DISCOURSES
ON A
SOBER AND TEMPERATE
LIFE.
By LEWIS CORNARO,
A NOBLE VENETIAN.
Translated from the ITALIAN Original.
PHILADELPHIA:
PRINTED BY T. DOBSON, AT THE STONE-
HOUSE, N° 41, SECOND-STREET.
MDCCXCI. 



PREFACE.
THE Author of the follow-
ing Discourses, Lewis Cor-
naro, 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 ex-
cluded from all honours and
public, employments in the
State. Chagrined at this un-
merited 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

iv PREFACE.
of having children; and after
a long expectation of this hap-
piness his wife was delivered
of a daughter, to whom he
gave the name of Clara. This
was his only child, who after-
wards was married to John,
the son of Fantini Cornaro, of
a rich family in Cyprus, while
that island belonged to the re-
public 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 found under-
standing, determined courage
and resolution. In his young-
er days he had contracted in- 

v PREFACE.      
firmities by intemperance, and
by indulging his too great pro-
pensity to anger; but when he
preceived the ill consequence
of his irregularities, he had
command enough of himself
to subdue his passion and in-
ordinate appetites. By means
of great sobriety, and a strict
regimen in his diet, he recover-
ed his health and vigour, which
he preserved to an extreme old
age. At a very advanced stage of
life he wrote the following Dis-
courses, wherein he acquaints
us with the irregularity of his
youth, his reformation of man-
ners, and the hopes he enter-
tained of living along time. Nor
A3   

vi PREFACE.
was he mistaken in his expect-
ation, for he resigned his last
breath without any agony, fit-
ting 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 easy death. They
were both interred in St. An-
tony's church, without any
pomp, pursuant to their testa-
mentary 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 entitled, 

vii PREFACE.      
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 con-
tains farther Encomiums on
Sobriety, and points out the
means of mending a bad con-
stitution. He says, that he
come 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 entitled,
An Earnest Exhortation to a So-
ber life: here he uses the strong-
est arguments to presuade man- 

viii PREFACE.
kind to embrace a temperate
life, as the means of attaining
a healthy and vigorous old age.
The fourth and last is, A Let-
ter to Barbaro, Patriarch of
Aquileia, written at the age of
ninety-five: it contains a lively
description of the health, vigour,
and prefect use, of all his fa-
culties, which he had the hap-
piness of enjoying at that ad-
vanced period of life.
This useful work was trans-
lated some years ago into En-
glish, 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

ix PREFACE.      
likewise has 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 edit. in 8 vo.
in the year 1620.*
EXTRACT from the SPEC-
TATOR, Vol. III. No. 195.
"The most remarkable in-
"stance of the efficacy of tem-
"perance, towards the pro-
"curing long life, is whats we
"meet with in a little book pub-
* The first edition was published by
the author at Padua, in 410, A. D. 1558. 

x PREFACE.
"lished by Lewis Cornaro the
"Venetian; which I the rather
"mention, because it is of un-
"doubted credit, as the late
"Venetian ambassador, who
"was of the same family, at-
"tested more than once in con-
"versation, when he resided in
"England. Cornaro, who was
"the author of the little treatise
"I am mentioning, was of an
"infirm constitution till above
"forty, when by obstinately
"presisting in an exact course
"of temperance, he recovered
"a prefect state of health; in-
"somuch that at fourscore he
"publilhed his book, which
"his been translated into En-
"glish, under the title of, Sure 

xi PREFACE.      
"and certain Methods of attain-
"ing a long and healthy Life.
"He lived to give a third or
"fourth edition of it; and af-
"ter having passed his hun-
"dredth year, died without
"pain or agony, and like one
"who falls asleep. The treatise
"I mention has been taken no-
"tice of by several eminent
"authors, and is written with
"such a spirit of cheerfulness,
"religion, and good sense, as
"are the natural concomitants
"of temperance and sobreity.
"The mixture of the old man
"in it is rather a recommend-
"ation then a discredit to it."



A
TREATISE
ON A
SOBER LIFE.
IT is a thing past all doubt,
that custom, with time, be-
comes 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 converting with the
wicked, very often fall into the
same vicious course of life.
B 

14 A TREATISE ON
The contrary, likewise, we see
sometimes happen; viz. that,
as good morals easily change to
bad, so bad morals change a-
gain to good. For instance;
let a wicked man, who was once
virtuous, keep company with
a virtuous man, and he will a-
gain 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 cus-
toms have got footing, in Italy
within a few years, even with-
in my own memory; the first, 
flattery and ceremoniousness; 

15 A SOBER LIFE.      
the second, Lutheranism,*
which some have most prepo-
sterously 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 body of
its health: seeing and consider-
ing all this, I say, I have resol-
* The author writes with the preju-
dice of a zealous Roman Catholic a-
gainst 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 misrepresented as introductive of li-
centiousness and debauchery. 

16 A TREATISE ON
ved 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 third,
flattery, I am certain, that some
great genius or another will
soon undertake the talk of ex-
posing 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 virtu-
ous customs.
To come, then, to that abuse,
of which I have proposed to
speak, namely intemperance; I

17 A SOBER LIFE.     
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 as a
virtue and a mark of distinc-
tion, and the latter as dishon-
ourable, the badge of avarice.
Such mistaken notions are en-
tirely owing to the power of
custom, established by our sen-
ses and irregular appetites; these
have blinded and besotted man
to such a degree, that, leaving
the paths of virtue, they have
followed those of vice, which
B3 

18 A TREATISE ON
are apt to lead them imper-
ceptibly to an old age, burthen-
ed with strange and mortal in-
firmities, so as to render them
quite decrepid before forty, con-
trary to the effects of sobriety,
which, before it was banished
by destructive intemperance,
used to keep men found and
hearty to the age of eighty and
upwards. O wretched and un-
happy Italy! can 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, now so much
in fashion, and so intolerably
profuse, that no tables are large

19 A SOBER LIFE.     
enough to hold the dishes, which
renders it necessary to heap
them one upon another; those
feasts, I say, are so many bat-
tles; and how is it possible to
live amongst such a multitude
of jarring foods, and disor-
ders? 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 plague, the
worst you were ever afflicted
with, this new kind of death;
as you have banished that dis-
ease, which, though it formerly
used to make such havock,
now does little or no mischief,
owing to the laudable practice 
   

20 A TREATISE ON
of attending more to the good-
ness of the provisions brought
to our markets. Consider, that
there are means still left to banish
intemperance, and such means
too, that every man may have
recourse to them  without any
external assistance. Nothing
more is requisite for this pur-
pose then to live up to the sim-
plicity dictated by Nature,
which teaches us to be content
with little, to pursue the me-
dium of holy abstemiousness
and divine reason, and accustom
ourselves to eat no more than is
absolutely necessary to support
life; considering, that what
exceeds this is disease and death,
and merely to give the palate a 

21 A SOBER LIFE.      
satisfaction, which though but
momentary, brings on the body;
a long and lasting train of dis-
agreeable sensations and disea-
ses, and at length kills 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,
were they now living, would
be an ornament to the public,
and whose company I should
enjoy with as much pleasure
as I am now deprived of it
with concern.
In order, therefore, to put a
stop to so great an evil. I have
resolved, by this short Dis- 

22 A TREATISE ON
course, to demonstrate, that in-
temperance 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 the more
readily, as many young men of
the best understanding, know-
ing that it is a vice, have re-
quested it of me, moved there
to by seeing their fathers drop
off in the flower of their youth,
and me so found and hearty at
the age of eighty-one. They
expressed a desire to reach the
same term, Nature not forbid-
ding us to wish for longevity;
and old age being, in fact, that
time of life in which prudence
can be best exercised, and the

23 A SOBER LIFE.     
fruits of all the other virtues
enjoyed with the least opposi-
tion, the senses being then so
subdued, that man gives him-
self 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 ser-
vice, 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 

24 A TREATISE ON
forth the effects of so geod an
habit upon me: whence it may
be clearly gathered, how easy it
is to remove the abuse of intem-
perance. I shall conclude, by
showing how many convenien-
ces and blessings are the conse-
quences 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 con-
stitution, were my motives for
renouncing intemperance, to
which I had been greatly ad-
dicted; so that, in consequence
of it, and the badness of my con-
stitution, my stomach, being
exceeding cold and moist, I
was fallen into different kinds 

25 A SOBER LIFE.      
of disorders, such as pains in
my stomach, and often stiches,
and spices of the gout, attended
by, what was still worse, an
almost continual flow fever, a
stomach generally out of order,
and a perpetual thirst. From
these natural and acquired disor-
ders the best delivery I had to
hope was death, to put an end to
the pains and miseries of life; a
period as remote in the regular
course of Nature, as I had for-
warded it by my irregular man-
ner of living. Finding myself,
therefore, in such unhappy
circumstances between my thir-
ty-fifth and fortieth year, eve-
ry thing that could be thought 
C

26 A TREATISE ON
of having been tried to no pur-
pose to relieve me, the physi-
cians gave me to understand,
that there was but one method
left to get the better of my com-
plaints, provided I would re-
solve to use it, and patiently per-
severe in it. This was a sober
and regular life; which they
told me would still be of the
greatest power and efficacy, as
powerful and efficacious as the
other, which was contrary to it
in every thing; I mean an in-
temperate and irregular one:
and that of this power and effi-
cacy I might convince myself,
since, as by my disorders I was
become infirm, though not re-
duced so low, that a regular life, 

27 A SOBER LIFE.      
the reverse in its effects of an
irregular one, might not still
entirely recover me. On the o-
ther hand, it in fact, appears,
such a regular life, whilst ob-
served, preserves men of a bad
constitution, and far gone in
years, and that for a long space
of time, just as a contrary course
has the power to destroy those
of the best constitution, and
that in their prime; for this
plain reason, that different
modes of life should be attend-
ed by different effects; Art fol-
lowing, even herein, the steps
of Nature, with equal power
to correct natural vices and im-
perfections. This is obvious
in husbandry, and the like. 

