The sensuality that we here treat of falls naturally under the head of luxury; which extends to all the excesses of gluttony, lust, effeminacy of manners; and, in short, to whatsoever concerns the overgreat care of the carcass.
The sensuality we're discussing here falls naturally under luxury. This includes all forms of excess: overeating, lust, and soft, indulgent behavior. In short, it covers anything that involves taking too much care of the body.
To begin now with the pleasures of the palate, (which deal with us like Egyptian thieves, that strangle those they embrace), what shall we say of the luxury of Nomentanus and Apicius, that entertained their very souls in the kitchen: they have the choicest music for their ears; the most diverting spectacles for their eyes; the choicest variety of meats and drinks for their palates. What is all this, I say, but a merry madness? It is true, they have their delights, but not without heavy and anxious thoughts, even in their very enjoyments, beside that, they are followed with repentance, and their frolics are little more than the laughter of so many people out of their wits. Their felicities are full of disquiet, and neither sincere nor well grounded: but they have need of one pleasure to support another; and of new prayers to forgive the errors of their former. Their life must needs be wretched that get with great pains what they keep with greater.
Let's start with the pleasures of eating and drinking. These pleasures are like Egyptian thieves who strangle the people they embrace. What can we say about the luxury of Nomentanus and Apicius, who devoted their very souls to the kitchen? They have the finest music for their ears, the most entertaining shows for their eyes, and the best variety of food and drinks for their taste. What is all this but a joyful madness? It's true they have their delights, but not without heavy and anxious thoughts, even during their enjoyments. Besides that, regret follows them, and their fun is little more than the laughter of people who have lost their minds. Their happiness is full of unrest. It's neither genuine nor well-founded. They need one pleasure to support another, and new prayers to forgive the mistakes of their past ones. Their life must be miserable when they work so hard to get what they must work even harder to keep.
One diversion overtakes another; hope excites hope; ambition begets ambition; so that they only change the matter of their miseries, without seeking any end of them; and shall never be without either prosperous or unhappy causes of disquiet. What if a body might have all the pleasures in the world for the asking? who would so much unman himself, as by accepting of them, to desert his soul, and become a perpetual slave to his senses? Those false and miserable palates, that judge of meats by the price and difficulty, not by the healthfulness of taste, they vomit that they may eat, and they eat that they may fetch it up again. They cross the seas for rarities, and when they have swallowed them, they will not so much as give them time to digest. Wheresoever Nature has placed men, she has provided them aliment: but we rather choose to irritate hunger by expense than to allay it at an easier rate.
One distraction leads to another. Hope creates more hope. Ambition breeds more ambition. People only change what makes them miserable without trying to end their suffering. They will always find reasons to be restless, whether things are going well or badly. What if someone could have all the world's pleasures just by asking? Who would give up their humanity by accepting them? Who would abandon their soul and become a slave to their senses? Some people have such twisted tastes that they judge food by its price and rarity, not by how healthy or good it tastes. They make themselves vomit so they can eat more, then eat more so they can vomit again. They travel across oceans for exotic foods, and when they swallow them, they won't even let them digest. Wherever Nature has placed people, she has given them food. But we choose to make ourselves hungrier through expensive habits rather than satisfy our hunger more simply.
What is it that we plow the seas for; or arm ourselves against men and beasts? To what end do we toil, and labor, and pile bags upon bags? We may enlarge our fortunes, but we cannot our bodies; so that it does but spill and run over, whatsoever we take more than we can hold. Our forefathers (by the force of whose virtues we are now supported in our vices) lived every jot as well as we, when they provided and dressed their own meat with their own hands; lodged upon the ground, and were not as yet come to the vanity of gold and gems; when they swore by their earthen gods, and kept their oath, though they died for it.
Why do we sail the seas or arm ourselves against people and wild animals? Why do we work so hard and pile up wealth? We can grow our fortunes, but we can't expand our bodies. Whatever we take beyond what we can hold just spills over and runs away. Our ancestors lived just as well as we do, supported by virtues that now prop us up in our vices. They provided and cooked their own food with their own hands. They slept on the ground and hadn't yet fallen into the vanity of gold and jewels. They swore oaths by their clay gods and kept those promises, even if it meant death.
