to do to keep it self upright, from being overthrown by it's own weakness. There is not one of a thousand that is right, and setled so much as one minute in a whole life, and that may not very well doubt, whether according to her natural condition she can ever be. But to joyn constancy to it, is her utmost perfection; I mean though nothing should justle and discompose her, which a thousand accidents may do. 'Tis to much purpose, that the great poet Lucretius keeps such a clutter with his philosophy, when behold he is ruin'd with a philtre, one poor draught of love. Is it to be imagin'd, that an apoplexy will not make an ass of Socrates, as well as of a porter. Some have forgot their own names by the violence of a disease, and a slight wound has turn'd the judgment of others topsey-turvey. Let him be as wise as he will, but in fine he is a man; and than that, what is there more miserable, or more nothing? Wisdom does not force our natural dispositions. Sudores itaque et pallorem existere toto Corpore, et infringi linguam, vocemque aboriri, Denique considere ex animi terrore videmus.-Lucret. lib. 3. Paleness, and sweat the countenance confounds, The tongues deliver'd of abortive sounds, The eyes grow dim, ears deaf, the knees grow lame, And do refuse to prop the trembling frame, And lastly out of fear of mind we all Things see into a dissolution fall. He must shut his eyes against the blow that threatens him; he must tremble upon the margent of a precipice like a child: nature having reserv'd these light works of her authority, not to be forc'd by our reason and stoical vertue, to teach man his mortality, and little power. He turns pale with fear, red with shame, and groans with the cholick, if not very loud, at least so as to confess his frailty. Humani a se nihil alienum putet.-Terence. To any other man what may befall, Let him not think strange to himself at all. The poets that feign all things at pleasure, dare not acquit their greatest heroes of tears. Sic fatur lacrymans, classique immitit habenas.- Virg. 6. 294 THE STRENGTH WHICH POSSEST THE SOULS OF MARTYRS. Thus did he weeping say, and then his fleet Did to the mercy of the sea commit. 'Tis sufficient for a man to curb and moderate his inclinations, for totally to suppress them is not in him to do. Even our great Plutarch, that excellent and perfect judge of human actions, when he sees Brutus and Torquatus murther their own children, begins to doubt, whether vertue could proceed so far; and to question, whether these persons had not rather been stimulated by some other passion. All actions exceeding the ordinary bounds are liable to sinister interpretation: for as much as our liking does no more proceed from what is above, than from what is below it. Let us leave this other sect, and make a downright profession of fierceness. But when even in that sect, reputed the most quiet and gentle, we hear these rhodomontades of Metrodorus: "Occupavi te, Fortuna, atque cepi: omnesque aditus tuos interclusi, ut ad me aspirare non posses." "Fortune, thou art mine, I have thee fast, and have made all the avenues so sure thou canst not come at me." When Anaxarchus, by the command of Nicrocreon, the tyrant of Cyprus, was put into a stone-mortar, and laid upon with mauls of iron, ceases not to say, strike, batter, break, 'tis not Anaxarchus, 'tis but his sheath that you pound and bray so. When we hear our martyrs cry out to the tyrant in the middle of the flame, this side is roasted enough, fall to, and eat, it is enough, fall to work with the other, when we hear the child in Josephus, torn piece-meal with biting pincers, defying Antiochus, and crying out with a constant and assured voice, tyrant, thou losest thy labour, I am still at ease, where is the pain, where are the torments with which thou didst so threaten me? Is this all thou canst do? My constancy torments thee more, than thy cruelty does me: O pitiful coward, thou faintest, and I grow stronger, make me complain, make me bend, make me yield if thou canst; encourage thy guards, cheer up thy executioners, see, see they faint, and can do no more; arm them, flesh them anew, spur them up. Really a man must confess, that there is some alteration and fury, how holy soever, that does at that time possess those souls. When we come to these stoical sallies: I had rather be furious than voluptuous, a saying of Antisthenes; when Sextius tells us, he had rather be fetter'd with affliction, then pleasure: when Epicurus takes upon him to play with his gout, and that refusing health and ease, he defies all torments, and despising the lesser pains, as disdaining to contend with them, he covets and calls out for sharper, more violent and more worthy of him: Spumantemque dari pecora inter inertia votis Optat aprum, aut fulvum descendere monte leonem.-Æneid. 1. 