Produced by Andrew Gudgel
DISCOURSES
ON A
SOBER AND TEMPERATE LIFE.
By
LEWIS CORNARO,
A NOBLE VENETIAN.
Wherein is demonstrated, by his own Example,
THE METHOD OF PRESERVING
HEALTH TO EXTREME OLD AGE.
Translated from the Italian Original.
A NEW EDITION, CORRECTED.
LONDON:
Printed for Benjamin White, at Horace's
Head, in Fleet-Street.
M.DCC.LXXIX.
PREFACE
The author of the following discourses, Lewis Cornaro, was descended
from one of the most illustrious families in Venice, but by the ill
conduct of some of his relations, had the misfortune to be deprived
of the dignity of a nobleman, and excluded from all honours and
public employments in the state. Chagrined at this unmerited
disgrace, he retired to Padua, and married a lady of the family
of Spiltemberg, whose name was Veronica. Being in possession of
a good estate, he was very desirous of having children; and after
a long expectation of this happiness, his wife was delivered of a
daughter, to whom he gave the name of Clara. This was his only
child, who afterwards was married to John, the son of Fantini
Cornaro, of a rich family in Cyprus, while that island belonged to
the republic of Venice. Though he was far advanced in life when
his daughter Clara came into the world, yet he lived to see her
very old, and the mother of eight sons and three daughters. He was
a man of sound understanding, determined courage and resolution.
In his younger days, he had contracted infirmities by intemperance,
and by indulging his too great propensity to anger; but when he
perceived the ill consequence of his irregularities, he had
command enough of himself to subdue his passion and inordinate
appetites. By means of great sobriety, and a strict regimen in his
diet, he recovered his health and vigour, which he preserved to an
extreme old age. At a very advanced stage of life he wrote the
following discourses, wherein he acquaints us with the irregularity
of his youth, his reformation of manners, and the hopes he
entertained of living a long time. Nor was he mistaken in his
expectation, for he resigned his last breath without any agony,
sitting in an elbow chair, being above an hundred years old. This
happened at Padua, the 26th of April, 1566. His lady, almost as
old as himself, survived him but a short time, and died an early
death. They were both interred in St. Anthony's church, without
pomp, pursuant to their testamentary directions.
These discourses, though written in Cornaro's old age, were penned
at different times, and published separately: The first, which he
wrote at the age of eighty-three, is intitled, A Treatise on a
Sober Life, in which he declares war against every kind of
intemperance; and his vigorous old age speaks in favour of his
precepts. The second treatise he composed at the age of eighty-six:
it contains farther encomiums on sobriety, and points out the means
of mending a bad constitution. He says, that he came into the
world with a choleric disposition, but that his temperate way of
life had enabled him to subdue it. The third, which he wrote at
the age of ninety-one, is intitled, An Earnest Exhortation to a
Sober Life; here he uses the strongest arguments to persuade
mankind to embrace a temperate life, as the means of attaining a
healthy and vigorous old age. The fourth and last, is a letter to
Barbaro, Patriarch of Aquileia, written at the age of ninety-five;
it contains a lively description of the healthy, vigour, and
perfect use of all his faculties, which he had the happiness of
enjoying at that advanced period of life.
This useful work was translated some years ago into English, under
the title of _Sure and certain methods of attaining a long and
healthy life_. The translator seems rather to have made use of a
French version than of the Italian original; he has likewise
omitted several passages of the Italian, and the whole is rather a
paraphrase than a translation. This has induced us to give the
public an exact and faithful version of that excellent performance,
from the Venice edition in 8vo, in the year 1620 [1]: and as a proof
of the merit and authenticity of the work, we beg leave to quote
Mr. Addison's recommendation of it, SPECTATOR, Vol. iii, No 195.
"The most remarkable instance of the efficacy of temperance,
towards the procuring long life, is what we meet with in a little
book published by _Lewis Cornaro,_ the _Venetian;_ which I rather
mention, because it is of undoubted credit, as the late _Venetian_
ambassador, who was of the same family, attested more than once in
conversation, when he resided in _England_. _Cornaro,_ who was
the author of the little treatise I am mentioning, was of an
infirm constitution, till about forty, when, by obstinately
persisting in an exact course of temperance, he recovered a perfect
state of health; insomuch that at fourscore he published his book,
which has been translated into _English_ under the title of, _Sure
and certain methods of attaining a long and healthy life_. He
lived to give a third or fourth edition of it, and after having
passed his hundredth year, died without pain or agony, and like
one who falls asleep. The treatise I mention has been taken
notice of by several eminent authors, and is written with such
spirit of chearfulness, religion, and good sense, as are the
natural concomitants of temperance and sobriety. The mixture of
the old man in it, is rather a recommendation than a discredit
to it."