Did not our consuls live more happily when they cooked their own meat with those victorious hands that had conquered so many enemies and won so many laurels? Did they not live more happily, I say, than our Apicius (that corrupter of youth, and plague of the age he lived in) who, after he had spent a prodigious fortune upon his belly, poisoned himself for fear of starving, when he had yet 250,000 crowns in his coffers? which may serve to show us, that it is the mind, and not the sum, that makes any man rich; when Apicius with all his treasure counted himself in a state of beggary, and took poison to avoid that condition, which another would have prayed for. But why do we call it poison, which was the wholesomest draught of his life? His daily gluttony was poison rather, both to himself and others. His ostentation of it was intolerable; and so was the infinite pains he took to mislead others by his example, who went even fast enough of themselves without driving.
Weren't our consuls happier when they cooked their own meat with the same victorious hands that had conquered so many enemies and won so many honors? Weren't they happier, I ask, than our Apicius? He was a corrupter of youth and a plague on his age. After spending a massive fortune on food, he poisoned himself for fear of starving. Yet he still had 250,000 crowns in his coffers. This shows us that it's the mind, not the money, that makes any man rich. Apicius had all that treasure but still considered himself poor. He took poison to avoid a condition that another man would have prayed for. But why do we call it poison? It was actually the most wholesome drink of his life. His daily gluttony was the real poison, both to himself and others. His showing off was unbearable. So was the endless effort he put into misleading others by his example. They were already going fast enough toward ruin without his pushing them along.
It is a shame for a man to place his felicity in those entertainments and appetites that are stronger in brutes. Do not beasts eat with a better stomach? Have they not more satisfaction in their lusts? And they have not only a quicker relish of their pleasures, but they enjoy them without either scandal or remorse. If sensuality were happiness, beasts were happier than men; but human felicity is lodged in the soul, not in the flesh. They that deliver themselves up to luxury are still either tormented with too little, or oppressed with too much; and equally miserable, by being either deserted or overwhelmed: they are like men in a dangerous sea; one while cast a-dry upon a rock, and another while swallowed up in a whirlpool; and all this from the mistake of not distinguishing good from evil. The huntsman, that with which labor and hazard takes a wild beast, runs as great a risk afterwards in the keeping of him; for many times he tears out the throat of his master; and it is the same thing with inordinate pleasures: the more in number, and the greater they are, the more general and absolute a slave is the servant of them. Let the common people pronounce him as happy as they please, he pays his liberty for his delights, and sells himself for what he buys.
It's shameful for a person to find happiness in pleasures and desires that animals experience more strongly. Don't animals eat with better appetite? Don't they get more satisfaction from their urges? They not only enjoy their pleasures more intensely, but they do so without shame or guilt. If physical pleasure were true happiness, animals would be happier than humans. But human happiness lives in the soul, not in the body. People who give themselves over to luxury are always tormented by having too little or crushed by having too much. They're equally miserable whether they're left wanting or overwhelmed. They're like sailors in a dangerous sea, sometimes thrown onto rocks and other times swallowed by whirlpools. All this comes from the mistake of not telling good from evil. The hunter who works hard and risks danger to catch a wild beast faces just as much risk keeping it afterward. Often the beast tears out its master's throat. It's the same with excessive pleasures. The more numerous and intense they are, the more completely they enslave the person who serves them. Let ordinary people call such a person as happy as they want. He trades his freedom for his pleasures and sells himself for what he buys.
Let any man take a view of our kitchens, the number of our cooks, and the variety of our meats; will he not wonder to see so much provision made for one belly? We have as many diseases as we have cooks or meats; and the service of the appetite is the study now in vogue. To say nothing of our trains of lackeys, and our troops of caterers and sewers: Good God! that ever one belly should employ so many people! How nauseous and fulsome are the surfeits that follow these excesses? Simple meats are out of fashion, and all are collected into one; so that the cook does the office of the stomach; nay, and of the teeth too; for the meat looks as if it were chewed beforehand: here is the luxury of all tastes in one dish, and liker a vomit than a soup. From these compounded dishes arise compounded diseases, which require compounded medicines. It is the same thing with our minds that it is with our tables; simple vices are curable by simple counsels, but a general dissolution of manners is hardly overcome; we are overrun with a public as well as with a private madness. The physicians of old understood little more than the virtue of some herbs to stop blood, or heal a wound; and their firm and healthful bodies needed little more before they were corrupted by luxury and pleasure; and when it came to that once, their business was not to allay hunger, but to provoke it by a thousand inventions and sauces. That which was aliment to a craving stomach is become a burden to a full one. From hence came paleness, trembling, and worse effects from crudities than famine; a weakness in the joints, the belly stretched, suffusion of choler, the torpor of the nerves, and a palpitation of the heart. To say nothing of megrims, torments of the eyes and ears, head-ache, gout, scurvy, several sorts of fevers and putrid ulcers, with other diseases that are but the punishment of luxury. So long as our bodies were hardened with labor, or tired with exercise or hunting, our food was plain and simple; many dishes have made many diseases.
