CHAP. I.

I HAVE observed that cus­tom has lately introduced into Italy, two very dangerous evils—FLATTERY and INTEMPE­RANCE.

The first of these banishes from conversation, all frank­ness and plain dealing. And a­gainst the latter I declare open [Page 20] war, as being the most fatal e­nemy of our health.

'Tis an unhappiness into which the people of this age are fallen, that variety of dishes is become fashionable and too generally preferred to frugality. And yet the one is the offspring of divine temperance; whilst pride and gluttony are the odi­ous parents of the other. Not­withstanding the difference of their origin, yet prodigality is now a-days tricked up in the pompous titles of magnificence, generosity and grandeur; whilst blest frugality is too often brand­ed as the badge of an avaricious and sordid spirit.

This error has so far seduced us, as to prevail on many to re­nounce a frugal way of living, [Page 21] though taught by nature, from the earliest ages of the world; and has betrayed us into those excesses which serve only to a­bridge the number of our days. We are grown old before we have been able to taste the plea­sures of being young. And the time which ought to be the summer of our lives is often the beginning of their winter. We soon perceive our strength to fail, and weakness to come on, long before we have attain­ed to the perfection of our na­ture. On the contrary, tem­perance promotes and preserves to us the full perfection of our natures. Our youth is lasting, and our manhood attended with a vigor that does not begin to decay till after a great many [Page 22] years. This is so true, that when men were not addicted to intemperance they had more strength and vivacity at four­score, than we have at forty.

Oh unhappy Italy! doest thou not see, that gluttony and ex­cess rob thee, every year, of more inhabitants than pestilence, war, and famine could have done? Thy true plagues, are thy numerous luxuries and im­moderate feastings, in which thy deluded citizens indulge themselves to an excess unwor­thy of the rational character and utterly ruinous to their health; for how is it possible to support nature under such loads of con­trary and unwholesome foods? Put a stop to this fatal abuse, for God's sake, for there is not, [Page 23] I am certain of it, a vice more abominable in the eyes of the divine Majesty, nor any more destructive. How many have I seen cut off, in the flower of their days by this unhappy cus­tom of high feeding! How many excellent friends has glut­tony deprived me of, who, but for this accursed vice, might have been an ornament to the world, an honour to their coun­try, and have afforded me as much joy in their lives, as I now feel concern at their loss!

In order, therefore, to put a stop to so great an evil, I have undertaken this little book, and I attempt it the more readily, as many young gentlemen have re­quested it of me, moved there­to by seeing their f [...]hers drop [Page 24] off in the flower of their youth, and me so sound and hearty at the age of eighty-one. They begged me to let them know by what means I attained to such excellent health and spirits at my time of life. I could not but think their curiosity very laudable, and was willing to gratify them, and at the same time do some service to my countrymen, by declaring, in the first place, what led me to renounce intemperance and lead a temperate life; secondly, by shewing the rules I observed; and thirdly, what unspeakable satisfaction and advantage I de­rived from it; whence it may be very clearly seen how easy a thing it is for a wise man to e­scape all the curses of intem­perance, [Page 25] and secure to himself the inestimable felicities of vi­gorous health and chearful age.

The first thing that led me to embrace a temperate life, was, the many and sore evils which I suffered from the contrary course of living; my constitu­tion was, naturally, weakly and delicate, which ought in reason to have made me more regular and prudent, but being, like most young men, too fond of what is usually called good eat­ing and drinking, I gave the rein to my appetites. In a little time I began to feel the ill ef­fects of such intemperance; for I had scarce attained to my thir­ty-fifth year, before I was at­tacked with a complication of disorders, such as, head-achs, a [Page 26] sick stomach, cholicky uneasi­nesses, the gout, rheumatic pains, lingering fevers, and continual thirst; and though I was then but in the middle of my days, my constitution seemed so en­tirely ruined that I could hard­ly hope for any other termina­tion to my sufferings but death.

The best physicians in Italy employed all their skill in my behalf, but to no effect. At last they told me, very candid­ly, that there was but one thing that could afford me a single ray of hope, but one medicine that could give a radical cure; viz. the immediate adoption of a temperate and regular life. They added moreover, that, now, I [...] no time to lose, that I [...] immediately, either [Page 27] chuse a regimen or death, and that if I deferred their advice much longer, it would be too late for ever to do it. This was a home thrust. I could not bear the thoughts of dying so soon, and being convinced of their a­bilities and experience, I thought the wisest course I could take, would be to follow their advice, how disagreeable soever it might seem.

I then requested my physi­cians to tell me exactly after what manner I ought to govern myself? To this they replied, that I should always consider myself as an infirm person; eat nothing but what agreed with me, and that in small quantity. I then immediately entered on this new course of life, and [Page 28] with so determined a resolution, that nothing has been since able to divert me from it. In a few days I perceived that this new way of living agreed very well with me; and in less than a twelve month I had the un­speakable happiness to find that all my late alarming symptoms were vanished, and that I was perfectly restored to health.

No sooner had I began to taste the sweets of this new resurrec­tion, but I made many very pleasing reflections on the great advantages of temperance, and thought within myself, ‘if this virtue has had so divine an efficacy, as to cure me of such grievous disorders, surely i [...] will help my bad constituti­on and confirm my health.’ [Page 29] I therefore applied myself dili­gently to discover what kinds of food were properest for me. I resolved to try whether those dishes that pleased my taste, were friendly or hurtful to my health, and whether the pro­verb be true, which says, that what delights the palate must be good for the stomach. I found it to be false; and that it just serves as an excuse to gluttons who are for indulging them­selves in whatever pleases their appetites.

I therefore took no more no­tice of the proverb, but made choice of such meats and drinks as agreed with my constitution, and made it an inviolable law with myself, always to rise with an appetite to eat more if I [Page 30] pleased. In a word, I entirely renounced intemperance, and made a vow to continue the re­mainder of my life under the same regimen I had observed: A happy resolution this! the keeping of which entirely cured me of all my infirmities. I ne­ver before lived a year together, without falling once at least, in­to some violent illness▪ but this never happened to me after­wards; on the contrary. I have always been healthy ever since I was temperate.

I must not forget here to men­tion a circumstance of consider­able consequence. I have been telling of a great, and to me, a most happy change in my way of living. Now all changes, though from the worst to the best [Page 31] habits, are, at first, disagreeable. I found it so; for having long accustomed myself to high feed­ing, I h [...]d contract [...]d such a fondness for it, that though I was daily destroying myself, yet did it, at first, cost me some struggle to relinquish it. Na­ture, long us [...]d to hearty meals, expected th [...], and was quite diss [...]i [...]fied with my moderate [...]. To [...] my mind from [...] li [...]le [...], I us­ed immediately after dinner, to betake myself to some innocent amusement or useful pursuit, such as, my devotions, my book, music, &c.

But to return.—Besides the two foregoing important rules about eating and drinking, that is, not to take of any thing, but [Page 32] as much as my stomach could easily digest, and to use those things only which agreed with me; I have very carefully avoid­ed all extremes of heat and cold, excessive fatigue, interruption of my usual time of rest, late hours, and too close and intense thinking. All these are hurtful; but excessive fatigue, either of body or mind, is eminently so. Too close and intense think­ing strains the nerves, wastes the spirits, brings on a pain­ful head-ach, loss of appe­tite, prevents sleep, sours the temper, wastes the flesh, and, if long continued, effectually destroys the best constitution. Many an excellent constitution has been irrecoverably ruined by a few months only of too close [Page 33] hard study; and the ill effects of this imprudence, are greatly aggravated by that sedentary life, stooping posture, and lean­ing against tables, which studi­ous people are so often guilty of, and by which they too fre­quently bring on themselves pains of the breast, and incur­able consumptions. I am like­wise greatly indebted for the excellent health I enjoy, to that calm and temperate state in which I have been careful to keep my passions.