[1] The first edition was published by the author at Padua, in
4to, A.D. 1558.
A TREATISE ON A SOBER LIFE
It is a thing past all doubt, that custom, by time, becomes a
second nature, forcing men to use that, whether good or bad, to
which they have been habituated: nay, we see habit, in many things,
get the better of reason. This is so undeniably true, that
virtuous men, by conversing with the wicked, very often fall into
the same vicious course of life. The contrary, likewise, we see
sometimes happen; viz. that, as good morals easily change to bad,
so bad morals change again to good. For instance: let a wicked
man, who was once virtuous, keep company with a virtuous man, and
he will again become virtuous; and this alteration can be
attributed to nothing but the force of habit, which is, indeed,
very great. Seeing many examples of this; and besides,
considering that, in consequence of this great force of habit,
three bad customs have got footing in Italy within a few years,
even within my own memory; the first flattery and ceremoniousness:
the second Lutheranism [2], which some have most preposterously
embraced; the third intemperance; and that these three vices,
like so many cruel monsters, leagued, as indeed they are, against
mankind, have gradually prevailed so far, as to rob civil life of
its sincerity, the soul of its piety, and the body of its health;
I have resolved to treat of the last of these vices, and prove
that it is an abuse, in order to extirpate it, if possible. As
to the second, Lutheranism, and the first, flattery, I am certain,
that some great genius or another will soon undertake the task of
exposing their deformity, and effectually suppressing them.
Therefore, I firmly hope, that, before I die, I shall see these
three abuses conquered and driven out of Italy; and this country
of course restored to its former laudable and virtuous customs.
[2] The author writes with the prejudice of a zealous Roman
Catholic against the doctrine of the Reformation, which he here
distinguishes by the name of Lutheranism. This was owing to the
artifices of the Romish clergy in those days, by whom the
reformed religion was misinterpreted, as introductive of
licentiousness and debauchery.
To come then to that abuse, of which I am proposed to speak,
namely, intemperance; I say, that it is a great pity it should have
prevailed so much, as entirely to banish sobriety. Though all are
agreed, that intemperance is the offspring of gluttony, and sober
living of abstemiousness; the former, nevertheless, is considered
a virtue and a mark of distinction, and the latter, as dishonourable
and the badge of avarice. Such mistaken notions are entirely
owing to the power of custom, established by our senses and
irregular appetites; these have blinded and besotted men to such
a degree, that, leaving the paths of virtue, they have followed
those of vice, which lead them before their time to an old age,
burthened with strange and mortal infirmities, so as to render
them quite decrepid before forty, contrary to the effects of
sobriety, which, before it was banished by this destructive
intemperance, used to keep men sound and hearty to the age of
eighty and upwards. O wretched and unhappy Italy! do you not
see, that intemperance murders every year more of your subjects,
than you could lose by the most cruel plague, or by fire and
sword in many battles? Those truly shameful feasts, no so much
in fashion, and so intolerably profuse, that no tables are large
enough to hold the dishes, which renders it necessary to heap them
one upon another; those feasts, I say, are so many battles; and
how is it possible to support nature by such a variety of contrary
and unwholesome foods? Put a stop to this abuse, for God's sake,
for there is not, I am certain of it, a vice more abominable than
this in the eyes of the Divine Majesty. Drive away this new kind
of death, and you have banished the plague, which, though it
formerly used to make such havock, now does little or no mischief,
owing to the laudable practice of attending more to the goodness
of the provisions brought to our markets. There are means still
left to banish intemperance, and such means too, that every man
may have recourse to them without any assistance. Nothing more is
requisite for this purpose, than to live up to the simplicity
dictated by nature, which teaches us to be content with little,
to pursue the medium of holy abstemiousness and divine reason,
and to accustom ourselves to eat no more than is absolutely
necessary to support life; considering, that what exceeds this,
is disease and death, and merely gives the palate satisfaction,
which, though but momentary, brings on the body a long and lasting
train of disagreeable sensations and diseases, and at length
destroys it along with the soul. How many friends of mine, men
of the finest understanding and most amiable disposition, have I
seen carried off by this plague in the flower of their youth? who,
where they now living, would be an ornament to the public, whose
company I should enjoy with as much pleasure, as I now feel
concern at their loss.
