Chap. I That One Must Be Merry
If on one hand I have reason to fear that the title of this book will offend the delicate ears of a great many, and make them say, that no vice ever wanted its advocate, Nullo vitio unquam defuit advocatus; I am not, perhaps, less exposed on the other to the criticisms of as many folks, who will probably apply to me that which was said heretofore to one in Lacedemonia, who had a mind to make an encomium on Hercules, viz. Who ever blamed Hercules?
Quis Herculem vituperavit?
However, though I should have no readers at all, yet am I resolved to continue my discourse at the hazard, in some manner, of imitating Pyrrho the philosopher, who one day, as he was haranguing the people, seeing himself abandoned by all his auditors, pursued very magnanimously his declamation to the end. To enter, therefore, upon the present subject, I lay down this as my first position, viz. That it is lawful to get drunk sometimes. Which I prove thus:—
Sadness is in the highest degree prejudicial to health, and causes abundance of distempers. There is no one ignorant of this truth. Joy (or mirth) on the contrary, prevents and forces them away. It is, as the Arabians say, the flower and spirit of a brisk and lively health1. Let us run over, and examine all the different states of life, and we shall be forced to own, that there is not one of them all but what is subject to chagrin and sadness; and, consequently, that joy, or mirth, is most necessary to men. Which very probably the philosopher had in his head, when he defined man a risible animal. But be that as it will, one must certainly look upon that maxim which recommends mingling of pleasures with the affairs of life as a very wise one.
Sometimes with mirth and pleasure lard your cares2.
We shall confirm this precept by a beautiful passage out of Seneca, whose writings most certainly contain no loose morality, and which is as follows:— “The soul must not be always bent: one must sometimes allow it a little pleasure. Socrates was not ashamed to pass the time with children. Cato enjoyed himself in drinking plentifully, when his mind had been too much wearied out in public affairs. Scipio knew very well how to move that body, so much inured to wars and triumphs, without breaking it, as some now-a-days do, with more than womanly pleasures; but as people did in past times, who would make themselves merry on their festivals, by leading a dance really worthy men of those days, whence could ensue no reproach, when even their very enemies had seen them dance. One must allow the mind some recreation: it makes it more gay and peaceful. And as it is not good too much to cultivate soil the most fertile, least, by yielding too large crops, it may soon run to decay and ruin: so in the same manner is the mind broken by a continued labour and application. Those who respite a little, regain their strength. Assiduity of labour begets a languor and bluntness of the mind: for sleep is very necessary to refresh us, and yet he that would do nothing else but sleep night and day, would be a dead man and no more. There is a great deal of difference between loosening a thing, and quite unravelling it. Those who made laws have instituted holydays, to oblige people to appear at public rejoicings, in order to mingle with their cares a necessary temperament. There have been several very great men (as I have mentioned) who would set apart certain days of the month for that end; and some others, who had every day set hours for work, and other set hours for recreation. One must therefore allow the mind some recreation. One must allow it some repose and leisure, which may serve for new strength and nourishment. You must sometimes walk in the open air, that the mind may exalt itself by viewing the heavens, and breathing the air at your ease; sometimes take the air in your chariot, the roads and the change of the country will re-establish you in your vigour; or you may eat and drink a little more plentifully than usual. Sometimes one must go even as far as to get drunk; not, indeed, with an intention to drown ourselves in wine, but to drown our cares. For wine drives away sorrow and care, and goes and fetches them up from the bottom of the soul. And as drunkenness cures some distempers, so, in like manner, it is a sovereign remedy for our sorrows3.”
It must be confessed, indeed, that properly speaking, this passage of Seneca is levelled only against too great assiduity in labour and business; the application, however, is very just, in relation to chagrin, which causes in men’s minds a far greater alteration than can be excited by the most rude labour either of mind or body.
The ancients had, besides this, another motive which induced them to make merry, and pass their time agreeably. They considered the short duration of their life, and for that reason endeavoured to make the best use of it they could. It will be no difficult matter for me to prove what I here advance.