The influence of the passions on the nerves, and health of our bodies, is so great, that none [...] possibly be ignorant of it. He therefore who seriously wishes to enjoy good health, must a­bove all things, learn to con­quer [Page 34] his passions, and keep them in subjection to reason. For let a man be ever so temperate in diet, or regular in exercise, yet still some unhappy passion, if indulged to excess, will pre­vail over all his regularity, and prevent the good effects of his temperance; no words, there­fore, can adequately express the wisdom of guarding against an influence so destructive. Fear, anger, grief, envy, hatred, ma­lice, revenge and despair, are known by eternal experience, to weaken the nerves, disorder the circulation, impair digesti­on, and often to bring on a long train of hysterical and hy­pochondriacal disorders; and ex­treme sudden fright, has often occasioned immediate death.

[Page 35] On the other hand, mode­rate joy, and all those affec­tions of the mind which par­take of its nature, as chearful­ness, contentment, hope, vir­tuous and mutual love, and cou­rage in doing good, invigorate the nerves, give a healthy m [...] ­tion to the fluids, promote per­spiration, and assist digestion▪ but violent anger, (which dif­fers from madness only in du­ration) throws the whole frame into tempest and convulsion, the countenance blackens, the eyes glare, the mouth foams, and in place of the most gentle and amiable, it makes a man the most frightful and terrible of all animals. The effects of this dreadful passion do not stop here; it never [...]ails to create bi­lious, [Page 36] inflammatory, convul­sive, and sometimes apoplec­tic disorders, and sudden death.

Solomon was thoroughly sen­sible of the destructive tenden­cies of ungoverned passions, and has in many places cauti­oned us against them. He em­phatically styles ‘envy a rot­tenness of the bones;’ and says that, ‘wrath slayeth the angry man, and envy killeth the silly one^*;’ and ‘that [Page 37] the wicked shall not live out half their days.’ For as vi­olent gales of wind will soon wreck the strongest ships, so violent passions of hatred, an­ger, and sorrow, will soon de­stroy the best constitutions.

[Page 38] However, I must confess to my shame, that I have not been at all times so much of a philo­sopher and Christian, as entire­ly to avoid these disorders; but I have reaped the benefit of knowing by my own repeated experience, that these malignant passions have in general a far less pernicious effect on bodies that are rendered firm and vi­gorous by temperance, than on those that are corrupted and wea­kened by gluttony and excess.

That eminent physician, Ga­len, made this observation long before me, and I might produce several authorities to support this opinion, but I will go only upon my own experience. It was hard for me to avoid every extreme of heat and cold, and [Page 39] to live above all the occasions of trouble which attend the life of man; but yet these things made no great impression on the state of my health, though I met with many instances of persons who sunk under less weight both of body and mind.

There was in our family a considerable law-suit depend­ing against some persons, whose might overcame our right. One of my brothers, and some of my relations, were so mortified and grieved on account of the loss of this suit, that they actually died of broken hearts. I was as sensible as they could be, of the great injustice done us, but, thank GOD, so far from break­ing my heart, it scarcely broke my repose. And I ascribe thei [...] [Page 40] sufferings and my safety, to the difference of our living. In­temperance and sloth had so weakened their nerves, and broken their spirits, that they easily sunk under the weight of misfortune. While temperance and active life had so invigorated my constitution, as to make me happily superior to the evils of this momentary life.

At seventy years of age, I had another experiment of the usefulness of my regimen. Some business of consequence calling me into the country, my coach-horses ran away with me; I was overset and dragged a long way before they could stop the horses. They took me out of the coach, with my head bat­ter'd, a leg and an arm out of [Page 41] joint, and truly in a very lament­able condition. As soon as they had brought me home, they sent for the physicians, who did not expect I could live three days: however, they resolved upon letting me blood, to pre­vent the fever, which usually happens in such cases. I was so confident, that my regular life had prevented the contra [...] ­ing of any ill humours, that I opposed their prescription. I ordered them to dress my head, to set my leg and arm, to rub me with some specific oils pro­per for bruises; and, without any other remedies, I was soon cured, to the great astonishment of the physicians, and of all those who knew me.

[Page 42] I beg leave to relate one more anecdote, as an additional proof what an impenetrable shield temperance presents against the evils of life.

About five years ago▪ I was over-persuaded to a thing, which had like to have cost me dear. My relations, whom I love, and who have a real tenderness for me; my friends, with whom I was willing to comply in any thing that was reasonable; last­ly, my physicians, who were looked upon as the oracles of health, did all agree, that I eat too little; that the nourishment I took was not sufficient for one of my years; that I ought not only to support nature, but like­wise to increase the vigor of it, by eating a little more than I [Page 43] did. It was in vain for me to represent to them, that nature is content with a little; that with this little I had enjoyed excellent health so many years; that to me the habit of it was become a second nature; and that it was more agreeable to reason, that as I advanced in years and lost my strength, I should rather lessen than increase the quantity of my food, especi­ally as the powers of the stomach must grow weaker from year to year. To strengthen my ar­guments, I urged those two na­tural and true proverbs; one, that he who would eat a great deal must eat but little; that is, eating little makes a man live long, and living long he must eat a great deal. The other [Page 44] proverb was, that what we leave, after making a hearty meal, does us more good than what we have eaten. But neither my pro­verbs nor arguments could si­lence their affectionate intrea­ties. Wherefore to please per­sons who were so dear to me, I consented to increase the quan­tity of food, but with two oun­ces only. So that, as before I had always taken but twelve ounces of solid food in the day, I now increased it to fourteen, and as before I drank but four­teen ounces of wine in the day, I now increased it to sixteen. This increase had in eight days time such an effect on me, that from being remarkably chearful and brisk, I began to be peevish and melancholy, and was con­stantly [Page 45] so strangely disposed, that I neither knew what to say to others, nor what to do with myself. On the twelfth day I was attacked with a most vio­lent pain in my side, which held me twenty two hours, and was followed by a violent fever which continued thirty five days, without giving me a moment's respite. However, GOD be praised, I recovered, though in my seventy eighth year, and in the coldest season of a very cold winter, and reduced to a mere skeleton, and I am positive, that, next to GOD, I am most indebt­ed to temperance, for my reco­very. O how great is the evil of intemperance, which could, in a few days bring on me so severe an illness, and how glo­rious [Page 46] are the virtues of temper­ance, which could thus bear me up, and snatch me from the jaws of death! Order, my friends, order is every thing; by order, the arts are more easily learnt; by order, armies are rendered victorious; by order, families, cities and kingdoms are raised to honour and happiness; and order is the grand preservative of health and long life; nay, I cannot help saying it is the only and true medicine. Hence it is, that when a disinterested physician visits a patient, the first thing he prescribes, is to live regularly. And when he takes leave of his patient after recovery, he advises him, as he tenders his health, to lead a re­gular life. And were a patient, [Page 47] so recovered, to live in that man­ner, he would hardly ever be sick again. This we may say for a certainty, that would all men but live regularly and tem­perately, there would not be a tenth of that sickness which now makes so many melancholy fa­milies, nor any occasion for a tenth part of those nauseous me­dicines, which they are now o­bliged to swallow in order to carry off those bad humours with which they have filled their bo­dies by over eating and drinking.—To say the truth, would every one of us but pay a becoming attention to the quantity and quality of what he eats and drinks, and carefully observe the effects it has upon him, he would soon become his own phy­sician, [Page 48] and indeed the very best he could possibly have, for peo­ple's constitutions are as different as their faces; and it is impossible, in many very important instan­ces, for the most skilful physi­cians to tell a man of observation, what would agree with his con­stitution so well as he knows himself. I am willing to allow that a physician may be some­times necessary; since there are some disorders against which no human prudence can provide, and which affect us in such a man­ner as to deprive us of the power of helping ourselves; it is wrong then wholly to rely on nature; recourse should be had to some judicious physician, and in ca­ses of danger, the sooner the better. But for the bare pur­pose [Page 49] of preserving ourselves in good health, there needs no bet­ter physic than a temperate and regular life. It is a speci­fic and natural medicine, which preserves the man, how tender soever his constitution be, and prolongs his life to above a hun­dred years, spares him the pain of a violent death, sends him quietly out of the world, when the radical moisture is quite spent, and which, in short, has all the properties that are fan­cied to be in potable gold, which a great many persons have sought after in vain.

