SUBSECTION 5 Alteratives and cordials that strengthen the body, disperse the remaining matter and improve the temperament

Because this humour is so malignant in itself, and so difficult to remove, the remaining matter must be cleared away by alteratives, cordials and similar means. The temperament must be changed and improved with things that fortify and strengthen the heart and brain, which are usually both affected in this disease and mutually affect one another. These remedies are to be given regularly every other day, or with a few days’ interval after a purge or similar treatment, as circumstances require. They are so powerful that they often help on their own and, as Arnoldus maintains in his Aphorisms, should be preferred to every other kind of medicine.

Among these cordials and alteratives, I find no more immediate remedy than a cup of wine or strong drink, if used soberly and at the right time. It makes a person bold, hardy and courageous, and sharpens the intelligence if taken moderately. As Plutarch says, Table Talk 7, question 12, it makes people who are otherwise dull open up and give off their spirit like frankincense; or it kindles them, Xenophon adds, as oil kindles fire.

Mattioli, in his commentary on Dioscorides, calls it a celebrated cordial, an excellent nourishment to refresh the body. It gives a healthy complexion and a flourishing life, aids digestion, strengthens the stomach, removes obstructions, stimulates urination, expels waste, brings sleep, clears the blood, drives out wind and cold poisons, and thins, digests and disperses all thick vapours and sooty humours. And what matters above all for my purpose is that it takes away fear and sorrow.

Bacchus scatters gnawing cares.

“It gladdens the human heart,” Psalm 104:15: “a sweet seedbed of cheerfulness.” Helen’s bowl, the sole nectar of the gods, or that true nepenthe in Homer that banishes care and grief, was, according to Oribasius, Collections 5, chapter 7, and some others, nothing but a cup of good wine.

“It makes the mind of the king and of the orphan alike, of the slave and the free, the poor and the rich. It turns all his thoughts to joy and merriment, makes him forget sorrow and debt, enriches his heart and makes him talk in talents,” Esdras 3:19–21. It gives life itself, spirits, intelligence and so on.

For this reason the ancients called Bacchus “Father Liber,” from his setting people free, and regularly sacrificed to Bacchus and Pallas on one altar. “Wine drunk in moderation and at the right time brings gladness and cheerfulness of mind”; it cheers God and humanity, Judges 9:12. “Bacchus, giver of joy”: it makes an old woman dance, and those in misery forget their troubles and be merry.

Bacchus also brings rest to suffering mortals, Though their legs should be bound in a hard fetter.

Wine gives a troubled soul its rest, Though fetters weigh upon the feet.

Demetrius, in Plutarch, when he fell into Seleucus’ hands and was held prisoner in Syria, spent his time at dice and drinking, to relieve his unhappy mind and escape the incessant thoughts of his present condition that tormented him.

Therefore Solomon, Proverbs 31:6, directs that wine be given to someone near death and to someone whose heart is grieving: let him drink, forget his poverty and remember his misery no more. “It lifts the burden from anxious minds”: it relieves a burdened soul; nothing works faster, nothing better. The prophet Zechariah recognized this when he said that, in the Messiah’s time, the people of Ephraim would be glad and their hearts rejoice as through wine.

All this makes me warmly approve of that charming description of a feast in Bartholomew the Englishman. When grace had been said, their hands washed, and the guests sufficiently enlivened by good conversation, sweet music and delicious food, “cups are offered again and again to promote cheerfulness.” As a final addition to close the feast and prolong their merriment, a grace cup was brought in to cheer their hearts, and they repeatedly drank one another’s health.

This, as I. Fredericus Matenesius reports in Christian Criticism, book 2, chapters 5, 6 and 7, was an ancient custom in every age and every commonwealth—provided people were not forced “to drink under compulsion,” but drank as at Ahasuerus’ royal feast, which lasted 180 days. There, by command, they drank without compulsion from golden vessels, when and what they themselves wished.

Drink is a very easy remedy to obtain: common, cheap and always at hand against fear, sorrow and the troublesome thoughts that torment the mind. Like sulphur touched by fire, the spirits are suddenly lit up by it. “There is no better medicine,” says Rhazes, “for a melancholic person; someone who can keep company and carouse needs no other medicines: this is enough.”

His countryman Avicenna, 31, doctrine 2, chapter 8, goes further still: he would have someone troubled in mind or melancholic not only drink but occasionally get drunk, considering it excellent medicine for this and many other diseases. Magninus, Regimen of Health, part 3, chapter 31, would have them do so at least once a month. He gives as his reason that vomiting, urination and sweating scour the body of every kind of excess and keep it clean.

The philosopher Seneca takes the same view in his book On Tranquillity, book 1, chapter 15: “Sometimes, as in other illnesses, one must go as far as drunkenness: it presses down cares and cures sadness.” It is good sometimes to get drunk; it relieves sorrow and suppresses cares. And so he ends his treatise with a cup of wine: “You have, dearest Serenus, the things that concern tranquillity of soul.”