II. _That in those countries where they do not drink to excess, they are very much addicted to debauchery._

It is certain, that in hot countries they drink a great deal less than they do in cold, but in lieu of that, lewdness reigns much more.

Montaigne[3], after having observed, that they began to drink less than they used to do, adds, "Does any one think it tends to amendment?

No, indeed; but, perhaps, we are much more given to whoring than our forefathers."

This puts me in mind of an Italian, who having reproached a German with the drunkenness of his country, by these verses, viz.

"Germani multos possunt tolerare labores O utinam possint tam tolerare sitim."

The Germans (patient) toil, inur'd to pain, Oh! could they but their thirst so well sustain!

The German answered him extempore in these other two:--

"Ut nos vitis amor, sic vos Venus improba vexat Est data lex veneri Julia, nulla mero."

As we love wine, so wicked Venus you, Twas _this_, not _that_, the Julian Edict knew.

In order to draw a consequence from all this, let us speak once more of Montaigne[4], whose words are, "And if we cannot give any pleasure but what costs us something, as the ancients maintain, I find this vice costs the conscience less than all the rest, besides, it is in this respect no despicable consideration, that a man advanced in honours, amongst three princ.i.p.al conveniencies of life, that he told me he yet enjoyed, he reckoned this for one."

After having shewn, in the foregoing chapters, That drunkenness reigns all the world over, _Nulla in parte mundi cessat ebrietas_. Let us see what we may hence infer in its favour: and I ask, if the agreement of so many different nations, to do one and the same thing, proves nothing, and may not, in some measure, serve as an apology for drunkenness?

For if one considers, that the surprising variety of the humour and temperament of men, do, notwithstanding, in nowise hinder them from agreeing unanimously in this point, one shall have a very strong temptation to believe, that the desire of getting drunk is an innate quality, and we shall be confirmed in this sentiment, after tasting experimentally the exquisite sweetness caused by drunkenness.

To conclude,

All drink, throughout the universe, 'tis plain, The moon drinks up the sea, the earth the rain, The sun the air, and ev'ry tree, we know, The earth's prolific juice imbibes to grow.

The air sups up the water too, 'tis said, Why then, my dearest friends, d'ye plague my head, And angry grow, because, dry soul[5], I swill New wine, drink fit for G.o.ds, and quaff my fill.

[Footnote 1: Essais, l. ii. ch. 2.]

[Footnote 2: De Remed. Amor.]

[Footnote 3: Essais, liv. ii. ch. 2.]

[Footnote 4: Essais, liv. ii. ch. 2.]

[Footnote 5: Anima mea non potest habitare in sicco. S. Aug.]

CHAP. XX.

AN ANSWER TO THE OBJECTION, THAT DRUNKENNESS CAUSES INFINITE EVILS.

After having specified the good qualities of drunkenness, let us now answer some frivolous objections that may be made against what we have here advanced. For example, people will not be wanting immediately to object, that drunkenness has been the cause of infinite evils.

To this I answer, that it has been only the cause of these evils when people have pushed it too far, and not observed the rules they ought to keep in drinking, and which we shall see here prescribed by and by. For where do we find that any one, of so many grave philosophers that used to get drunk, made any disorders? It was for this reason that Chrisippus's maid said, That her master was drunk in the hams. And it was on this very account, perhaps, that the Stoics said of their sage, "That he was, indeed, to be overcome with wine, but would not, however, be drunk, _Vino obrutum iri non ebrium tamen futurum_."

On the other hand, without being willing to excuse those disorders which drunkenness has been the cause of, one may say, nevertheless, that some of these disorders have produced effects highly advantageous. "Suppose, for example, that Lot had not got drunk, and his two daughters had not been possessed with the furious desire of having children, and the fear of dying maids, you ruin, by this means, whole families, who bore a great part in the wonderful events of the children of Israel[1]."

Their high mightinesses the States of Holland, have eternal obligations to drunkenness, since to this they owe, in some sort, the establishment of their republic, which was after this manner, according to Strada:-- [2]The same day that Brederode, accompanied by above two hundred gentlemen, had presented that famous pet.i.tion to Margaret of Parma, who then governed the Netherlands, he gave a magnificent entertainment in the house of the Count of Culenbourg, there was no want of drinking; and as they saw the Count of Hoocstrate, who by chance pa.s.sed that way, they began, with a great deal of joy, to give one another the name of Gueux[3]; upon which taking each of them all together great gla.s.ses in their hands, they made vows and oaths to each other by the name of Gueux, and cried out with one voice and general applause, Long live the Gueux! After which they promised mutual fidelity; and the Prince of Orange and the Counts of Egmont and Horn coming to them, they began to drink again, and with great acclamation renewed vows and wishes with these new comers, as they had already done, for the Gueux. At last, in the heat of wine, they took those vigorous resolutions, the effects of which were afterwards seen, which was the liberty of the United Provinces.

[Footnote 1: Lett. xvi. sur la Crit. du Calvin.]

[Footnote 2: Strada de Bello Belgico, part i. lib. 5.]

[Footnote 3: The French word for beggars.]

CHAP. XXI.

AN ANSWER TO THE OBJECTION, THAT THE MIRTH WHICH WINE INSPIRES IS CHIMERICAL.

It will be objected, without doubt, that the mirth which wine inspires is imaginary, and without any foundation, and that, as Boileau has it,

"Rien n'est beau que le vrai. Le vrai seul est aimable."

Nothing so beautiful as what is true, That it is only lovely is its due.

I very willingly own, that this joy and mirth is nothing else than the effect of our imagination.

Full well I'm satisfied 'tis nothing all But a deceitful hope, less solid far, A thousand times, than is the moving sand; But are not all things so with wretched man?

All things soon pa.s.s away like rapid streams Which hasten to the sea, where lost for ever In th' ocean's vast abyss unknown they lie.

Our wisest wishes and desires are vain, Abstracted vanities, gay painted bubbles, That break when touch'd, and vanish into air.

Love, wisdom, knowledge, riches, phantoms all.

But before we thoroughly refute this objection, I shall observe by the way, that errors and illusions are necessary to the world. "[1]In general, indeed, it is true to say, that the world, as it is now, cannot keep itself in the same condition, were not men full of a thousand false prejudices and unreasonable pa.s.sions; and if philosophy went about to make men act according to the clear and distinct ideas of reason, we might, perhaps, be satisfied, that mankind would quickly be at an end.

Errors, pa.s.sions, prejudices, and a hundred other the like faults, are as a necessary evil to the world. Men would be worth nothing for this world, were they cured, and the greatest part of the things which now take up our time, would be useless, as Quintilian well knew, namely, eloquence.

Things are in this condition, and will not easily change, and we may wait long enough for such a happy revolution, before we shall be able to say, with Virgil,

"Magnus ab integro saeculorum nascitur ordo."[1a]

A series long of ages now appear, Entirely new to man, before unknown.

On the other hand, "[2]If you take away from man every thing that is chimerical, what pleasure will you leave him? Pleasures are not things so solid, as to permit us to search them to the bottom; one must only just touch them and away. They resemble boggy and moorish ground, we must run lightly over them, without ever letting our feet make the least impression."

No, wheresoe'er we turn our wishing eye, True pleasures never can our souls enjoy.

Let us add, "[3]That if we did not help to deceive ourselves, we should never enjoy any pleasure at all. The most agreeable things in this world are, in the bottom, so trivial, that they would not much affect us, if we made but never so little serious reflection upon them. Pleasures are not made to be strictly examined into, and we are obliged every day to pa.s.s over a great many things in them, about which it would not be proper to make one-self uneasy."