But alas! most men suffer themselves to be seduced by the charms of a voluptuous life. They have not courage enough to deny their appetites; and be­ing [Page 50] over-persuaded by their in­clinations so far, as to think they cannot give up the gratifi­cation of them, without abridg­ing too much of their pleasures, they devise arguments to per­suade themselves, that it is more eligible to live ten years less, than to be upon the restraint, and deprived of whatever may gratify their appetites. Alas! they know not the value of ten years of healthy life, in an age when a man may enjoy the full use of his reason, and turn all his wisdom and experience to his own, and the advantage of the world. To instance only in the sciences. 'Tis certain that some of the most valuable books now extant, were written in those last ten years of their au­thors [Page 51] lives, which some men pretend to undervalue; let fools and villains undervalue life, the world would lose nothing by them, die when they will. But it is a loss indeed, when wise and good men drop into the grave; ten years of life to men of that character, might prove an inestimable blessing to their families and country. Is such an one a priest only, in a little time he might become a bi­shop, and by living ten years longer, might render the most important services to the world by his active dissemination of virtue and piety. Is he the aged parent of a family, then though no longer equal to the toils of younger years, yet by his ve­nerable presence and matured [Page 52] counsels, he may contribute more to the harmony and happiness of his children, than all their labours put together. And so with all others, whether in church or state, army or navy, who are advanced in years, though not equal to the active exercises of youth, yet in con­sequence of their superior wis­dom and experience, their lives may be of more service to their country, than the lives of thou­sands of citizens. Some, I know, are so unreasonable as to say that it is impossible to lead such a regular life. To this I answer, Galen, that great physician, led such a life, and advised others to it as the best physic. Plato, Cicero, Isocrates, and a great many famous men [Page 53] of past ages embraced it; and in our time, Pope Paul Farneze, Cardinal B [...]mbo, and two of our Doges, Lando and Dorato, have practised it, and thereby arrived to an extreme old age. I might instance in others of a meaner extract; but, having followed this rule myself, I think I can­not produce a more convincing proof of its being practicable, and that the greatest trouble to be met with therein, is the first resolving and entering upon such a course of life.

You will tell me that Plato, as sober a man as he was, yet affirmed, that it is difficult for a man in public life to live so temperately, being often in the service of the state, exposed to the badness of weather, to the [Page 54] fatigues of travelling, and to eat whatever he can meet with. This cannot be denied; but then I maintain, that these things will never hasten a man's death, provided he accustoms himself to a frugal way of living. There is no man, in what condition soever but may keep from over­eating; and thereby happily prevent those distempers that are caused by excess. They who have the charge of public affairs committed to their trust, are more obliged to it than any others: where there is no glory to be got for their country, they ought not to sacrifice themselves: they should preserve themselves to serve it; and if they pursue my method, it is certain they would ward off the distempers [Page 55] which heat and cold and fatigues might bring upon them; or should they be disturbed with them it would be but very light­ly.

It may likewise be objected, that if one who is well, is diet­ed like one that is sick, he will be at a loss about the choice of his diet, when any distemper comes upon him. To this I say, that nature, ever attentive to the preservation of her chil­dren, teaches us how we ought to govern ourselves in such a case. She begins by depriving us so entirely of our appetites, that we can eat little or nothing. At that time, whether the sick person has been sober or intem­perate, no other food ought to be u [...] ▪ but such as is proper [Page 56] for his condition; such as broth, jellies, cordials, barley-water, &c. When his recove­ry will permit him to use a more solid nourishment, he must take less than he was used to before his sickness; and not­withstanding the eagerness of his appetite, he must take care of his stomach, till he is per­fectly cured. Should he do otherwise, he would overburden nature, and infallibly relapse into the danger he had escaped. But notwithstanding this, I dare aver, that he who leads a sober and regular life, will hardly ever be sick; or but sel­dom, and for a short time. This way of living preserves us from those bad humours which occasion our infirmities, and by [Page 57] consequence heals us of all those distempers which they occasion. I do not pretend to say that every body must eat exactly as little as I do, or ab­stain from fruit, fish, and o­ther things from which I ab­stain, because such dishes disa­gree with me. They who are not disordered by such dishes, are under no obligation to ab­stain from them. But they are under the greatest obligations to feed moderately, even on the most innocent food, since an overloaded stomach cannot di­gest.

It signifies nothing to tell me that there are several, who, though they live very irregu­larly, yet enjoy excellent health and spirits, and to as advanced [Page 58] an age, as those who live ever so soberly. For this argument is founded on such uncertainty and hazard, and occurs so sel­dom, as to look more like a miracle than the regular work of nature. And those, who, on the credit of their youth and constitution, will pay any re­gard to so idle an objection, may depend on it that they are the betrayers and ruiners of their own health.

And I can confidently and truly affirm, that an old man, even of a bad constitution, who leads a regular and sober life, is surer of a longer one, than a young man of the best constitution who lives disorder­ly. All therefore who have a mind to live long and healthy, [Page 59] and die without sickness of bo­dy or mind, must immediately begin to live temperately, for such a regularity keeps the hu­mours of the body mild and sweet, and suffers no gross fiery 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. Hap­pily freed from the tyranny of bodily appetites and passions, he easily soars above, to the ex­alted and delightful contempla­tion of heavenly objects; by this means his mind becomes gradually enlightened with di­vine truth, and expands itself to the glorious enrapturing view of the Power, Wisdom, [Page 60] and Goodness of the Almigh­ty.—He then descends to na­ture, and acknowledges her for the fair daughter of GOD, and views her varied charms with sentiments of admiration, joy, and gratitude, becoming the most favoured of all sublunary beings. He then clearly dis­cerns, and generously laments the wretched fate of those, who will not give themselves the trouble to subdue their passions, and those three most ensnaring lusts, the lust of the flesh, the lust of honours, and the lust of riches, which all wise and good men have firmly opposed and conquered, when they passed through this mortal state; for knowing such passions to be in­consistent with reason and hap­piness, [Page 61] they at once nobly broke through their snares, and applied themselves to virtue and good works, and so, be­came men of good and sober lives. And when in process of time, and after a long series of years, they see the period of their days drawing nigh, they are neither grieved nor alarmed. Full of acknowledgments for the favours already received from GOD, they throw them­selves into the arms of his fu­ture mercy. They are not a­fraid of those dreadful punish­ments, which they deserve who have shortened their days by guilty intemperance. They die without complaining, sen­sible that they did not come in­to this world to stay for ever, [Page 62] but are pilgrims and travellers to a far better. Exulting in this faith, and with hopes big with immortality, they go down to the grave in a good old age, enriched with virtues, and laden with honours.

And they have the greater rea­son not to be dejected at the thought of death, as they know it will not be violent, feverish or painful. Their end is calm, and they expire, like a lamp when the oil is spent, without con­vulsion or agony, and so they pass gently away, without pain or sickness, from this earthly and corruptible to that celestial and eternal life, whose happi­ness is the reward of the virtu­ous.

[Page 63] O holy, happy, and thrice blessed temperance! how wor­thy art thou of our highest es­teem! and how infinitely art thou preferable to an irregular and disorderly life! Nay, would men but consider the effects and consequences of both, they would immediately see, that there is as wide a difference be­tween them, as there is betwixt light and darkness, heaven and hell.

Having thus given the rea­sons, which made me abandon an intemperate, and embrace a sober life, as also the method I observed, and the great bles­sings and advantages I reaped from it, I shall now direct my discourse to those, who suppose it to be no benefit to grow old; [Page 64] because they fancy, that when a man is past seventy, his life is nothing but weakness, infir­mity, and misery. But I can assure these gentlemen, they are mightily mistaken; and that I find myself, old as I am, (which is much beyond what they speak of) to be in the most pleasant and delightsome stage of life.