28 A TREATISE ON
They added, that if I did not
immediately have recourse to
that medicine, 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 ingenious
arguments made such an im-
pression on me, that, mortifi-
ed as I was, besides by the
thoughts of dying in the prime
of life, though at the same time
perpetually tormented by vari-
ous diseases, I immediately
concluded that the foregoing
contrary effects could not but
be produced by irregulari-
ty; and, therefore, full of
hopes, resolved, in order to a-
void at once both death and dis-

29 A SOBER LIFE.      
ease, to be take myself to a re-
gular 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 there-
fore ate freely of every thing I
liked best; and likewise, feel-
C3

30 A TREATISE ON
ing 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 pa-
late. This, indeed, like all o-
ther patients, I kept a secret
from my physicians. But,
when I had once resolved to
live soberly, and according to
the dictates of right reason, in
consequence of my discovering
that it 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

31 A SOBER LIFE.     
perceive that such a course a-
greed with me very well; and,
by pursuing it, in less than a
year I found myself. (some per-
sons, perhaps, will not believe
it) entirely freed from all my
complaints.
Having thus recovered my
health, I began seriously to
consider the power of temper-
ance, and say to myself, that,
if this virtue had efficacy enough
to subdue such grievous disor-
ders as mine, it must have still
greater to preserve me in health,
to help my bad constitution,
and comfort my very weak sto-
mach. I, therefore, applied
myself diligently to discover
what kinds of food suited me 

32 A TREATISE ON
best. But, first, I resolved to
try whether those which pleas-
ed my palate agreed or disa-
greed with my stomach, in or-
der to judge for myself of the
truth of that proverb, which I
once held for true, and is uni-
versally 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, That what is pa-
latable must be equally whole-
some and nourishing. The is-
sue was that I found it to be
false: for though rough and ve- 

33 A SOBER LIFE.      
ry cold wines, as likewise me-
lons and other fruits, sallad,
fish and pork, tarts, garden-
stuff, pastry, and the like, were
very pleasing to my palate, they
disagreed with me notwith-
standing. Having thus con-
vinced myself that the proverb
in question was false, I disre-
garded 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, ac-
customing myself to contrive
matters so as never to cloy my 

34 A TREATISE ON
stomach with eating or drink-
ing; 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
entirely to a temperate and re-
gular life. This first effected
in me that alteration which I
have 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,
made such a progress as to be 

35 A SOBER LIFE.     
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 afflict-
ed 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 plague, then, I also
freed myself, and became ex-
ceeding healthy, as I have con-
tinued from that time forward 
to this every day; and for no
other reason than that I never
trespassed against regularity,
which by its infinite efficacy,
has been the cause that the 

36 A TREATISE ON
meat I constantly ate, and the
wine I constantly drank, being
such as agree with my constiti-
on, and, taken in proper quan-
tities, imparted all their virtue
to my body, and then left it
without difficulty, and with-
out engendering in it any bad
humours.
In consequence, therefore,
of my taking such methods I
have always enjoyed, and
(God be praised) actually en-
joy, the best of healths. It is
true, indeed, that, besides the
two foregoing most important
rules relative to eating and
drinking, which I have ever
been very scrupulous to ob-
serve, that is, not to take of 

37 A SOBER LIFE.     
any thing but as much as my
stomach can easily digest, and
of those things only which a-
gree with me, I have carefully
avoided heat, cold, and extra-
ordinary fatigue, interruption
of my usual hours of rest, ex-
cessive venery, making any stay
in bad air, and exposing myself
to the wind and sun; for these,
too, cause 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 satis-
faction they could find in doing
what must be extremely hurtful
to their constitution. I like-
D 

38 A TREATISE ON
wise did all that lay in my
power to avoid those evils
which we do not find it so easy
to remove. These are melan-
choly, hatred, and other vi-
olent 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 those disorders,
as not to suffer myself now and
then to be hurried away by
many, not to say all, of them;
but I reaped one great benefit
from my weakness, that of
knowing by experience that
these passions have, in the
main, no great influence over
bodies governed by the two 

39 A SOBER LIFE.     
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 ob-
serves these two capital rules is
liable to very little inconvenien-
cy from any other excess. This
Galen, who was an eminent phy-
sician observed before me. He
affirms, that, so long as he fol-
lowed these two rules relative
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 liv-
ing witness, and so are many
others who know me, and have
seen how often I have been ex-

40 A TREATISE ON
posed to heats and colds, and
such other disagreeable changes
of weather, and have likewise
seen me (owing to various mis-
fortunes which have more than
once befallen me) greatly dis-
turbed in 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 criers, who
did not lead a sober and regular
life, that it proved very pre-
judicial 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 of the 

41 A SOBER LIFE.     
greatest disservice to them, the
perturbations of the mind ha-
ving thereby acquired an ex-
traordinary influence over their
bodies. Such, in a word, was
their grief and dejection at see-
ing me involved in expensive
law-suits, commenced against
me by great and powerful men,
that, fearing I should be cast,
they were seized with that me-
lancholy humour. with which
intemperate bodies always a-
bound; and these humours
took such effect upon them,
and increased to such a degree,
as to carry them off before their
time; whereas I suffered no-
thing on the occasion, as I had
D3 

42 A TREATISE ON
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 bet-
ter 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

43 A SOBER LIFE. 
mind, can hurt bodies govern-
ed with temperance and re-
gularity.
But I must go a step further,
and say, that those evils which
immediately affect such bodies
can do them but very little mis-
chief, or cause them but very
little pain; and that this is true
I have myself experienced at
the age of seventy. I happen-
ed, 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 hor-
ses before means could be found
to stop them; whence I re-
ceived so many shocks and
bruises, that I was taken out
with my head and all the rest

44 A TREATISE ON
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; never-
theless, they would try what
good two things would do me;
one was to bleed me, the other
to purge me: and thereby pre-
vent my humours altering, as
they every moment expected,
to such a degree as to ferment
greatly, and bring on a high fe-
ver. But I, on the contrary,
who knew that the sober life I
had led for many years past
had so well united, harmoni-

45 A SOBER LIFE.     
zed, and disposed my humours,
as not to leave it in their pow-
er to ferment to such a degree,
refused to be either bled or pur-
ged. I just caused my leg and
arm to be set, and suffered my-
self to be rubbed with some
oils, which they said were pro-
per on the occasion. Thus,
without using any other kind
of remedy, I recovered, as I
thought I should, without feel-
ing the least alteration in my-
self or any other bad effects
from the accident; a thing
which appeared no less than
miraculous in the eyes of the
physicians. Hence we are to
infer, that whoever leads a
sober and regular life, and 

46 A TREATISE ON
commits no excess in his diet,
can suffer but very little from
disorders of any kind, or ex-
ternal accidents. On the con-
trary, I conclude, especially the
late trial I have had, that ex-
cesses 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 expect-
ed. This excess consisted in
encreasing the quantity of food
I generally made use of; which 

47 A SOBER LIFE.     
increase alone brought on me 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 af-
fection and regard they have
for me, seeing how little I ate,
represented to me, in conjunc-
tion 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 en-
crease its vigour. That, as

48 A TREATISE ON
this could not be done without
food, it was absolutely incum-
bent upon me to eat a little
more plentifully. I, on the o-
ther hand, produced my rea-
sons 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 en-
crease the quantity of my food:
farther, that it was but natural
to think, that the powers of the
stomach grew weaker from day

49 A SOBER LIFE.      
to day; on which account I
could see no reason to make
such an addition. To corro-
borate my arguments, I alleg-
ed 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 ma-
king a hearty meal, does us 
more good than what we have
eat. But neither these pro-
verbs, nor any other arguments
I could think of, were able to
E 

50 A TREATISE ON
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 per-
suasion that such an addition to
my usual allowance must pre-
serve the tone of my stomach,
consented to increase the
quantity of food, but by two
ounces only. So that, as be-
fore, 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

51 A SOBER LIFE.     
wine, I now increased it to
sixteen. This increase and ir-
regularity had, in eight days
time, such an effect upon me,
that, from being cheerful and
brisk, I began to be peevish
and melancholy, so that no-
thing could please me; and
was constantly of so strange a
temper, that I neither knew
what to say to others, or 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 con-
tinued thirty-five days and as
many nights, without giving
me a moment's respite; though,

52 A TREATISE ON
to say the truth, it began to a-
bate gradually on the sixteenth:
but, notwithstanding such a-
batement, I could not, during
the whole time, sleep half a
quarter of an hour together,
insomuch that every one look-
ed upon me as a dead man.
But, God be praised, I recover-
ed merely by my former regu-
lar 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 posi-
tive that it was the great regu-
larity I had observed for so ma-
ny years, and that only, which
rescued me from the jaws of
Death. In all that time I ne- 

53 A SOBER LIFE.      
ver knew what sickness was,
unless I may call by that 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 per-
mitted any superfluous or bad
humours to breed in me; or if
they did, to acquire such
strength and malignity as they
generally acquire in the super-
annuated 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 irre-
gularity had occasioned, this
E3 

54 A TREATISE ON
fit of sickness, though exceed-
ing violent, had not strength e-
nough to destroy me. This it
was, and nothing else that sa-
ved my life; whence may be
gathered, how great is the
power and efficacy of regulari-
ty; 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 or-
der; and our life, as to the body,
is no other than an harmonious
combination of the same four 

55 A SOBER LIFE.      
elements, so it should be pre-
served and maintained by the
very same order; and, on the
other hand, worn out by sick-
ness, or destroyed by death,
which produce the contrary ef-
fects. 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 conclud-
ed, that orderly living is no o-
ther 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 

56 A TREATISE ON
the case. Hence it is, that
when a physician comes to
visit a patient, this is the first
thing he prescribes, enjoining
him 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 ei-
ther physician or physic. Nay,
by attending duly to what I
have said, he would become
his own physician, and, indeed, 

57 A SOBER LIFE.     
the best he could have; since,
in fact, no man can be a per-
fect physician to any one but
himself. The reason of which
is, that any man may, by re-
peated trials, acquire a perfect
knowledge of his own constitu-
tion, 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 that purpose.
These trials are, indeed, (if
I may say it), more than necessa-

58 A TREATISE ON
ry, as there is greater variety
in the natures and stomachs of
different men than in their per-
sons. 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 phy-
sician 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

59 A SOBER LIFE.    
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
before those who do not live re-
gularly, there is no occasion
for a physician, and that his as-
sistance ought to be slighted:
for, if we are apt to receive
such great comfort from friends
who come to visit us in our ill-
ness, though they do no more
than testify their concern for us,
and bid us be of good cheer: 

60 A TREATISE ON
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 opinion, that we should con-
sider, as a physician, this regu-
lar 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
found and hearty to the age of
one hundred and upwards;
and prevents their dying of
sickness, or through a corrupti-
on of their humours, but mere-
ly by a resolution of their radi- 