In order, therefore, to put a stop to so great an evil, I have
resolved by this short discourse to demonstrate, that
intemperance is an abuse which may be easily removed, and that
the good old sober living may be substituted in its stead; and
this I undertake more readily, as many young men of the best
understanding, knowing that it is a vice, have requested it of
me, moved thereto by seeing their fathers drop off in the flower
of their youth, and me so sound and hearty at the age of
eighty-one. They expressed a desire to reach the same term,
nature not forbidding us to wish for longevity; and old-age being,
in fact, that time of life in which prudence can be best
exercised, and the fruits of all the other virtues enjoyed with
less opposition, the passions being then so subdued, that man gives
himself up entirely to reason. They beseeched me to let them
know the method pursued by me to attain it; and then finding them
intent on so laudable a pursuit, I have resolved to treat of that
method, in order to be of service not only to them, but to all
those who may be willing to peruse this discourse. I shall,
therefore, give my reasons for renouncing intemperance, and
betaking myself to a sober course of life; declare freely the
method pursued by me for that purpose; and then set forth the
effects of so good an habit upon me; whence it may be clearly
gathered, how easy it is to remove the abuse of intemperance.
I shall conclude, by shewing how many conveniencies and
blessings are the consequences of a sober life.
I say then, that the heavy train of infirmities, which had not
only invaded, but even made great inroads in my constitution,
were my motives for renouncing intemperance, to which I had been
greatly addicted; so that, in consequence of it, and the badness
of my constitution, my stomach being exceedingly cold and moist,
I was fallen into different kinds of disorders, such as pains in
my stomach, and often stitches, and spices of the gout; attended
by, what was still worse, an almost continual slow fever, a
stomach generally out of order, and a perpetual thirst. From
these natural and acquired disorders the best delivery I had to
hope for, was death, to put an end to the pains and miseries of
life; a period very remote in the regular course of nature,
though I had hastened it by my irregular manner of living.
Finding myself, therefore, in such unhappy circumstances between
my thirty-fifth and fortieth year, every thing that could be
thought of having been tried to no purpose to relieve me, the
physicians gave me to understand, that there was but one method
left to get the better of my complaints, provided I would resolve
to use it, and patiently persevere in it. This was a sober and
regular life, which the assured me would be still of the greatest
service to me, and would be as powerful in its effects, as the
intemperance and irregular one had been, in reducing me to the
present low condition: and that I might be fully satisfied of its
salutary effects, for though by my irregularities I was become
infirm, I was not reduced so low, but that a temperate life, the
opposite in every respect to an intemperate one, might still
entirely recover me. And besides, it in fact appears, such a
regular life, whilst observed, preserves men of a bad constitution,
and far gone in years, just as a contrary course has the power
to destroy those of the best constitution, and in their prime;
for this plain reason, that different modes of life are
attended by different effects; art following, even herein, the
steps of nature, with equal power to correct natural vices and
imperfections. This is obvious in husbandry and the like. They
added, that if I did not immediately have recourse to such a
regimen, I could receive no benefit from it in a few months, and
that in a few more I must resign myself to death.
These solid and convincing arguments made such an impression on
me, that, mortified as I was besides, by the thoughts of dying
in the prime of life, and at the same time perpetually tormented
by various diseases, I immediately concluded, that the foregoing
contrary effects could not be produced but by contrary modes of
living; and, therefore, full of hopes, resolved, in order to
avoid at once both death and disease, to betake myself to a regular
course of life. Having, upon this, enquired of them what rules I
should follow, they told me, that I must not use any food, solid
or liquid, but such as, being generally prescribed to sick persons,
is, for that reason, called diet, and both very sparingly. These
directions, to say the truth, they had before given me; but it
was at a time of life when, impatient of such restraint, and
finding myself satiated, as it were, with such food, I could not
put up with it, and therefore eat freely of every thing I liked
best; and likewise, feeling myself in a manner parched up by the
heat of my disease, made no scruple of drinking, and in large
quantities, the wines that best pleased my palate. This indeed,
like all other patients, I kept a secret from my physicians. But,
when I had once resolved to live sparingly, and according to the
dictates of reason, seeing that is was no difficult matter, nay,
that it was my duty as a man so to do, I entered with so much
resolution upon this new course of life, that nothing has been
since able to divert me from it. The consequence was, that in a
few days I began to perceive, that such a course agreed with me
very well; and by pursuing it, in less than a year, I found
myself (some persons, perhaps, will not believe it) entirely
freed from all my complaints.