Every one knows that the Egyptians made use of a very extraordinary custom in their festivals. They shewed to every guest a skeleton: this, according to some, was to make them think of death. Others again assure us, “That this strange figure was made use of to a quite contrary end; that this image of death was shewn for no other intent but to excite them to pass away their life merrily, and to employ the few days of its small duration to the best advantage; as having no other condition to expect after death, but that of this frightful skeleton4.”
This last sentiment is, without doubt, most probable; for what likelihood is there that people would make reflections the most sad and serious, at a time when they proposed only to divert, and make themselves merry. This influence had the sight of a skull upon the mind of Trimalchion, who Petronius5 tells us, thus expressed himself on that object:— “Alas! alas! wretched that we are! what a nothing is poor man! we shall be all like this, when Fate shall have snatched us hence. Let us therefore rejoice, and be merry while we are here.” The Latin is much stronger:—
Heu! heu! nos miseros! quam totus homuncio nil est,
Sic erimus cuncti, postquam nos auferet orcus.
Ergo vivamus, dum licet esse, bene.
A little before he said almost the same thing. “Alas! wine therefore lives longer than man, let us then sit down and drink bumpers; life and wine are the same thing.” Heu! heu! ergo diutius vivit vinum, quam homuncio. Quare Tangomenas faciamus, vita vinum est. This puts me in mind of what Athenæus6 reports of an Egyptian, called Mycernius. This man having been told by the oracle that he had but a very short time to live, resolved to make the most of that short space, and to that end did nothing but drink night and day.
This thought of an approaching death is not so importunate as is believed, since it is, says an7 anonymous French author, a principal beauty of an ancient hymn of the poet Cecilius. “Let me be assured, says he, that I shall live six months, and I shall employ them so well, as to die the seventh without any regret in the world.”
The same author goes on thus:— “The moderns have not failed imitating the elegant flights of the fine wits of the ancient Greeks and Romans. I find, especially, that the Italians come nearer to them; perhaps, because they are more proper than others to refine on pleasure. This is the character of the nation, of the truth of which I shall give no other proof than the last lines of an elegy, written by Samazarius, a Neapolitan gentleman.” The sense of which in English runs thus.
Since vig’rous youth, all blooming, brisk, and gay,
Excites our tender souls to sport and play,
Let’s taste ambrosial pleasures while we may.
Those joys to which our souls are most inclin’d,
And suit the throbbing passions of the mind.
Let’s love while soft ecstatic fires engage,
And shew us lovers on the world’s great stage,
Dull reason only suits with frightful age.
And see, she comes, for ever to destroy,
For ever all our bliss, and all our joy.
Unwelcome age comes on with swiftest pace;
Let’s then prevent this wretched sad disgrace.
O may the terrors of approaching fate,
Excite new fires, inspire fresh vig’rous heat;
That love may sov’reign reign in ev’ry part,
And drive unworthy weakness from our heart.
Thrice happy, if surpriz’d by death one day,
Absorpt in sweetest bliss we die away.
But to return to my subject. We are told for certain, that the Scythians used to drink out of a skull; and probably they had the same design in doing so as the Egyptians had in looking on their skeletons. But leaving these objects, which cannot be very diverting, in what view soever one may consider them, let us come to the Romans. Gruter tells us in his Inscriptions8, that they used to cry out at their feasts,
Amici,
Dum vivimus,
Vivamus.
That is, “Friends, while we live, let us be merry.” For Raderus has evidently made it appear, by several examples out of Catullus, Cecilius, Varro, Anacreon, and other ancient authors, that vivere, or to live, signifies to make merry, to give one’s self up to all kinds of pleasures, making good cheer, &c.
I know not whether the Gascogns, who pronouncing the V consonant like B, instead of Vivis et regnas in secula seculorum, say (as I have been informed, how true it is I know not) Bibis et regnas in secula seculorum, are of the same sentiment with Raderus in this point: but very probably that good honest German was, who in a kind of ecstasy over a bottle cry’d out,
O felices populi, quorum vivere est bibere!
However, to prove this, as also at the same time to confirm what has been said above, in relation to the motives that induced people of old times to make merry, I shall instance some passages of the ancients. But first let us not omit this inscription in Gruter9, which is not much unlike the former.