61 A SOBER LIFE.      
cal moisture, when quite ex-
hausted; all which effects se-
veral wise men have attributed
to potable gold, and the elix-
er, 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; there-
fore, seeing that they cannot a-
void being greatly injured by
such excess, as often as they
are guilty of it, they, by way
of apologizing for their con-
duct, say, that it is better to
live ten years less, and enjoy
themselves? not considering of
F 

62 A TREATISE ON
what importance are ten years
more of life, especially a heal-
thy 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 be-
fore 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 peri-
od of life, and those ten years,
which some make it their busi-
ness to undervalue, in order to
give a loose to their appetites.
Be that as it will, I would not 

63 A SOBER LIFE.    
act like them: I rather covet-
ed to live these ten years, and,
had I not done so, I should ne-
ver have finished these tracts,
which I have composed in
consequence of my having been
found and hearty these ten years
past; and which I have the
pleasure to think will be of ser-
vice to others. These sensua-
lists 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 so many
other great men of former
times; whom, not to tire the
reader, I shall forbear naming:

64 A TREATISE ON
and, in our own days, Pope
Paul Farnese led it, and Car-
dinal Bembo; and it was for
that reason they lived so long;
likewise our two Doges, Lan-
do and Donato; besides many
others of meaner condition, and
those who live not only in ci-
ties, 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 men-

65 A SOBER LIFE.      
tioned Cicero affirms, and all
those who now live in this
manner. Plato, you will say,
though he himself lived very re-
gularly, affirms, notwithstand-
ing, that in republics men can-
not do so, being often obliged
to expose themselves to heat,
cold, and several other kinds
of hardship, and other things,
which are all so many disorders,
and incompatible with a regular
life. I answer, that, as I have
already observed, these are not
disorders attended with any bad
consequence, or which affect
either health or life, when the
man who undergoes them ob-
serves the rules of sobriety, and
F3 

66 A TREATISE ON
commits no excess in the two
points concerning diet, which
a republican may very well a-
void; 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 should not escape
them, he may more easily and
speedily prevent their bad ef-
facts.
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,

67 A SOBER LIFE.      
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
content 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

68 A TREATISE ON
do when in health. For were
he to eat as much as he then
used to do, he would die by it;
and this the rather, as it would
be only adding to the burden
with which Nature was alrea-
dy oppressed, by giving her a
greater quantity of food then
she can in such circumstances
support; which I imagine,
should sufficiently satisfy 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 regular-
ly, he extirpates every feed of
sickness; and thus, by remov- 

69 A SOBER LIFE.     
ing 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 pro-
fitable and virtuous, so lovely,
and so holy, it ought to be
universally followed and em-
braced; and the more so, as it
does not clash with the means
or duties of any station, but is
rather 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 

70 A TREATISE ON
from which I abstain, who eat
little, and but just enough 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, how-
ever, with whom such things
agree, may and ought to eat
them; since they are not by
any means forbid the use of
such sustenance. 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 these with whom no-

71 A SOBER LIFE.     
thing 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 no body tell me, that
there are numbers, who though
they live most irregularly, at-
tain, in health and spirits,
those remote periods of life at-
tained 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 suf-
fer themselves to be thereby

72 A TREATISE ON
persuaded to live irregularly,
Nature having been too liberal
to those who did so without suf-
fering by it; a favour which
very few have any right to ex-
pect. Whoever, trusting to his
youth, or the strength of his
constitution, or the goodness of
his stomach, slights these obser-
vations, 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 regu-
lar 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

73 A SOBER LIFE.     
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 Na-
ture can dispose matters so, that
a man shall bring into the world
with him so found a constituti-
on, as to live long and healthy
without observing such strict
rules, and then die in a very ad-
vanced age, through a mere re-
solution of his elementary parts;
as was the case in Venice of the
Procurator Thomas Contarini;
and in Padua, of the Cavalier
Antonio Capo di Vaca; but it
is not one man in a hundred
thousand that so much can be
G 

74 A TREATISE ON
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 regu-
larly; since they cannot other-
wise 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 regulari-
ty keeps the humours of the
body clean and temperate, it
suffers no vapours 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, easi-

75 A SOBER LIFE.      
ly soars above the low and
groveling concerns of this life
to the exalted and beauti-
ful contemplation of heavenly
things, to his exceeding great
comfort and satisfaction; be-
cause he, by this means, comes
to consider, know, and under-
stand, that which, otherwise,
he would never have consider-
ed, known, or understood; that
is, how great is the power, wis-
dom, and goodness, of the De-
ity. He then descends to Na-
ture, 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. 

76 A TREATISE ON
He then truly discerns the bru-
tality of that excess into which
they fall, who know not how
to subdue their passions, and
those three importunate lusts,
which, one would imagine,
came altogether into the world
with us, in order to keep us in
perpetual anxiety and distur-
bance. 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 depend 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, 

77 A SOBER LIFE     
which men of a regular life did
not neglect when they passed
through the above-mentioned
stage. For knowing such pas-
sions and such lusts to be incon-
sistent with reason, to which
they are become entirely addict-
ed, they, at once, broke loose
from all vicious restraint; and
instead of being slaves any lon-
ger to their inordinate appetites,
they applied themselves to vir-
tue 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 reduced, by
a long series of years, to their
G3 

78 A TREATISE ON
dissolution, conscious that, thro'
the singular mercy of God, they
had so sincerely relinquished
the paths of vice as never af-
terwards 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 fated with life, they see
themselves arrived at that age,
which not one in many thou-
sands of those who live other-
wise ever attains. They have
still the greater reason not to
be dejected at the thoughts of 

79 A SOBER LIFE.     
death, as it does not attack 
them violently, and by surprise,
with a bitter 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 pro-
ceeding entirely from an ex-
haustion of the radical moi-
sture, which decays by degrees
like the oil of a lamp; so that
they pass gently, without any
sickness, from this terrene and
mortal to a celestial and eternal
life.
O holy and truly happy Re-
gularity! How holy and happy
should men, in fact, deem
thee, since the opposite habit 

80 A TREATISE ON
is so wretched, as evidently ap-
pears 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 glo-
rious name, what a noble thing,
is an, orderly and sober life;
as, on the contrary, the bare
mention of disorder and intem-
perance is offensive to our ears;
nay, there is the same difference
between the mentioning of
these two things as between the
uttering of the words angel and
devil.
Thus I have assigned my
reasons for, abandoning intem-
perance, and betaking myself
entirely to a sober life: with 

81 A SOBER LIFE.     
the method I pursued in doing
so, and what was the conse-
quence of it; and, finally, the
advantages and 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 past 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 at-
tain my age, in order that they
too may enjoy that period of
life, which of all others is the
most desirable.
I will therefore give an ac- 

82 A TREATISE ON
count of my recreations, and the
relish 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 with-
out 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 

83 A SOBER LIFE.     
slight of stairs, but climb up
hill from bottom to top, a foot,
and with the greatest ease and
unconcern; then, how gay,
pleasant, and good-humoured,
I am; how free from every
perturbation of mind, and
every disgreeable thought; in
lieu of which, Joy and Peace
have so firmly fixed their resi-
dence in my bosom, as never
to depart from it. More over,
they know in what manner I
pass my time, so as not to find
life a burden; seeing I can con-
trive to spend every hour of it
with the greatest delight and
pleasure, having frequent op-
portunities of conversing with
many honourable gentlemen, 

84 A TREATISE ON
men, valuable for their good
sense and manners, their ac-
quaintance with letters, and e-
very other good quality. Then,
when I cannot enjoy their con-
versation, 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 every thing else,
to be of service to others, to the
utmost of my power. And all
these things I do with the great-
est ease to myself, at their proper
seasons, and in a house of my
own; which, besides being
situated in the most beautiful
quarter of this noble and learned
city of Padua, is, in itself, realty
convenient and handsome, such, 

85 A SOBER LIFE.      
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, ha-
ving contrived the apartments
according to the rules of archi-
tecture, which teach us what
is to be observed in practice.
Besides this house, I have
my several gardens, supplied 
with purling streams; and in
which I always find something
to do that amuses me. I have
another way of diverting my-
self, which is going every April
and May, and, likewise, every
September and October, for
some days to enjoy an eminence
H 

86 A TREATISE ON
belonging to me in those Eu-
ganean hills, 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 the 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 

87 A SOBER LIFE.      
country, consisting entirely of
fertile and well-cultivated fields.
Besides, this district is now,
God be praised, exceedingly
well inhabited, which it was
not at first, hut rather the re-
verse; for it was marshy, and
the air so unwholesome, as to
make it a residence fitter for
adders 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 ap-
pears: hence I may say, with
truth, that I have given in this
place an altar and a temple to
God, with souls to adore him;
these are things which afford 

88 A TREATISE ON
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 neigh-
bouring cities, and enjoy such
of my friends as live there, ta-
king the greatest pleasure in
their company and conversati-
on; 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 most certainly abounds;
I visit their new works; I re-
visit their former ones; and
I always learn something that
gives me satisfaction. I see 

89 A SOBER LIFE.     
the palaces, gardens, anti-
quities; 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 ad-
joining to rivers or fountains;
with a great many fine houses
and gardens. Nor are my recrea-
tions rendered less agreeable and
entertaining by my not seeing
well, or not hearing readily e-
H3

90 A TREATISE ON
very thing that is said to me, or
by any other of my senses not
being perfect; for they are all,
thank God, in the highest per-
fection; particularly my palate,
which now relishes better the
simple fare I meet, wherever I
happen to be, than it formerly
did 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 de-
lightful.
It is likewise with the great-
est pleasure and satisfaction I
behold the success of an under- 

91 A SOBER LIFE.      
taking so important to this state,
I mean, that of draining and    
improving so many uncultiva-
ted pieces of ground, an under-
taking begun within my me-
mory, and which I never
thought I should live to see  
completed; knowing how flow   
republics are apt to proceed in
enterprises of great importance.   
Nevertheless, I have lived to   
see it; and was even in person,
in these marshy places, along   
with those appointed to super-
intend the draining of them,   
for two months together, du-
ring the greatest heats of sum-   
mer, without ever finding my-
self the worse for the satigues or
inconveniences I suffered; of   

92 A TREATISE ON
so much efficacy is that orderly
life, which I every where con-
stantly lead.
What is more, I am in the
greatest hopes, or rather sure,
so see the beginning and com-
pletion of another undertaking
of no less importance, which
is, that of preserving our estuary
or port, that last and wonder-
ful bulwark of my dear country;
the preservation of which (it is
not to flatter my vanity I say it,
but merely to do justice to
truth) has been more than once
recommended by me to this re-
public, by word of mouth, and
in writings, which cost me
many nights study. And to
this dear country of mine, as I 