Having thus recovered my health, I began seriously to consider
the power of temperance, and say to myself, that if this virtue
had efficacy enough to subdue such grievous disorders as mine, it
must have still greater to preserve me in health, to help my bad
constitution, and comfort my very weak stomach. I therefore
applied myself diligently to discover what kinds of food suited
me best. But, first, I resolved to try, whether those, which
pleased my palate, agreed or disagreed with my stomach, in order
to judge for myself of the truth of that proverb, which I once held
true, and is universally held as such in the highest degree,
insomuch that epicures, who give a loose to their appetites, lay
it down as a fundamental maxim. This proverb is, that whatever
pleases the palate, must agree with the stomach, and nourish the
body; or whatever is palatable must be equally wholesome and
nourishing. The issue was, that I found it to be false: for,
though rough and very cold wines, as likewise melons and other
fruits, sallad, fish and pork, tarts, garden-stuff, pastry, and
the like, were very pleasing to my palate, the disagreed with me
notwithstanding. Having convinced myself, that the proverb in
question was false, I look'd upon it as such; and, taught by
experience, I gave over the use of such meats and wines, and
likewise of ice; chose wine suited to my stomach, drinking of it
but the quantity I knew I could digest. I did the same by my
meat, as well in regard to quantity as to quality, accustoming
myself never to cloy my stomach with eating or drinking; but
constantly rise from table with a disposition to eat and drink
still more. In this I conformed to the proverb, which says, that
a man, to consult his health, must check his appetite. Having in
this manner, and for these reasons, conquered intemperance and
irregularity, I betook myself intirely to a temperate and regular
life: which effected in me the alteration already mentioned, that
is, in less than a year it rid me of all those disorders, which
had taken so deep a root in me; nay, as I have already observed,
had made such a progress, as to be in a manner incurable. It had
likewise this other good effect, that I no longer experienced
those annual fits of sickness, with which I used to be afflicted,
while I followed a different, that is a sensual, course of life;
for then I used to be attacked every year with a strange kind of
fever, which sometimes brought me to death's door. From this
disease, then, I also freed myself, and became exceeding healthy,
as I have continued from that time forward to this very day; and
for no other reason than that I never trespassed against
regularity, which by its infinite efficacy has been the cause,
that the meat I constantly eat, and the wine I constantly drink,
being such as agreed with my constitution, and taken in proper
quantities, imparted all their virtue to my body, and then left
it without difficulty, and without engendering in it any bad
humours.
In consequence therfore of my taking such methods, I have
always enjoyed, and (God be praised) actually enjoy, the
best of healths. It is true, indeed, that, besides the two
forgoing most important rules relative to eating and drinking,
which I have ever been very scrupulous to observe; that is,
not to take of any thing, but as much as my stomach can easily
digest, and to use those things only, which agree with me; I
have carefully avoided heat, cold, and extraordinary fatigue,
interruption of my usual hours of rest, excessive venery, making
any stay in bad air, and exposing myself to the wind and sun; for
these, too, are great disorders. But then, fortunately, there is
no great difficulty in avoiding them, the love of life and health
having more sway over men of understanding, than any satisfaction
they could find in doing what must be extremely hurtful to their
constitution. I have likewise done all that lay in my power to
avoid those evils, which we do not find so easy to remove; these
are melancholy, hatred, and other violent passions, which appear
to have the greatest influence over our bodies. However, I have
not been able to guard so well against either one or the other
kind of these disorders, as not to suffer myself now and then to
be hurried away by many, not to say, all of them; but I have
reaped the benefit of knowing by experience that these passions
have, in the main, no great influence over bodies governed by the
two foregoing rules of eating and drinking, and therefore can do
them but very little harm; so that it may with great truth be
affirmed, that whoever observes these two capital rules, is
liable to very little inconveniency from any other excesses.
This, Galen, who was an eminent physician, observed before me.
He affirms, that so long as he followed these rules relative to
eating and drinking, he suffered but little from other disorders,
so little, that they never gave him above a day's uneasiness.
That what he says is true, I am a living witness, and so are many
others, who know me, and have seen, how often I have been exposed
to heats and colds, and such other disagreeable changes of weather;
and have, likewise, seen me (owing to various misfortunes, which
have more than once befallen me) greatly disturbed my mind. For
they can not only say of me, that such disturbance of mind has done
me very little harm, but they can aver of many others, who did not
lead a sober and regular life, that it proved very prejudicial to
them, amongst whom was a brother of my own, and others of my family,
who trusting to the goodness of their constitution, did not follow
my way of living. The consequence hereof was a great misfortune to
them, the perturbations of the mind having thereby acquired an
extraordinary influence over their bodies. Such, in a word, was
their grief and dejection at seeing me involved in expensive
law-suits, commenced against my by great and powerful men, that,
fearing I should be cast, they were seized with that melancholy
humour, with which intemperate bodies always abound; and these
humours had such an influence over them, and increased to such
a degree, as to carry them off before their time; whereas I
suffered nothing on the occasion, as I had in me no superfluous
humours of that kind. Nay, in order to keep up my spirits, I
brought myself to think, that God had raised up these suits
against me, in order to make me more sensible of my strength of
body and mind; and that I should get the better of them with
honour and advantage, as it, in fact, came to pass: for, at
last, I obtained a decree exceeding favourable to my fortune and
my character, which, though it gave me the highest pleasure, had
not the power to do me any harm in other respects. Thus it is
plain, that neither melancholy nor any other affection of the
mind can hurt bodies governed with temperance and regularity.
