The art of living long; a new and improved English version of the treatise by the celebrated Venetian centenarian, Louis Cornaro, with essays

THE ART OF
IIVING LONG

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LOUIS CORNARO
1464-1566

From the painting by Tintoretto No. 83, Pitti Palace Gallery

Photographed by Alinari Brothers, Florence

The Art of

LIVING LONG

A NEW AND IMPROVED ENGLISH VERSION
OF THE TREATISE OF THE

Celebrated Venetian Centenarian

lqIjis cornaro

with essays by
Joseph Addison, Lord Bacon, and Sir William Temple

Here is everything advantageous to life.

— "The Tempest"

milwaukee

William F. Butler

1903

Q.P

L^*

Copyright, 1903

By William F. Bdtlbb

All rights reserved

PREPACE

Against diseases known, the strongest fence
Is the defensive virtue, abstinence.

: — Benjamin Franklin.

rOR a people of whom less than a two-hundredth part
of one per cent, reach an age that Nature intends all
should pass,* the words of the aged author of "The
Temperate Life" possess a deep import. To them this volume
is addressed.

Louis Cornaro's own account — written toward the close
of more than a century of life — of the means of his complete
restoration from an almost hopeless complication of bodily
infirmities, to the happy state he continued so long to enjoy,
may be said to form a life story, which, in its peculiar sig-
nificance, is without a parallel in history.

Not

"By showing conclusively and clearly
That death is a stupid blunder merely.
And not a necessity of our lives,"

but by demonstrating, in a manner most decisive, that the
condition of perfect health — maintained to the full limit of
life ordained by Nature — is a blessing within the power of
every human being to realize, and by indicating the path by
which all may attain it, did this excellent man earn his unique

* See Note A

[7]

THE AET OP LIVING LONG

position among the benefactors of mankind. Let us hope
that our positive and practical age, ever ready to judge a
proposition by its degree of usefulness, will perceive that a
rule of life which effected the recovery of a dying man, and
enabled him to retain entire mental and bodily vigor beyond
his hundredth year, is of incontestable merit.

While there are some, who, though of the number of
Cornaro's most zealous pupils, regret that he permitted wine
to form a portion of his abstemious diet; yet, when his
position on this question is contrasted with the prevailing
custom of his country and age, his life is none the less
recognized by all, as one of the most salutary examples
of a truly temperate career the world has yet witnessed.

A carefully revised version of his celebrated treatise,
made by able translators, is here presented. As a result of
painstaking researches among ancient documents in the
archives of Venice and Padua, historical matter relating to
Cornaro and his family is also placed before the reader.
Much of this is not to be found in any previous edition of
his works, in the various languages into which they have
been rendered.

Of the other eminent writers whose teachings on the
subject of longevity we have included in this volume, little
need here be said. One of them, not many years after the
famous centenarian had passed away, emphasized to the
world, in the Latin tongue, the substantial advantages
Cornaro had reaped from the habit of complete self-restraint
to which he had accustomed himself in early manhood, and
from which, for the remainder of his days, he had never
deviated. A century after Bacon, in the graceful tribute
which Addison — one of the most practical philosophers of his
age — pays to Cornaro, we have an introduction to the work
of the illustrious Venetian that is truly worthy of his theme.

Acknowledgment for valuable assistance is gratefully
made to Conte Comm. Filippo Grimani, LL. D., the honored
Mayor of Venice ; Cav. Prof. Angelo Scrinzi, Ph. D., Director
of the Venetian Civic Museum, and Dr. Ricciotti Bratti, his

[8]

PEEFACE

associate; as well as Dr. Prof. Andrea Moschetti, Director
of the Civic Museum of Padua. Thanks are due, also, to
Dr. Prof. Emilio Lovarini, of Bologna, and Signer Michele
Danesi, Editor of "L'Arte," Rome, for their kind revision of
the translation of "The Villas Erected by Louis Cornaro,"
and for their consent to its publication. To Cav. Dr. Enrico
Ridolfi, Director of the Royal Galleries and National Museum
of Florence, and to the photographers Signori Fratelli Alinari,
of the same city, this work is indebted for the copy of the
Tintoretto painting of Louis Cornaro. Credit is accorded,
for many helpful courtesies, to Miss Ida M. Street, author of
"Ruskin's Principles of Art Criticism," and Messrs. Willard
G. Bleyer, of the University of Wisconsin, and John G
Gregory, of Milwaukee.

W. F. B.
Milwaukee, March, 1903.

[9]

Bosom up my counsel;
You'll find it wholesome. — William Shakespeare.

Deign, reader, to be taught,
Whate'er thy strength of body, force of thought.

— David Garrick.

Know, prudent, cautious, self-control

Is wisdom's root.

— Robert Burns.

Wouldsi thou enjoy a long life, a healthy body, and
a vigorous mind, and be acquainted also with the wonder-
ful works of God, labor in the first place to bring thy
appetite to reason. — Benjamin Franklin.

There is no chance in results. — Ralph Waldo Emerson.

CONTENTS

Page

Preface 7

Introduction

"To Louis Cornaro." — Randall 13

Addison, in "The Spectator," October 13, 1711 15

Parti

The Life and Writings of Louis Cornaro 25

"The Temperate Life" by Louis Cornaro

First Discourse 39

Second Discourse yj

Third Discourse 91

Fourth Discourse 103

Part II

Selections from Lord Bacon's "History of Life and

Death," etc 117

Selections from Sir William Temple's "Health and

Long Life," etc 141

Appendix

A Short History of the Cornaro Family 159

Some Account of Eminent Cornaros 169

Gamba's Eulogy upon Louis Cornaro 179

Lovarini's "The Villas Erected by Louis Cornaro". . 191

Notes 209

Portraits

Louis Cornaro 4

Joseph Addison 52

Lord Bacon 102

Sir William Temple 152

The Cornaro Coat of Arms 6

If any man can convince me and bring home to
me that I do not think or act aright, gladly will I
change; for I search after truth, by which man never
yet was harmed. But he is harmed who abideth on still
in his deception and ignorance.

Do not think that what is hard for thee to master
is impossible for man; but if a thing is possible and
proper to man, deem it attainable by thee.

Persevere then until thou shall have made these
things thy own.

Like a mariner who has doubled the promontory,

thou wilt find calm, everything stable, and a waveless

hay.

— Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.

INTPODUCTION

TO LOUIS COKNAKO

BY

John Witt Randall *

0 thou that for an hundred years

Didst lightly tread the ancestral hall.

Yet sawest thy brethren bathed in tears.
Cut down ere ripe, and round thee fall, —

Well didst thou deem long life the measure
Of long enjoyment to the wise.

To fools alone devoid of pleasure;
Thou wouldst not die as the fool dies.

Robbed of thy titles, lands, and health.
With man and fortune in disgrace.

In wisdom didst thou seek thy wealth.
Thy peace in friendship to thy race.

With thine eleven grandchildren met.
Thou couldst at will become the boy;

And, thine own sorrows to forget,
Couldst lose thyself in others' joy, —

* See Note B

[13]

THE AET OF LIVING LONG

Couldst mount thy horse when past fourscore.
And climb steep hills, and on dull days

Cheer the long hours with learned lore.
Or spend thy wit on tales and plays.

In summer, thou wast friend of flowers.
And, when the winter nights grew long.

And music cheered the evening hours.
Still clearest was the old mans song.

Thus, while thy calm and thoughtful mind

The ravages of time survived.
Three generations of mankind

Dropped round thee, joyless and short-lived.

Thou sawest the flowers of youth decay.
Half dried and withered through excess.

Till, nursed by virtue's milder ray.
Thy green age grew to fruitfulness.

Thou sawest life's barque on troubled seas

Long tossed; care's clouds thy skies o'ercast;

But calm content, with moderate breeze.
Brought thee to wisdom's port at hist.

Life's evening, wherein most behold
Their season of regrets and fears.

Became for thee an age of gold.

And gave thee all thy happiest years.

As gentle airs and genial sun

Stay winter's march when leaves grow sere.
And, when the summer's race is run.

With a new summer crown the year;

[14]

INTEODUCTION

80 temperance, like that lingering glow
Which makes the October woods so bright.

Did on thy vale of years bestow
A glorious autumn of delight.

What useful lessons might our race
From thy so sage experience draw!

Earth might become a joyous place.

Would man but reverence nature's law.

Soar folly, self, and sense above;

Govern each mutinous desire;
Nor let the sacred flame of love

In passion's hurricane expire.

No wondrous works of hand or mind

Were thine; God bade thee stand and wait,

A living proof to all thy kind
That a wise man may master fate.

Happy that life around whose close
The virtues all their rainbows cast.

While wisdom and the soul's repose
Make age more blest than all the past!

THERE* is a story in the ''Arabian Nights' Tales"
of a king who had long languished under an
ill habit of body, and had taken abundance of
remedies to no purpose. At length, says the fable,
a physician cured him by the following method: he
took a hollow ball of wood, and filled it with several

* See Note C

[15]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

drugs; after which he closed it up so artificially that
nothing appeared. He likewise took a mall; and,
after having hollowed the handle, and that part which
strikes the ball, he inclosed in them several drugs
after the same manner as in the ball itself. He
then ordered the sultan, who was his patient, to exercise
himself early in the morning with these rightly pre-
pared instruments, till such time as he should sweat;
when, as the story goes, the virtue of the medicaments
perspiring through the wood, had so good an influence
on the sultan's constitution, that they cured him of an
indisposition which all the compositions he had taken
inwardly had not been able to remove. This Eastern
allegory is finely contrived to show us how beneficial
bodily labor is to health, and that exercise is the most
effectual physic. I have described in my hundred and
fifteenth paper, from the general structure and mecha-
nism of a human body, how absolutely necessary exercise
is for its preservation; I shall in this place recommend
another great preservative of health, which in many
cases produces the same effects as exercise, and may, in
some measure, supply its place, where opportunities of
exercise are wanting. The preservative I am speaking
of is temperance ; which has those particular advantages
above all other means of health, that it may be practiced
by all ranks and conditions, at any season or in any place.
It is a kind of regimen into which every man may put
himself, without interruption to business, expense of

[16]

INTRODUCTION

money, or loss of time. If exercise throws off all super-
fluities, temperance prevents them; if exercise clears the
vessels, temperance neither satiates nor overstrains
them; if exercise raises proper ferments in the humors,
and promotes the circulation of the blood, temperance
gives nature her full play, and enables her to exert her-
self in all her force and vigor; if exercise dissipates a
growing distemper, temperance starves it.

Physic, for the most part, is nothing else but the
substitute of exercise or temperance. Medicines are
indeed absolutely necessary in acute distempers, that
cannot wait the slow operations of these two great instru-
ments of health; but did men live in a habitual course
of exercise and temperance, there would be but little
occasion for them. Accordingly, we find that those parts
of the world are the most healthy where they subsist by
the chase; and that men lived longest when their lives
were employed in hunting, and when they had little food
besides what they caught. Blistering, cupping, bleeding,
are seldom of use but to the idle and intemperate ; as all
those inward applications which are so much in practice
among us, are for the most part nothing else but expedi-
ents to make luxury consistent with health. The apoth-
ecary is perpetually employed in countermining the
cook and the vintner. It is said of Diogenes, that, meet-
ing a young man who was going to a feast, he took him
up in the street and carried him home to his friends, as
one who was running into imminent danger, had not he

[17]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

prevented him. What would that philosopher have
said, had he been present at the gluttony of a modern
meal 1 Would not he have thought the master of a family
mad, and have begged his servants to tie down his hands,
had he seen him devour fowl, fish, and flesh; swallow
oil and vinegar, wines and spices ; throw down salads of
twenty different herbs, sauces of a hundred ingredients,
confections and fruits of numberless sweets and flavors!
What unnatural motions and counter-ferments must such
a medley of intemperance produce in the body I For my
part, when I behold a fashionable table set out in all its
magnificence, I fancy that I see gouts and dropsies,
fevers and lethargies, with other innumerable distempers,
lying in ambuscade among the dishes.

Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet.
Every animal, but man, keeps to one dish. Herbs are
the food of this species, fish of that, and flesh of a third.
Man falls upon everything that comes in his way; not
the smallest fruit or excrescence of the earth, scarce a
berry or a mushroom, can escape him.

It is impossible to lay down any determinate rule
for temperance; because what is luxury in one may be
temperance in another. But there are few that have
lived any time in the world, who are not judges of their
own constitutions, so far as to know what kinds and what
proportions of food do best agree with them. Were I to
consider my readers as my patients, and to prescribe
such a kind of temperance as is accommodated to all per-

[18]

INTEODUCTION

sons, and such as is particularly suitable to our climate
and way of living, I would copy the following rules of
a very eminent physician : Make your whole repast out
of one dish; if you indulge in a second, avoid drinking
anything strong till you have finished your meal; at the
same time abstain from all sauces, or at least such as are
not the most plain and simple. A man could not be well
guilty of gluttony, if he stuck to these few obvious and
easy rules. In the first case, there would be no variety
of tastes to solicit his palate, and occasion excess; nor,
in the second, any artificial provocatives to relieve satiety,
and create a false appetite. . . . But, because it is
impossible for one who lives in the world to diet himself
always in so philosophical a manner, I think every man
should have his days of abstinence, according as his con-
stitution will permit. These are great reliefs to nature,
as they qualify her for struggling with hunger and
thirst, whenever any distemper or duty of life may put
her upon such difficulties ; and at the same time give her
an opportunity of extricating herself from her oppres-
sions, and recovering the several tones and springs of
her distended vessels. Besides that, abstinence well-
timed often kills a sickness in embryo, and destroys the
first seeds of an indisposition. It is observed by two or
three ancient authors, that Socrates, notwithstanding he
lived in Athens during that great plague, which has made
so much noise through all ages, and has been celebrated
at different times by such eminent hands; I say, not-

[19]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

withstanding that he lived in the time of this devouring
pestilence, he never caught the least infection; which
those writers unanimously ascribe to that uninterrupted
temperance which he always observed.