To prove that I have reason for what I say, they need only enquire how I spend my time, what are my usual employ­ments; and to hear the testimo­ny of all those that know me. They unanimously testify, that the life I lead, is not a dead and languishing life, but as happy a one as can be wished for in this world.

[Page 65] They will tell you, that I am still so strong at fourscore and three, as to mount a horse with­out any help or advantage of si­tuation; that I can not only go up a single flight of stairs, but climb a hill from bottom to top, a foot, and with the great­est ease; that I am always mer­ry, always pleased, always in humour; maintaining a happy peace in my own mind, the sweetness and serenity where­of appear at all times in my countenance.

Besides, they know that 'tis in my power to pass away the time very pleasantly; having nothing to hinder me from tast­ing all the pleasures of an agree­able society, with several per­sons of parts and worth. When [Page 66] I am willing to be alone, I read good books, and sometimes fall to writing; seeking always an occasion of being useful to the public, and doing service to pri­vate persons, as far as possible. I do all this without the least trouble; and in such times as I set apart for these employments.

I dwell in a house, which be­sides its being situated in the pleasantest part of Padua, may be looked on as the most con­venient and agreeable mansion in that city. I there make me apartments proper for the win­ter and summer, which serve as a shelter to defend me from the extreme heat of the one, and the rigid coldness of the other. I walk out in my gardens, along my canals and walks; where I [Page 67] always meet with some little thing or other to do, which, at the same time, employs and amuses me.

I spend the months of April, May, September, and October, at my country-house, which is the finest situation imaginable: the air of it is good, the avenues neat, the gardens magnificent, the waters clear and plentiful; and this seat may well pass for an inchanted palace.

Sometimes I take a walk to my Villa, all whose streets ter­minate at a large square; in the midst of which is a pretty neat church, and large enough for the bigness of the parish.

Through this Villa runs a ri­vulet; and the country about it is enriched with fruitful and [Page 68] well cultivated fields; having at present a considerable num­ber of inhabitants. This was not so formerly: It was a mar­shy place, and the air so un­wholesome, that it was more proper for frogs and toads, than for men to dwell in. But on my draining off the waters, the air mended, and people resort­ed to it so fast, as to render the place very populous; so that I may, with truth, say that I have here dedicated to the LORD, a church, altars, and hearts to worship him; a circumstance this, which affords me infinite satisfaction as often as I reflect on it.

It is with great satisfaction that I see the end of a work of such importance to this STATE, [Page 69] I mean that of draining and im­proving so many large tracts of uncultivated ground, a work which I never expected to have seen compleated, but, thank GOD, I have lived to see it, and was even in person in these marshy places, along with the commissaries, for two months together, during the heats of summer, without ever finding myself the worse for the fa­tigues I underwent. Of such wonderful efficacy is that tem­perate life which I constantly observe.

If in discoursing on so im­portant a subject as this, it be allowable to speak of trifles, I might tell you that at the age of fourscore and three, a tem­perate life had preserved me in [Page 70] that sprightliness of thought, and gaiety of humour, as to be able to compose a very enter­taining comedy, highly moral and instructive, without shock­ing or disgusting the audience; an evil too generally attending our comedies, and which it is the duty, and will be the eternal honour of the magistracy to dis­countenance and suppress, since nothing has a more fatal ten­dency to corrupt the morals of youth, than such plays as abound with wanton allusions, and wicked sneers and scoffs on religion and matrimony.

As an addition to my happi­ness, I see myself immortalized as it were, by the great number of my descendants. I meet with, on my return home, not only [Page 71] two or three, but eleven grand children, all blest with high health, sweet dispositions, bright parts, and of promising hopes. I take a delight in play­ing with the little pratlers: those who are older I often set to sing and play for me on in­struments of musick.—Call you this an infirm crazy old age, as they pretend, who say, that a man is but half alive af­ter he is seventy? They may believe me if they please, but really I would not exchange my serene chearful old age, with any of those young men, even of the best constitution, who give the loose to their appe­tites; knowing as I do, that they are thereby subjecting them­selves every moment to disease and death.

[Page 72] I remember all the follies of which I was guilty in my younger days, and am perfect­ly sensible of the many and great dangers, they exposed me to. I know with what vio­lence young persons are carried away by the heat of their blood. They presume on their strength, just as if they had taken a sure lease of their lives: and must gratify their appetites whatever it cost them, without consider­ing that they thereby feed those ill humours, which do most as­suredly hasten the approach of sickness and death; two evils, which of all others are the most unwelcome and terrible to the wicked. The first of these, sickness, is highly unwelcome, because it effectually stops their [Page 73] career after this world's business and pleasures, which being their sole delight and happiness, must be inexpressibly sad and morti­fying. And the impatience and gloom of sickness is rendered tenfold more insupportable to them, because it finds them ut­terly destitute of those pious af­fections, which alone can soothe the severity of sickness and charm the pangs of pain. They had never cultivated an acquaintance with GOD, nor accustomed them­selves to look up to him as to a merciful Father, who sends af­fliction to wean us from this scene of vanity. They had ne­ver, by prayers and good works, endeavoured to secure his friend­ship, or cherish that love which would make his dispensations [Page 74] welcome. So that unblest with these divine consolations, the season of sickness must be dark and melancholy indeed: and besides all this, their hearts often sink within them at the prospect of DEATH, that ghastly king of terrors, who comes to cut them off from all their dear delights in this world, and send their unwilling souls to suffer the pu­nishment which their own guil­ty conscience tells them is due to their wicked lives.

But from these two evils, so dreadful to many, blessed be GOD, I have but little to fear; for, as for death, I have a joyful hope that that change, come when it may, will be gloriously for the better; and besides, I trust that HE whose divine voice [Page 75] I have so long obeyed, will gra­ciously support and comfort his aged servant in that trying hour. And as for sickness, I feel but little apprehension on that ac­count, since by my divine me­dicine TEMPERANCE, I have removed all the causes of ill­ness; so that I am pretty sure I shall never be sick, except it be from some intent of Divine mer­cy, and then I hope I shall bear it without a murmur, and find it for my good. Nay, I have r [...]ason to think that my soul has so agreeable a dwelling in my body, finding nothing in it but peace and harmony between my reason and senses, that she is very well pleased with her pre­sent situation; so that I trust I have still a great many years to [Page 76] live in health and spirits, and enjoy this beautiful world, which is indeed beautiful to those who know how to make it so, as I have done, and likewise expect (with GOD's assistance) to be able to do in the next.

Now since a regular life is so happy, and its blessings so per­manent and great, all I have still left to do, (since I cannot accom­plish my wishes by force) is to beseech every man of sound un­derstanding to embrace, with open arms, this most valuable treasure of a long and healthy life; a treasure, which, as it far exceeds all the riches of this world, so it deserves above all things to be diligently sought after, and carefully preserved. This is that divine sobriety, so [Page 77] agreeable to the Deity, the friend of nature, the daughter of reason and the sister of all the virtues. From her, as from their proper root, spring life, health, chear­fulness, industry, learning, and all those employments worthy of noble and generous minds. Excess, intemperance, superflu­ous humours, fevers, pains, gouts, dropsies, consumptions, and the dangers of death, va­nish, in her presence, like clouds before the sun. She is the best friend and safest 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. She reaches the rich, modesty; the poor, frugality; men, con­tinence; women, chastity; the old, how to ward off the attacks [Page 78] of death; and bestows on youth, firmer and securer hopes of life. She preserves the senses clear, the body light, the understanding lively, the soul brisk, the me­mory tenacious, our motions free, and all our faculties in a pleasing and agreeable harmony.

O most innocent and divine sobriety! the sole refreshment of nature, the nursing mother of life, the true physic of soul as well as of body. How ought men to praise thee for thy prince­ly gifts, for thy incomparable blessings! But as no man is able to write a sufficient panegyric on this rare and excellent virtue, I shall put an end to this dis­course, lest I should be charged with excess in dwelling so long on so pleasing a subject. Yet [Page 79] as numberless things may still be said of it, I leave off, with an intention to set forth the rest of its praises at a more conveni­ent opportunity.