But I must go a step further, and say, that even misfortunes
themselves can do but very little mischief, or cause but very
little pain, to such bodies; and that this is true, I have myself
experienced at the age of seventy. I happened, as is often the
case, to be in a coach, which going at a pretty smart rate, was
overset, and in that condition drawn a considerable way by the
horses, before means could be found to stop them; whence I
received so many shocks and bruises, that I was taken out with
my head and all the rest of my body terribly battered, and a
dislocated leg and arm. When I was brought home, the family
immediately sent for the physicians, who, on their arrival, seeing
me in so bad a plight, concluded, that within three days I should
die; nevertheless, they would try what good two things would do
me; one was to bleed me, the other to purge me; and thereby
prevent my humours altering, as they every moment expected, to
such a degree, as to ferment greatly, and bring on a high fever.
But I, on the contrary, who knew, that the sober life I had led
for many years past, had so well united, harmonized, and disposed
my humours, as not to leave it in their power to ferment to such
a degree, refused to be either bled, or purged. I just caused my
leg and arm to be set, an suffered myself to be rubbed with some
oils, which they said were proper on the occasion. Thus, without
using any other kind of remedy, I recovered, as I thought I should,
without feeling the least alteration in myself, or any other bad
effects from the accident; a thing, which appeared miraculous even
in the eyes of the physicians. Hence we are to infer, that whoever
leads a sober and regular life, and commits no excess in his diet,
can suffer but very little from disorders of any other kind, or
external accidents. On the contrary, I conclude, especially from
the late trial I have had, that excesses in eating and drinking are
fatal. Of this I convinced myself four years ago, when by the
advice of my physicians, the instigation of my friends, and the
importunity of my own family, I consented to such an excess, which,
as it will appear hereafter, was attended with far worse
consequences, than could naturally be expected. This excess
consisted in increasing the quantity of food I generally made use
of; which increase alone brought me to a most cruel fit of sickness.
And as it is a case so much in point to the subject in hand, and the
knowledge of it may be useful to some of my readers, I shall take
the trouble to relate it.
I say, then, that my dearest friends and relations, actuated by the
warm and laudable affection and regard they have for me, seeing how
little I eat, represented to me, in conjunction with my physicians,
that the sustenance I took could not be sufficient to support one
so far advanced in years, when it was become necessary not only to
preserve nature, but to increase its vigour. That, as this could
not be done without food, it was absolutely incumbent upon me to
eat a little more plentifully. I, on the other hand, produced my
reasons for not complying with their desires. These were, that
nature is content with little, and that with this little I had
preserved myself so many years; and that, to me, the habit of it
was become a second nature; and that it was more agreeable to
reason, that, as I advanced in years and lost my strength, I
should rather lessen than increase the quantity of my food:
Farther, that it was but natural to think, that the powers of
the stomach grew weaker from day to day; on which account I
could see no reason to make such an addition. To corroborate
my arguments, I alleged that those two natural and very true
proverbs; one, that he, who has a mind to eat a great deal, must
eat but little; which is said for no other reason than this, that
eating little makes a man live very long, and living very long he
must eat a great deal. The other proverb was, that what we leave
after making a hearty meal, does us more good than what we have
eat. But neither these proverbs, nor any other arguments I could
think of, were able to prevent their teazing me more than ever.
Wherefore, not to appear obstinate, or affect to know more than
the physicians themselves; but, above all, to please my family,
who very earnestly desired it, from a persuasion that such an
addition to my usual allowance would preserve my strength, I
consented to increase the quantity of food, but with two ounces
only. So that, as before, what with bread, meat, the yolk of
an egg, and soup, I eat as much, as weighed in all twelve ounces,
neither more nor less, I now increased it to fourteen; and as
before I drank but fourteen ounces of wine, I now increased it to
sixteen. This increase and irregularity, had, in eight days time,
such an effect upon me, that, from being chearful and brisk, I
began to be peevish and melancholy, so that nothing could please
me; and was constantly so strangely disposed, that I neither knew
what to say to others, nor what to do with myself. On the twelfth
day, I was attacked with a most violent pain in my side, which held
me twenty-two hours, and was succeeded by a terrible fever, which
continued thirty-five days and as many nights, without giving me
a moment's respite; though, to say the truth, it began to abate
gradually on the fifteenth. But notwithstanding such abatement,
I could not, during the whole time, sleep half a quarter of an
hour together, insomuch that every one looked upon me as a dead
man. But, God be praised, I recovered merely by my former regular
course of life, though then in my seventy-eighth year, and in the
coldest season of a very cold year, and reduced to a mere skeleton;
and I am positive that it was the great regularity I had observed
for so many years, and that only, which rescued me from the jaws
of death. In all that time I never knew what sickness was, unless
I may call by that same name some slight indispositions of a day
or two's continuance; the regular life I had led, as I have
already taken notice, for so many years, not having permitted any
superfluous or bad humours to breed in me; or if they did, to
acquire such strength and malignity, a they generally acquire in
the superannuated bodies of those, who live without rule. And as
there was not any old malignity in my humours (which is the thing
that kills people) but only that, which my new irregularity had
occasioned, this fit of sickness, though exceeding violent, had
not the strength to destroy me. This it was, and nothing else,
that saved my life; whence may be gathered, how great is the
power and efficacy of regularity; and how great, likewise, is
that of irregularity, which in a few days could bring on me so
terrible a fit of sickness, just as regularity had preserved me
in health for so many years.
