From my own Apartment, October 23.
A method of spending one's time agreeably is a thing so little studied,
that the common amusement of our young gentlemen, especially of such as
are at a distance from those of the first breeding, is Drinking. This
way of entertainment has custom on its side; but as much as it has
prevailed, I believe there have been very few companies that have been
guilty of excess this way, where there have not happened more accidents
which make against than for the continuance of it. It is very common
that events arise from a debauch which are fatal, and always such as
are disagreeable. With all a man's reason and good sense about him, his
tongue is apt to utter things out of mere gaiety of heart, which may
displease his best friends. Who then would trust himself to the power of
wine without saying more against it, than that it raises the imagination
and depresses the judgment? Were there only this single consideration,
that we are less masters of ourselves when we drink in the least
proportion above the exigencies of thirst, I say, were this all that
could be objected, it were sufficient to make us abhor this vice. But
we may go on to say, that as he who drinks but a little is not master of
himself, so he who drinks much is a slave to himself. As for my part, I
ever esteemed a drunkard of all vicious persons the most vicious: for if
our actions are to be weighed and considered according to the
intention of them, what cannot we think of him, who puts himself into a
circumstance wherein he can have no intention at all, but incapacitates
himself for the duties and offices of life by a suspension of all his
faculties? If a man considered that he cannot, under the oppression of
drink, be a friend, a gentleman, a master, or a subject: that he has so
long banished himself from all that is dear, and given up all that is
sacred to him: he would even then think of a debauch with horror.
But when he looks still further and acknowledges that he is not only
expelled out of all the relations of life, but also liable to offend
against them all; what words can express the terror and detestation he
would have of such a condition? And yet he owns all this of himself who
says he was drunk last night.
As I have all along persisted in it, that all the vicious in general
are in a state of death; so I think I may add to the non-existence of
drunkards, that they died by their own hands. He is certainly as guilty
of suicide who perishes by a slow, as he that is despatched by an
immediate, poison. In my last lucubration I proposed the general use of
water gruel, and hinted that it might not be amiss at this very season.
But as there are some whose cases, in regard to their families, will not
admit of delay, I have used my interest in several wards of the city,
that the wholesome restorative above-mentioned may be given in tavern
kitchens to all the morning draughtsmen within the walls when they
call for wine before noon. For a further restraint and mark upon such
persons, I have given orders, that in all the offices where policies are
drawn upon lives, it shall be added to the article which prohibits that
the nominee should cross the sea, the words, "Provided also, that the
above-mentioned A. B. shall not drink before dinner during the term
mentioned in this indenture."
I am not without hopes, that by this method I shall bring some unsizable
friends of mine into shape and breadth, as well as others, who
are languid and consumptive, into health and vigour. Most of the
self-murderers whom I yet hinted at are such as preserve a certain
regularity in taking their poison, and make it mix pretty well with
their food. But the most conspicuous of those who destroy themselves,
are such as in their youth fall into this sort of debauchery; and
contract a certain uneasiness of spirit, which is not to be diverted
but by tippling as often as they can fall into company in the day, and
conclude with downright drunkenness at night. These gentlemen never
know the satisfaction of youth, but skip the years of manhood, and are
decrepit soon after they are of age. I was godfather to one of these old
fellows. He is now three-and-thirty, which is the grand climacteric of
a young drunkard. I went to visit the wretch this morning, with no other
purpose but to rally him under the pain and uneasiness of being sober.
But as our faults are double when they affect others besides ourselves,
so this vice is still more odious in a married than a single man. He
that is the husband of a woman of honour, and comes home overloaded with
wine, is still more contemptible in proportion to the regard we have to
the unhappy consort of his bestiality. The imagination cannot shape
to itself anything more monstrous and unnatural than the familiarities
between drunkenness and chastity. The wretched Astraea, who is the
perfection of beauty and innocence, has long been thus condemned for
life. The romantic tales of virgins devoted to the jaws of monsters,
have nothing in them so terrible as the gift of Astraea to that
Bacchanal.