4. Lyon or boar, would from the mountain come. Who but must conclude, that they are pusht on by a courage, that has broke loose from its place? Our soul cannot from her own seat reach so high, 'tis necessary she must leave it, raise her self up, and taking the bridle in her teeth, transport her man so far, that he shall after himself be astonisht at what he has done. As in occasion of war, the heat of battle sometimes pushes the generous soldiers to perform things of so infinite danger, as after having recollected themselves, they themselves are the first do wonder at. As also fares with the poets, who are often rapt with admiration of their own writings, and know not where again to find the track, through which they performed so happy a carreer; which also is in them call'd rage, and rapture and as Plato says, 'tis to no purpose for a sober man to knock at the door of poesy: and Aristotle says to the same effect, that no excellent soul is exempt from the mixture of folly; and he has reason to call all transports, how commendable soever, that surpass our own judgment and understanding, folly: for as much as wisdom is a regular government of the soul, which is carryed on with measure and proportion, and which she is to her self responsible for. Plato argues thus, that the faculty of prophecying is so far above us, that we must be out of our selves, when we meddle with it, and our prudence must either be obstructed by sleep or sickness, or lifted from her place by some celestial rapture. CHAP. LX. THE CUSTOM OF THE ISLE OF CEA. IF to philosophize, be, as 'tis defin'd, to doubt, much more to write at random, and play the fool, as I do, ought to be reputed doubting, for it is for novices and freshmen to inquire and dispute, and for the chairman to moderate and determine. My moderator is the authority of the divine will, that governs us without contradiction, and that is seated above these vain and human contests. Philip being forceably entred into Peloponnesus, and some one saying to Damidas, that the Lacedæmonians were likely very much to suffer, if they did not in time reconcile themselves to his favour: "why, you pitiful fellow," replied he, "what can they suffer, that do not fear to die?" It being also demanded of Agis, which way a man might live free? "Why,” said he, "by despising death." These, and a thousand other sayings to the same purpose, do distinctly sound something more than the patient attending the stroke of death, when it shall come; for there are several accidents in life, far worse to suffer than death it self: witness the Lacedæmonian boy, taken by Antigonus, and sold for a slave, who being by his new master commanded to some base employment, "Thou shalt see," says the boy, "whom thou hast bought, it would be a shame for me to serve, being so near the reach of liberty," and having so said, 296 DEATH THE INFALLIBLE CURE OF ALL DISEASES. threw himself from the top of the house. Antipater severely threatning the Lacedæmonians, that he might the better encline them to acquiesce in a certain demand of his; "If thou threatnest us with more than death," replyed they, we shall the more willingly dye:" and to Philip having writ them word, that he would frustrate all their enterprizes? "What, wilt thou also hinder us from dying?" This is the meaning of the sentence, that the wise man lives as long as he ought, not so long as he can; and that the most obliging present nature has made us, and which takes from us all colour of complaint of our condition, is, to have delivered into our own custody the keys of life. She has only ordered one door into life, but a hundred thousand ways out. We may be straightend for earth to live upon, but earth sufficient to dye upon can never be wanting, as Boiocatus answer'd the Romans: "why dost thou complain of this world? It detains thee not; thy own cowardize is the case if thou livest in pain: there remains no more to dye but to be willing to do it." own. Ubique mors est: optime hoc cavit Deus, Senec. The. Act. 1. Sce. 2. To death a man can never want a gate, Heav'n has provided very well for that, There's not so mean a wretch on earth but may, But to the willing none can death refuse, Neither is it a recipe for one disease, death is the infallible cure of all, 'tis a most assured port that is never to be feared, and very often to be sought it comes all to one, whether a man gives himself his end, or stays to receive it by some other means? whether he pays before his day, or stays till his day of payment come: from whencesoever it comes, it is still his: in what part soever the thread breaks, there's the end of the clue, the most voluntary death, is the most brave. Life depends upon the pleasure and discretion of others, death upon our We ought not to accommodate ourselves to our own humour in any thing so much as in that. Reputation is not concerned in such an enterprize and it's a folly to be diverted by any such apprehension, living in slavery, if the liberty of dying be away. The ordinary method of cures is carried on at the expence of life, they torment us with causticks, incisions, and amputations of limbs, at the same time interdicting aliments, and exhausting our blood; one step farther and we are cured indeed. Why are not the jugular veins as much at our dispose, as the mephalick, basilick, or cedian vein? For a desperate disease a desperate cure. Servius the grammarian, being tormented |