And it appears to me a no weak argument, that, since the world,
consisting of the four elements, is upheld by order; and our
life, as to the body, is no other than a harmonious combination
of the same four elements, so it should be preserved and maintained
by the very same order; and, on the other hand, it must be worn
out by sickness, or destroyed by death, which are produced by the
contrary effects. By order the arts are more easily learned; by
order armies are rendered victorious; by order, in a word,
families, cities, and even states are maintained. Hence I
concluded, that orderly living is no other than a most certain
cause and foundation of health and long life; nay I cannot help
saying, that it is the only and true medicine; and whoever weighs
the matter well, must also conclude, that this is really the case.
Hence it is, that when a physician comes to visit a patient, the
first thing he prescribes, is to live regularly. In like manner,
when a physician takes leave of a patient, on his being recovered,
he advises him, as he tenders his health, to lead a regular life.
And it is not to be doubted, that, were a patient so recovered
to live in that manner, he could never be sick again, as it
removes every cause of illness; and so, for the future, would
never want either physician or physic. Nay, by attending duly
to what I have said, he would become his own physician, and,
indeed, the best he could have; since, in fact, no many can be a
perfect physician to any one but himself. The reason of which is,
that any man may, by repeated trials, acquire a perfect knowledge
of his own constitution, and the most hidden qualities of his
body; and what wine and food agree with his stomach. Now, it
is so far from being an easy matter to know these things perfectly
of another, that we cannot without much trouble discover them in
ourselves, since a great deal of time and repeated trials are
requisite for the purpose.
These trials are, indeed, (if I may say it) more than necessary,
as there is a greater variety in the natures and constitutions of
different men, than in their persons. Who could believe, that
old wine, wine that had passed its first year, should disagree
with my stomach, and new wine agree with it? and that pepper,
which is looked upon as a warm spice, should not have a warm
effect upon me, insomuch that I find myself more warmed and
comforted by cinnamon? Where is the physician, that could have
informed me of these two latent qualities, since I myself, even
by a long course of observation, could scarce discover them?
From all these reasons it follows, that it is impossible to be
a perfect physician to another. Since, therefore, a man cannot
have a better physician than himself, nor any physic better than
a regular life, a regular life he ought to embrace.
I do not, however, mean, that, for the knowledge and cure of
such disorders, as often befall those who do not live regularly,
there is no occasion for a physician, and that his assistance
ought to be slighted. For, if we are apt to receive such great
comfort from friends, who come to visit us in our illness, though
they do no more than testify their concern for us, and bid us be
of good cheer; how much more regard ought we to have for the
physician, who is a friend that comes to see us in order to
relieve us, and promises us a cure? But for the bare purpose of
keeping ourselves in good health, I am of the opinion, that we
should consider as a physician this regular life, which, as we
have seen, is our natural and proper physic, since it preserves
men, even those of a bad constitution, in health; makes them live
sound and hearty to the age of one hundred and upwards; and
prevents their dying of sickness, or through a corruption of their
humours, but merely by a dissolution of their radical moisture,
when quite exhausted; all which effects several wise men have
attributed to potable gold, and the elixir, sought for by many,
but discovered by few. However to confess the truth, men, for
the most part, are very sensual and intemperate, and love to
satisfy their appetites, and to commit every excess; therefore,
seeing that they cannot avoid being greatly injured by such
excess, as often as they are guilty of it, they, by way of
apologizing for their conduct, say, that it is better to live ten
years less, and enjoy themselves; not considering, of what
importance are ten years more of life, especially a healthy life,
and at a maturer age; when men become sensible of their progress
in knowledge and virtue, which cannot attain to any degree of
perfection before this period of life.