Look at our kitchens, count our cooks, and see the variety of our meals. Won't you wonder at so much food prepared for one stomach? We have as many diseases as we have cooks and dishes. Serving our appetites has become the fashionable pursuit. I won't even mention our armies of servants, caterers, and waiters. Good God! How can one belly require so many people? How disgusting and excessive are the binges that follow these indulgences? Simple meals are out of style. Everything gets mixed together, so the cook does the work of the stomach and even the teeth. The food looks pre-chewed. Here's the luxury of every taste in one dish, more like vomit than soup. These mixed dishes create mixed diseases that need mixed medicines. Our minds work the same way as our tables. Simple vices can be cured with simple advice, but complete moral breakdown is nearly impossible to overcome. We're overwhelmed by both public and private madness. Ancient doctors knew little more than which herbs could stop bleeding or heal wounds. Their strong, healthy bodies needed little more before luxury and pleasure corrupted them. Once that happened, their goal wasn't to satisfy hunger but to stimulate it with countless inventions and sauces. What once fed a hungry stomach now burdens a full one. This brings paleness, trembling, and worse effects from indigestion than from starvation. It causes weak joints, bloated bellies, bile overflow, nerve numbness, and heart palpitations. I won't mention migraines, eye and ear pain, headaches, gout, scurvy, various fevers, and infected sores. These diseases are just luxury's punishment. When our bodies were hardened by work, tired from exercise or hunting, our food was plain and simple. Many dishes have created many diseases.
It is an ill thing for a man not to know the measure of his stomach, nor to consider that men do many things in their drink that they are ashamed of sober; drunkenness being nothing else but a voluntary madness. It emboldens men to do all sorts of mischiefs; it both irritates wickedness and discovers it; it does not make men vicious, but it shows them to be so. It was in a drunken fit that Alexander killed Clytus. It makes him that is insolent prouder, him that is cruel fiercer, it takes away all shame. He that is peevish breaks out presently into ill words and blows. The lecher, without any regard to decency or scandal, turns up his whore in the market-place. A man’s tongue trips, his head runs round, he staggers in his pace. To say nothing of the crudities and diseases that follow upon this distemper, consider the public mischiefs it has done. How many warlike nations and strong cities, that have stood invincible to attacks and sieges, has drunkenness overcome! Is it not a great honor to drink the company dead? a magnificent virtue to swallow more wine than the rest, and yet at last to be outdone by a hogshead? What shall we say of those men that invert the offices of day and night? as if our eyes were only given us to make use of in the dark? Is it day? “It is time to go to bed.” Is it night? “It is time to rise.” Is it toward morning? “Let us go to supper.” When other people lie down they rise, and lie till the next night to digest the debauch of the day before. It is an argument of clownery, to do as other people do.
It's a bad thing when a man doesn't know his limits with drinking. He should remember that people do many things while drunk that they're ashamed of when sober. Drunkenness is nothing more than choosing to go mad temporarily. It makes men bold enough to cause all kinds of trouble. It both stirs up wickedness and reveals it. It doesn't make men evil, but it shows their true nature. Alexander killed Clytus during a drunken rage. Drinking makes arrogant people more proud and cruel people more vicious. It strips away all shame. A bad-tempered person immediately breaks into harsh words and violence. A lustful man, with no regard for decency or scandal, takes his prostitute right in the marketplace. A drunk man's tongue slips, his head spins, he stumbles as he walks. Setting aside the stomach problems and diseases that follow this condition, consider the public damage it has caused. How many warlike nations and strong cities that stood unbeaten against attacks and sieges has drunkenness conquered! Is it really such an honor to drink everyone else under the table? Is it a magnificent virtue to swallow more wine than everyone else, only to be beaten by a barrel in the end? What can we say about those men who flip day and night around? As if our eyes were only meant to be used in the dark? Is it daytime? "Time to go to bed." Is it nighttime? "Time to get up." Is it almost morning? "Let's go have dinner." When other people go to sleep, they get up. They lie in bed until the next night, digesting yesterday's drinking binge. It shows poor breeding to refuse to do what other people do.