And here I cannot but mention an observation which
I have often made, upon reading the lives of the philoso-
phers, and comparing them with any series of kings or
great men of the same number. If we consider these
ancient sages, a great part of whose philosophy consisted
in a temperate and abstemious course of life, one would
think the life of a philosopher and the life of a man were
of two different dates. For we find that the generality
of these wise men were nearer a hundred than sixty
years of age at the time of their respective deaths. But
the most remarkable instance of the efficacy of temper-
ance toward the procuring of long life, is what we meet
with in a little book published by Louis Cornaro
the Venetian; which I the rather mention, because it
is of undoubted credit, as the late Venetian ambassador,
who was of the same family, attested more than once in
conversation, when he resided in England. Cornaro,
who was the author of the little "Treatise" I am men-
tioning, was of an infirm constitution, till about forty;
when, by obstinately persisting in an exact course of
temperance, he recovered a perfect state of health ; inso-
much that at fourscore he published his book, which has
been translated into English under the title of **A Sure
and Certain Method of Attaining a Long and Healthy

[20]

INTRODUCTION

Life." He lived to give a third or fourth edition of it;
and, after having passed his hundredth year, died without
pain or agony, and like one who falls asleep. The
' ' Treatise ' ' I mention has been taken notice of by several
eminent authors, and is written with such a spirit of
cheerfulness, religion, and good sense, as are the natural
concomitants of temperance and sobriety. The mixture
of the old man in it is rather a recommendation than a
discredit to it.— Joseph Addison in "The Spectator/'
October 13, 1711.

[21]

Of all tyrants, custom is that which to sustain
itself stands most in need of the opinion which is enter-
tained of its power; its only strength lies in that which
is attributed to it. A single attempt to break the yoke
soon shows u^ its fragility. But the chief property of
custom is to contract our ideas, like our movements,
within the circle it has traced for us. It governs u^ by
the terror it inspires for any new and untried condition.
It shows us the walls of the prison within which we are
inclosed, as the boundary of the world; beyond that, all
is undefined, confusion, chaos; it almost seems as
though we should not have air to breathe.

—F. P. 0. Ouizot.

PART I

"THE TEMPERATE LIEE"

BY

LOUIS CORNARO

Pbbfaced by a Short Account of His
Life and Writings

'Tis in ourselves that we
are thus or thus. Our bodies are gardens; to the
which our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant
nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme,
supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with
many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured
with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority
of this lies in our wills. If the balance of bur lives
had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality,
the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct
us to most preposterous conclusions: but we have reason
to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our un-
billed lusts. — "Othello."

A Short Account of
THE Lire AND WRITINGS

OF

LOUIS CORNARO

TO LOUIS CORNARO

From the Italian of Hieronimo Gualdo (circa 1560)

Done into English Verse by

John Goadby Gregory

Sir, well may Fame to you accord the praise
That, spite of adverse stars and nature's strife.
Solely by measured conduct of your life.

Healthy and happy you gained length of days.

Nor stops approval there, but also weighs
The pains you spared not to set others right.
Guiding their footsteps by your beacon-light

To long and pleasant journeying through life's maze.

Blest is your lot, who, with a steadfast mind.
Beneath a load of years which many fear,

Contented and felicitous abide.

[25]

THE ART OP LIVING LONG

Your voice in song upraised robust and clear.
Your thoughts with noble studies occupied.
That good is yours which is for man designed.

II

"Weary and woeful is senectitude

E'en when from penury and aches 'tis free,"
Cries one, "for that it brings debility.

And warns us of the grisly monarch rude."

Yet he who holds in rein his passions crude.
Nor rends the blossoms from life's growing tree.
Gathers in age fruits sweet and fair to see.

For Nature is with purpose kind endued.

If I, now years come on, am weak and ill.
Not time, but I, am cause of this my woe.

Too much I heeded headlong appetite.

And though to save the wreck I bend my will,
'Tis vain, I fear — I ever older grow.

And aged error is not soon set right.

Ill

In hermit caverns, where the desert glowers.
The ancient Fathers lived on frugal fare —
Roots, cresses, herbs — avoiding viands rare.

Nor had they palates less refined than ours.

From their example, confirmation flowers
Of what you tell me, and in mind I bear
That feasts which folly spreads on tables fair

Our frames enfeeble and reduce our powers.

[26]

i^/ifyi.

LIFE OF CORNARO

The wish in man is native to remain

Long with the living, for to live is sweet.

His wish he may by abstinence attain.
Dame Reason counsels, sober and discreet.

This way that solid privilege to gain.

And tardy to the realm of shades retreat.

LOUIS CORNARO (ancient Venetian, Alvise; modern
Italian, Luigi, Lodovico, or Ludovico), — often styled
The Venetian Centenarian, — the author of the famous
treatise, "The Temperate Life," which forms the main por-
tion of this volume, was born in the city of Venice in the year
1464.

Although a direct descendant of the illustrious family of
Cornaro, yet, defrauded in some way through the dishonest
intrigues of some of his relatives, — we are but imperfectly
acquainted with the circumstances, — he was deprived of the
honors and privileges attached to his noble birth, and excluded
from all public employment in the State. A man of great
personal and family pride, he felt very keenly the humilia-
tion of this treatment ; and, as a consequence, he withdrew
from his native place and made the city of Padua his home
for the remainder of his life, save for brief seasons of summer
retirement to his country-seats.

Yet that, which, at the time, must have seemed to him a
great misfortune, proved eventually a blessing; and doubt-
less, during the long course of his remarkable career, Cor-
naro's philosophic mind often reverted with thankfulness to
those very indignities, but for which, perhaps, he would
never have received the chief incentive of his life; for may
we not believe it was because of them that he resolved to
found for himself a more honorable name — one that should
rest upon a sounder and more worthy basis than mere family
pride. This determination, whatever may have inspired it,

[27]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

proved, as we learn in his narrative, to be the crisis of his
life, changing, as if by magic, its entire course; and it
resulted in the establishment of a fame, not only great in his
own day, but which continues to increase as time rolls on.

In order to accomplish the purpose uppermost in his
mind, the first thing to which he gave his constant and most
intelligent attention was the securing of perfect health, which
heretofore he had never known, and which he recognized as
the best armor for the warfare of life; a knowledge, the
importance of which — in his day, as in ours — few fully
realized. At the details of this glorious work, as well as its
happy results, we shall here take only a hasty glance; for
the picture he has painted is by the hand of a master, and
no one but himself can do it justice.

Born with a very delicate constitution, accompanied
unfortunately by a choleric disposition, Cornaro furthermore
gave evidence, in early life, of careless habits which finally
developed into those of intemperance ; and, though destined
to leave behind him a name imperishable, because of virtues
based upon a complete subjugation of every passion, was
almost destroyed, before he reached the age of forty, by those
natural and acquired infirmities, which, for years, had made
his days and nights an almost continual martyrdom.

Finally convinced that his unnatural habits would, if
persisted in, soon be the cause of his death, and possessed
of that determined courage and resolution, which, on a closer
acquaintance, we shall recognize and learn to admire as his
chief trait, he changed his manner of life so completely that,
in a very brief time, his diseases disappeared, giving place
to a rugged health and serenity of mind hitherto unknown
to him. In a word, from a despairing and almost helpless
invalid, unfit for either work or enjoyment, he became not
only a man of perfect health, singularly active and happy,
but also such an example of complete self-restraint as to be
the wonder and admiration of all who knew him, earning and
receiving the title of The Temperate. The mildness and
sweetness of his altered disposition at the same time gained
for him the fullest respect and affection.

[28]

LIFE OF CORNABO

In the city of Udine, northern Italy, he married Veronica
di Spilimbergo,* a daughter of the noble house of that name.

He very much desired children, not only for every natural
reason, but also in order that his own offspring might inherit
the large fortune which he possessed. Though for a long time
disappointed in this hope, he was finally made very happy
by the advent of a little daughter, born when he and his wife
were both well advanced in years ; to her they gave the name
of Chiara (Clara).** In due time she was married to one of
her own name and kindred, Giovanni (John), the son of
Fantino Cornaro, a member of the wealthy and powerful
Cofnaro Piscopia branch of the family. She became the
mother of eight sons and three daughters, all of whom the
grandfather — as we learn from his own words — lived to see
and enjoy.

Having faithfully observed that wise law of Nature,
moderation, for so many years, he anticipated, with a con-
fidence which the sequel will show was neither unfounded
nor disappointed, a happy and prosperous life of not less than
a century; and this span he was equally certain he would
have been able to extend considerably, had it been his good
fortune to have begun life with the advantages he assures us
his teachings will confer on the children of all who lead the
temperate life it had been his delight to follow.

To the very close of his wonderful career he retained
his accustomed health and vigor, as well as the possession,
in their perfection, of all his faculties. No hand but his own
can faithfully give us an account of the recreations and
pleasures of that happy old age for which he entreats all to
strive. But we may sum it all up in the one brief line wherein
he assures us: "I never knew the world was beautiful until
I reached old age." Of the knowledge that his was an
instance without a parallel, he himself was not ignorant. In
this thought he not only took a pardonable pride, but derived
one of the greatest joys of his old age, when he reflected that
while many others before him had written eulogies upon a
life of temperance and regularity, no one, at the end of a cen-
tury of life, had ever taken pen in hand to leave to the world

* See Note D ♦♦ See Note C

[29]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

the story of a personal participation in the many indescribable
blessings, which, for so many years, it had been his lot to
enjoy; nor had any one, after recovering broken health, lived
to such an age to tell the world how he had done so.

The one thought uppermost in his heart was that of
gratitude for his recovery, and for the countless blessings of
his long life. This sentiment he hoped would ever continue
to bear substantial fruit; for he lived and died in the belief
that his labors in writing a faithful account of his experience,
would result, for all time, in benefiting those who would
listen to him. He was convinced that if he, who had begun
life under so many disadvantages, could attain perfect health
and continue in it for so many years, the possibilities of those
blessed with a perfect constitution and aided, from child-
hood, with the temperate rule of life, must indeed be almost
unlimited. It will be difficult to find anywhere recorded an
instance wherein constitutional defects, aggravated by unwise
habits of life, threatened a more untimely death ; and if Cor-
naro, with a constitution naturally weak and apparently
ruined at the age of forty, could attain such results, who will
presume to set a limit to the possibilities of longevity for the
human family, after consecutive generations have faithfully
observed Nature's wise laws?

Loaded with testimonials of the gratitude and rever-
ence of many who had profited by his example and advice,—
which knowledge of this benefit to others was, as he assures
us, among the sweetest of his many blessings, — he passed
the evening of his life honored by all, and in the enjoyment
of the friendship and esteem of the most eminent of his
countrymen. Having devoted his best years to the accom-
plishment of what he firmly believed to be his mission in this
world, — a consecrated task, that of bringing home to his fel-
low-men the realization of the inevitable consequences of
intemperance, — he patiently waited for the end. When death
came, it found him armed with the resignation of the phi-
losopher and a steadfastly courageous faith in the future,
ready and glad to resign his life. Peacefully, as he had
expected and foretold, he died at his palace in Padua, April

[30]

LIFE OF CORNAEO

26, 1566, in the one hundred and third year of his age. (His-
torians have not agreed as to the year of his birth, some
placing his age at one hundred and four, others as low as
ninety-eight. The dates we have given are, however, sub-
stantiated by the best authorities.)

He was buried on the eighth of the following month,
without any pomp, according to the directions left in his
will; and by his side his faithful wife, who survived him and
lived to almost the same age, in due time was laid. Her end
was an equally happy one, finding her in such perfect serenity
of soul and ease of body, that those at her bedside were not
aware that her gentle spirit had taken its flight.

The beautiful home, built by Cornaro on the Via Mel-
chiorre Cesarotti in Padua, and the scene, for so many years,
of the greatest domestic happiness as well as of the most
generous hospitality, is still in existence, and has always been
known by his name. It consists, mainly, of three buildings;
the palace — which is the principal one — and the casino are
both attributed to Cornaro himself; while the celebrated
loggia is known as the work of his protege and friend, Fal-
conetto.* The three inclose a courtyard, upon which all face —
the palace on one side near the street, the loggia and casino
on other sides.