Not to speak, at present, of many other advantages, I shall
barely mention that in regard to letters and the sciences; far
the greatest number of the best and most celebrated books extant,
were written during that period of life, and those ten years, which
some make it their business to undervalue, in order to give a loose
to their appetites. Be that as it will, I would not act like them.
I rather coveted to live these ten years, and, had I not done so,
I should never have finished those tracts, which I have composed
in consequence of my having been sound and hearty these ten years
past; and which I have the pleasure to think will be of service to
others. These sensualists add, that a regular life is such as no
man can lead. To this I answer, Galen, who was so great a
physician, led such a life, and chose it as the best physic. The
same did Plato, Cicero, Isocrates, and many other great men of
former times; whom, not to tire the reader, I shall forbear naming:
and, in our own days, pope Paul Farnese led it, and cardinal Bembo;
and it was for that reason they lived so long; likewise our two
doges, Lando and Donato; besides many others of meaner condition,
and those who live not only in cities, but also in different parts
of the country, who all found great benefit by conforming to this
regularity. Therefore, since many have led this life, and many
actually lead it, it is not such a life but that every one may
conform to it; and the more so, as no great difficulty attends it;
nothing, indeed, being requisite but to begin in good earnest, as
the above-mentioned Cicero affirms, and all those who now live
in this manner. Plato, you will say, though he himself lived very
regularly, affirms, notwithstanding, that, in republics, men
cannot do so, being often obligated to expose themselves to heat,
cold, and several other kinds of hardship, and other things,
which are all so many disorders, and incompatable with a regular
life. I answer, as I have already observed, that these are not
disorders attended with any bad consequence, or which affect
either health or life, when the man, who undergoes them, observes
the rules of sobriety, and commits no excess in the two points
concerning diet, which a republican may very well avoid, nay it
is requisite he should avoid; because, by so doing, he may be
sure either to escape those disorders, which, otherwise, it
would be no easy matter for him to escape while exposed to these
hardships; or, in case he could not escape them, he may more
easily and speedily prevent their bad effects.
Here it may be objected, and some actually object, that he,
who leads a regular life, having constantly, when well, made
use of food fit for the sick, and in small quantities, has no
resource left in case of illness. To this I might, in the
first place, answer, that nature, desirous to preserve man
in good health as long as possible, informs him, herself, how
he is to act in time of illness; for she immediately deprives
him, when sick, of his appetite, in order that he may eat but
little; because nature (as I have said already) is satisfied
with little; wherefore, it is requisite, that a man, when
sick, whether he has been a regular or irregular liver, should
use no meats, but such as are suited to his disorder; and of
these even in a much smaller quantity than he was wont to do,
when in health. For were he to eat as much as he used to do, he
would die by it; because it would be only adding to the burden,
with which nature was already oppressed, by giving her a greater
quantity of food, than she can in such circumstances support; and
this, I imagine, would be a sufficient caution to any sick
person. But, independent of all this, I might answer some others,
and still better, that whoever leads a regular life, cannot be
sick; or, at least, but seldom, and for a short time; because,
by living regularly, he extirpates every seed of sickness; and
thus, by removing the cause, prevents the effect; so that he,
who pursues a regular course of life, need not be apprehensive
of illness, as he need not be afraid of the effect, who has
guarded against the cause.
Since it therefore appears that a regular life is so
profitable and virtuous, so lovely and so holy, it ought to be
universally followed and embraced; and more so, as it does not
clash with the means or duties of any station, but is easy to
all; because, to lead it, a man need not tie himself down to
eat so little as I do, or not to eat fruit, fish, and other
things of that kind, from which I abstain, who eat little,
because it is sufficient for my puny and weak stomach; and fruit,
fish, and other things of that kind, disagree with me, which is
my reason for not touching them. Those, however, with whom such
things agree, may, and ought to eat of them; since they are not by
any means forbid the use use of such sustinance. But, then, both
they, and all others, are forbid to eat a greater quantity of any
kind of food, even of that which agrees with them, than what their
stomachs can easily digest; the same is to be understood of drink.
Hence it is that those, with whom nothing disagrees, are not
bound to observe any rule but that relating to the quantity, and
not to the quality, of their food; a rule which they may, without
the least difficulty in the world, comply with.