CHAP II.
The method of correcting a bad Constitution.

MY treatise on a temperate life has, thank GOD, be­gun to answer my wishes, in be­ing of service to many persons of weakly constitutions, who, after every the least excess, found themselves greatly indisposed. These gentlemen, on seeing the foregoing treatise, have imme­diately betaken themselves to a [Page 80] regular course of living, from which, as their numerous letters to me declare, they have experi­enced the happiest effects. In like manner, I should be glad to be of service to those who are born with good constitutions, but presuming too much upon them lead disorderly lives; whence it comes to pass, that on attain­ing the age of sixty or therea­bouts, they are attacked with various diseases; some with con­stant cholicky pains, the tone of the stomach and bowels be­ing in a manner destroyed by long continued excess; others are tormented with the gout, some are oppressed and drowned under dropsical humours, and others worn away to skeletons by the agonies of the stone, hec­tical [Page 81] coughs, and a thousand o­ther mortal diseases.

I was born with a very chole­ric, hasty disposition; flew into a passion for the least trifle, huff­ed every body about me, and was so intolerably disagreable, that many persons of gentle man­ners absolutely shunned my com­pany. On discovering how great an injury I was doing my­self, I at once resolved to make this vile temper give way to rea­son. I considered that a man overcome by passion, must at times, be no better than a mad­man, and that the only differ­ence between a passionate and a madman, is, that the one has lost his reason for ever, and the other is deprived of it by [...]its on­ly, but that in one of these, though [Page 82] never so short, he may do some deed of cruelty or death, that will ruin his character, and destroy his peace for ever. A sober life, by cooling the fever of the blood, contributed much to cure me of this frenzy; and I am now be­come so moderate, and so much a master of my passion, that no body could perceive that it was born with me.

A man may likewise, by tem­perance and exercise, correct a bad constitution, and, notwith­standing a delicate habit, may live a long time in good health.

It is true indeed, the most temperate may sometimes be indisposed, but then they have the pleasure to think that it is not the effect of their own vices; that it will be but mo­derate [Page 83] in its degree, and of short continuance.

Many have said to me, "How can you, when at a table covered with a dozen delicious dishes—how can you possibly con­tent yourself with one dish, and that the plainest too at the table? It must surely be a great mortifi­cation to you, to see so many charming things before you, and yet scarcely taste them." This question has frequently been put to me, and with an air of surprize. I confess it has often made me unhappy; for it proves that such persons are got to such a pass, as to look on the gratification of their appetites as the highest happiness, not con­sidering that the mind is proper­ly the man, and that it is in the [Page 84] affections of a virtuous and pi­ous mind, a man is to look for his truest and highest happiness. When I sit down, with my eleven grand children, to a table covered with various dainties, of which, for the sake of a light easy stomach, I may not, at times, chuse to partake, yet this is no mortification to me; on the contrary, I often find myself most happy at these times. How can it otherwise than give me great delight when I think of that goodness of GOD, which blesses the earth with such immense stores of good things for the use of man­kind; and which, over and a­bove all this goodness, has put me into the way of getting such an abundance of them for my [Page 85] dear grand children; and, be­sides must it not make me very happy to think that I have got­ten such a mastery over myself as never to abuse any of those good things, but am perfectly contented with such a portion of them as keeps me always in good health. O what a tri­umph of joy is this to my heart! What a sad thing it is that young people will not take in­struction, nor get benefit from those who are older and wiser than themselves! I may use, in this matter, the words of the wise man, "I have seen all things that are done under the sun." I know the pleasures of eating, and I know the joys of a virtuous mind, and can say from long experience, that the [Page 86] one excelleth the other as far as light excelleth darkness; the one are the pleasures of a mere animal, the other those of an angel.

Some are so thoughtless as to say, that they had rather be af­flicted twice or thrice a year with the gout, the sciatic, and other chronic distempers, than deny themselves the pleasure of eating and drinking to the full of such things as they like. Such per­sons would do well to consider, that by adopting a temperate and active life, they might soon recover such vigour of constitu­tion, as in a great measure, if not entirely, to throw off those painful diseases, and live in health and chearfulness to a fine old age. Whereas by continu­ing [Page 87] the imprudent practice of high living^*, they keep up the feverish heat of the blood, relax their nerves, and so rivet on themselves those inflammatory wasting distempers, which will soon carry them to their graves.

To this some are ready to re­ply, that for their part they had rather eat and drink as they like, though it should shorten their lives, that is, "give them a short life and a merry one." It is really a surprising and sad thing, to see reasonable creatures, so ready to swallow the most dan­gerous absurdities. For how, in the name of common sense, can the life of a glutton or a sot [Page 88] be a merry one? If men could eat to excess, drink to silliness, and rust in sloth, and after all, suffer no other harm than the abridgement of ten or a dozen years of life, they might have some little excuse for calling it a merry life though surely it could appear so to none but per­sons of a sadly vitiated taste. But since high living does so cer­tainly tend to oppress and weak­en the stomach, filling the whole habit with superfluous and dis­tempered humours, head-achs, disordered stomach, indigestion, disturbed sleep, bad dreams, dis­agreeable taste in the mouth in the morning, loss of appetite, eructations, sick stomach, vo­mitings, diarrhoeas, fevers, rheu­matisms, gouts, consumptions, [Page 89] apoplexies, &c. &c. I say, since an intemperate life will assured­ly sow in our bodies the seeds of such diseases as will after a few short years of feverish plea­sure, make life a burden to us, with what face can any reason­able being call this a merry life?

O sacred and most bountiful Temperance! how greatly am I indebted to thee for rescuing me from such fatal delusions; and for bringing me, through the divine benediction, to the en­joyment of so many felicities, and which, over and above all these favours conferred on thin [...] old man, hast so strengthened his stomach, that he has now a better relish for his dry bread than he had formerly for the most exquisite dainties, so that, [Page 90] by eating little, my stomach is often craving after the manna, which I sometimes feast on with so much pleasure, that I should think I trespassed on the duty of temperance, did I not know that one must eat, to support life; and that one cannot use a plainer or more natural diet.

My spirits are not injured by what I eat, they are only reviv­ed and supported by it. I can, immediately on rising from ta­ble, set myself to write or stu­dy, and never find that this ap­plication, though so hurtful to hearty feeders, does me any harm; and, besides, I never find myself drowsy after dinner, as a great many do;—the reason is, I feed so temperately, as ne­ver to load my stomach nor op­press [Page 91] my nerves, so that I am always as light, active, and chearful after meals as before.

O what a difference there is between a temperate and an in­temperate life! The one bestows health and long life, the other brings on disease and untimely death. O thou vile wicked in­temperance, my sworn enemy, who art good for nothing but to murder those who follow thee; how many of my dearest friends hast thou robbed me of, in con­sequence of their not believing me! But thou hast not been able to destroy me according to thy wicked intent and purpose. I am still alive in spite of thee, and have attained to such an age, as to see around me eleven dear grand children, all of fine [Page 92] understandings, and amiable dis­positions, all given to learning and virtue; all beautiful in their persons and lovely in their man­ners, whom, had I not aban­doned thee thou infamous source of corruption, I should never have had the pleasure to behold. Nor should I enjoy those beau­tiful and convenient apartments which I have built from the ground, with such highly im­proved gardens, as required no small time to attain their pre­sent perfection. No, thou ac­cursed hag, thy nature is to im­poverish and destroy those who follow thee. How many wretch­ed orphans have I seen embrac­ing dunghills; how many mise­rable mothers, with their help­less infants, crying for bread, [Page 93] while their deluded fathers, slaves to thy devouring lusts, were wasting their substance in rioting and drunkenness!