The best portrait extant of this justly celebrated man is
catalogued as No. 83 in the famous gallery of the Pitti Palace,
at Florence. It has, until recently, been considered one of
Titian's paintings; but it is now known as the work of Tin-
toretto, and is among the masterpieces of that famous artist.
The canvas measures 44x33 inches, and the photographic
copy used in this work is declared by the Director of the Pitti
Gallery to be an excellent one. The figure, two-thirds in
length, is life size. Cornaro is represented as seated in an
armchair, dressed in black, his coat trimmed with fur.
Though the picture portrays a man well advanced in years,
there is a dignity of bearing and a keenness of eye that indi-
cate one still physically vigorous and mentally alert.

In other portions of this volume, some of the many

* See Note E

[31]

THE AS.T OP LIVING LONG

attainments of this remarkable man are made manifest; we
will here — with this passing mention of his treatise on the
preservation of the lagoons ("Trattato delle Acque," Padua,
1560) — notice, very briefly, the writings for which he is
chiefly known.

At the age of eighty-three, after more than forty years
of perfect health and undisturbed tranquillity of spirits, dur-
ing which time he had lived a life that contrasted as much
with that of his earlier days as it did with that which he saw
commonly lived by others around him, he wrote the first of
the four discourses which constitute his famous treatise,
"The Temperate Life." This was followed by the three
others, one written at the age of eighty-six, one at ninety-one,
and the last at ninety-five; the four completing a most
instructive life story — one with which he earnestly wished
all might become familiar, that they might follow his example,
and thus enjoy the countless blessings which had so filled
his own cup to overflowing.

Centuries ago, Pythagoras, Herodicus, Hippocrates,
Iccus, Celsus, and Galen — as have some in every age — waged
a bitter warfare against unnatural habits of life ; and accounts
of the attainment of extraordinary age, both in ancient and
modern times, are not uncommon. The autobiography of
Cornaro, however, who, after patient search, discovered in
his own person the curative and life-sustaining power of the
temperate life, — and that beyond the century mark, — and
who, with equal diligence, labored to impress upon others
the lesson of his own experience, affords an instance without
parallel in all the annals of history.

In a very brief way — more effective, he believed, than
if written at greater length — does this remarkable man hand
down to posterity his conviction, both from observation and
experience, of the utter worthlessness of the kind of life too
often seen on all sides. At the same time he pictures the
reward to be reaped every moment, but especially in old age,
from a life spent in conformity with reason and Nature.

Most particularly does he emphasize the greater value of
the later years of life as compared with the earlier ones. By

[32]

LIFE OF COfiNARO

the time men have acquired knowledge, judgment, and expe-
rience,— the necessary equipment of the fullest citizenship, —
they are unable, he observes, because of physical degenera-
tion, consequent on irrational and unnatural methods of liv-
ing, to exercise these qualifications. Such men are then cut
off in their prime, leaving, at fifty or sixty, their life work
but half completed; and yet, as he protests, were they but to
attain extreme age as followers of the life he led, "How much
more beautiful would they make the world !"

The first edition of "The Temperate Life" — the work on
which Cornaro's fame chiefly rests — was published at Padua
in the year 1558; and few works of such small dimension have
excited wider or more fervid discussion. For three hundred
years this treatise has been a classic in his native land. Trans-
lated into Latin, as also into many modern languages, it has
been popular wherever studied. Slight as the book is, it has,
and will continue to have, a permanent place in general liter-
ature ; though we believe it may be questioned if many in this
country, even among the most cultured readers, have had an
opportunity of reading it.

To those only imperfectly acquainted with his story, Cor-
naro is merely a famous valetudinarian, who was enabled, by
temperate living, to pass the age of a hundred. Careful
readers of the book, however, will always remember him not
only as a most charming autobiographer, but also as a
man, who, having successfully solved one of life's most dif-
ficult problems, labored to encourage in others those habits
which had proved so advantageous in his own case. His
assurance that, after all, this world would be a most delight-
ful place if people would but live temperately, is the burden
of his message to mankind ; and who, to-day, is ready to
declare him wrong in his assertion that man, by the weak
indulgence of his appetites, has always shortened his life and
failed to reap the countless blessings within his reach?
Convinced that from this source come most of the ills that
flesh is heir to, Cornaro writes with the confidence that those
who listen to him earnestly will not fail to heed his warning.
Thus, also, will they not only secure that perfect health of

[33]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

body and mind, without which complete happiness can never
be realized, but will be enabled to prolong, in honorable
endeavor, that enviable condition to the extreme limit intended
by Nature. He hoped that the faithful following of his
counsel would transform into a universal hymn of joy the
strain of despairing weariness, — so evident throughout the
recorded thought of all the centuries, — in which men of all
nations and ranks of life have deplored the early loss of youth
and vigor, and lamented the resistless strides of premature
old age.

A simple diet was almost exclusively the nourishment of
the oldest peoples of Syria, Egypt, Greece, and, in their most
glorious days, of the Romans ; and when man shall once more
take to heart this lesson of the means of enjoying uninter-
rupted health and full length of days, — blessings which in
ages long past were almost universally enjoyed, and which
man alone, and the animals under his control, now fail to
possess, — the world will everywhere be blessed with the
presence of those who will be considered in their prime at an
age now scarcely believed attainable. There will then be no
doubt that life is worth living; and, because man will then
seek only its true and enduring joys, those problems that for
ages have distressed him will vanish of themselves — problems
existing only because of the craving of the unhealthy human
brain for those shadows of life so long pictured as its sub-
stance.

The reader will have spent his time in vain, however, if
he fails to appreciate fully the vital importance of the fact
that Cornaro's own regimen, as he most strongly insists, was
intended for himself alone — that he does not urge upon every-
one the extreme abstinence practiced by himself. All persons,
he declares, should observe the temperate life prescribed as
Nature's highest law ; but, as the temperance of one man is
excess in his neighbor, each must discover the suitable quan-
tity and quality of food proper in his own individual case,
and then live accordingly. It is the aim and spirit, not the
letter, of his example that he implores mankind to observe.

While Cornaro's personal dietary habits are not, indeed,

[34]

EXTRACTS FROM TEMPLE

applicable in detail to every individual constitution, and were
never, as we have just said, intended by him as such, yet his
general rules will always be correct. These have had in the
past, and have to-day, many followers; and the number of
those who faithfully tread in the pathway indicated for them
by the venerable writer, constantly enjoying, during a long
and happy life, the blessings promised them, will continue to
increase, let us hope, until it includes, in the not remote
future, the vast majority of our race. Even in an age of
wealth and luxury, such as ours, in which opportunities
rapidly multiply for the gratification of every sensuous desire,
we need not fear that those who choose to be critics of Cor-
naro and the fundamental rules of his teachings, will con-
tinue to find willing listeners. Let us hope that, in time, all
will take to heart the lesson taught mankind by the bitter
experience of the centuries: that the physical, moral, intel-
lectual, and social condition now so almost hopelessly uni-
versal, is but the inevitable result of disobedience of natural
law; and that man has but himself to blame when he fails
to possess the greatest of earthly blessings — perfect health
of body and mind — and fullness of years in which to enjoy it.

[35]

Some, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die.

By fire, flood, famine; by intemperance more

In meats and drinks, which on the Earth shall bring

Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew

Before thee shall appear, that thou muy'st know

What misery the inabstinence of Eve

Shall bring on men.

If thou well observe
The rule of "Not too much," by temperance taught
In what thou eat'st and drink' st, seeking from thence
Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight.
Till many years over thy head return;
So mayst thou live, till, like ripe fruit, thou drop
Into thy mother s lap, or be with ease
Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature.

— "Paradise Lost."

"THE TEMPERATE LITE"

BY

LOUIS CORNARO

TBAN8LATED FKOM THE ITALIAN OF HIS

"LA YITA SOBKIA

IN WHICH HE DEM0NSTKATE8, BY HIS OWN EXAMPLE,

7^ SURE AND CERTAIN METHOD OE T^TTAININO
n LONG T^ND HET^LTHY LIEE

IN FOUR DISCOURSES

Written, Severally, at the Ages of Eighty-three,
Eighty-six, Ninety-one, and Ninety-five

Divine Sobriety, pleasing to God, the friend of
nature, the daughter of reason, the sister of virtue, the
companion of temperate living, . . . the loving mother
of human life, the true medicine both of the soul and
of the body; how much should men praise and thank
thee for thy courteous gifts! for thou givest them the
means of preserving life in health, that blessing than
which it did not please God we should have a greater in
this world — life and existence, so naturally prized, so
willingly guarded by every living creature!

— Louis Cornaro.

THE riPST DISCOURSE

Written at the Age of Eighty-three

Wherein the author details the method Dv which he
corrected his Infirm condition, strengthened his
naturally weak constitution, and thence-
forth continued In the enjoyment
of perfect health

IT is certain that habit, in man, eventually becomes
second nature, compelling him to practice that to
which he has become accustomed, regardless of
whether such a thing be beneficial or injurious to him.
Moreover, we see in many instances— and no one can
call this into question— that the force of habit will
triumph even over reason. Indeed, if a man of good
morals frequents the company of a bad man, it very often
happens that he will change from good to bad. Yet
sometimes the contrary is equally true; namely, that
while good habits often change readily for the worse, so
also do bad habits change to good ones; since a wicked
man who has once been good may still, by frequenting
the society of the good, return to the better ways which he

[39]

THE ABT OP LIVING LONG

had formerly followed. All these changes must be
attributed solely to the force of habit, which is truly very
great.

It is in consequence of this powerful force of habit,
that of late, — indeed during my own lifetime and
memory, — three evil customs have gradually gained a
foothold in our own Italy. The first of these is adulation
and ceremony, the second is heresy, and the third is
intemperance. These three vices, cruel monsters of
human life as they truly are, have, in our day, prevailed
so universally as to have impaired the sincerity of social
life, the religion of the soul, and the health of the body.

Having long reflected on this unfortunate condition,
I have now determined to treat of the last of these vices—
intemperance; and, in order to accomplish all I can
toward abolishing it, I shall prove that it is an abuse.
With regard to the two other obnoxious habits, I feel
certain that, ere long, some noble mind will undertake
the task of condemning them and removing them from
among us. Thus do I firmly hope that I shall, before I
leave this world, see these three abuses conquered and
crushed out of Italy, and, consequently, witness the
return of my country to her wise and beautiful customs
of yore.

Coming, then, to that evil concerning which I pro-
pose to speak,— the vice of intemperance,— I declare that
it is a wicked thing that it should prevail to such an extent
as to greatly lower, nay, almost abolish, the temperate
life. For though it is well known by all that intemper-
ance proceeds from the vice of gluttony, and temperance
from the virtue of restraint, nevertheless the former
is exalted as a virtuous thing and even as a mark of
distinction, while temperance is stigmatized and scorned
as dishonorable, and as befitting the miserly alone.

[40]

LOUIS CORN ABO 'S TREATISE

These false notions are due entirely to the force of
habit, bred by men's senses and uncontrolled appetites.
It is this craving to gratify the appetites which has
allured and inebriated men to such a degree that,
abandoning the path of virtue, they have taken to follow-
ing the one of vice— a road which leads them, though they
see it not, to strange and fatal chronic infirmities through
which they grow prematurely old. Before they reach the
age of forty their health has been completely worn out-
just the reverse of what the temperate life once did for
them. For this, before it was banished by the deadly
habit of intemperance, invariably kept all its followers
strong and healthy, even to the age of fourscore and
upward.

0 wretched and unhappy Italy, canst thou not see
that intemperance kills every year amongst thy people as
great a number as would perish during the time of a most
dreadful pestilence, or by the sword or fire of many
bloody wars I And these truly immoral banquets of thine,
now so commonly the custom,— feasts so great and
intolerable that the tables are never found large enough
to accommodate the innumerable dishes set upon them,
so that they must be heaped, one upon another, almost
mountain high,— must we not brand them as so many
destructive battles I Who could ever live amid such
a multitude of disorders and excesses I

Oh, for the love of God, I conjure you to apply a
remedy to this unholy condition ! for I am certain there
is no vice more displeasing to His Divine Majesty than
this fatal one of intemperance. Let this new death, worse
than any pestilence ever known, be driven out of Italy ; as
was the case with that other epidemic, which, though it
once caused so much misery, nowadays does but very
little harm,— indeed, scarcely any,— thanks to the im-

[41]

THE AET OF LIVING LONG

proved state of affairs brought about by good sanitary
regulations.

For there is a remedy by which we may banish this
fatal vice of intemperance— an easy remedy, and one of
which every man may avail himself if he will ; that is, to
live in accordance with the simplicity of Nature, which
teaches us to be satisfied with little, to follow the ways of
holy self-control and divine reason, and to accustom our-
selves to eat nothing but that which is necessary to
sustain life.

We should bear in mind that anything more than this
will surely be followed by infirmity and death; and that
while intemperance is merely a gratification of the
palate,— a pleasure that vanishes in a moment,— yet, for
a long time afterward, it causes the body much suffering
and damage, and finally destroys it together with the
soul.

I have seen many of my dearest friends and associ-
ates, men endowed with splendid gifts of intellect and
noble qualities of heart, fall, in the prime of life, victims
of this dread tyrant; men who, were they yet living,
would be ornaments to the world, while their friendship
and company would add to my enjoyment in the same
proportion as I was caused sorrow by their loss.

