An abstainer in a party of even
moderate topers finds their jokes dull and their anecdotes pointless,
and his principal amusement consists in his observation of their
curious bluntness to the groundlessness of their merriment. There is
no more fatal habit to a literary man than that of using alcohol as a
stimulant between meals. The vital powers go on getting worn out more
and more without their cry for help being perceived, and in the end
break down suddenly, and often irrevocably. The temptation is greater
perhaps to a literary man than to any other in the same social
position, especially if he has been induced by avarice, or ambition,
to work wastefully against them; and if he cannot resist it, he had
better abjure the use of alcohol altogether.... Mental activity
certainly renders the brain less capable of bearing an amount of
alcohol, which in seasons of rest and relaxation does not injuriously
affect it. When any extraordinary toil is temporarily imposed, extreme
temperance, or even total abstinence, should be the rule. Much to the
point is the experience of Byron's Sardanapalus:--
"The _goblet_ I reserve for hours of ease, I war on
_water_."
"It is true that Byron assumes in his poetry the character of a
_debauche_, and says he wrote Don Juan under the influence of gin
and water. But much of that sort of talk is merely for stage effect,
and we see how industrious he was, and read of his training vigorously
to reduce corpulence, and of his being such an exceptionally
experienced swimmer as to rival Leander in crossing the Hellespont.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109