But thou art not content with consuming the substance, thou wouldest destroy the very fami­lies of those who are so mad as to obey thee. The temperate poor man who labours hard all day, can boast a numerous fa­mily of rosy cheeked children, while they pampered slaves, sunk in ease and luxury, often languish without an heir to their ample fortunes. But since thou art so pestilential a vice, as to poison and destroy the greatest part of mankind, I am determined to use my utmost endeavours to extir­pate thee, at least in part. And I promise myself, that my dear [Page 94] grand children will declare eter­nal war against thee, and, fol­lowing my example, will let the world see the blessedness of a temperate life, and so expose thee, O cruel intemperance! for what thou really art, a most wick­ed, desperate, and mortal enemy of the children of men.

It is really a very surprising and sad thing, to see persons grown to men's estate, and of fine wit, yet unable to govern their appetites, but tamely submitting to be dragged by them into such excesses of eating and drinking, as not only to ruin the best con­stitutions, and shorten their lives, but eclipse the lustre of the bright­est parts, and bury themselves in utter contempt and useless­ness. O what promising hopes [Page 95] have been ship wrecked, what im­mortal honours have been sacri­ficed at the shrine of low sen­suality! Happy, thrice happy, those who have early been inur­ed to habits of self-denial, and taught to consider the gratifica­tion of their appetites as the un­failing source of diseases and death. Ye generous parents who long to see your children adorn­ed with virtue, and beloved as the benefactors of their kind; O teach them the unspeakable worth of self-government. Un­supported by this, every advan­tage of education and opportuni­ty will avail them but little: though the history of ancient worthies, and the recital of their illustrious deeds, may at times kindle up in their bosoms a [Page 96] flame of glorious emulation, yet alas! this glow of coveted vir­tue, this flush of promised ho­nor, is transient as a gleam of winter sunshine; soon overspread and obscured by the dark clouds of sensuality.

CHAP. III.
A Letter from Signior Lewis Cornaro to the Right Reverend Barbaro, Patriarch of Aquilcia.

THE human understanding must certainly possess some­thing divine in its nature. What thanks do we not owe to the di­vine goodness, for this wonder­ful faculty of our minds, where­by [Page 97] we can, though never so dis­tant from them, indulge the plea­sure of seeing and conversing with those we love! How glo­rious is this invention of writing, whereby we can easily commu­nicate to our absent friends, whatever may afford them plea­sure or improvement! By means of this most welcome contrivance, I shall now endeavour to enter­tain you with matters of the greatest moment. It is true in­deed, that what I have to tell you is no news,—but I never told it you at the age of ninety one. Is it not a charming thing, that I am able to tell you, that my health and strength are in so ex­cellent a state, that instead of di­minishing with my age, they seem to increase as I grow old? [Page 98] All my acquaintance are surpris­ed at it; but I, who know the cause of this singular happiness, do every where declare it. I en­deavour, as much as in me lies, to convince all mankind, that a man may enjoy a paradise on earth even after the age of fourscore.

Now, my Lord, I must tell you, that within these few days past, several learned Doctors of this University came to be in­formed by me, of the method I take in my diet, having under­stood that I am still healthful and strong; that I have my senses perfect; that my memory, my heart, my judgment, the tone of my voice, and my teeth, are all as [...]ound as in my youth; that I write seven or eight hours a day with my hand, and spend [Page 99] the rest of the day in walking out a-foot, and in taking all the innocent pleasures that are allow­ed to a virtuous man; even mu­sic itself, in which I bear my part.

Ah, Sir! how sweet a voice would you perceive mine to be, were you to hear me, like ano­ther David, chant forth the praises of GOD to the sound of my Lyre! You would certainly be surprized and charmed with the harmony which I make. Those gentlemen particularly admired, with what easiness I write on sub­jects that require both judgment and spirit.

They told me, that I ought not to be looked on as an old man, since all my employments were such as were proper for a [Page 100] youth, and did by no means re­semble the works of men ad­vanced in years; who are capa­ble of doing nothing after four­score, but loaded with infirmi­ties and distempers, are perpe­tually languishing in pain.

That if there be any of them less infirm, yet their senses are decayed; their sight and hearing fails them, their legs tremble, their hands shake, they can no longer walk, nor are they capa­ble of doing any thing: and should there chance to be one free from those disasters, his memory decreases, his spirits sink, and his heart fails him; he is not half so chearful, pleasant and happy as I am.

Several physicians were so good as to prognosticate to me, ten [Page 101] years ago, that it was impossible for me to hold out three years longer: however, I still find my­self less weak than ever, and am stronger this year than any that went before. This sort of mi­racle, and the many favours which I received from GOD, ob­liged them to tell me, that I brought along with me at my birth, an extraordinary and spe­cial gift of nature; and for the proof of their opinion they em­ployed all their rhetoric, and made several elegant speeches on that head. It must be ac­knowledged, my Lord, that eloquence has a charming force on the mind of man, since it often persuades him to believe that which never was, and ne­ver could be. I was very much [Page 102] pleased to hear them discourse; and could it be helped, since they were men of parts who ha­rangued at that rate? But that which delighted me most, was to reflect, that age and experi­ence may render a man wiser than all the colleges in the world can. And it was in truth by their help, that I knew the er­ror of that notion. To unde­ceive those gentlemen, and at the same time set them right, I replied, that their way of argu­ing was not just: that the fa­vour I received was no special, but a general and universal one; that there was no man alive, but what may have received it as well as myself; that I was but a man as well as others: that we have all, (be [...]des our [Page 103] existence,) judgment and rea­son: that we are all born with the same faculties of the soul; because GOD was pleased that we should all have those advan­tages above the other creatures, who have nothing in common with us, but the use of their senses: that the Creator has be­stowed on us this reason, and judgment to preserve our lives: that man, when young, being more subject to sense than rea­son, is too apt to give himself up to pleasure; and that when arrived to thirty or forty years of age, he ought to consider, that, if he has been so imprudent as to lead, till that time, a disor­derly life, 'tis now high time for him to take up and live tem­perately, for he ought to remem­ber [Page 104] that though he has hitherto been held up by the vigour of youth and a good constitution, yet he is now at the noon of life, and must bethink himself of go­ing down towards the grave, with a heavy weight of years on his back, of which his fre­quent pains and infirmities are certain forerunners; and that therefore, if he has not been so happy as to do it already, he ought now, immediately to change his course of life, espe­cially with respect to the qua­lity and quantity of his food, as 'tis on that the health and length of our days do so greatly depend. For in truth, my Lord, 'tis impossible for those who will always gratify their appe­tites, not to ruin their constitu­tions; [Page 105] and that I might not en­tirely ruin mine, I devoted my­self to a sober life. I must con­fess, it was not without great reluctance that I abandoned my luxurious way of living. I be­gan with praying to GOD, that he would grant me the gift of Temperance, well knowing that he always hears our prayers with delight. Then, considering, that when a man is about to un­dertake any thing of importance, he may greatly strengthen him­self in it, by often looking for­ward to the great pleasures and advantages that he is to derive from it. Just as the husband­man takes comfort under his [...], by reflecting on the sweets of abundance; and as the good christian gladdens in the service [Page 106] of GOD, when he thinks on the glory of that service, and the e­ternal joys that await him: so I, in like manner, by seriously reflecting on the innumerable pleasures and blessings of health, and beseeching GOD to strength­en me in my good resolutions, immediately entered on a course of temperance and regularity. And though it was at first high­ly disagreeable, yet I can truly say, that in a very little time the disagreeableness vanished, and I came to find great delight in it.

Now on hearing my argu­ments, they all agreed that I had said nothing but what was rea­sonable; nay, the youngest a­mong them told me that he was willing to allow that these ad­vantages [Page 107] might be common to all men, but was afraid, they were seldom attained; and that I must be singularly favoured of Heaven to get above the de­lights of an easy life, and em­brace one quite contrary to it: that he did not look on it to be impossible, since my practice convinced him of the contrary, but however, it seemed to him to be very difficult.