Luxury steals upon us by degrees; first, it shows itself in a more than ordinary care of our bodies, it slips next into the furniture of our houses; and it gets then into the fabric, curiosity, and expense of the house itself. It appears, lastly, in the fantastical excesses of our tables. We change and shuffle our meats, confound our sauces, serve that in first that used to be last, and value our dishes, not for the taste, but for the rarity. Nay, we are so delicate, that we must be told when we are to eat or drink; when we are hungry or weary; and we cherish some vices as proofs and arguments of our happiness. The most miserable mortals are they that deliver themselves up to their palates, or to their lusts: the pleasure is short and turns presently nauseous, and the end of it is either shame or repentance. It is a brutal entertainment, and unworthy of a man, to place his felicity in the service of his senses. As to the wrathful, the contentious, the ambitious, though the distemper be great, the offence has yet something in it that is manly; but the basest of prostitutes are those that dedicate themselves wholly to lust; what with their hopes and fears, anxiety of thought, and perpetual disquiets, they are never well, full nor fasting.
Luxury creeps up on us slowly. First, it shows up as extra care for our bodies. Then it spreads to our home furnishings. Next, it takes over the design, decoration, and cost of our houses themselves. Finally, it appears in the ridiculous excesses of our dining. We constantly change and mix our foods. We confuse our sauces. We serve first what used to come last. We value our dishes not for taste, but for how rare they are. We've become so delicate that we need to be told when to eat or drink, when we're hungry or tired. We even treasure some vices as proof of our happiness. The most miserable people are those who surrender themselves to their appetites or their lusts. The pleasure is brief and quickly becomes disgusting. It always ends in shame or regret. It's a brutish form of entertainment, unworthy of human beings, to place happiness in serving our senses. The angry, the argumentative, the ambitious may have serious problems, but their faults still have something manly about them. But the lowest of all are those who dedicate themselves completely to lust. Between their hopes and fears, anxious thoughts, and constant unrest, they are never well, whether full or hungry.
What a deal of business is now made about our houses and diet, which was at first both obvious and of little expense? Luxury led the way, and we have employed our wits in the aid of our vices. First we desired superfluities, our next step was to wickedness, and, in conclusion, we delivered up our minds to our bodies, and so became slaves to our appetites, which before were our servants, and are now become our masters. What was it that brought us to the extravagance of embroideries, perfumes, tire-women, etc. We passed the bounds of Nature, and launched out into superfluities; insomuch, that it is now-a-days only for beggars and clowns to content themselves with what is sufficient; our luxury makes us insolent and mad. We take upon us like princes, and fly out for every trifle, as though there were life and death in the case. What a madness is it for a man to lay out an estate upon a table or a cabinet, a patrimony upon a pain of pendants, and to inflame the price of curiosities according to the hazard either of breaking or losing of them? To wear garments that will neither defend a woman’s body, nor her modesty: so thin that one could make a conscience of swearing she were naked: for she hardly shows more in the privacies of her amour than in public? How long shall we covet and oppress, enlarge our possessions, and account that too little for one man which was formerly enough for a nation? And our luxury is as insatiable as our avarice. Where is that lake, that sea, that forest, that spot of land; that is not ransacked to gratify our palate? The very earth is burdened with our buildings; not a river, not a mountain, escapes us. Oh, that there should be such boundless desires in our little bodies! Would not fewer lodgings serve us? We lie but in one, and where we are not, that is not properly ours. What with our hooks, snares, nets, dogs, etc., we are at war with all living creatures; and nothing comes amiss but that which is either too cheap, or too common; and all this is to gratify a fantastical palate. Our avarice, our ambition, our lusts, are insatiable; we enlarge our possessions, swell our families, we rifle sea and land for matter of ornament and luxury. A bull contents himself with one meadow, and one forest is enough for a thousand elephants; but the little body of a man devours more than all other living creatures. We do not eat to satisfy hunger, but ambition; we are dead while we are alive, and our houses are so much our tombs, that a man might write our epitaphs upon our very doors.