93 A SOBER LIFE.      
am bound by the laws of Na-
ture to do every thing from
which it may reap any benefit,
so I most ardently wish perpe-
tual duration, and a long suc-
cession of every kind of pros-
perity. 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, as, being freed,
by God's grace, from the per-
turbations of the mind, and
infirmities of the body, it no
longer experiences any of those
contrary emotions which rack
such a number of young men,
and as many old ones destitute 

94 A TREATISE ON
of strength and health, and
every other blessings.
And if it be lawful to com-
pare little matters to affairs of     
importance, I will further ven-
ture 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 kind
of poem is generally the child
and offspring of Youth, as tra-
gedy 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  

95 A SOBER LIFE.     
man, 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
found memory and understand-
ing, though tragedy be a grave
and melancholy poem; why
should I be deemed less hap-
py, and not of found memory
and understanding, who have,
at an age ten years more ad-
vanced 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 an
impartial judge in my own
cause, I cannot help thinking,
that I am now of sounder 

96 A TREATISE ON
memory and understanding,
and heartier, than he was ten
years younger.
And, that no comfort might
be wanting to the fulness of
my years, whereby my great
age may be rendered less irk-
some, 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 grand-chil-
dren, the oldest of them eigh-
teen, and the youngest two; all
the offspring of one father and
one mother; all blessed with
the best health, and, by what as 

97 A SOBER LIFE.      
yet appears fond of learning,
and of good parts and morals.
Some of the youngest I always
play with; and, indeed, chil-
dren 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 insturments.
Nay, I sing myself, as I have
a better voice now, and a clear-
er and a louder pipe, than at a-
ny other period of life. Such
are the recreations of my old
age.
Whence it appears, that the 

98  A TREATISE ON         
life I lead is cheerful, and not
gloomy, as some persons pre-
tend, who know no better; to
whom, in order that it may
appear what value I set on eve-
ry other kind of life, I must
declare, that I would not ex-
change 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 alrea-
dy observed, to a thousand
kinds of ailments and death.
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 

99 A SOBER LIFE.      
life. I know how inconsider-
ately that age is apt to act, and    
how fool-hardy 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 san-   
guine they are in their expecta-
tions; as well on account of the    
little experience they have had
for 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 con-
cupiscence, endeavour to grati-   

100 A TREATISE ON
fy all their appetites, not mind-
ing, fools as they are! that
they thereby hasten, as I have
several times observed, the ap-
proach 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 insup-
portable to every man, who
has given himself up to his sen-
sual appetites, and young men
in particular, to whom it ap-
pears a hardship to die an ear-
ly 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 

101 A SOBER LIFE     
on sinners, by condemning
them to everlasting punishment.
Whereas I, in my old age, 
(praise to the Almighty!), am
exempt from both these tor-
ments; from the one, because
I am sure and certain that I
cannot fall sick, having remo-
ved 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 ar-
rive at that period. 
I3

102 A TREATISE ON
Besides, though I am sensi-
ble 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 hu-
mours 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 

103 A SOBER LIFE.
brings on us by way of disso-
lution. For Nature, having
herself formed the union be-
tween 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, with-
out acting the 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 ex-
treme weakness; it being only
by flow degrees that men grow
too feeble to walk, and scarce
to reason; becoming both

104 A TREATISE ON
blind and deaf, decrepit, and
full of every other kind of in-
firmity. Now, I (by God's
blessing) may reckon upon be-
ing 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 be-
tween my reason and the sen-
ses, is exceedingly content and
well pleased with her present
situation; and of course, that
a great length of time and ma-
ny years must be requisite to
dislodge her. Whence it must
be concluded for certain, that

105 A SOBER LIFE 
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 like-
wise expect to be able to do,
with God's assistance, by the
next; and by the means of vir-
tue, and that divine regularity
of life, which I have adopted,
concluding an alliance with my
reason, and declaring war a-
gainst my sensual appetites; a
thing which every man may do
who desires to live as he ought.
Now, if this sober life be so
happy; if its name be so beau-
tiful and delightful; if the pos-
session of the blessings which

106 A TREATISE ON
attend it be so stable and per-
manent, all I have still lest to
do is to beseech (since I cannot
compass my desires by the
powers of oratory) every man
of a liberal disposition, and
found understanding, to em-
brace with open arms this most
valuable treasure of a long and
healthy life; a treasure, which
as it exceeds all the other rich-
es and blessings of this world,
so it deserves above all things,
to be cherished, sought after,
and carefully preserved. This
is that divine Sobriety, agreea-
ble to the Deity, the friend of
Nature, the daughter of Rea-
son, the sister of all the Virtues,
the companion of temperate li-

107 A SOBER LIFE 
ving, modest, courteous, con-
tent with little, regular, and
perfect mistress of all her ope-
rations. From her, as from
their proper root, spring life,
health, cheerfulness, industry,
learning, and all those good ac-
tions and employments worthy
of noble and generous minds.
The laws of God and man are
all in her favour. Repletion,
excess, intemperance, super-
fluous humours, diseases, fe-
vers, pains, and the dangers of
death, vanish, in her presence,
like clouds before the sun.
Her comeliness ravishes every
well disposed mind. Her in-
fluence is so sure, as to promise
to all a very long and agreeable

108 A TREATISE ON
existence; the facility of acqui-
ring her is such as ought to in-
duce 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; women, chas-
tity; the old, how to ward off
the attacks of death; and be-
stows on youth firmer and secu-
rer hopes of life. Sobriety
renders the senses clear, the bo-
dy light, the understanding
lively, the foul brisk, the me-
mory tenacious, our move-

109 A SOBER LIFE.
ments free, and all our actions
regular and easy. By means
of sobriety, the foul, delivered,
as it were, of her earthly bur-
then, experiences a great deal
of her natural liberty; the spi-
rits circulate gently through the
arteries; the blood runs freely
through the veins; the heat of
the body, kept mild and tem-
perate, has mild and temperate
effects: and, lastly, our facul-
ties, being under a perfect re-
gulation, preserve a pleating
and agreeable harmony.
O most innocent and holy
Sobriety, the sole refreshment
of nature, the nursing mother
of human life, the true physic
K

110 A TREATISE ON
of soul as well as of body!
How ought men to praise thee,
and thank thee for thy prince-
ly gifts! Since thou bestowest
on them the means of prefer-
ving this blessing, life, I mean,
and health, than which it has
not pleased God we should en-
joy a greater at this side of the
grave, life and existence being
a thing so naturally coveted,
and willingly preserved, by e-
very living creature. But, as
I do not intend to write a pa-
negyric on this rare and excel-
lent virtue, I shall put an end
to this Discourse, left I should
be guilty of intemperance on
so pleating a subject: not that
numberless things might not

111 A SOBER LIFE
be said of it besides those which
I have already mentioned; but
in order to set forth the rest of
its praises at a more conveni-
ent opportunity.

A
COMPENDIUM
OF A
SOBER LIFE.
BY THE SAME.
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 commit the least ex-
cess find themselves greatly
indisposed, a thing which it
must be allowed does not hap-
pen to robust people: several of
these persons of weak constitu-
tions on seeing the foregoing

113 A SOBER LIFE
treatise, have betaken them-
selves 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, presu-
ming upon it, lead a disorder-
ly 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 the scia-
tica, and others with pains in
the stomach, and the like, to
which they would not be sub-
ject were they to embrace a so-
ber life; and as most of them
die before they attain their
K3

114 A TREATISE ON
eightieth year, they would live
to a hundred, the term allowed
to man by God and Nature.
And it is but reasonable to be-
lieve, that the intention of this
our mother is, that we should
all attain that term, in order
that we might all taste of life.
But, as our birth is subject to
the revolutions 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 con-
stitution with us into the world.
But then she hopes, that man,
as endowed with reason and
understanding, may of himself

115 A SOBER LIFE
compensate, by dint of art, the
want of that which the heavens
have denied him; and, by
means of a sober life, contrive
to amend his infirm constituti-
on, live to a great age, and al-
ways enjoy good health.
For man, it is not to be
doubted, may, by art, exempt
himself in part from the influ-
ence of the heavens; it being
the common opinion, that the
heavens give an inclination,
but do not impel us; for which
reason the learned say, that a
wife man rules the stars. I
was born with a very chole-
ric disposition, insomuch that
there was no living with me;
but I took notice of it, and

116 A TREATISE ON
considered, that a person sway-
ed by his passion must, at cer-
tain times, be no better than a
madman; I mean, at those
times when he suffers his pas-
sions to predominate, because
he then renounces his reason
and understanding. I, there-
fore, resolved to make my cho-
leric disposition give way to
reason; so that now, though
born choleric, I never suffer
anger entirely to subdue 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 im-

117 A SOBER LIFE.
possible I should live above for-
ty years, whereas I now find
myself found 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 o-
ver, and which robbed me of
my radical moisture, a loss ab-
solutely irreparable, I might
expect to attain the above-men-
tioned term of one hundred.
But I know for good reasons
that it is impossible; and, there-
fore, do not think of it. It is
enough for me that I have li-
ved forty-six years beyond the
term I had a right to expect;
and that, during this so long a

118 A TREATISE ON
respite, all my senses have con-
tinued perfect, and even my
teeth, my voice, my memory,
and my heart; but what is still
more, my brain is more itself
now than ever it was; nor do
any of these powers abate as I
advance in years; and this be-
cause, as I grow older, I les-
sen the quantity of my solid
food.
This retrenchment is neces-
sary; nor can it be avoided,
since it is impossible for a man
to live forever; and as he
draws near his end, he is redu-
ced so low as to, be no longer a-
ble to take any nourishment,
unless it be to swallow, and
that too with difficulty, the

119 A SOBER LIFE.
yolk of an egg in the four-and-
twenty hours, and thus end
by mere dissolution, without
any pain or sickness, as I ex-
pect 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 ele-
ments: and, since a long and
healthy life ought to be greatly
coveted by every man, as I
shall presently show, I con-
clude, that every man is bound
in duty to exert himself to ob-
tain longevity, and that he can-

120 A TREATISE ON
not promise himself such a bles-
sing without temperance and
sobriety.
Some allege that many, with-
out leading such a life, have
lived to an hundred, and that
in constant health, though they
ate a great deal, and used in-
discriminately every kind 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, must
assuredly contract some illness,
which carries them off; nor