Therefore, to prevent so great an evil for the future,
I have decided to point out, in this brief treatise, what a
fatal abuse is the vice of intemperance, and how easily it
may be removed and replaced by the temperate habits of
life which were formerly universal. And this I under-
take all the more willingly, since I have been pressed
thereunto by a number of young men of the brightest
intellect, who are well aware that intemperance is a fatal
vice ; for they have seen their fathers die from its effects
in the flower of manhood, while, on the other hand, they

[42]

LOUIS CORN ABO 'S TREATISE

behold me still hale and flourishing at my great age of
eighty-three years.

Now, Nature does not deny us the power of living
many years. Indeed, old age, as a matter of fact, is the
time of life to be most coveted, as it is then that prudence
is best exercised, and the fruits of all the other virtues
are enjoyed with the least opposition; because, by that
time, the passions are subdued, and man gives himself up
wholly to reason.

Hence, being desirous that they likewise may attain
old age, these young people have besought me that I may
be pleased to tell them the means by which I have been
able to reach this advanced age. And since I perceive
them full of so honest a desire, and as I heartily wish to
benefit not only them, but those others also who may wish
to read this brief treatise of mine, I shall now set forth,
in writing, the cause which induced me to abandon my
intemperate habits, and to embrace the orderly and
temperate life. I shall likewise relate the manner in
which I went about this reform, and the good results I
afterward experienced through it; whence it will be
clearly seen how easy a matter it is to overcome the habit
of excess. And I shall demonstrate, in conclusion, how
much that is good and advantageous is to be derived from
the temperate life.

I say, then, that the dire infirmities from which I
constantly suffered, and which had not only invaded my
system, but had gained such headway as to have become
most serious, were the cause of my renouncing the errors
of intemperance to which I had been very much addicted.

The excesses of my past life, together with my bad
constitution, — my stomach being very cold and moist,—
had caused me to fall a prey to various ailments, such as
pains in the stomach, frequent pains in the side.

[43]

THE ABT OP LIVING LONG

symptoms of gout, and, still worse, a low fever that was
almost continuous; but I suffered especially from dis-
order of the stomach, and from an unquenchable thirst.
This evil— nay, worse than evil— condition left me
nothing to hope for myself, except that death should
terminate my troubles and the weariness of my life— a
life as yet far removed from its natural end, though
brought near to a close by my wrong maimer of living.

After every known means of cure had been tried,
without affording me any relief, I was, between my
thirty-fifth and fortieth years, reduced to so infirm a
condition that my physicians declared there was but one
remedy left for my ills— a remedy which would surely
conquer them, provided I would make up my mind to
apply it and persevere patiently in its use.

That remedy was the temperate and orderly life,
which, they assured me, possessed as great strength and
efficacy for the accomplishment of good results, as that
other, which was completely its opposite in every way,—
I mean an intemperate and disorderly life,— possessed
for doing harm. And of the power of these two opposite
manners of living I should entertain no doubt; both by
reason of the fact that my infirmities had been caused by
disorder,— though, indeed, I was not yet reduced to such
extremity that I might not be wholly freed from them by
the temperate life, which counteracts the effects of an
intemperate one,— and because it is obvious that this
regular and orderly life preserves in health even
persons of feeble constitution and decrepit age, as long
as they observe it. It is equally manifest that the oppo-
site life, an irregular and disorderly one, has the power
to ruin, while in the strength of early manhood, the con-
stitutions of men endowed with robustness, and to keep
them sick for a great length of time. All this is in

[44]

LOUIS COENAEO S TREATISE

accordance with the natural law which ordains that
contrary ways of living must necessarily produce
contrary effects. Art itself, imitating in this the proc-
esses of nature, will gradually correct natural defects
and imperfections— a principle we find clearly exempli-
fied in agriculture and other similar things.

My physicians warned me, in conclusion, that if I
neglected to apply this remedy, in a short time it would
be too late to derive any benefit from it; for, in a few
months, I should certainly die.

I, who was very sad at the thought of dying at so
early an age and yet was continually tormented by sick-
ness, having heard these good and plausible reasons, grew
thoroughly convinced that from order and from disorder
must of necessity proceed the contrary effects which I
have mentioned ; and, fired with hope, I resolved that, in
order to escape death and, at the same time, to be
delivered from my sufferings, I would embrace the
orderly life.

Having been instructed by my physicians as to the
method I was to adopt, I understood that I was not to
partake of any foods, either solid or liquid, save such as
are prescribed for invalids; and, of these, in small
quantities only. To tell the truth, diet had been pre-
scribed for me before; but it had been at a time, when,
preferring to live as I pleased and being weary of such
foods, I did not refrain from gratifying myself by eating
freely of all those things which were to my taste. And
being consumed, as it were, by fever, I did not hesitate to
continue drinking, and in large quantities, the wines
which pleased my palate. Of all this, of course, after the
fashion of invalids, I never breathed a word to my
physicians.

After I had once taken a firm resolution that I would

[45]

THE ART OP LIVING LONG

henceforth live temperately and rationally, and had
realized, as I did, that to do so was not only an easy
matter, but, indeed, the duty of every man, I entered upon
my new course so heartily that I never afterward
swerved from it, nor ever committed the slightest excess
in any direction. Within a few days I began to realize
that this new life suited my health excellently; and, per-
severing in it, in less than a year— though the fact may
seem incredible to some— I found myself entirely cured
of all my complaints.

Now that I was in perfect health, I began to consider
seriously the power and virtue of order; and I said to
myself that, as it had been able to overcome so many and
such great ills as mine, it would surely be even more
efficacious to preserve me in health, to assist my un-
fortunate constitution, and to strengthen my extremely
weak stomach.

Accordingly, I began to observe very diligently
what kinds of food agreed with me. I determined, in the
first place, to experiment with those which were most
agreeable to my palate, in order that I might learn if they
were suited to my stomach and constitution. The
proverb, *' Whatever tastes good will nourish and
strengthen, ' ' is generally regarded as embodying a truth,
and is invoked, as a first principle, by those who are
sensually inclined. In it I had hitherto firmly believed;
but now I was resolved to test the matter, and find to what
extent, if any, it was true.

My experience, however, proved this saying to be
false. For instance, dry and very cold wine was agree-
able to my taste ; as were also melons ; and, among other
garden produce, raw salads; also fish, pork, tarts, vege-
table soups, pastries, and other similar articles. All of
these, I say, suited my taste exactly, and yet I found they

[46]

LOUIS CORN ABO *S TBEATISE

were hurtful to me. Thus having, by my own experience,
proved the proverb in question to be erroneous, I ever
after looked upon it as such, and gave up the use of that
kind of food and of that kind of wine, as well as cold
drinking. Instead, I chose only such wines as agreed
with my stomach, taking of them only such a quantity as
I knew it could easily digest; and I observed the same
rule with regard to my food, exercising care both as to
the quantity and the quality. In this manner, I ac-
customed myself to the habit of never fully satisfying my
appetite, either with eating or drinking— always leaving
the table well able to take more. In this I acted accord-
ing to the proverb: ''Not to satiate one's self with food
is the science of health."

Being thus rid, for the reasons and in the manner
I have given, of intemperance and disorder, I devoted
myself entirely to the sober and regular life. This had
such a beneficial effect upon me that, in less than a year
as I have just said, I was entirely freed from all the ills
which had been so deeply rooted in my system as to have
become almost incurable.

Another excellent result which this new life effected
in me was that I no longer fell sick every year— as I had
always previously done while following my former
sensual manner of life— of a strange fever, which at times
had brought me near to death's door; but, under my new
regimen, from this also was I delivered.

In a word, I grew most healthy ; and I have remained
so from that time to this day, and for no other reason
than that of my constant fidelity to the orderly life. The
unbounded virtue of this is, that that which I eat and
drink,— always being such as agrees with my constitution
and, in quantity, such as it should be,— after it has
imparted its invigorating elements to my body, leaves it

[47]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

without any difficulty and without ever generating within
it any bad humors. Whence, following this rule, as I
have already said, I have constantly been, and am now—
thank God I— most healthy.

It is true, however, that besides these two very
important rules which I have always so carefully ob-
served, relative to eating and drinking,— namely, to take
only the quantity which my stomach can easily digest and
only the kinds that agree with it,— I have also been care-
ful to guard against great heat and cold, as well as
extreme fatigue or excesses of any nature; I have never
allowed my accustomed sleep and rest to be interfered
with ; I have avoided remaining for any length of time in
places poorly ventilated; and have been careful not to
expose myself too much to the wind or the sun ; for these
things, too, are great disorders. Yet it is not a very
difficult matter to avoid them; for, in a being endowed
with reason, the desire of life and health possesses
greater weight than the mere pleasure of doing things
which are known to be hurtful.

I have also preserved myself, as far as I have been
able, from those other disorders from which it is more
difficult to be exempt; I mean melancholy, hatred, and
the other passions of the soul, which all appear greatly
to affect the body. However, my efforts in this direc-
tion have not been so successful as to preserve me wholly ;
since, on more than one occasion, I have been subject to
either one or the other of these disturbances, not to say
all of them. Yet even this fact has proved useful to
me ; for my experience has convinced me that, in reality,
these disorders have not much power over, nor can they
do much harm to, the bodies of those whose lives are
governed by the two rules I have already mentioned
relative to eating and drinking. So I can say, with

[48]

LOUIS CORNAKO'S TREATISE

truth, that whosoever observes these two principal rules
can suffer but little from any disorder.

Galen,* the famous physician, bore testimony to this
truth long before my time. He asserts that all other
disorders caused him but very little harm, because he
had learned to guard against those of excessive eating
and drinking; and that, for this reason, he was never
indisposed for more than a day. That this is indeed
true I can bear living testimony, corroborated by the
statement of everybody who knows me; for my friends,
well aware that I have often suffered exposure to cold,
heat, and other similar disorders, have also seen me dis-
turbed in mind on account of various misfortunes that
have befallen me at different times. Nevertheless, they
know that these troubles of mine have harmed me but
little; but they can testify to the considerable damage
which these very things have brought to others who were
not followers of the temperate and regular life.

Among these I may number a brother of mine, and
several other near relatives ; who, trusting to their good
constitutions, did not follow the temperate life— a fact
which was the cause of grave harm to them. Their
perturbations of mind exercised great influence over
their bodies; and such was the anxiety and melancholy
with which they were overwhelmed when they saw me
involved in certain highly important lawsuits brought
against me by men of power and position, and so great
was their fear that I should lose, that they were seized
with the humor of melancholy, of which the bodies of
those who live irregularly are always full. This humor
so embittered their lives, and grew upon them to such
a degree, that it brought them to the grave before their
time.

Yet I suffered nothing throughout it all ; for, in me,

♦ See Note F

[49]

THE AKT OF LIVING LONG

this humor was not excessive. On the contrary, encour-
aging myself, I tried to believe that God had permitted
those lawsuits to be brought against me in order that my
own strength and courage might better be made known,
and that I should win them to my own advantage and
honor; as in fact I eventually did, gaining a glorious
and profitable victory. And the very great consolation
of soul I then experienced had, in its turn, no power to
harm me.

It is thus clear that neither melancholy nor any
other disorder can seriously injure bodies governed by
the orderly and temperate life. Nay, I shall go still
further, and assert that even accidents have the power
to do but little harm, or cause but little pain, to the fol-
lowers of such a life.

The truth of this statement I learned by my own
experience at the age of seventy. It happened, one day,
while driving at a high rate of speed, I met with an acci-
dent. My carriage was overturned, and was dragged
quite a distance before the horses could be stopped.
Being unable to extricate myself, I was very badly hurt.
My head and the rest of my body were painfully bruised,
while one of my arms and one of my legs received
especially severe injuries.

I was brought home, and my family sent immedi-
ately for the doctors; who, when they had come and
found me at my advanced age so shaken and in so bad
a plight, could not help giving their opinion that I would
die within three days.

They suggested two things, however, as their only
hopes for my recovery: one was bleeding, the other was
purging; in order, as they said, to cleanse my system
and thus prevent the alteration of the humors, which
they expected at any moment to become so much dis-

[50]

JOSEPH ADDISON
1672—1719

From the painting by Sir Godfrey Kneller— No. 283, National Portrait Gallery,

London

Photograph copyrighted by Walker and Cockerell

LOUIS CORNARO'S TREATISE

turbed as to produce high fever. I, nevertheless, con-
vinced that the regular life I had led for many years
had united, equalized, and disposed all my humors so
well that they could not possibly be subject to so great
alteration, refused either to be bled or to take any medi-
cine. I merely had my arm and leg straightened, and
permitted my body to be rubbed with certain oils which
were recommended by the physicians as appropriate
under the circumstances. It followed that, without
using any other kind of remedy and without suffering
any further ill or change for the worse, I entirely recov-
ered—a thing, which, while fulfilling my own expecta-
tions, seemed to my doctors nothing less than miraculous.

The unavoidable conclusion to be drawn from this
is, that any man who leads the regular and temperate
life, not swerving from it in the least degree where his
nourishment is concerned, can be but little affected by
other disorders or incidental mishaps. Whereas, on the
other hand, I truly conclude that disorderly habits of
living are those which are fatal.

By a recent experience of mine— that is, as late as
four years ago— this was proved to me unmistakably.
Having been induced by the advice of my physicians,
the admonitions of my friends and their loving exhorta-
tions, to make a change in my maimer of living, I found
this change— consisting in an increase in the ordinary
quantity of my food— to be, in reality, a disorder of
much greater importance than might have been expected ;
since it brought on me a most severe illness. As the
whole event is appropriate here, and because the
knowledge of it may be of advantage to others, I shall
now relate it in all its particulars.

My dearest relatives and friends, who love and
cherish me devotedly and are inspired by warm and true

[53]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

affection, observed how very little I ate, and, in unison
with my physicians, told me that the food I took could
not possibly be sufficient to sustain a man of an age so
advanced as mine. They argued that I should not only
preserve, but rather aim to increase, my strength and
vigor. And as this could only be done by means of
nourishment, it was absolutely necessary, they said, that
I should eat rather more abundantly.

I, on the other hand, brought forward my reasons
to the contrary; namely, that nature is satisfied with
little; that my spare diet had been found sufficient to
preserve me in health all these many years; and that,
with me, this abstemious habit had long since become
second nature. I maintained, furthermore, that it was
in harmony with reason that, as my age increased
and my strength lessened, I should diminish, rather than
increase, the quantity of my food. This was true; since
the digestive powers of the stomach were also growing
weaker in the same proportion as my vigor became
impaired. Wherefore I could see no reason why I should
increase my diet.

To strengthen my argument, I quoted those two
natural and obviously true proverbs: the one, that
''Whosoever wishes to eat much must eat little" —wlinch
means simply that the eating of little lengthens a man's
life, and by living a long time he is enabled to eat a
great deal; the other, that "The food from which a man
abstains, after he has eaten heartily, is of more benefit
to him than that which he has eaten."

However, neither of these wise sayings, nor any
other argument I could offer, proved effectual; for my
friends only pressed me the harder. Now, I did not
like to appear obstinate or as though I considered myself
more of a doctor than the very doctors themselves;

[54]

LOUIS CORNARO'S TREATISE

moreover, I especially wished to please my family, who
desired it very earnestly, believing, as they did, that
such an increase in my ordinary allowance would be
beneficial to my strength. So I at last yielded, and con-
sented to add to the quantity of my food. This increase,
however, was by only two ounces in weight; so that,
while, with bread, the yolk of an egg, a little meat, and
some soup, I had formerly eaten as much as would weigh
in all exactly twelve ounces, I now went so far as to
raise the amount to fourteen ounces; and, while I had
formerly drunk but fourteen ounces of wine, I now began
to take sixteen ounces.

The disorder of this increase had, at the end of ten
days, begun to aifect me so much, that, instead of being
cheerful, as I had ever been, I became melancholy and
choleric; everything annoyed me; and my mood was so
wayward that I neither knew what to say to others nor
what to do with myself. At the end of twelve days I
was seized with a most violent pain in the side, which
continued twenty-two hours. This was followed by a
terrible fever, which lasted thirty-five days and as many
nights without a moment's interruption; although, to
tell the truth, it kept constantly diminishing after the
fifteenth day. Notwithstanding such abatement, how-
ever, during all that period I was never able to sleep for
even half of a quarter of an hour; hence, everybody
believed that I would surely die. However, I recovered
—God be praised I— solely by returning to my former
rule of life; although I was then seventy-eight years of
age, and it was just in the heart of the coldest season of
a very cold year, and I as frail in body as could be.

I am firmly convinced that nothing rescued me from
death but the orderly life which I had observed for so
many years ; in all of which time no kind of sickness had

[55]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

ever visited me, unless I may call by that name some
slight indisposition lasting a day or two only. The
steady rule of life I had so long observed had not,
as I have already said, allowed the generation of any
evil or excessive humors in my body ; or, if any had been
formed, it had not permitted them to acquire strength
or to become malignant, as is the case in the bodies of
old persons who live without restraint. Consequently,
as in my system there was none of that chronic vicious-
ness of humors which kills men, but only that new con-
dition brought about by my recent irregularity, this
attack of illness— although indeed very serious— was not
able to cause my death.

This, and nothing else, was the means of my recov-
ery; whence we may judge how great are the power and
virtue of order, and how great is the power of disorder—
the latter having been able, in a few days, to bring upon
me a sickness which proved to be so terrible; whereas
the regular and temperate life had maintained me in per-
fect health during so many years. And it seems to me
most reasonable that, if the world is maintained by
order, and if our life is nothing else— so far as the body
is concerned— but the harmony and order of the four
elements, it must follow that only through this same
order can our life be sustained; while, on the other
hand, it is ruined by sickness or dissolved by death,
according as this order is not observed. It is through
order that the sciences are more easily mastered; it is
order that gives the victory to armies ; and, finally, it is
due to order that the stability of families, of cities, and
even of governments, is maintained.

Therefore I conclude that orderly living is the most
positive law and foundation of a long and healthy life.
We may say it is the true and only medicine; and who-

[56]

LOUIS COBNAKO'S TREATISE

ever considers all this deliberately must declare it is
indeed so.

When a physician pays a visit to a sick man, he pre-
scribes this as the very first condition of recovery, urging
him, above all things, to live the orderly life. In like
manner, when he bids good-bye to his patient upon his
recovery, he recommends, as a means of preserving
restored health, that he continue this orderly life. And
there is no doubt that if the one so advised were to act
accordingly, he would avoid all sickness in the future;
because a well-regulated life removes the causes of
disease. Thus, for the remainder of his days, he would
have no further need either of doctors or of medicines.

Moreover, by applying his mind to this matter which
should so deeply concern him, he would become his own
physician, and, indeed, the only perfect one he could
have; for it is true that "A man cannot be a perfect
physician of any one save of himself alone."

The reason of this is that any man may, by dint of
experimenting, acquire a perfect knowledge of his own
constitution and of its most hidden qualities, and find
out what food and what drink, and what quantities of
each, will agree with his stomach. It is impossible to have
equally accurate knowledge of these things in another
person; since it is only with difficulty that we may dis-
cover them in ourselves. And to learn them in our own
cases, great attention, considerable time, and much study
are required. Nor must we overlook the fact that
various experiments are absolutely necessary; for there
is not so great a variety of features as there is diversity
of temperaments and stomachs among men.

Who would believe, for instance, that wine over a
year old would be hurtful to my stomach, while new wine
would be suitable to it? and that pepper, which is com-

[57]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

monly considered a heating spice, would not act upon
me as such, but that cinnamon would warm and help me ?
What physician could have informed me of these two
hidden qualities of my nature; since I myself, after a
long course of observation, have barely been able to note
and find them?

Therefore, I say again, from all these reasons it
follows that it is impossible for anyone to be a perfect
physician of another. Since, then, a man can have no
better doctor than himself, and no better medicine than
the temperate life, he should by all means embrace that
life.

I do not mean to say, however, that in the knowledge
and treatment of the diseases incurred by those who do
not lead orderly lives, there is no need of the physician,
or that he should not be valued highly. For, if a friend
brings comfort when he comes to us in time of sickness,
—though his visit be merely to manifest sympathy in
our suffering and to encourage us to hope for recovery,—
how much the more ought we to appreciate the physician
who is a friend visiting us that he may be of service,
and who promises to restore our health? Yet, when it
comes to a question of preserving health, my opinion is
that we should take, as our proper physician, the regular
and temperate life. For, as we have seen, it is the true
medicine of nature and best suited to man; it keeps him
in health, even though he be of an unfortunate constitu-
tion; it enables him to retain his strength to the age of
a hundred years or more ; and, finally, it does not suffer
him to pass away through sickness or by any alteration
of the humors, but simply by the coming to an end of
the radical moisture, which is exhausted at the last.
Learned men have often asserted that similar effects
could be obtained by means of drinkable gold or the

[58]

LOUIS CORNAEO'S TREATISE

"elixir of life"; yet, though they have thus been sought
by many, who have found them?

Let us be truthful. Men are, as a rule, very sensual
and intemperate, and wish to gratify their appetites and
give themselves up to the commission of innumerable
disorders. When, seeing that they cannot escape suffer-
ing the unavoidable consequence of such intemperance
as often as they are guilty of it, they say— by way of
excuse— that it is preferable to live ten years less and
to enjoy one's life. They do not pause to consider
what immense importance ten years more of life, and
especially of healthy life, possess when we have reached
mature age, the time, indeed, at which men appear to
the best advantage in learning and virtue— two things
which can never reach their perfection except with time.
To mention nothing else at present, I shall only say that,
in literature and in the sciences, the majority of the best
and most celebrated works we possess were written
when their authors had attained ripe age, and during
those same ten latter years for which some men, in order
that they may gratify their appetites, say they do not
care.

Be this as it may, I have not chosen to imitate them ;
on the contrary, I have chosen to live these ten years.
Had I not done so, I should never have written the
treatises, which, as I have been alive and well, I have
been able to write during the last ten years; and that
they will prove useful I have no doubt.

Furthermore, the aforesaid followers of sensuality
will tell you that the temperate and orderly life is an
impossible one. To which I answer: Galen, great as a
physician, led it, and chose it as the best medicine. So,
likewise, did Plato, Cicero, Isocrates, and many other
famous men in times past; whose names, lest I grow

[59]

THE ABT OF LIVINQ LONG

tedious, I shall forbear to mention. In our own time,
we have seen Pope Paul Farnese [1468-1549] and Car-
dinal Bembo [1470-1547] lead this life, and for this
reason attain great age; the same may be said of our
two Doges,* Lando [1462-1545] and Donato [1468-1553].
Besides these, we might mention many others in humbler
states and conditions, not only in the cities, but in the
country also; for in every place there are to be found
those who follow the temperate life, and always to their
own considerable advantage.

Seeing, therefore, that it has been practiced in the
past, and that many are now practicing it, the temperate
life is clearly proved to be one easily followed; and all
the more so by reason of the fact that it does not call for
any great exertion. Indeed— as is stated by the above-
mentioned Cicero and by all who follow it— the only
difficulty, if any there be, consists in making a beginning.

Plato, himself living the temperate life, nevertheless
declares that a man in the service of the State cannot
lead it; because he is often compelled to suffer heat and
cold and fatigues of various kinds, as well as other
hardships, all contrary to the temperate life, and in
themselves disorders. Yet, I repeat the assertion I have
already made, that these disorders are not of any great
consequence, and are powerless to cause grievous sick-
ness or death, provided he who is obliged to suffer them
leads an abstemious life, and is never guilty of any
excess in eating or drinking. Excess is a thing which
any man, even one who is in the service of the State,
can very well avoid, and must, indeed, necessarily avoid ;
since by so doing he may rest assured, either that he will
never incur those ills into which it would otherwise be
easy for him to fall while committing disorders which
are brought upon him in the discharge of his duties, or

* See Note G

[60]

LOUIS COENAEO S TREATISE

that he will be able the more easily and quickly to free
himself of those ills, should he, perchance, be overtaken
by them.

Here one might object— as some actually do— that a
man accustomed to lead the temperate life, having always,
while in sound health, partaken of food proper for sick
persons, and in small quantities only, has nothing left
to fall back upon in time of sickness.

To this objection I shall answer, in the first place,
that Nature, being desirous to preserve man as long as
possible, teaches him what rule to follow in time of ill-
ness; for she immediately deprives the sick of their
appetite in order that they may eat but little— for with
little, as it has already been said. Nature is content.
Consequently, whether the sick man, up to the time of
his illness, has led the orderly or a disorderly life, it is
necessary that he should then partake of such food only
as is suited to his condition, and, in quantity, less of it
than he was wont to take when in health. Should he,
when ill, continue to eat the same amount as when
in health, he would surely die; while, were he to eat
more, he would die all the sooner. For his natural
powers, already oppressed with sickness, would thereby
be burdened beyond endurance, having had forced upon
them a quantity of food greater than they could support
under the circumstances. A reduced quantity is, in my
opinion, all that is required to sustain the invalid.

Another answer to this objection— and a better
one— is, that he who leads the temperate life can never
fall sick, or at least can do so only rarely; and his
indisposition lasts but a very short while. For, by
living temperately, he removes all the causes of illness;
and, having removed these, he thereby removes the
effects. So the man who lives the orderly life should

[61]

THE ART OP LIVING LONG

have no fear of sickness; for surely he has no reason
to fear an effect, the cause of which is under his own
control.

Now, since the orderly life is, as we have seen, so
useful, so potent, so beautiful, and so holy, it should be
embraced and followed by every rational being ; and this
all the more from the fact that it is a life very easy to
lead, and one that does not conflict with the career of
any condition of man.

No one need feel obliged to confine himself to the
small quantity to which I limit myself; nor to abstain
from fruit, fish, and other things which I do not take.
For I eat but little; and my reason in doing so is that
I find a little sufficient for my small and weak stomach.
Moreover, as fruit, fish, and similar foods disagree with
me, I do not use them. Persons, however, with whom
these do agree may— nay, should— partake of them; for
to such they are by no means forbidden. That which
is forbidden to them and to everybody else, is to partake
of food, even though it be of the kind suited to them, in
a quantity so large that it cannot be easily digested; and
the same is true with regard to drink. But should there
be a man to whom no kind of food is harmful, he,
obviously, would not be subject to the rule of quality,
but must needs regard only that of quantity— an observ-
ance which becomes a very easy matter.