Look at all the fuss we make about our houses and food today, when these things used to be simple and cheap. Luxury started this trend, and we've used our intelligence to feed our bad habits. First we wanted unnecessary things, then we moved on to wickedness, and finally we let our bodies control our minds. We became slaves to our appetites, which used to serve us but now rule us as masters. What brought us to the extremes of fancy embroidery, perfumes, personal stylists, and so on? We crossed nature's boundaries and dove into excess. Now only beggars and fools are satisfied with having enough. Our luxury makes us arrogant and crazy. We act like royalty and explode over every small thing, as if life and death were at stake. How insane is it for someone to spend a fortune on a table or cabinet, blow an inheritance on a pair of earrings, and drive up the price of rare items based on the risk of breaking or losing them? People wear clothes that protect neither their bodies nor their modesty. The fabric is so thin you could swear they're naked. A woman shows hardly more in her private moments than she does in public. How long will we keep coveting and oppressing others, expanding our possessions, and thinking that what used to be enough for a whole nation is too little for one person? Our luxury is as endless as our greed. Where is that lake, that sea, that forest, that piece of land that hasn't been stripped bare to satisfy our taste? The earth itself groans under our buildings. Not one river or mountain escapes us. It's shocking that such boundless desires exist in our small bodies! Wouldn't fewer homes be enough for us? We only sleep in one, and where we're not present, that place isn't really ours. With our hooks, traps, nets, dogs, and more, we wage war against all living creatures. Nothing interests us unless it's expensive or rare. All this just to please our fickle appetites. Our greed, our ambition, our desires can never be satisfied. We expand our possessions, grow our households, and strip the sea and land for decorations and luxuries. A bull is content with one meadow, and one forest feeds a thousand elephants. But the tiny body of a human consumes more than all other living creatures. We don't eat to satisfy hunger, but to feed our ambition. We're dead while we're still alive, and our houses are so much like tombs that someone could write our epitaphs right on our front doors.
A voluptuous person, in fine, can neither be a good man, a good patriot, nor a good friend; for he is transported with his appetites, without considering, that the lot of man is the law of Nature. A good man (like a good soldier) will stand his ground, receive wounds, glory in his scars, and in death itself love his master for whom he falls; with that divine precept always in his mind, “Follow good:” whereas he that complains, laments, and groans, must yield nevertheless, and do his duty though in spite of his heart. Now, what a madness is it for a man to choose rather to be lugged than to follow, and vainly to contend with the calamities of human life? Whatsoever is laid upon us by necessity, we should receive generously; for it is foolish to strive with what we cannot avoid. We are born subjects, and to obey God is perfect liberty. He that does this shall be free, safe, and quiet: all his actions shall succeed to his wish: and what can any man desire more than to want nothing from without, and to have all things desirable within himself? Pleasures do but weaken our minds, and send us for our support to Fortune, who gives us money only as the wages of slavery. We must stop our eyes and our ears. Ulysses had but one rock to fear, but human life has many. Every city, nay, every man, is one; and there is no trusting even to our nearest friends. Deliver me from the superstition of taking those things which are light and vain for felicities.
A person who lives only for pleasure cannot be a good man, a good patriot, or a good friend. He is carried away by his desires, forgetting that hardship is simply part of human nature. A good man, like a good soldier, will hold his position and take his wounds. He will take pride in his scars and even love his master in death, always keeping this divine rule in mind: "Follow good." But the person who complains, mourns, and groans must still give in and do his duty, even if his heart rebels against it. How foolish it is for a man to choose being dragged along rather than following willingly, and to fight uselessly against life's inevitable troubles! Whatever necessity places on us, we should accept with grace. It's pointless to struggle against what we cannot avoid. We are born as subjects, and obeying God is perfect freedom. The person who does this will be free, safe, and peaceful. All his actions will turn out as he wishes. What more could anyone want than to need nothing from the outside world and to have everything desirable within himself? Pleasures only weaken our minds and make us depend on Fortune, who gives us money only as payment for slavery. We must close our eyes and ears to temptation. Ulysses had only one rock to fear, but human life has many. Every city, even every person, is a danger. We cannot even trust our closest friends. Save me from the foolish belief that light and empty things can bring true happiness.