121 A SOBER LIFE.
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, af-
ter forty, to embrace sobriety.
This is no 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 my-
self one of the number: we are
all human beings, and endow-
ed with reason, consequently
we are matters of all our acti-
ons.
This sobriety is reduced to
two things, quality and quan-
L

122 A TREATISE ON
tity: the first, namely quality,
consists in nothing but not ea-
ting food, or drinking wines,
prejudicial to the stomach..
The second, which is quantity,
consists in not eating or drink-
ing 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, harmoni-.
ous, and perfect; and, when
thus improved, are no longer

123 A SOBER LIFE.
liable to be corrupted or distur-
bed by any other disorders what-
soever, such as suffering exces-
sive heat or cold, too much fa-
tigue, 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 whoe-
ver acts otherwise, living a
disorderly instead of a regular
life, is constantly exposed to
disease and mortality, as well
in consequence of such disor-

124 A TREATISE ON
ders, as of others without num-
ber, each of which is capable
of producing the same destruc-
tive 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 a day or
two, but not so as to breed a fe-
ver. He may likewise be af-
fected by the revolutions of the
heavens; but neither the hea-
vens nor those irregularities are
capable of corrupting the hu-
mours of a temperate person;
and it is but reasonable and na-
tural it should be so, as the two

125 A SOBER LIFE.
irregularities of diet are interior,
and the others exterior.
But as there are some persons
stricken in years, who are, not-
withstanding, very sensual, and
allege, that neither the quanti-
ty or quality of their diet makes
any impression upon them, and
therefore eat a great deal, and
of every thing without distinc-
tion, 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 na-
L3

126 A TRFATISE ON
ture of things, because it is im-
possible 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 inn
possible in Nature. After all,
these epicures must allow, that
they are now and then out
of order, and that they cure
themselves by taking evacuat-
ing medicines, and observing
a strict diet: whence it appears
that their being out of order is
owing to their eating too much, 

127 A SOBER LIFE.
and of things disagreeing with
their stomach.
There are other old gluttons
who say that it is necessary
they should eat and drink a
great deal to keep up their na-
tural heat, which is; constantly
diminishing as they advance in
years, and that it is, therefore,
their duty to eat heartily, and
of such things as please their
palate, be they hot, cold, or
temperate; and that, were they
to lead a sober life it would be
a short one. To this I answer,
that our kind mother Nature,
in order that old men may live
still to a greater age, has con-
trived matters so, that they
should be able to subsist on lit-

128 A TREATISE ON
tle, as I do; for large quantities
of food cannot be digested by
old and feeble stomachs. Nor
should such persons be afraid
of shortening their days by
eating too little, since, when
they happen to be indisposed,
they recover by eating a mere
triste; for it is a trifle they eat,
when confined to a regimen,
by observing which they get
rid of their disorder. Now, if
by reducing themselves to a
very small quantity of food,
they recover from the jaws of
Death, how can they doubt
but that, with an increase of
diet, still consistent however
with sobriety, they will be able

129 A SOBER LIFE
to support nature when in per-
fect health.
Others say, that it is better
for a man to suffer every year
three or four returns of his usu-
al disorders, such as the gout,
sciatica, and the like, than be
tormented the whole year by
not indulging his appetite, and
eating every thing his palate
likes best; since, by a good re-
gimen alone, he is sure to get
the better of such attacks. To
this I answer, that our natural
heat growing less and less, as
we advance in years, no regi-
men can retain virtue sufficient
to conquer the malignity with
which disorders of repletion are
ever attended; so that he must

130 A TREATISE ON
die at last of these periodical
disorders, because they abridge
life, as health prolongs it.
Others pretend, that, it is
much better to live ten years
less, than not indulge one's ap-
petite. To this answer, that
longevity ought to be highly
valued by men of parts; as to
others, it is no great matter, if
it is not duly prized by them,
since they are a disgrace to
mankind, so that their death
is rather of service to the pub-
lic. But it is a great misfortune
that men of bright parts should
be cut off in that manner, since
he, who is already a cardinal,
might, perhaps, by living to
eighty, attain the papal crown;

131 A SOBER LIFE.
and in the State, many, by li-
ving some years extraordinary,
may acquire the ducal dignity;
and so in regard to letters, by
which a man may rise so as to
be considered as a god upon
earth; and the like in every o-
ther profession.
There are others, who, tho’
their stomachs become weaker
and weaker as they advance
in years, cannot, however, be
brought to retrench the quanti-   
ty of their food, nay, they ra-
ther increase it. And, because
they find themselves unable to
digest the great quantity of food
with which they must load
their stomachs, to eat twice
in the four-and-twenty hours,

132 A TREATISE ON
they make a resolution to eat
but once, that the long inter-
val between one meal and the
other may enable them to eat
at one fitting as much as they
used to do in two; thus they
eat till their stomachs, over-
burthened with much food,
pall, and sicken, and change
the superfluous food into bad
humours, which kill a marebe-
fore his time. I never met
with a very aged person who
led that manner of life. All
these old men I have been
speaking of would live long, if,
as they advanced in years, they
lessened the quantity of their
food, and ate oftener, but little
at a time; for the old stomachs

133 A SOBER LIFE
cannot digest large quantities of
food; old men changing, in
that respect, to children, who
eat several times in the four-
and-twenty hours.
Others say, that a sober life
may, indeed, keep a man in
health, but that it cannot pro-
long his life. To this I an-
swer, that experience proves
the contrary; and that I my-
self am a living instance of it.
It cannot, however, be said,
that sobriety is apt to shorten
one's days, as sickness does;
for that the latter abbreviates life
is not to be doubted. Not-
withstanding a man had better
be always jocund and hearty
M

134 A TREATISE ON
than be obliged to submit now
and then to sickness, in order
to keep up the radical moisture.
Hence it may be fairly conclu-
ded, that holy sobriety is the
true parent of health and lon-
gevity.
O thrice holy sobriety, so use-
ful to man, by the services
thou renderest him I thou pro-
longest his days, by which
means he greatly improves his
understanding, and by such im-
provement he avoids the bitter
fruits of sensuality, which is
an enemy to reason, man's pe-
culiar privilege: those bitter
fruits are the passions and per-
turbations of the mind. Thou,
moreover, freest him from the

135 A SOBER LIFE.
dreadful thoughts of death.
How greatly is thy faithful
disciple indebted to thee, since,
by thy assistance, he enjoys this
beautiful expanse of the visible
world, which is really beauti-
ful to such as know how to
view it with a philosophic eye,
as thou hast enabled me to do!
Nor could I, at any other time
of life, even when I was young,
but altogether debauched by an
irregular life, perceive its beau-
ties, though I spared no pains
or expense to enjoy every sea-
son of life. But I found that
all the pleasures of that age had
their alloy; so that I never
knew, till I grew old, that
the world was beautiful. 
O

136 A TREATISE ON
truly happy life! which, over
and above all these favours con-
ferred on thine old man, hast so
improved and perfected his sto-
mach, that he has now a bet-
ter relish for his dry bread than
he had formerly, and in his
youth, for the most exquisite
dainties: and all this thou haft
compassed by acting rationally,
knowing, that bread is, above
all things, man's proper food,
when seasoned by a good appe-
tite; and, whilst a man leads a
sober life, he may be sure of
never wanting that natural
sauce, because, by always eat-
ing little, the stomach, not be-
ing much burthened, need not
wait long to have art appetite.

137 A SOBER LIFE.
It is for this reason that dry
bread relishes so well with me;
and I know it from experience,
and can with truth affirm, I
find such sweetness in it, that I
should be afraid of finning a-
gainst temperance, were it not
for my being convinced of the
absolute necessity of eating of
it, and that we cannot, make
use of a more natural food.
And thou, kind Nature, who
actest so lovingly by thy aged
offspring, in order to prolong
his days, haft contrived mat-
ters so in his favour, that he
can live upon very little; and,
in order to add to the favour,
and do him still greater service,
M3

138 A TREATISE ON 
has made him sensible, that,
as in his youth he used to eat
twice a-day, when he arrives
at old age he ought to divide
that food, of which he was ac-
costomed before to make but
two meals, into four; because,
thus divided, it will be more
easily digested; and, as in his
youth he made but two collati-
ons in the day, he should, in
his old age, make four, provi-
ded, however, he lessens the
quantity as his years increase.
And this is what I do, agreea-
bly to my own experience;
and, therefore, my spirits, hot
oppressed by much food, but
barely kept tip, are always
brisk, especially after eating, 

139 A SOBER LIFE.
so that I am obliged then to
sing a song, and afterwards to
write.
Nor do I ever find myself the
worse for writing immediately
after meals nor is my under-
standing ever clearer; nor am I
apt to be drowsy; the food I
take being in too small a quan-
tity to send up any fumes to
the brain. O, how advanta-
geous it is to an old man to
eat but little! Accordingly I,
who know it, eat but just e-
nough to keep body and soul
together; and the things I eat
are as follow. First, bread,
panado with an egg, or such o-
ther good kinds of soup, or
spoon meat. Of flesh meat I

140 A TREATISE ON
eat veal, kid, and mutton. I
eat poultry of every kind. I
eat partridges, and other birds,
such as thrushes. I likewise
eat fish; for instance, the gold-
ney and the like, amongst sea
fish; and the pike, and such
like, amongst fresh-water fish.
All these things are fit for an
old man, and, therefore, he
ought to be content with them;
and, considering their number
and variety, not hanker after o-
thers. Such old men as are too
poor to allow themselves pro-
visions of this kind, may do
very well with bread, panado,
and eggs; things which no
poor man can want, unless it
be common beggars, and, as

141 A SOBER LITE.
we call them, vagabonds, a-
bout whom we are not bound
to make ourselves uneasy, since
they have brought themselves
to that pass by their indolence,
and had better be dead than a-
live; for they are a disgrace to
human nature. But, though
a poor man should eat nothing
but bread, panado, and eggs,
there is no necessity for his eat-
ing more than his stomach can
digest. And, whoever does
not trespass in point of either
quantity or quality, cannot die
but by mere dissolution. O
what a difference there is be-
tween a regular and an irregu-
lar life! One gives longevity
and health, the other produces

142 A TREATISE ON
diseases and untimely deaths.
O unhappy, wretched life,
my sworn enemy, who art good
for nothing but to murder those
who follow thee! How many
of my dearest relations and
friends hast thou robbed me of,
in consequence of their not gi-
ving credit to me! relations
and friends whom I should
now enjoy. But thou hast not
been able to destroy me, accor-
ding to thy wicked intent and
purpuse. I am still alive in
spite of thee, and have attain-
ed to such an age, as to see a-
round me eleven grand-chil-
dren, all of fine understanding,
and amiable disposition: all gi-
ven to learning and virtue; all