VIVE, HOSPES, DUM LICET, ATQUE VALE.
“Be merry, landlord, and enjoy yourself while ’tis in your power, as for the rest, adieu.”
Martial says somewhere, “Be merry to-day, depend not on to-morrow.”
Sera nimis vita est crastina, vive hodie.
Catullus expresses much the same sentiments in these beautiful verses:—
“Vivamus ————
Rumoresq; senum severiorum,
Omnes unius estimemus assis.
Soles occidere et redire possunt;
Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
Nox est perpetua una dormienda.”9a
“Let us be merry ————
And all the rigid cant of peevish age,
Count as poor straws that on the surface float.
The sun may roll his swift diurnal course,
And from the ocean raise again his head,
But when our glimm’ring lamp of life’s expir’d,
One long perpetual night we then must sleep.”
Horace, in several places, says how we ought (according to him) to employ to the best advantage the little time we have to live; but especially in one of his odes, which in English would run thus.
I
“All things hereto invite. Come, come, away,
Let’s seize the present hours, nor vainly care
For future time, but wisely, only fear
To lose of life one short uncertain day,
Or moment, which in death must soon decay,
No human force can her strict laws withstand:
Her cruel rigour no one spares,
The blooming cheek, and hoary hairs,
Alike submit to her victorious hand.
O’er all she bears unbounded sway,
All her impartial scythe relentless mows:
Th’ ill-manner’d tyranness no difference shows,
Betwixt imperial and plebeian clay.
II
When we the dark and dismal beach
Of dreaded floods below shall reach,
And vain cold phantoms quiv’ring stand,
In those sad gloomy shades of night,
No Cynthia’s charms will then command,
Nor Iris with her angel’s voice delight;
Nor Doris with soft dying languors move.
These dreary realms exclude, alas! for ever love.
III
Nor are there any boon companions there,
To laugh, and sing, and make good cheer:
There shall we taste no more that wondrous juice,
That nectar which the blessed vines produce,
The height of all our joy, and wishes here.
Nor those sweet entertainments gay,
When by the glass inspir’d so many kings,
We tope, and speak, and do heroic things,
And count ourselves more happy far than they.
These days of ours the fatal sisters spin,
To consecrate to love and wine,
Let’s now, e’er ’tis too late begin.
Alas! without these pow’rs divine
What should one do with a vain useless thread?
What does it aught avail to breathe and move?
One had as good be dead,
Much better be no more, than not to drink and love.”
I shall close this chapter with one of the Anacreontic odes of the famous Monsieur La Motte, author of the Fables Nouvelles, lately translated into English under the title of “Court Fables.”
“Bûvons, amis, le temps s’enfuit,
Menageons bien ce court espace.
Peut-etre une eternelle nuit
Eteindra le jour qui se passe.
Peut-etre que Caron demain
Nous recevra tous dans sa barque,
Saisissons un moment certain.
C’est autant de pris sur la parque.
A l’envi laissons-nous saisir,
Aux transports d’une douce ivresse:
Qu’importe si c’est un plaisir,
Que ce soit folie ou sagesse.”
“Let’s drink, my friends, time flies away,
Let’s husband well this little space;
For what we know, this very day
May to eternal night give place.
Let’s snatch from Fate one certain minute,
Perhaps to-morrow Charon’s wherry,
May every mother’s son take in it,
And waft us o’er the Stygian ferry.
In giddy transports without measure
With wine lets drown all melancholy.
No matter if it be a pleasure,
Whether ’tis wisdom call’d, or folly.”
1. Elle est, comme disent les Arabes, la fleur et l’esprit de la santé vive et remuante.
2. Interpone tuis interdum gaudia curis.
3. Seneca de Tranquilitate.
4. Histoire de Sept Sages, &c. p. 137.
5. Chap. 34.
6. Lib. 10. cap. 10.
7. Reflex. sur les Morts Plais. p. 22.
8. P. 609.
9. P. 699.
9a. Catullus V.1-6: (Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus)