“The soul must not be always bent: one must sometimes allow it a little pleasure. Socrates was not ashamed to pass the time with children. Cato enjoyed himself in drinking plentifully, when his mind had been too much wearied out in public affairs. Scipio knew very well how to move that body, so much inured to wars and triumphs, without breaking it, as some nowadays do . . . ; but as people did in past times, who would make themselves merry on their festivals, by leading a dance really worthy men of those days, whence could ensue no reproach, when even their very enemies had seen them dance. One must allow the mind {3} some recreation: it makes it more gay and peaceful. . . . Assiduity of labour begets a languor and bluntness of the mind: for sleep is very necessary to refresh us, and yet he that would do nothing else but sleep night and day would be a dead man, and no more. There is a great deal of difference between loosening a thing, and quite unravelling it. Those who made laws have instituted holidays, to oblige people to appear at public rejoicings, in order to mingle with their cares a necessary temperament. . . . You must sometimes walk in the open air, that the mind may exalt itself by seeing the heavens, and breathing the air at your ease; sometimes take the air in your chariot, the roads and the change of the country will re-establish you in your vigour; or you may eat and drink a little more plentifully than usual. Sometimes one must even go as far as to get drunk; not indeed with an intention to drown ourselves in wine, but to drown our care. For wine drives away sorrow and care, and goes and fetches them up from the bottom of the soul. And as drunkenness cures some distempers, so, in like manner, it is a sovereign remedy for our sorrows” (Seneca _de Tranquillitate_). Such sentiments were doubtless popular enough in Great Britain at the commencement of the present century—when _Ebrietatis Encomium_ was published—when three and four bottle-men slept where they fell, “repugnant to command”; and malt liquor, small or strong, was the only known matutinal restorative of manly vigour. But my own experience is that {4} the sorrow and care which may be temporarily driven away by drowning them in the bowl are apt to return within a very few hours, reinforced an hundredfold, with their weapons re-sharpened, their instruments of torture put in thorough working-order, and with many other devils worse than themselves. A man, sound in body and mind, may really enjoy a certain amount of good liquor without feeling any ill effects next morning; but woe to him who seeks to drown that which cannot sink; to crush the worm which knows not death! The individual has yet to be born who can flourish, either in body or soul, on his own immoderation; and but for a chronic state of thirst in early youth I should not now be reduced to the compilation of drink statistics for a living.