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.
This sobriety is reduced to two things, quality and quantity. The
first, namely quality, consists in nothing, but not eating food, or
drinking wines, prejudicial to the stomach. The second, which is
quantity, consists in not eating or drinking more than the stomach
can easily digest; which quantity and quality every man should be
a perfect judge of by the time he is forty, or fifty, or sixty; and,
whoever observes these two rules, may be said to live a regular and
sober life. This is of so much virtue and efficacy, that the
humours of such a man's body become most homogeneous, harmonious,
and perfect; and, when thus improved, are no longer liable to be
corrupted or disturbed by any other disorders whatsoever, such as
suffering excessive heat or cold, too much fatigue, want of natural
rest, and the like, unless in the last degree of excess. Wherefore,
since the humours of persons, who observe these two rules relative
to eating and drinking, cannot possibly be corrupted, and engender
acute diseases, the sources of an untimely death, every man is
bound to comply with them: for whoever acts otherwise, living a
disorderly instead of a regular life, is constantly exposed to
disease and mortality, as well in consequence of such disorders,
as of others without number, each of which is capable of producing
the same destructive effect.
It is, indeed, true, that even those, who observe the two rules
relating to diet, the observance of which constitutes a sober life,
may, by committing any one of the other irregularities, find
himself the worse for it, for a day or two; but not so as to breed
a fever. He may, likewise, be affected by the revolutions of the
heavens; but neither the heavens, nor those irregularities, are
capable of corrupting the humours of a temperate person; and it is
but reasonable and natural it should be so, as the two
irregularities of diet are interior, and the others exterior.
But as there are some persons, stricken in years, who are,
notwithstanding, very gluttonous, and alledge that neither the
quantity or quality of their diet makes any impression upon
them, and therefore eat a great deal, and of every thing without
distinction, and indulge themselves equally in point of drinking,
because they do not know in what part of their bodies their
stomachs are situated; such, no doubt, are beyond all measure
sensual, and slaves to gluttony. To these I answer, that what
they say is impossible in the nature of things, because it is
impossible that every man, who comes into the world, should not
bring with him a hot, a cold, or a temperate constitution; and
that hot foods should agree with hot constitutions, cold with
cold ones, and things that are not of a temperate nature, with
temperate ones, is likewise impossible in nature. After all,
these epicures must allow, that they are now and then out of
order; and that they cure themselves by taking evacuating
medicines and observing a strict diet. Whence it appears, that
their being out of order is owing to their eating too much, and
of things disagreeing with their stomachs.