I do not wish to be told here that among those who
lead the most irregular lives there are men, who, in spite
of this fact, reach, healthy and robust, those furthest
limits of life attained by the temperate; for this argu-
ment is grounded upon a position uncertain and danger-
ous, and upon a fact, moreover, which is of so rare
occurrence that, when it does occur, it appears more a
miracle than a natural result. Hence it should not per-

[62]

LOUIS CORNARO'S TREATISE

suade us to live disorderly lives ; for Nature was merely
unwontedly liberal to those irregular livers, and very
few of us can, or should, hope that she will be as bounti-
ful to us.

He who, trusting to his youth or his strong constitu-
tion and perfect stomach, will not take proper care of
himself, loses a great deal, and every day is exposed, in
consequence of his intemperate life, to sickness and even
death. For this reason I maintain that an old man who
lives regularly and temperately, even though he be of
poor constitution, is more likely to live than is a young
man of perfect health if addicted to disorderly habits.

There is no doubt, of course, that a man blessed
with a strong constitution will be able to preserve him-
self longer by living the temperate life than he who has
a poor one ; and it is also true that God and Nature can
cause men to be brought into the world with so perfect
constitutions that they will live for many years in health,
without observing this strict rule of life. A case of
this kind is that of the Procurator* Thomas Contarini
of Venice [1454-1554], and another is that of the Knight
Anthony Capodivacca of Padua [14651-1555]. But such
instances are so rare that, it is safe to say, there is not
more than one man in a hundred thousand of whom it
will prove true.

The universal rule is that they who wish not only
constantly to enjoy perfect health and to attain their
full limit of life, but finally to pass away without pain
or difficulty and of mere exhaustion of the radical
moisture, must lead the temperate life; for upon this
condition, and no other, will they enjoy the fruits of
such a life— fruits almost innumerable, and each one to
be infinitely prized. For as sobriety keeps the humors
of the body pure and mild, so, likewise, does it prevent

♦ See Note H

[63]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

fumes from arising from the stomach to the head; and
the brain of him who lives in this maimer is, as a result,
constantly in a clear condition, permitting him to main-
tain entire the use of reason. Thus, to his own extreme
comfort and contentment, is he enabled to rise above
the low and mean considerations of this world to the
high and beautiful contemplation of things divine. In
this manner he considers, knows, and understands, as he
never would have otherwise done, how great are the
power, the wisdom, and the goodness of God. Descend-
ing thence to the realms of Nature, he recognizes in her
the daughter of the same God; and he sees and touches
that which at any other age of his life, or with a less
purified mind, he could never have seen or touched.

Then, indeed, does he fully realize the ugliness of
vice, into which those persons fall who have not learned
to control their passions or to bridle those three importu-
nate desires which seem, all three together, to be bom
with us in order to keep us forever troubled and dis-
turbed—the desires of carnal pleasures, of honors, and
of worldly possessions. These lusts appear to increase
with age in those who are not followers of the temperate
life; because, when passing through the years of earlier
manhood, they did not relinquish, as they should have
done, either sensuality or appetite, to embrace in their
stead reason and self-control— virtues which followers
of the temperate life never abandoned in their years of
strength.

On the contrary, these more fortunate men, well
knowing that such passions and desires are irrational,
and having given themselves wholly to reason, were freed
both of their tyranny and at the same time of all other
vices, and drawn, instead, to virtue and good works.
By this means, from the vicious men they had once been.

[64]

LOUIS CORNAEO'S TREATISE

they became true and upright. At length, in process of
time and owing to extreme age, their dissolution and
close of life are near at hand. Yet, conscious that they
have, through God's special grace, abandoned the ways
of vice and ever afterward followed those of virtue,
and firmly hoping, moreover, through the merits of
Jesus Christ our Redeemer, to die in His grace, they
are not saddened by the thought of the approach of
death, which they know to be unavoidable.

This is especially the case when, loaded with
honors and satiated with life, they perceive they have
reached that age which scarcely any man— among the
many thousands born into this world— who follows a
different mode of living, ever attains. And the inevi-
table approach of death grieves thfem so much the less
in that it does not come suddenly or unexpectedly, with
a troublesome and bitter alteration of the humors, and
with sharp pains and cruel fever; but it comes most
quietly and mildly. For, in them, the end is caused
merely by the failure of the radical moisture; which,
consumed by degrees, finally becomes completely
exhausted, after the manner of a lamp which gradually
fails. Hence they pass away peacefully, and without any
kind of sickness, from this earthly and mortal life to
the heavenly and eternal one.

0 holy and truly happy Temperate Life, most
worthy to be looked upon as such by all men! even as
the other, disorderly and so contrary to thee, is sinful
and wretched— as those who will but stop to reflect upon
the opposite effects of both must clearly see. Thy
lovely name alone should be sufficient to bring men to
a knowledge of thee; for thy name. The Orderly and
Temperate Life, is beautiful to speak; while how
offensive are the words disorder and intemperance!

[65]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

Indeed, between the very mention of these two opposites
lies the same difference as between those other two,
angel and devil.

I have so far given the reasons for which I aban-
doned disorder and devoted myself wholly to the tem-
perate life; also the maimer in which I went about it
that I might accomplish my end; together with the sub-
sequent effects of this change; and, finally, I have
attempted to describe the advantages and blessings which
the temperate life bestows on those who follow it.

And now, since some sensual and unreasonable men
pretend that long life is not a blessing or a thing to be
desired, but that the existence of a man after he has
passed the age of sixty-five cannot any longer be called
a living life, but rather should be termed a dead one, I
shall plainly show they are much mistaken; for I
have an ardent desire that every man should strive to
attain my age, in order that he may enjoy what I have
found— and what others, too, will find— to be the most
beautiful period of life.

For this purpose I wish to speak here of the pas-
times and pleasures which I enjoy at this advanced sea-
son of life. I desire, in this maimer, openly to bear
witness to all mankind— and every person who knows
me will testify to the truth of what I say— that the life
which I am now living is a most vital one, and by no
means a dead one ; and that it is deemed, by many, a life
as full of happiness as this world can give.

Those who know me well will give this testimony,
in the first place, because they see, and not without the
greatest admiration and amazement, how strong I am;
that I am able to mount my horse without assistance;
and with what ease and agility I can not only ascend a
flight of stairs, but also climb a whole hill on foot.

[66]

LOUIS CORNAEO'S TREATISE

They also see how I am ever cheerful, happy, and con-
tented—free from all perturbations of the soul and from
every vexatious thought; instead of these, joy and peace
have fixed their abode in my heart, and never depart
from it. Moreover, my friends know how I spend my
time, and that it is always in such a manner that life
does not grow tedious to me; they see that there is no
single hour of it that I am not able to pass with the
greatest possible delight and pleasure.

Frequently I have the opportunity to converse with
many honorable gentlemen; among them, a number who
are renowned for their intellect and refinement, and dis-
tinguished by their literary attainments, or are of excel-
lence in some other way. When their conversation fails
me, I enjoy the time in reading some good book. Hav-
ing read as much as I care to, I write; endeavoring in
this, as in what other manner soever I may, to be of
assistance to others, as far as is in my power.

All these things I do with the greatest ease and at
my leisure, at their proper seasons, in my own residence ;
which, besides being situated in the most beautiful quar-
ter of this noble and learned city of Padua, is, in itself,
really handsome and worthy of praise— truly a home,
the like of which is no longer built in our day. It is so
arranged that in one part of it I am protected against
the great heat of summer, and in the other part against
the extreme cold of winter ; for I built the house accord-
ing to the principles of architecture, which teach us how
that should be done. In addition to the mansion, I
enjoy my various gardens, beautified by running streams
—retreats wherein I always find some pleasant occupa-
tion for my time.

I have, besides this, another mode of recreating
myself. Every year, in April and May, as well as in

[67]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

September and October, I spend a few days at a country-
seat of mine, situated in the most desirable part of the
Euganean Hills.* It is adorned with beautiful gardens
and fountains; and I especially delight in its extremely
comfortable and fine dwelling. In this spot I also take
part, at times, in some easy and pleasant hunting, such
as is suited to my age.

For as many days again, I enjoy my villa in the
plain. It is very beautiful, both on account of its fine
streets converging into a large and handsome square,—
in the center of which stands the church, a structure well
befitting the place and much honored,— as also because
it is divided by a large and rapid branch of the river
Brenta, on either side of which spread large tracts of
land, all laid out in fertile and carefully cultivated fields.
This district is now— God be praised!— exceedingly well
populated; for it is, indeed, a very different place from
what it was formerly, having once been marshy and of
unwholesome atmosphere— a home fit rather for snakes
than for human beings. But, after I had drained off
the waters, the air became healthful and people flocked
thither from every direction; the number of the inhabit-
ants began to multiply exceedingly; and the country was
brought to the perfect condition in which it is to-day.
Hence I can say, with truth, that in this place I have
given to God an altar, a temple, and souls to adore
Him. All these are things which afford me infinite
pleasure, solace, and contentment every time I return
thither to see and enjoy them.

At those same times every year, I go, as well, to
revisit some of the neighboring cities, in order that I
may enjoy the society of those of my friends whom I
find there ; for I derive great pleasure from conversing
with them. I meet, in their company, men distinguished

* See Note I

[68]

^1'°i^7

LOUIS COENAEO'S TREATISE

for their intellect— architects, painters, sculptors, musi-
cians, and agriculturists; for our times have certainly
produced a considerable number of these. I behold, for
the first time, their more recent works, and see again
their former ones; and I always learn things which it
is agreeable and pleasing to me to know. I see the
palaces, the gardens, the a,ntiquities, and, together with
these, the squares, the churches, and the fortresses; for
I endeavor to omit nothing from which I can derive
either delight or information.

My greatest enjoyment, in the course of my journeys
going and returning, is the contemplation of the beauty
of the country and of the places through which I travel.
Some of these are in the plains ; others on the hills, near
rivers or fountains; and all are made still more beauti-
ful by the presence of many charming dwellings sur-
rounded by delightful gardens.

Nor are these my diversions and- pleasures rendered
less sweet and less precious through the failing of my
sight or my hearing, or because any one of my senses is
not perfect; for they are all— thank God!— most perfect.
This is true especially of my sense of taste; for I now
find more true relish in the simple food I eat> whereso-
ever I may chance to be, than I formerly found in the
most delicate dishes at the time of my intemperate life.
Neither does the change of bed affect me in the slightest
degree; for I always sleep soundly and quietly in what
place soever I may happen to be— nothing disturbs me,
80 that my dreams are always happy and pleasant.

With the greatest delight and satisfaction, also, do
I behold the success of an undertaking highly important
to our State; namely, the fitting for cultivation of its
waste tracts of country, numerous as they were. This
improvement was commenced at my suggestion; yet I

[69]

tHB ABT OP LIVING LONO

had scarcely ventured to hope that I should live to see
it, knowing, as I do, that republics are slow to begin
enterprises of great importance. Nevertheless, I have
lived to see it. And I was myself present with the
members of the committee appointed to superintend the
work, for two whole months, at the season of the greatest
heat of summer, in those swampy places; nor was I
ever disturbed either by fatigue or by any hardship
I was obliged to incur. So great is the power of the
orderly life which accompanies me wheresoever I
may go!

Furthermore, I cherish a firm hope that I shall live
to witness not only the beginning, but also the comple-
tion, of another enterprise, the success of which is no
less important to our beloved Venice; namely, the pro-
tection of our estuary, or lagoon, that strongest and
most wonderful bulwark of my dear country. The pres-
ervation of this— and be it said not through self-com-
placency, but wholly and purely for truth's sake— has
been advised by me repeatedly, both by word of mouth
and by carefully written reports to our Republic; for as
I owe to her, by right, the fullest means of assistance and
benefit that I can give, so also do I most fondly desire to
see her enjoy prolonged and enduring happiness, and to
know that her security is assured.

These are the true and important recreations, these
the comforts and pastimes, of my old age, which is much
more to be prized than the old age or even the youth of
other men ; since it is free, by the grace of God, from all
the perturbations of the soul and the infirmities of the
body, and is not subject to any of those troubles which
woefully torment so many young men and so many
languid and utterly worn-out old men.

If to great and momentous things it be proper to

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LOUIS CORNAEO'S TEEATISE

compare lesser ones, or rather those, I should say, which
are by many considered as hardly worthy of notice, I
shall mention, as another fruit which I have gathered
from the temperate life, that at my present age of eighty-
three 1 have been able to compose a delightful comedy,
full of innocent mirth and pleasant sayings— a manner of
poem, which, as we all know, is usually the fruit and
production of youth only, just as tragedy is the work of
old age; the former, because of its grace and joyousness,
is more in harmony with the early years of life, while the
melancholy character of the latter is better suited to old
age. Now, if that good old man, a Greek and a poet
[Sophocles], was so highly commended for having written
a tragedy at the age of seventy-three, and was, by reason
of this deed, regarded as vigorous and sound minded,—
although tragedy, as I have just said, is a sad and
melancholy form of poetry,— why should I be deemed
less fortunate or less hale than he, when I have, at an age
greater than his by ten years, written a comedy, which, as
everybody knows, is a cheerful and witty kind of com-
position? Assuredly, if I am not an unfair judge of my-
self, I must believe that I am now more vigorous and
more cheerful than was that poet when burdened with ten
years less of life.