I replied, that it was a shame to relinquish a good undertaking on account of the difficulties that might attend it, and that the greater the difficulty, the more glory should we acquire: that it is the will of the Creator, that every one should attain to a long life, because in his old age, he might be freed from [Page 108] the bitter fruits that were pro­duced by sense, and might en­joy the good effects of his rea­son; that when he shakes hands with his vices, he is no longer a slave to the devil, and finds himself in a better condition of providing for the salvation of his soul: that GOD, whose goodness is infinite, has ordain­ed that the man who comes to the end of his race, should end his life without any distemper, and so pass, by a sweet and easy death, to a life of immortality and glory, which I expect. I hope (said I to him) to die sing­ing the praises of my Creator. The sad reflection, that we must one day cease to live, is no dis­turbance to me, though I easily perceive that at my age, that [Page 109] day cannot be far off; nor am I afraid of the terrors of hell, be­cause, blessed be GOD, I have long ago shaken hands with my sins, and put my trust in the mercy and merits of the blood of Jesus Christ.

To this my young antagonist had nothing to say, only that he was resolved to lead a sober life, that he might live and die as happily as I hoped to do; and that though hitherto he had wished to be young a long time, yet now he desired to be quick­ly old, that he might enjoy the pleasures of such an admirable age.

The desire I had of giving you, my lord, a long entertain­ment, as being one with whom I could never be weary, has in­clined [Page 110] me to write this long let­ter to you, and to add one word more before I conclude.

Some sensual persons give out, that I have troubled myself to no purpose, in composing a treatise concerning temperance, and that I have lost my time in endea­vouring to persuade men to the practice of that which is impos­sible. Now this surprizes me the more, as these gentlemen must [...] that I had led a temperate life many years before I com­posed this treatise, and that I never should have put myself to the trouble of composing it, had not long experience convinced me, that it is a life which any man may easily lead, who really wishes to be healthy and happy. And, besides the evidence of my [Page 111] own experience, I have the satis­faction to hear, that numbers on seeing my treatise have embrac­ed such a life, and enjoyed from it the very same blessings which I enjoy. Hence I conclude, that no man of good sense will pay any regard to so frivolous an objection. The truth is, those gentlemen who make this objection, are so unhappily wed­ed to the poor pleasure of eating and drinking, that they cannot think of moderating it, and as an excuse for themselves, they choose to talk at this extrava­gant rate. However, I pity these gentlemen with all my heart, though they deserve for their intemperance, to be tormented with a complication of distem­pers, and to be the victims of their passions a whole eternity.

CHAP. IV.
Of the Birth and Death of Man.

THAT I may not be defici­ent in that duty of charity, which all men owe to one ano­ther, or lose one moment of that pleasure which conscious use­fulness of life affords; I again take up my pen. What I am going to say will be looked on as impossible, or incredible; but, at the same time, nothing is more certain, nor more worthily to be admired by all posterity. I am now ninety-five years of age, and find myself as healthy and brisk, as if I were but twen­ty-five.

What ingratitude should I be guilty of, did I not return thanks [Page 113] to the divine Goodness, for all his mercies conferred upon me? Most of your old men have scarce arrived to sixty, but they find themselves loaded with in­firmities: they are melancholy, unhealthful; always full of the frightful apprehensions of dy­ing: they tremble day and night, for fear of being within one foot of their graves; and are so strongly possessed with the dread of it, that it is a hard mat­ter to divert them from that dole­ful thought. Blessed be GOD, I am free from their ills and terrors. It is my opinion, that I ought not to abandon myself to that vain fear: this I will make appear by the sequel; and will also evince, how certain I am of living an hundred years. [Page 114] But that I may observe a method in the subject I am treating of, I will begin with man at his birth, and thence accompany him through every stage of life, to his grave.

I say then, that some are born with so bad a constitution, that they live but a few days, months or years.

Others are born well shaped and healthful, but of a tender make; and some of these live ten, twenty, thirty, or forty years, without being able to at­tain to that period which is call­ed old age.

Others there are, who bring along with them a strong con­stitution into the wo [...]ld, and they indeed live to old age: but it is generally (as already observed) [Page 115] an old age of sickness and sor­row; for which they are to thank themselves; because they most unreasonably presume on the strength of their constitu­tion; and will not on any ac­count, abate of that hearty feed­ing which they indulged in their younger days. Just as if they were to be as vigorous at four­score as in the flower of their youth: nay, they go about to justify this their imprudence, pretending 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 sustenance that man is pre­served.

But in this they are danger­ously mistaken; for as the natu­ral [Page 116] heat and strength of the sto­mach lessens as a man grows in years, he should diminish the quantity of his meat and drink, common prudence requiring that a man should proportion his diet to his digestive powers.

This is a certain truth, that sharp sour humours on the sto­mach, proceed from a slow im­perfect digestion; and that but little good chyle can be made, when the stomach is filled with fresh food before it has carried off the former meal.—It cannot therefore be too frequently nor too earnestly recommended, that as the natural heat decays by age, a man ought to abate the quantity of what he eats and drinks; nature requiring but ve­ry little for the healthy support [Page 117] of the life of man, especially that of an old man. Would my aged friends but attend to this single precept which has been so signally serviceable to me, they would not be troubled with one twentieth of those in­firmities which now harrass and make their lives so miserable. They would be light, active, and chearful like me, who am now near my hundredth year. And those of them who were born with good constitutions, might live to the age of one hundred and twenty. Had I been blest with a robust consti­tution, I should in all probabi­lity, attain the same age. But as I was born with feeble stam­ina, I shall not perhaps outlive an hundred. And this moral [Page 118] certainty of living to a great age, is to be sure, a most pleasing and desirable attainment, and it is the prerogative of none but the temperate. For all those who (by immoderate eating and drinking) fill their bodies with gross humours, can have no reasonable assurance of living a single day longer: oppressed with food and swoln with su­perfluous humours, they are in continual danger of violent fits of the cholic, deadly strokes of the apoplexy, fatal attacks of the cholera morbus, burning fe­vers, and many such acute and violent diseases, whereby thou­sands are carried to their graves, who a few hours before, look­ed very hale and hearty. And this moral certainty of long life [Page 119] is built on such good grounds, as seldom ever fail. For, gene­rally speaking, Almighty GOD seems to have settled his works on the sure grounds of natural causes, and temperance is (by divine appointment) the natural cause of health and long life. Hence it is next to impossible, that he who leads a strictly tem­perate life, should breed any sickness or die of an unnatural death, before he attains to the years to which the natural strength of his constitution was to arrive. I know some per­sons are so weak as to excuse their wicked intemperance, by saying, that "the race is not al­ways to the swift, nor the bat­tle to the strong," and that there­fore, let them eat and drink as [Page 120] they please, they shall not die till their time comes. How scandalously do these men mis­understand Solomon and abuse truth! How would it startle us to hear our friends say, "that let them sleep and play, as they please, they shall not be beg­gars till their time comes."

Solomon does indeed say that "the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong;" but he must be no bet­ter than a madman, who thence infers, that it is not generally so. For the invariable and eternal experience of mankind demon­strates, that ninety nine time in an hundred, the race is to the swift and the battle to the strong, bread to the industrious, and health to the temperate.