143 A SOBER LIFE.
beautiful in their persons, and
lovely in their manners; whom,
had I obeyed thy dictates,
I should never have beheld.
Nor should enjoy those beau-
ful and convenient apartments
which I have built from the
ground, with such a variety of
gardens, as required no small
time to attain their present de-
gree of perfection. No! thy
nature is to destroy those who
follow, thee before they can see
their houses or gardens so much
as finished; whereas I, to thy
no small confusion, have alrea-
dy enjoyed mine for a great
number of years. But, since
thou art so pestilential a vice as
to poison and destroy the whole

144 A TREATISE ON 
world, and I am determined
to use my utmost endeavours
to extirpate thee, at least in
part, I have resolved to coun-
teract thee so, that my eleven
grand-children shall take part
after me, and thereby expose
thee for what thou really art, a
most wicked, desperate, and
mortal enemy of the children
of man.
I, really, cannot help admi-
ring, that men of fine parts,
and such there are, who have
attained a superior rank in let-
ters, or any other profession,
should not betake themselves
to a regular life, when they are
arrived at the age of fifty or
sixty, or as soon as they find

145 A SOBER LIFE.
themselves attacked by any
of the foregoing disorders, of
which they might easily reco-
ver; whereas, by being per-
mitted to get a head, they be-
come incurable. As to young
men, I am no way surprised at
them, since, the passions be-
ing strong at that age, they are
of course the more easily over-
powered by their baleful influ-
ence. But after fifty, our lives
should, in every thing, be go-
verned by reason, which teach-
es us, that the consequences of
gratifying our palate, and our
appetite, are disease and death.
Were this pleasure of the palate
lasting, it would be some ex-
N

146 A TREATISE ON
cuse; but it is so momentary,
that there is scarce any distin-
guishing between the beginning
and end of it; whereas the dis-
eases it produces are very dura-
ble. But it must be a great
contentment to a man of sober
life to be able to reflect that, in
the manner he lives, he is sure,
that what he eats, will keep
him in good health, and be
productive of no disease or in-
firmity.
Now, I was willing to make
this short addition to my
treatise, founded on new rea-
sons; few persons caring to pe-
ruse long-winded discourses;
whereas short tracts have a
chance of being read by many;

147 A SOBER LIFE.
and I with that many may see
this addition, to the end that
its utility may be more exten-
sive.

AN
EARNEST EXHORTATION;
WHEREIN
The Author uses the strongest
arguments to persuade all
men to embrace a regular
and sober life, in order to
attain old age, in which they
may enjoy all the favours
and blessings that God, in
his goodness, vouchsafes to
bestow upon mortals.
NOT to be wanting to my
duty, that duty incumbent
upon every man, and not to

149 A SOBER LIFE.
lose, at the same time, the sa-
tisfaction I feel in being useful
to others, I have resolved to
take up my pen, and inform
those who, for want of conver-
sing with me, are strangers to
what those know and see with
whom I have the pleasure of
being acquainted. But, as cer-
tain things may appear to some
persons scarce credible, nay im-
possible, though actually fact,
I shall not fail to relate them
for the benefit of the public.
Wherefore, I say, being (God
be praised)! arrived at my
ninety-fifth year, and still fin-
ding myself found and hearty,
content and cheerful, I never
N3

150 A TREATIE ON
cease thanking the divine Ma-
jesty for so great a blessing, con-
sidering the usual fate of other
old men. These scarce attain
the age of seventy without lo-
sing their health and spirits,
growing melancholy and pee-
vish, and continually haunted
If by the thoughts of death; ap-
prehending their last hour from
one day to another, so that
it is impossible to drive such
thoughts out of their mind;
whereas such things give me
not the least uneasiness; for,
indeed, I cannot at all make
them the object of my atten-
tion, as I shall hereafter more
plainly relate. I shall, besides
demonstrate the certainty I en-

151 A SOBER LIFE.
joy of living to an hundred.
But, to render this dissertation
more methodical, I shall begin
by considering man at his birth;
and from thence accompany
him through every stage of life
to his grave.
I, therefore, say, that some
come into the world with the
stamina of life so weak, that
they live but a few days, or
months, or years; and it can-
not be clearly known to what
such shortness of life is owing;
whether to some defect in the
father or the mother in beget-
ting them, or to the defect of
Nature, subject as she is to the
revolutions of the heavens, or
to the celestial influence. For

152 A TREATISE ON
I could never bring myself to
believe that Nature, the com-
mon parent of all, should be
partial to any of her children.
Therefore, as we cannot assign
the causes, we must be content
with reasoning from the effects,
such as they daily appear to our
view.
Others are born found,
indeed, and lively, but, not-
withstanding, with a poor
weakly constitution; and of
these some live to the age of
ten, others to twenty, others to
thirty and forty; yet they do
not live to be old men. Others
again bring into the world a
perfect constitution, and live to
old age; but it is generally,

153 A SOBER LIFE.
as I have already said, an old
age full of sickness and sorrow,
or which they are to thank
themselves; because they most
unreasonably presume on the
goodness of their constitution,
and cannot by any means be
brought to depart, when grown
old, from the mode of life they
pursued in their younger days,
as if they still retained all their
primitive vigour. Nay, they
intend to live as irregularly when
past the meridian of life as they
did all the time of their youth;
thinking they shall never grow
old, nor their constitution be
ever impaired. Neither do they
consider that their stomach has
lost its natural heat, and that

154 A TREATISE ON
they should, on that account,
pay a greater regard to the qua-
lity of what they eat, and what
wines they drink; and like-
wise to the quantity of each,
which they ought to lessen:
whereas, on the contrary, they
are for increasing it; saying,
that as we lose our health and
vigour by growing old, we
should endeavour to repair the
loss by increasing the quantity
of our food, since it is by suste-
nance that we are to preserve
the individual.
In this, nevertheless they are
greatly mistaken, since, as the
natural heat lessens as a man
grows in years, he should di-
minish the quantity of his meat

155 A SOBER LIFE.
and drink; Nature especially,
at that period, being content
with little. Nay, though they
have all the reason to believe
this to be the case, they are so
obstinate as to think otherwise;
and still follow their usual dis-
orderly life. But were they to
relinquish it in due time, and
betake themselves to a regular
and sober course, they would
not grow infirm in their old age,
but would continue, as I am,
strong and hearty, considering
how good and perfect a consti-
tution it has pleased the Al-
mighty to bestow upon them,
and would live to the age of one
hundred and twenty. This has
been the case of others, who,

156 A TREATISE ON
as we read in many authors,
have lived a sober life, and, of
course, were born with this per-
fect constitution; and had it
been my lot to enjoy such a
constitution, I should make no
doubt of attaining the same age.
But, as I was born with feeble
stamina, I am afraid I shall not
outlive an hundred. Were o-
thers, too, who are also born
with an infirm constitution to
betake themselves to a regular
life, as I have done, they would
attain the age of one hundred
and upwards, as shall be my
case.
And this certainty of being
able to live a great age is, in
try opinion, a great advantage,

157 A SOBER LIFE.
and highly to be valued; none
being sure to live even a single
hour except such as adhere to
the rules of temperance. This
security of life is built on good
and true natural reasons, which
can never fail; it being impos-
sible, in the nature of things,
that he who leads a sober and
regular life should breed any
sickness, or die of an unnatu-
ral death, before the time at
which it is absolutely impossi-
ble he should live. But soon-
er he cannot die, as a sober life
has the virtue to remove all the
usual causes of sickness, and
sickness cannot happen with-
out a cause; which cause
being removed, sickness is,
O

158 A TREATISE ON
likewise, removed; and sick-
ness being removed, an untime-
ly and violent death must be
prevented.
And there is no doubt that
temperance has the virtue and
efficacy to remove such causes;
for since health and sickness,
life and death, depend on the
good or bad quality of the hu-
mours, temperance corrects
their viciousness, and renders
them perfect, being possessed of
the natural power of making
them unite and bind together,
so as to render them insepara-
ble, and incapable of alteration
or fermenting; circumstances
which engender cruel fevers,
and end in death. It is true,

159 A SOBER LIFE.
indeed, and it would be a fol-
ly to deny it, that, let our hu-
mours be originally ever so good,
time, which consumes every
thing, cannot fail to consume
and exhaust them; and that
man, as soon as that happens,
must die of a natural death;
but yet without sickness, as
will be my case, who shall die
at my appointed time, when
these humours shall be consu-
med, which they are not at
present. Nay, they are still
perfect; nor is it possible they
should be otherwise in my pre-
sent condition, when I find
myself hearty and content, ea-
ting with a good appetite, and
sleeping soundly. Moreover,

160 A TREATISE ON
all my senses are as good as e-
ver, and in the highest perfec-
tion; my understanding clear-
er and brighter than ever; my
judgment found; my memory
tenacious; my spirits good;
and my voice, the first thing
which is apt to fail us, grown
so strong and sonorous, that I
cannot help chanting out loud
my prayers morning and night,
instead of whispering and mut-
tering them to myself, as was
formerly my custom.
And these are all so many
true and sure signs and tokens
that my humours are good,
and cannot waste but with time,
as all those who converse with
me conclude. O how glorious 

161 A SOBER LIFE.
this life of mine is like to be
replete with all the felicities
which man can enjoy at this
side of the grave, and even ex-
empt from that sensual bruta-
lity which age has enabled my
better reason to banish! because,
where reason resides, there is
no room for sensuality, nor for
its bitter fruits, the passions
and perturbations of the mind,
with a train of disagreeable ap-
prehensions. Nor yet can the
thoughts of death find room in
my mind, as I have no sensu-
ality to nourish such thoughts.
Neither can the death of grand-
children, and other relations
and friends, make any impres-
O3

162 A TREATISE ON
sion on me but for a moment
or two, and then it is over. Still
less am I liable to be cast down
by losses in point of fortune,
(as many have seen to their no
small surprise). And this is a
happiness not to be expected
by any but such as attain old
age by sobriety, and not in con-
sequence of a strong constituti-
on; and such may, moreover,
expect to spend their days hap-
pily, as I do mine, in a perpe-
tual round of amusement and
pleasure. And how is it pos-
sible a man should not enjoy
himself, who meets with no
crosses or disappointments in
his old age, such as youth is
constantly plagued with, and 

163 A SOBER LIFE.
from which, as I shall present-
Iy show, I have the happiness
of being exempt.
The first of these is to do
service to my country. O what
a glorious amusement! in
which I find infinite delight,
as I thereby show her the means
of improving her important es-
tuary or harbour beyond the
possibility of its filling for thou-
sands of years to come; so as
to secure to Venice her surpri-
sing and miraculous title of a
maiden city, as she really is, and
the only one in the whole world:
she will, moreover, thereby
add to her great and excellent
surname of queen of the sea.
Such is my amusement; and            

164 A TREATISE ON
nothing is wanting to make it
complete. Another amuse-
ment of mine is that of show-
ing this maid and queen in
what manner she may abound
with provisions, by improving
large tracts of lands, as well
marshes as barren sands, to
great profit. A third amuse-
ment, and an amusement too
without any alloy, is the show-
ing how Venice, though alrea-
dy so strong as to be in a man-
ner inexpungable, may be ren-
dered still stronger; and, tho
extremely beautiful, may still
increase in beauty, though rich,
may acquire more wealth; and
may be made to enjoy better
air, though her air is excellent. 