In order that nothing be wanting to the fullness of
my consolation, to render my great age less irksome, or to
increase my happiness, I am given the additional comfort
of a species of immortality in the succession of my
descendants. For, as often as I return home, I find
awaiting me not one or two, but eleven, grandchildren, all
the offspring of one father and mother, and all blessed
with perfect health; the eldest is eighteen years of age,
the youngest, two; and, as far as can now be judged, all
are fond of study and inclined to good habits. Among

[71]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

the younger ones, I always enjoy some one as my little
jester; for, truly, between the ages of three and five, the
little folks are natural merrymakers. The older children
I look upon as, in a certain way, my companions ; and, as
Nature has blessed them with perfect voices, I am
delighted with their singing, and with their playing on
various instruments. Indeed, I often join in their
singing; for my voice is now better, clearer, and more
sonorous than it ever was before.

Such, then, are the pastimes of my old age ; and from
these it may readily be seen that the life I am leading is
alive and not dead, as those persons say who are ignorant
of what they are speaking. To whom, in order that I may
make it clearly understood how I regard other people's
manner of living, I truly declare that I would not be
willing to exchange either my life or my great age with
that of any young man, though he be of excellent
constitution, who leads a sensual life ; for I well know that
such a one is, as I have already stated, exposed every
day— nay, every hour— to a thousand kinds of infirmity
and death.

This is a fact so obviously clear that it has no need of
proof ; for I remember right well what I used to do when
I was like them. I know how very thoughtless that age
is wont to be, and how young men, incited by their inward
fire, are inclined to be daring and confident of themselves
in their actions, and how hopeful they are in every
circumstance ; as much on account of the little experience
they have of things past, as because of the certainty they
feel of living long in the future. Thus it is that they
boldly expose themselves to every kind of peril. Putting
aside reason, and giving up the ruling of themselves to
sensuality, they seek with eagerness for means by which
to gratify every one of their appetites, without perceiving
—unfortunate wretches!— that they are bringing upon

[72]

LOUIS COKNAKO'S TEEATISE

themselves the very things which are most unwelcome:
not only sickness, as I have said many times, but also
death.

Of these evils, sickness is grievous and troublesome
to suffer; and the other, which is death, is altogether
unbearable and frightful— certainly to any man who has
given himself up a prey to sensuality, and especially to
young people, to whom it seems that they lose too much in
dying before their time. And it is indeed frightful to
those who reflect upon the errors with which this mortal
life of ours is filled, and upon the vengeance which the
justice of God is liable to take in the eternal punishment
of the wicked.

I, on the contrary, old as I am, find myself —thanks
always to Almighty God!— entirely free of both the one
and the other of these two cares: of the one, sickness,
because I know to a certainty I cannot ever fall sick, the
holy medicine of the temperate life having removed from
me forever all the causes of illness; and of the other,
namely, of death, because I have learned, through a
practice of many years, to give full play to reason.
Wherefore I not only deem it wrong to fear that which
cannot be avoided, but I also firmly hope that, when the
hour of my passing away is come, I shall feel the
consoling power of the grace of Jesus Christ.

Moreover, although I am fully aware that I, like
everybody else, must come to that end which is inevi-
table, yet it is still so far away that I cannot discern it.
For I am certain there is no death in store for me
save that of mere dissolution ; since the regular method of
my life has closed all other avenues to the approach of
death, and has prevented the humors of my body from
waging against me any other war than that arising from
the elements of which my body was originally formed.

[73]

THE ABT OP LIVING LONG

I am not so unwise as not to know that, having been
bom, I must die. Yet beautiful and desirable, indeed, is
that death which Nature provides for us by way of the
dissolution of the elements; both because she herself,
having formed the bond of life, finds more easily the way
to loose it, and also because she delays the end longer
than would the violence of disease. Such is the death,
which, without playing the poet, alone deserves the name
of death, as arising from Nature's laws. It cannot be
otherwise ; for it comes only after a very long span of life,
and then solely as the result of extreme weakness. Little
by little, very slowly, men are reduced to such a state that
they find themselves no longer able to walk, and scarcely
to reason; moreover, they become blind, deaf, and bent,
and afficted with every other kind of infirmity. But, so
far as I am concerned, I feel certain that not only will my
end, by the blessing of God, be very different, but also that
my soul, which has so agreeable a habitation in my body,
—where it finds nothing but peace, love, and harmony, not
only between the humors, but also between the senses and
reason,— rejoices and abides in it in a state of such com-
plete contentment, that it is only reasonable to believe it
will require much time and the weight of many years to
force it to leave. Wherefore I may fairly conclude
there is yet in store for me a long continuance of perfect
health and strength, wherein I may enjoy this beautiful
world, which is indeed beautiful to those who know how
to make it so for themselves, as I have done. And I
treasure the hope that, through the grace of God, I shall
also be able to enjoy the other world beyond. All this is
solely by means of virtue, and of the holy life of order
which I adopted when I became the friend of reason and
the enemy of sensuality and appetite— an adoption which
may easily be made by any man who wishes to live as
becomes a man.

[74]

LOUIS CORNARO'S TREATISE

Now, if the temperate life is such a happy one, if its
name is so beautiful and lovable, if the possession of it
is so certain and so secure, there is nothing left for me to
do except to entreat— since by oratorical persuasion I
cannot attain my desire— every man endowed with gentle
soul and gifted with rational faculties, to embrace this the
richest treasure of life ; for as it surpasses all the other
riches and treasures of this world by giving us a long and
healthy life, so it deserves to be loved, sought after, and
preserved always by all.

Divine Sobriety, pleasing to God, the friend of
nature, the daughter of reason, the sister of virtue, the
companion of temperate living; modest, agreeable,
contented with little, orderly and refined in all her
operations ! From her, as from a root, spring life, health,
cheerfulness, industry, studiousness, and all those actions
which are worthy of a true and noble soul. All laws, both
divine and human, favor her. From her presence flee—
as so many clouds from the sunshine— reveling, dis-
orders, gluttony, excessive humors, indispositions, fevers,
pains, and the dangers of death. Her beauty attracts
every noble mind. Her security promises to all her fol-
lowers a graceful and enduring life. Her happiness
invites each one, with but little trouble, to the acquisition
of her victories. And, finally, she pledges herself to be a
kind and benevolent guardian of the life of every human
being— of the rich as well as of the poor; of man as of
woman; of the old as of the young. To the rich she
teaches modesty, to the poor thrift ; to man continence, to
woman chastity; to the old how to guard against death,
and to the young how to hope more firmly and more
securely for length of days. Sobriety purifies the senses ;
lightens the body ; quickens the intellect ; cheers the mind ;
makes the memory tenacious, the motions swift, the

[76]

THE ART OF LIVINQ LONG

actions ready and prompt. Through her, the soul, almost
delivered of its earthly burden, enjoys to a great extent
its liberty; the vital spirits move softly in the arteries;
the blood courses through the veins ; the heat of the body,
always mild and temperate, produces mild and temperate
effects ; and, finally, all our faculties preserve, with most
beautiful order, a joyous and pleasing harmony.

0 most holy and most innocent Sobriety, the sole
refreshment of nature, the loving mother of human life,
the true medicine both of the soul and of the body; how
much should men praise and thank thee for thy courteous
gifts ! Thou givest them the means of preserving life in
health, that blessing than which it did not please God we
should have a greater in this world— life and existence, so
naturally prized, so willingly guarded by every living
creature !

As it is not my intention to make, at this time, a
panegyric on this rare and excellent virtue, and in order
that I may be moderate, even in its regard, I shall bring
this treatise to a close ; not that infinitely more might not
yet be said in its behalf than I have said already, but
because it is my wish to postpone the remainder of its
praises to another occasion.

[76]

THE SECOND DISCOURSE

Written at the Age of Eighty-six

Wherein the author further dwells upon the vital neces-
sity of temperate and regular habits of life as
the only means of securing or
preserving perfect health

nY treatise, ''The Temperate Life," has begun, as I '
desired it should, to render great service to many
of those persons born with weak constitutions,
who, for this reason, feel so very sick whenever they
commit the slightest excess, that they could not possibly
feel worse— a thing, which, it must be allowed, does not
happen to those who are born with robust constitutions.
A number of these delicate persons, having read the
above-mentioned treatise, have commenced to follow the
regular mode of life therein recommended by me, con-
vinced by experience of its beneficial influence.

And now, in like manner, I desire to benefit those
fortunately born with strong constitutions, who, relying
too much upon that fact, lead irregular lives; in conse-

[77]

THE ABT OP LIVINQ LONG

quence of which, by the time they reach the age of sixty
or thereabout, they become afflicted with various distress-
ing ills. Some suffer with the gout, some with pains in the
side, and others with pains in the stomach or with other
complaints; yet with none of these would they ever be
troubled were they to lead the temperate life. And, as
they now die of these infirmities before reaching their
eightieth year, they would, in the contrary case, live to
the age of one hundred, the term of life granted by God,
and by our mother Nature, to us her children; for it
is but reasonable to believe the wish of this excellent
mother is that every one of us should attain that natural
limit, in order to enjoy the blessings of every period of
life.

Our birth is subject to the revolutions of the heavens,
which have great power over it, especially with regard to
the formation of good and bad constitutions. This is a
condition which Nature cannot alter ; for, if she could, she
would provide that all be born with robust constitutions.
She hopes, however, that man, being gifted with intellect
and reason, will himself supply by art that which the
heavens have denied him; and that, by means of the
temperate life, he may succeed in freeing himself of his
bad constitution, and be enabled to enjoy a long life in
the possession of unvarying perfect health. And there
is no doubt that man can, by means of art, free himself
partially from the control of the heavens, the common
opinion being that, while they influence, they do not
compel us. Hence have we that saying of the learned;
''The wise man has power over the stars."

I was born with a very choleric disposition, insomuch
that it was impossible for any person to deal with me.
But I recognized the fact, and reflected that a wrathful
man is no less than insane at times ; that is to say, when

[78]

LOXnS COBNAKO'S TREATISE

he is under the sway of his furious passions, he is devoid
of both intellect and reason. I resolved, through the
exercise of reason, to rid myself of my passionate
temper; and I succeeded so well that now— though, as I
have said, I am naturally inclined to anger— I never allow
myself to give way to it, or, at most, only in a slight
degree.

Any man, who, by nature, is of a bad constitution,
may similarly, through the use of reason and the help of
the temperate life, enjoy perfect health to a very great
age; just as I have done, although my constitution was
naturally so wretched that it seemed impossible I should
live beyond the age of forty. Whereas, I am now in my
eighty-sixth year, full of health and strength ; and, were
it not for the long and severe illnesses with which I was
visited so frequently during my youth and which were so
serious that the physicians at times despaired of saving
me, I should have hoped to reach the above-mentioned
term of a hundred years. But, through those illnesses, I
lost a large part of my radical moisture ; and, as this loss
can never be repaired, reason teaches that it will be im-
possible for me to reach the extreme term. Therefore, as
I shall show later on, I never give the matter a thought.
It is quite enough for me that I have lived forty-six years
longer than I could reasonably have expected; and that,
at such an advanced age as mine, all my senses and
organs remain in perfect condition— even my teeth, my
voice, my memory, and my heart. And as for my brain,
it, especially, is more active now than it ever was. Nor do
these powers suffer any decline with the increase of years
—a blessing to be attributed solely to the fact of my
increasing the temperateness of my life.

For, as my years multiply, I lessen the quantity of
my food; since, indeed, this decrease is absolutely neces-

[79]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

saiy and cannot be avoided. We cannot live forever;
and, as the end of life draws near, man is reduced by
degrees to that state in which he is no longer able to eat
anything at all, save it may be to swallow, and that with
difficulty, the yolk of an egg each day. Thus, as I am
confident I shall do, he closes his career by mere dis-
solution of the elements and without any pain or illness.
This, certainly a most desirable lot, is one that will be
granted to all, of what degree or condition soever, who
lead the temperate life, whether they occupy a high
position, or that of the middle class, or are found in the
humblest ranks of life; for we all belong to one species,
and are composed of the same four elements.

And, since a long and healthy life is a blessing to be
highly valued by man, as I shall hereafter explain, I
conclude he is in duty bound to do all in his power to
attain it. Nor should any hope to enjoy this blessing of
longevity without the means of the temperate life, even
though they may have heard it said that some who did
not live temperately, but, on the contrary, ate much of
every kind of food and drank large quantities of wine,
have lived, in the enjoyment of health, to see their
hundredth year. For, in holding out to themselves the
hope that this good fortune will, in like manner, be
vouchsafed to them also, they make two mistakes : in the
first place, there is scarcely one man in a hundred
thousand, who, living such a life, ever attains that
happiness ; and, secondly, the intemperate sicken and die
in consequence of their manner of living, and can never
be sure of death without ills or infirmity.