[Page 121] But it is a matter of fact, and not to be denied, that, though temperance has the divine effi­cacy to secure us from violent disease and unnatural death, yet it is not to be supposed to make a man immortal. It is impossi­ble but that time, which effaces all things, should likewise de­stroy that most curious work­manship of GOD, the human body: but it is man's privi­lege to end his days by a natu­ral death, that is, without pain and agony, as they will see me, when the heat and strength of nature is quite exhausted. But I promise myself, that day is a pretty comfortable distance off yet, and I fancy I am not mis­taken, because I am still healthy and brisk, relish all I eat, sleep [Page 122] quietly, and find no defect in any of my senses. Besides, all the faculties of my mind are in the highest perfection; my un­derstanding clear and bright as ever; my judgment sound; my memory tenacious; my spirits good; and my voice, the first thing that fails others, still so strong and sonorous, that every morning and evening, with my dear grand children around me. I can address my prayers and chant the praises of the Almigh­ty. O, how glorious this life of mine is like to be, replete with all the felicities which man can enjoy on this side of the grave; and exempt from that sensual brutality which age has enabled my better reason to ba­nish, and therewith all its bitter [Page 123] fruits, the extravagant passions and distressful perturbations of mind. Nor yet can the fears of death find room in my mind, as I have no licensed sins to cherish such gloomy thoughts: neither can the death of relations and friends give me any other grief than that of the first move­ment of nature, which cannot be avoided, but is of no long continuance. Still less am I li­able to be cast down by the loss of worldly goods. I look on these things as the property of heaven; I can thank him for the loan of so many comforts, and when his wisdom sees fit to withdraw them, I can look on their departure without mur­muring.—This is the happiness of those only, who grow old in [Page 124] the ways of temperance and virtue; a happiness which sel­dom attends the most flourish­ing youth who live in vice. Such are all subject to a thou­sand disorders, both of body and mind, from which I am entirely free: on the contrary; I enjoy a thousand pleasures, which are as pure as they are calm.

The first of these is to do ser­vice to my country. O! what a glorious amusement, in which I find infinite delight, in shew­ing my countrymen how to for­tify this our dear city of Venice, in so excellent a manner, as to make her a famous republic, a rich and matchless city. Ano­ther amusement of mine is that of shewing this maid and queen of cities, in what manner she [Page 125] may always abound with pro­visions, by manuring untilled lands, draining marshes, and laying under water and thereby fa [...]ning fields, which had all a­long been barren for want of moisture. My third amuse­ment is in shewing my native city, how, though already strong, she may be rendered much stronger; and, though 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. These three amusements, all arising from the idea of public utility, I enjoy in the highest degree. Another very great comfort I enjoy is, that having been defrauded when young, of [Page 126] a considerable estate, I have made ample amends for that loss, by dint of thought and industry, and without the least wrong done to any person, have doubled my income, so that I am able not only to provide for my dear grand children, but to educate and assist many poor youth to begin the world. And I cannot help saying, I reflect with more pleasure on what I lay out in that way, than in a­ny other.

Another very considerable ad­dition to my happiness is, that what I have written from my own experience, in order to re­commend temperance, has been of great use to numbers, who loudly proclaim their obligati­ons to me for that work, seve­ral [Page 127] of them having sent me word from foreign parts, that, under GOD, they are indebted to me for their lives. But that [...]ich makes me look on myself as one of the happiest of men, is, that I enjoy as it were, two sorts of lives; the one terrestri­al, which I possess in fact; the other celestial, which I possess in thought; and this thought is attended with unutterable de­light, being founded on such glorious objects, which I am morally sure of obtaining, through the infinite goodness and mercy of GOD. Thus I enjoy this terrestrial life, partly through the beneficent influences of temper­ance and sobriety, virtues so pleasing to Heaven; and I enjoy, through cordial love of the same [Page 128] divine Majesty, the celestial life, by contemplating so often on the happiness thereof, that I can hardly think of any thing else. 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, immortal, and infinitely perfect existence. And I am so far charmed with the glori­ous elevation to which I think my soul is designed, that I can no longer stoop [...] those trifles, which, alas! charm and in­fatuate too great a part of man­kind. The prospect of parting with my favourite enjoyments of this life, gives me but little concern; on the contrary, I thank GOD, I often think of it with secret joy, since by that [Page 129] loss I am to gain a life incom­parably more happy.

O! who then would be trou­bled, were he in my place? what good man, but must in­stantly throw off his load of worldly sorrow, and address his grateful homage to the Author of all this happiness? Howe­ver, there is not a man on earth, who may not hope for the like happiness, if he would but live as I do. For indeed I am no angel, but only a man, a ser­vant of GOD, to whom a good and temperate life is so pleasing, that even in this world he great­ly rewards those who practise it.

And whereas many embrace a holy and contemplative life, teaching and preaching the great truths of religion, which is [Page 130] highly commendable, the chief employment of such being to lead men to the knowledge and worship of GOD. O that they would likewise betake them­selves entirely to a regular and temperate life! They would then be considered as saints in­deed upon earth, as those pri­mitive christians were, who ob­served so constant a temperance, and lived so long. By living like them, to the age of one hundred and twenty▪ they might make such a proficiency in holiness, and become so dear to GOD, as to do the greatest honour and service to the world; and they would besides, enjoy constant health and spirits, and be always happy within them­selves; whereas they are now [Page 131] too often infirm and melancho­ly. If indeed they are melan­choly, because they see GOD, (after all his goodness) so ungratefully requited; or be­cause they see men (notwith­standing their innumerable obli­gations to love) yet hating and grieving each other: such me­lancholy is truly amiable and divine.

But to be melancholy on any other account, is, to speak the truth, quite unnatural in good christians; such persons being the servants of GOD and heirs of immortality; and it is still more unbecoming the ministers of religion, who ought to con­sider themselves, as of all others, in the most important, service­able, and delightful employ­ment.

[Page 132] I know, many of these gen­tlemen think that GOD does pur­posely bring these occasions of melancholy on them, that they may in this life do penance for their former sins; but therein, as I think, they are much mis­taken. I cannot conceive how GOD, who loves mankind, can be delighted with their suffer­ings. He desires that mankind should be happy, both in this world and the next; he tells us so in a thousand places in his word, and we actually find that there is not a man on earth, who does not feel the good Spirit of GOD, forbidding and condemning those wicked tempers, which would rob him of that happiness. No; it is the devil and sin which bring all the evils we suffer, on [Page 133] our heads, and not God, who is our Creator and Father, and desires our happiness: his com­mands tend to no other purpose. And temperance would not be a virtue, if the benefit it does us by preserving us from distem­pers, were repugnant to the de­signs of GOD in our old age.

In short, if all religious peo­ple were strictly temperate and holy, how beautiful, how glo­rious a scene should we then be­hold! Such numbers of venera­ble old men as would create surprise. How many wise and holy teachers to edify the peo­ple by their wholesome preach­ings and good examples! How many sinners might receive be­nefit by their fervent intercessi­ons! How many blessings might [Page 134] they shower upon the earth! and not as now, eating and drinking so intemperately, as to inflame the blood and excite worldly passions, pride, ambi­tion, and concupiscence, soiling the purity of their minds, check­ing their growth in holiness, and in some unguarded moment, betraying them into sins dis­graceful to religion, and ruinous to their peace for life.—Would they but feed temperately, and that chiefly on vegetable food, they would as I do, soon find it the most agreeable, (by the cool temperate humors it affords) the best friend to virtuous improve­ment, begetting gentle manners, mild affections, purity of thought, heavenly mindedness, quick relish of virtue and de­light [Page 135] in GOD. This was the life led by the holy fathers of the desart, who subsisted entirely on wild fruits and roots, drinking nothing but pure water, and yet lived to an extreme old age, in good health and spirits, and al­ways happy within themselves. And so may all in our days live, provided they would but mor­tify the lusts of a corruptible bo­dy, and devote themselves en­tirely to the exalted service of GOD; for this is indeed the pri­vilege of every faithful christi­an as Jesus Christ left it, when he came down upon earth to shed his precious blood, in or­der to deliver us from the ty­rannical servitude of the devil; and all through his immense goodness.

[Page 136] To conclude, since length of days abounds with so many bles­sings, and I am so happy as to have arrived at that state, I find myself bound (in charity) to give testimony in favour of it, and solemnly assure all mankind, that I really enjoy a great deal more than what I now mention; and that I have no other motive in writing on this subject, than to engage them to practise, all their lives, those excellent vir­tues of temperance and sobrie­ty, which will bring them, like me, to a happy old age. And therefore I never cease to raise my voice, crying out to you, my friends, may your days be many, that you may long serve GOD, and be fitter for the glo­ry which he prepares for his children!