165 A SOBER LIFE.
These three amusements, all a-
rising from the idea of pubilc u-
tility, I enjoy in the highest
degree. And who can say
that they admit of any alloy, as
in fact they do not? Another
comfort I enjoy is, that, ha-
ving lost a considerable part of
my income, of which my
grand-children had been unfor-
tunately robbed, I, by mere
dint of thought, which never
sleeps, and without any fa-
tigue of body, and very little
of mind, have found a true and
infallible method of repairing
such loss more than double,
by a judicious use of that most
commendable of arts, agricul-
ture. Another comfort I still

166 A TREATISE ON
enjoy is, to think that my
Treatise on Temperance, which
I wrote in order to be useful to
others, is really so, as many
assure me by word of mouth,
mentioning that it has proved
extremely useful to them, as it
in fact appears to have been;
whilst others inform me by
letter, that, under God, they
are indebted to me for life.
Still another comfort I enjoy is,
that of being able to write
with my own hand; for I
write enough to be of service to
others, both on architecture
and agriculture. I likewise en-
joy another satisfaction, which
is that of conversing with men
of bright parts and superior un- 

167 A SOBER LIFE. 
derstanding, from whom, e-
ven at this advanced period of
life, I learn something. What
a comfort is this, that, old as
I am, I should be able, with-
out the least fatigue, to study
the most important, sublime,
and difficult subjects!
I must farther add, though
it may appear impossible to
some, and may be so in some
measure, that, at this age, I en-
joy at once two lives: one ter-
restrial, which I possess in fact;
the other celestial, which I pos-
sess in thought; and this thought
is equal to actual enjoyment,
when founded upon things we
are sure to attain, as I am sure
to attain that celestial life,

168 A TREATISE ON
through the infinite goodness
and mercy of God. Thus I en-
joy this terrestrial life, in con-
sequence of my sobriety and
temperance, virtues so agreea-
ble to the Deity; and I enjoy,
by the grace of the same Di-
vine Majesty, the celestial,
which he makes me anticipate
in thought; a thought so lively
as to fix me entirely on this ob-
ject, the fruition of which I
hold and affirm to be of the ut-
most certainty. And I hold
that dying, in the manner I
expect, is not really death, but
a passage of the soul from this
earthly life to a celestial, im-
mortal, and infinitely perfect
existence. Neither can it be

169 A SOBER LIFE
otherwise: and this thought is
so superlatively sublime, that I
no longer stoop to low and
worldly objects, such as the
death of this body, being en-
tirely taken up with the happi-
ness of living a celestial and
divine life; whence it is that
I enjoy two lives. Nor can
the terminating of so high a
gratification which I enjoy in
this life give me any concern;
it rather affords me infinite
pleasure, as it will be only to
make room for another glori-
ous and immortal life.
Now, is it possible that any
one should grow tired of
so great a comfort and bles-
P

170 A TREATISE ON
sing as this which I really en-
joy, and which every one else
might enjoy, by leading the
life I have led? an example
which every one has it in his
power to follow: for I am but
a mere man, and no saint; a
servant of God to whom so re-
gular a life is extremely agree-
able.
And whereas many embrace
a spiritual and contemplative
life, which is holy and com-
mendable, the chief employ-
ment of those who lead it he-
ing to celebrate the praises of
God; O that they would like-
wise betake themselves entirely
to a regular and sober life! how
much more agreeable would

171 A SOBER LIFE.
they render themselves, in the
light of God! what a much
greater honour and ornament
would they be to the world!
They would then be considered
as faints indeed upon earth, as
those primitive Christians were
held who joined sobriety to so
recluse a life. By living, like
them, to the age of one hundred
and twenty, they might, like
them, expect, by the power of
God, to work numberless mira-
cles: and they would, betides
enjoy constant health and spi-
rits, and be always happy with-
in themselves; whereas they
are now, for the most part, in-
firm, melancholy, and dissatis-
fied. Now, as some of these

172 A TREATISE ON
people think that these trials
are sent them by God Almigh-
ty, with a view of promoting
their salvation, that they may
do penance in this life for their
past errors, I cannot help say-
ing that, in my opinion, they
are greatly mistaken. For I
can by no means believe that
it is agreeable to the Deity that
man, his favourite creature,
should live infirm, melancholy
and dissatisfied; but rather en-
joy good health and spirits, and
be always content within him-
self. In this manner did the
holy fathers live, and by such
conduct did they daily render
themselves more acceptible to
the Divine Majesty, so as to 

173 A SOBER LIFE.
work the great and surprising
miracles we read of in histo-
ry. How beautiful, how glo-
rious, a scene should we then
behold! far more beautiful than
in those ancient times, because
we now abound with so many
religious orders and monaste-
ries, which did not then exist
and were the members of these
communities to lead a tempe-
rate life, we should then behold
such a number of venerable old
men as would create surprise.
Nor would they trespass against
their rules, they would rather
improve upon them; since e-
very religious community al-
lows its subject bread, wine,
P3        

174 A TREATISE ON
and sometimes eggs, (some of
them allow meat), besides
soups made with vegetables,
sallads, fruit, and cakes, things
which often disagree with them;
and even shorten their lives.
But as they are allowed such
things by their rules, they free-
ly make use of them, thinking,
perhaps, that it would be wrong
to abstain from them; where-
as it would not. It would rather
be commendable, if, after the
age of thirty, they abstained
from such food, and confined
themselves to bread, wine,
broths, and eggs: for this is
the true method of preserving
men of a bad constitution; and
it is a life of more indulgence

175 A SOBER LIFE
than that led by the holy fa-
thers of the desert, who subsist-
ed entirely on wild fruits and
roots, and drank nothing but
pure water; and, nevertheless,
lived, as I have already men-
tioned, in good health and spi-
rits, and always happy within
themselves. Were those of our
days to do the same, they
would, like them, find the road
to heaven much easier; for it
is always open to every faithful
Christian, as our Saviour Jesus
Christ left it, when he came
down upon earth to shed his
precious  blood, in order to
deliver us from the tyranny of
of the devil; and all through
his immense goodness.

176 A TREATISE ON
So that, to make an end of
this discourse, I say, that since
length of days abounds with so
many favours and blessings,
and I happen to be one of those
who are arrived at that state, I
cannot (as I would not willing-
ly want charity) but give testi-
mony in favour of it, and so-
lemnly assure all mankind that
really enjoy a great deal more
than what I now mention; and
that I have no other reason for
writing but that of demonstra-
ting the great advantages which
arise from longevity, to the end
that their own conviction may
induce them to observe those
excellent rules of temperance
and sobriety. And therefore

177 A SOBER LIFE.
I never cease to raise my voice,
crying out to you, my friends,
may your days be long, and
may you continue to improve
in every virtue.

LETTER
FROM
SIGNOR LEWIS CORNARO,
TO THE RIGHT REVEREND
BARRARO,
PATRIARCH ELEOT OF AQUILEIA.
MY LORD,
THE human understanding
must certainly have some-
thing divine in its constitution
and frame. How divine the
invention of conversing with
an absent friend by the help of
writing! How divinely is it
contrived by Nature, that men
though at a great distance,
should see one another with the

179 A SOBER LIFE.
intellectual eye, as I now see
your Lordship! By means of
this contrivance, I shall endea-
vour to entertain you with mat-
ters of the greatest moment.
It is true, that I shall speak of
nothing but what I have al-
ready mentioned; but it was
not at the age of ninety-one, to
which I have now attained, a
thing I cannot help taking no-
tice of, because, as I advance
in years, the sounder and hear-
tier I grow, to the amazement
of all the world. I, who can
account for it, am bound to
show, that a man may enjoy a
terrestrial paradise after eighty,
which I enjoy; but it is not to
be obtained except by tempe-

180 A TREATISE ON
rance and sobriety, virtues so
acceptable to the Almighty,
because they are enemies to sen-
suality, and friends to reason.
Now, my Lord, to begin, I
must tell you, that, within these
few days past, I have been vi-
sited by many of the learned
doctors of this university, as
well physicians as philosophers,
who were well acquainted with
my age, my life, and manners;
knowing how stout, hearty,
and gay I was; and in what
perfection all my senses still
continued; likewise my me-
mory, spirits, and understand-
ing, and even my voice and
teeth. They knew, besides,
that I constantly employed

181 A SOBER LIFE.
eight hours every day in
writing treatises, with my
own hand, on subjects useful
to mankind, and spent many
more in walking and singing.
O my Lord, how melodious
my voice is grown! were you
to heat me chant my prayers,
and that to my lyre, after the
example of David, I am cer-
tain it would give you great
pleasure, my voice is so musi-
cial. Now, when they told
me that they had been already
acquainted with all these parti-
culars, they added, that it was
indeed, next to a miracle, how
I could write so much, and up-
on subjects that required both
Q

182 A TREATISE ON
judgment and spirit. And in-
deed, my Lord, it is incredible
what satisfaction and pleasure
I have in these compositions.
But, as I write to be useful,
your Lordship may easily con-
ceive what pleasure I enjoyed.
They concluded by telling me,
that I ought not to be looked
upon as a person advanced in
years, since all my occupations
were those of a young man,
and by no means like those of
other aged persons, who, when
they have reached eighty,
are reckoned decrepit. Such,
moreover, are subject, some to
the gout, some to the sciatica,
and some to other complaints,
to be relieved from which they