Let nobody tell me, that there are numbers, who, though they live
most irregularly, live in health and spirits, to those remote
periods of life, attained by the most sober; for, this argument
being grounded on a case full of uncertainty and hazard, and
which, besides, so seldom occurs, as to look more like a miracle
than the work of nature, men should not suffer themselves to be
thereby persuaded to live irregularly, nature having been too
liberal to those, who did so without suffering by it; a favour,
which very few have any right to expect. Whoever, trusting to
his youth, or the strength of his constitution, or the goodness of
his stomach, slights these observations, must expect to suffer
greatly by so doing, and live in constant danger of disease and
death. I therefore affirm, that an old man, even of a bad
constitution, who leads a regular and sober life, is surer of a
long one, than a young man of the best constitution, who leads a
disorderly life. It is not to be doubted, however, that a man
blessed with a good constitution may, by living temperately,
expect to live longer than one, whose constitution is not so
good; and that God and nature can dispose matters so, that a man
shall bring into the world with him so sound a constitution, as
to live long and healthy, without observing such strick rules;
and then die in a very advanced age through a mere dissolution
of his elementary parts; as was the case, in Venice, of the
procurator Thomas Contarini; and in Padua, of the cavalier
Antonio Capo di Vacca. But it is not one man in a hundred
thousand, that so much can be said of. If others have a mind
to live long and healthy, and die without sickness of body or
mind, but by mere dissolution, they must submit to live regularly,
since the cannot otherwise expect to enjoy the fruits of such a
life, which are almost infinite in number, and each of them, in
particular, of infinite value. For, as such regularity keeps the
humours of the body cleansed and purified; it suffers no vapors to
ascend from the stomach to the head; hence the brain of him, who
lives in that manner, enjoys such a constant serenity, that he is
always perfectly master of himself. He, therefore, easily soars
above the low and groveling concerns of this life, to the exalted
and beautiful contemplation of heavenly things, to his exceeding
great comfort and satisfaction; because he, by this means, comes
to consider, know, and understand that, which otherwise he would
never have considered, known, or understood; that is, how great
is the power, wisdom, and goodness of the Deity. He then
descends into nature, and acknowledges her for the daughter of God;
and sees, and even feels with his hands, that, which in any other
age, or with a perception less clear, he could never have seen
or felt. He then truly discerns the brutality of that vice into
which they fall, who know not how to subdue their passions, and
those three importunate lusts, which, one would imagine, came
all together into the world with us, in order to keep us in
perpetual anxiety and disturbance. These are, the lust of the
flesh, the lust of honours, and the lust of riches; which are apt
to increase with years in such old persons as do not lead a regular
life; because, in their passage through the stage of manhood,
they did not, as they ought, renounce sensuality and their passions;
and take up with sobriety and reason; virtues which men of a regular
life, did not neglect when they passed through the above-mentioned
stage. For, knowing such passions are such lusts to be inconsistent
with reason, by which they are entirely governed; they, at once,
broke loose from all temptations to vice; and, instead of being
slaves to their inordinate appetites, they applied themselves to
virtue and good works; and by these means, they altered their
conduct, and became men of good and sober lives. When, therefore,
in process of time, they see themselves brought by a long series of
years to their dissolution, conscious that, through the singular
mercy of God, they had so sincerely relinquished the paths of vice,
as never afterwards to enter them; and moreover hoping, through the
merits of our Saviour Jesus Christ, to die in his favour, they do
not suffer themselves to be cast down at the thoughts of death,
knowing that they must die. This is particularly the case, when,
loaded with honour, and sated with life, they see themselves arrived
at that age, which not one in many thousands of those, who live
otherwise, ever attains. They have still the greater reason not to
be dejected at the thoughts of death, as it does not attack them
violently and by surprize, with a bitter and painful turn of their
humours, with feverish sensations, and sharp pains, but steals
upon them insensibly and with the greatest ease and gentleness;
such an end, proceeding intirely from an exhaustion of the radical
moisture, which decays by degrees like the oil of a lamp; so that
they pass gently, without any sickness, from this terrestrial and
mortal to a celestial and eternal life.
O holy and truly happy regularity! How holy and happy should men,
in fact, deem thee, since the opposite habit is the cause of such
guilt and misery, as evidently appears to those who consider the
opposite effects of both! so that men should know thee by thy voice
alone, and thy lovely name; for what a glorious name, what a noble
thing, is an orderly and sober life! as, on the contrary, the bare
mention of disorder and intemperance is offensive to our ears.
Nay, there is the same difference between the mentioning these two
things, as between the uttering of the words angel and devil.
Thus I have assigned my reasons for abandoning intemperance, and
betaking myself intirely to a sober life; with the method I
pursued in doing so, and what was the consequence of it; and,
finally, the advantages an blessings, which a sober life confers
upon those who embrace it. Some sensual, inconsiderate persons
affirm, that a long life is no blessing; and that the state of a
man, who has passed his seventy-fifth year, cannot really be called
life, but death: but this is a great mistake, as I shall fully
prove; and it is my sincere wish, that all men would endeavour to
attain my old age, in order that they too may enjoy that period of
life, which of all others is the most desirable.