183 A SOBER LIFE.
must undergo such a number
of painful operations, as can-
not but render life extreme-
ly disagreeable. And, if by
chance, one of them happens
to escape a long illness, his sen-
ses are impaired, and he cannot
see or hear so well; or else
fails in some one or other of
the corporeal faculties, he can-
not walk, or his hands shake;
and, supposing him exempt
from these bodily infirmities,
his memory, his spirits, or his
understanding, fail him; he is
not cheerful, pleasant, and hap-
py, within himself, as I am
Besides all these blessings, I
mentioned another, which I
enjoyed, and so great a bles-

184 A TREATISE ON
sing, that they were all ama-
zed at it, since it is altogether
beside the usual course of Na-
ture. This blessing is, that I
should pass fifty, in spite of a
most powerful and mortal ene-
my I carry about me, and
which I can by no means con-
quor, because it is natural, or
an occult quality implanted in
my body by Nature; and this
is, that every year, from the
beginning of July till the end
of August I cannot drink any
wine of whatever kind or coun-
try; for, besides being, du-
ring these two months, quite
disgustful to my palate, it
disagrees with my stomach.
Thus losing my milk, for wine

185 A SOBER LIFE.
is, indeed, the milk of old
age, and having nothing to
drink, for no change or prepa-
ration of waters can have the
virtue of wine, nor, of course,
do me any good; having no-
thing, I say, to drink, and
my stomach being thereby dis-
ordered, I can eat but very lit-
tle; and this spare diet, with
the want of wine, reduces me,
by the middle of August, ex-
tremely low; nor is the strongest,
capon broth, or any other re-
medy, of service to me, so that
I am ready, through mere
weakness to sink into the
grave. Hence they inferred,
that were not the new wine,
Q3

186 A TREATISE ON
for I always take care to have
some ready by the beginning
of September, to come in so
soon, I should be a dead man.
But what surprised them still
more was, that this new wine
would have power sufficient to
restore me, in two or three
days, to that degree of health
and strength, of which the old
wine had robbed me a fact they
themselves have been eye-wit-
nesses of within these few day
and which a man must see to-
believe it; insomuch that they
could not help crying out-
"Many of us who are physi-
cians have visited him annually
for several years past; and ten
years ago judged it impossible

187 A SOBER LIFE.
for him to live a year or two
longer, considering what a
mortal enemy he carried about
aim, and his advanced age;
yet we do not find him so weak
at present as he used to be."
This singularity, and the ma-
ny other blessings they see me
enjoy, obliged then to confess,
that the joining of such a num-
ber of favours was, with re-
gard to me, a special grace con-
serred on me at my birth by
Nature, or by the stars; and to
prove this to see a good conclu-
sion, which it realty is not,
(because not grounded on strong
and sufficient reasons, but
merely on their opinions), they
found themselves under a ne- 

188 A TREATISE ON
cessity to display their eloquence
and to say a great many very fine
things. Certain it is, my Lord,
that eloquence, in men of
bright parts, has great power;
so great as to induce people to
believe things which have nei-
ther actual nor possible exis-
tence. I had, however, great
pleasure and satisfaction in
hearing them; for it must, no
doubt, be a high entertainment
to hear such men talk in that
manner.
Another satisfaction, with-
out the least mixture of alloy,
I at the same time enjoyed,
was to think, that age and ex-
perience are sufficient to make
a man learned, who without

189 A SOBER LIFE.
them would know nothing; nor
is it surprising they should, since
length of days is the foundation
of true knowledge. According-
ly, it was by means of it alone
I discovered their conclusion
to be false. Thus, you see, my
Lord, how apt men are to de-
ceive themselves in their judg-
ment of things, when such
judgment is not built upon a
solid foundation. And, there-
fore to undeceive them, and
set them right, I made answer,
that their conclusion was false,
as I should actually convince
them; by proving, that what
I enjoyed was not confined
to me, but common to all man-
kind, and that every man might

190 A TREATISE ON
equally enjoy it; since I was
but a mere mortal, composed,
like all others, of the four ele-
ments; and endued, besides
existence and life, with sensi-
ble and intellectual faculties,
which are common to all men.
For it has pleased the Almigh-
ty to bestow on his favourite crea-
ture man these extraordinary ble-
slings and favours above other
animals, which enjoy only the
sensible perceptions, in order
that such blessings and favours
may be the means of keeping
him long in good health; so
that length of days is an uni-
versal favour granted by the
Deity, and not by Nature and
the stars.

191 A SOBER LIFE.
But man being in his youth-
ful days more of the sensual
than of the rational animal, is
apt to yield to sensible impres-
sions; and, when he afterwards
arrives at the age of forty or
fifty, he ought to consider,
that he has attained the noon
of life by the vigour of youth,
and a good tone of stomach;
natural blessings, which favour-
ed him in ascending the hill,
but that he must now think of
going down, and approaching
the grave with a heavy weight
of years on his back; and that
old age is the reverse of youth,
as much as order is the reverse
of disorder. Hence it is requi-
site he should alter his mode of

192 A TREATISE ON
life in regard to she articles of
eating and drinking, on which
health and longevity depend:
and as the first part of his life was
sensual and irregular, the second
should be the reverse, since no-
thing can subsist without order,
especially the life of men, ir-
regularity being without all
doubt prejudical, and regularity
advantageous, to the human
species.
Besides, it is impossible in
the nature of things, that the
man who is bent on indulging
his palate and his appetite
should not be guilty of irregu-
larity. Hence it was that, to
avoid this vice, as soon as I
found myself arrived at matu- 

193 A SOBER LIFE.
rer years, I embraced a regular
and sober life. It is, no doubt,
true, that I found some dif-
ficulty, in compassing it; but,
in order to conquer this dif-
ficulty, I beseeched the Al-
mighty to grant me the virtue
of sobriety; well knowing, that
he would graciously hear my
prayer. Then, considering,
that when a man is about to
undertake any thing of impor-
tance, which he knows he can
compass, though not without
difficulty, he may make it
much easier to himself by be-
ing steady in his purpose, I
pursued the same course. I en-
R         

194 A TREATISE ON
deavoured gradually to relin-
quish a disorderly life, and to
suit myself insensibly to the
rules of temperance: and thus
it came to pass that a sober and
regular life no longer proved
uneasy or disagreeable; though,
on account of the weakness of
my constitution, I tied myself
down to such strict rules in re-
gard to the quantity and quali-
ty of what l ate and drank.
But others, who happen to
be blessed with a stronger tem-
perament, may eat many other
kinds of food, and in greater
quantity; and so of wines;
whereas, though their lives
may still be sober they will not

195 A SOBER LIFE.
be so confined as mine, but
much more free. Now, on
hearing these arguments, and
examining the reasons on which
ihey were founded, they all a-
greed that I had advanced no-
thing but what was true. In-
deed the youngest of them said,
that though he could not but
allow the favour or advantages
I had been speaking of to be
common to all mankind, yet
I enjoyed the special grace of
being able to relinquish. with
ease one kind of life, and em-
brace another; a thing which
he knew by experience to be
feasible; but as difficult to him
as it had proved easy to me.
To this I replied, that par-

196 A TREATISE ON
taking of humanity like him,
I likewise found it a difficult
talk; but it did not become a
person to shrink from a glori-
ous but practicable undertaking
on account of the difficulties
attending it, because in pro-
portion to these difficulties is
the honour he acquires by it in
the eye of man, and the merit
in the sight of God. Our be-
nesicent Creator is desirous,
that, as he originally favoured
human nature with longevity,
we should all enjoy the full
advantage of his intention;
knowing that, when a man has
passed eighty, he is entirely
exempt from the bitter fruits
of sensual enjoyments, and is

197 A SOBER LIFE.
intirely governed by the dic-
tates of reason. Vice and im-
morality must then leave him;
hence God is willing he should
live to a full maturity of years;
and has ordained that whoe-
ver reaches his natural term,
should end his days without
sickness by mere dissolution,
the natural way of quitting this 
mortal life, to enter upon im-
mortality, as will be my case.
For I am sure to die chanting
my prayers; nor do the dread-
ful thoughts of death give me
the least uneasiness, though,
considering my great age, it
cannot be far distant, knowing,
as I do, that I was born to die, 
R3

198 A TREATISE ON
and reflecting that such num-
bers have departed this live
without reaching my age.
Nor does that other thought,
inseparable from the former,
namely the fear of those tor-
ments, to which wicked men
are hereafter liable, give me a-
ny uneasiness; because I am a
good christian, and bound to
believe, that I shall be saved
by the virtue of the most sa-
cred blood of Christ, which he
has vouchsafed to shed, in or-
der to free us from those tor-
ments. How beautiful the
life I lead! how happy my end!
To this, the young gentleman,
my antagonist, had nothing to
reply, but that he was resolved

199 SOBER LIFE.
to embrace a sober life, in or-
der to follow my example;
and that he had taken another
more important, resolution,
which was, that, as he had been
always very desirous to live to be
old, so he was now equally im-
patient to reach that period,
the sooner to enjoy the felicity
of old age.
The great, desire I had, my
Lord, to converse with you at
this distance has forced me to
be prolix, and still obliges me
to proceed; though not much
farther. There are many sensu-
alists, my Lord, who say, I have
thrown away my time and trou-
ble in writing a treatise on Tem-
perance, and other discourses

200 A TREATISE ON
on the same subject, to induce
men to lead a regular life;
alledging, that it is impossible
to conform to it, so that my
treatise must answer as little
purpose as that of Plato on go-
vernment, who took a great
deal of pains to recommend a
thing impracticable; whence
they inferred that, as his trea-
tise was of no use, mine will
share the same fate. Now
this surprises me the more, as
they may see by my treatise,
that I had led a sober life for
many years before I had com-
posed it; and that I should ne-
ver have composed it, had I
not previously been convinced

201 A SOBER LIFE.
that it was such a life as a man
might lead; and, being a vir-
tuous life, would be of great
service to him; so that I thought
myself under an obligation to re-
present it in a true light. I have
the satisfaction now to hear,
that numbers: on seeing my
treatise, have embraced such a
life; and I have read, that
many, in times past, have ac-
tually led it; so that the objec-
tion to which Plato's treatise on
government is liable can be of
no force against mine. But
such sensualists, enemies to
reason, and slaves to their pas-
sions, ought to think them-
selves well off, if, whilst they

202 A TREATISE ON
study to indulge their palate and
their appetite, they do not con-
tract long and painful diseases,
and are not, many of them, o-
vertaken by an untimely death.
THE END.