Therefore, the only mode of living that will render
you secure in the hope of long years in health consists in
your adopting, at least after the age of forty, the
temperate life. This is not difficult to observe; since so

[80]

LOUIS CORNARO'S TREATISE

many in the past, as history informs us, have observed it ;
and many, of whom I am one, are doing so at the present
time— and we are all men; and man, being a rational
animal, does much as he wills to do. The orderly and
temperate life consists solely in the observance of two
rules relative to the quality and the quantity of our food.
The first, which regards quality, consists in our eating
and drinking only such things as agree with the stomach ;
while the latter, which relates to quantity, consists in our
using only such an amount of them as can be easily
digested. Every man, by the time he has reached the age
of forty, fifty, or, at any rate, sixty years, ought surely
to be familiar with the conditions relating to the quality
and quantity of food suited to his individual constitution ;
and he who observes these two rules, lives the orderly
and temperate life— a life which has so much virtue and
power that it renders the humors of the body most
perfect, harmonious, and united. Indeed, they are
brought to so satisfactory a condition that it is impossible
they should ever be disturbed or altered by any form of
disorder which we may incur, such as suffering extreme
heat or cold, extraordinary fatigue, loss of customary
sleep, or any other disorder— unless carried to the last
excess.

In a word, the humors of the body, if it be governed
by these two excellent rules relative to eating and
drinking, resist weakening changes; thus fever, from
which proceeds untimely death, is made impossible. It
would seem, then, that every man should observe the
orderly life ; for it is beyond doubt that whoever does not
follow it, but lives a disorderly and intemperate life, is, on
account of excessive eating and drinking as well as of
each and every one of the other innumerable disorders,
constantly exposed to the danger of sickness and of death.

[81]

THE ART oF LIVING LONG

I admit it to be quite true that even those who are
faithful to the two rules in regard to eating and drinking,
—the observance of which constitutes the orderly and
temperate life,— may, if exposed to some of the other dis-
orders, be ailing for a day or two; but their indisposition
will never be able to cause fever. They may, likewise, be
influenced by the revolutions of the heavens. But neither
the heavens, nor those disorders, are capable of disturb-
ing the humors of those who follow the temperate life.
This statement is but conformable to reason and nature ;
since the disorders of eating and drinking are internal,
while all others are external only.

But there are persons, who, notwithstanding they
are advanced in years, are none the less sensual. These
maintain that neither the quantity nor the quality of their
food or drink in any way injures them; therefore they
use, without discrimination, large quantities of different
viands, and are equally indiscreet with regard to drink,
as if ignorant in what region of the body the stomach is
situated. Thus they give proof of their gross sensuality
and of the fact that they are the friends of gluttony. To
these be it set forth, that what they assert is not possible
according to nature; for whoever is bom must, neces-
sarily, bring into this world with him either a warm, or
a cold, or else a moderate temperament. Now to say
that warm foods agree with a warm temperament, that
cold foods agree with a cold one, or that foods which
are not of a moderate quality agree with a moderate
temperament, is to state something naturally impossible.
Therefore each one must choose the quality of food best
suited to his constitution. Nor can those addicted to
sensuality argue that, whenever they fall sick, they are
enabled to free themselves of their sickness by clearing
their systems with medicines and then observing a strict

[82]

LOUIS CORNAEO'S TREATISE

diet. It is very evident, thereby, that their trouble
arises solely from indulgence in overmuch food, and
that of a quality unsuited to their stomachs.

There are other persons, likewise elderly, who
declare that they are obliged to eat and drink a great
deal to maintain the natural warmth of their bodies,
which constantly diminishes as their years increase;
that they must have whatever food pleases their taste,
whether hot, or cold, or temperate; and that, were they
to live the temperate life, they would soon die. My
answer thereto is that kind Mother Nature, in order
that the aged, whom she loves, may be preserved to yet
greater age, has so provided that they are able to live
with very little food, even as I do ; because the stomachs
of the old and feeble cannot digest large quantities.
They need not fear that their lives will be shortened by
reason of their not taking much food; since, by using
very little when sick, they recover their health— and we
know how sparing is the diet by the use of which inva-
lids are restored. If, by confining themselves to a scanty
fare when ill, they are freed of their disorders, why
should they fear that, while using the larger quantity of
food permitted by the temperate life, they should not be
able to sustain their lives when in perfect health?

Others, again, say that it is better to suffer three or
four times a year with their usual complaints, such as
the gout, pains in the side, or other ills, rather than
suffer the whole year round by not gratifying the appe-
tite in the eating of those things which please the palate ;
since they know that by the medicine of a simple diet
they can speedily recover. To them I reply that, with the
increase of years and the consequent decrease of natural
heat, dieting cannot always have sufficient power to undo
the grave harm done by overeating. Hence they will

[83]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

necessarily succumb, at last, to these ailments of theirs:
for sickness shortens life, even as health prolongs it.

Others, again, insist that it is far better to live ten
years less, rather than to deprive one's self of the
pleasure of gratifying the appetite. To this, I would
say that men endowed with fine talents ought to prize a
long life very highly. For the balance, it matters little
that they do not value it; and, as they only make the
world less beautiful, it is as well, perhaps, that they
should die.

The great misfortune is that a refined and talented
man should die before he has attained the natural limit
of his life; since, if he is already a cardinal, when he
has passed the age of eighty he vsdll the more likely
become pope ; if he is a public official, how much greater
is the possibility of his being called to the highest dig-
nity in the state; if a man of letters, he will be looked
upon as a god on earth; and the same is true of all oth-
ers, according to their various occupations.

There are others, again, who, having come to old
age, when the stomach naturally possesses less digestive
power, will not consent to diminish the quantity of their
food ; nay, on the contrary, they increase it. And since,
eating twice in the day, they find they cannot digest the
great amount of food with which they burden their
stomachs, they decide that it is better to eat but once;
for, relying upon the long interval thus allowed between
meals, they believe themselves able to eat, at one time,
the same quantity which they had previously divided
into two meals. But, in doing this, they are guilty of
a fatal error ; for they eat such a quantity that the stom-
ach is overloaded so grievously as to suffer and become
sour, converting the excessive food into those bad humors
which kill men before their time.

[84]

LOUIS CORNAEO'S TREATISE

I may say I have never known any person to live
to a great age who indulged in that habit of life. Yet,
all these persons would live to enjoy the blessings of
extreme old age, if, as their years increase, they were
but to reduce the quantity of their food and distribute
it into several meals during the day, eating but little at
a time; for the stomachs of the aged cannot digest a
great quantity of food. Thus it is that an old man
becomes, in regard to his nourishment, more and more
like a child, who has to eat many times during the day.

Finally, we have those who say that while the tem-
perate life may indeed be able to preserve a man in
health, it cannot prolong his life. To these I answer
that experience proves the contrary to be true ; for we
know of many persons, who, in times past, have prolonged
their lives in this manner, and it may be observed that
I, too, have thus prolonged mine. It cannot, whatever
may be said, be objected that sobriety shortens the life
of man as sickness unquestionably does. Therefore it
is more conducive to the preservation of the radical
moisture that a man be always healthy than that he be
often sick. Hence we may reasonably conclude that the
holy temperate life is the true mother of health and of
longevity.

0 most blessed and holy Temperate Life, so profit-
able to man, and so helpful ! Thou enablest him to pro-
long his life to ripe old age, wherein he becomes wise
and hearkens to reason,— that faculty which is man's
peculiar property,— by means of which he is freed from
sensuality, reason's worst enemy, and its bitter fruits,
the passions and anxieties of the mind. Thou deliverest
him also from the fearful thought of death. Oh, how
much am I, thy faithful follower, indebted to thee! for
it is through thee I enjoy this beautiful world— beauti-

[85]

The AUt OB* LIVING LONG

ful, indeed, to him who knows how, by thy effectual help,
to make it so for himself, as thou hast enabled me to do I

At no other period of my existence, even in my
sensual and disorderly youth, could I make life so beauti-
ful; and yet, in order to enjoy every portion of it, I
spared neither expense nor anything else. For I found
that the pleasures of those years were, after all, but
vain and filled with disappointments ; so that I may say
I never knew the world was beautiful until I reached
old age.

0 truly Happy Life I Thou, besides all the aforesaid
manifold blessings thou grantest to thy old disciple, hast
brought his stomach to so good and perfect a condition
that he now relishes plain bread more than he ever did
the most delicate viands in the years of his youth. All
this thou dost because thou art reasonable, knowing that
bread is the proper food of man when accompanied by
a healthful appetite. This natural company, so long as
a man follows the temperate life, he may be sure will
never fail him; since, he eating but little, the stomach
is but lightly burdened and has always, within a short
time, a renewed desire for food. For this reason plain
bread is so much relished. This I have proved by my
own experience to be true; and I declare that I enjoy
bread so much that I should be afraid of incurring the
vice of gluttony, were it not that I am convinced it is
necessary we should eat of it and that we cannot partake
of a more natural food.

And thou. Mother Nature, so loving to thy old man,
preserving him so long! Thou, besides providing that
with little food he may maintain himself, hast moreover
shown him— to favor him more and in order that his
nourishment may be more profitable to him— that, while
in youth he partook of two meals a day, now, that he

[86]

LOUIS CORNAEO'S TBEATISE

has attained old age, his food must be divided into four ;
since, thus divided, it will be more easily digested by
his stomach. In this way thou showest him that, as in
youth he enjoyed the pleasures of the table but twice a
day, now, in his old age, he may enjoy them four times,
provided, however, he diminishes the quantity of his
food as he advances in age.

As thou showest me, so do I observe. In conse-
quence of which, my spirits, never oppressed by much
food, but simply sustained, are always cheerful ; and their
energy is never greater than after meals. For I feel,
when I leave the table, that I must sing, and, after sing-
ing, that I must write. This writing immediately after
eating does not cause me any discomfort ; nor is my mind
less clear then than at other times. And I do not feel
like sleeping; for the small amount of food I take can-
not make me drowsy, as it is insufficient to send fumes
from the stomach to the head.

Oh, how profitable it is to the old to eat but little I
I, accordingly, who am filled with the knowledge of this
truth, eat only what is enough to sustain my life; and
my food is as follows: _

First, bread; then, bread soup or light broth with
an egg, or some other nice little dish of this kind; of
meats, I eat veal, kid, and mutton; I eat fowls of all
kinds, as well as partridges and birds like the thrush. I
also partake of such salt-water fish as the goldney and
the like; and, among the various fresh- water kinds, the
pike and others.

As all these articles of food are suited to old people,
the latter must be satisfied with them and not demand
others ; for they are quite sufficient, both in number and
variety. Old persons, who, on account of poverty, cannot
afford to indulge in all of these things, may maintain

[87]

THE ART OP LIVING LONG

their lives with bread, bread soup, and eggs— foods that
certainly cannot be wanting even to a poor man, unless
he be one of the kind commonly known as good-for-
nothing.

Yet, even though the poor should eat nothing but
bread, bread soup, and eggs, they must not take a greater
quantity than that which can be easily digested ; for they
must, at all times, remember that he who is constantly
faithful to the above-mentioned rules in regard to the
quantity and quality of his food, cannot die except by
simple dissolution and without illness.

Oh, what a difference there is between the orderly
and a disorderly life! The former blesses a man with
perfect health and, at the same time, lengthens his life;
while the latter, on the other hand, after bringing infirm-
ities upon him, causes him to die before his time.

0 thou unhappy and wretched disorderly life, thou
art my sworn enemy ; for thou knowest how to do nothing
save to murder those who follow thee! How many of
my dearest relatives and friends hast thou snatched from
me, because, for thy sake, they would not listen to my
advice! But for thee, I might at this moment be enjoy-
ing them!

Yet thou hast not succeeded in destroying me, though
right willingly wouldst thou have done so; but, in spite
of thee, I am still living and have reached this advanced
age. I rejoice in my eleven grandchildren by whom I
am surrounded, and who are all of bright intellect and
noble nature, healthy, beautiful, fond of their studies,
and inclined to good habits. Them, if I had listened to
thee, I should never have enjoyed. Nor, had I followed
thee, should I ever have experienced the pleasure now
afforded me in the comfortable and beautiful habitations
of my own creation, which I have surrounded with

[88]

LOUIS CORNAKO S TBEATISE

attractive gardens that have required great length of
time to be brought to their present state of perfection.

No ! for thy nature is to murder all those who follow
thee, before they have the joy of witnessing the comple-
tion of their houses and gardens. Whilst I, to thy con-
fusion, have already enjoyed the comfort of mine for
many years.

Thou art a vice so pestilential that thou spreadest
sickness and corruption throughout the world; for which
reason I have determined to use every means in my
power to deliver mankind from thy clutches, at least as
far as I am able. I have resolved to work against thee
in such a manner that my eleven grandchildren, after
me, shall make thee known for that most wretched and
vicious thing thou really art— the mortal enemy of all
men who are born.

I am astonished, indeed, that men gifted with fine
intellect— for there are many such— and who have
reached a high position either in literature or some other
occupation, should not embrace and follow the temperate
life, at least when they come to the age of fifty or sixty
and are troubled with any of the above-mentioned dis-
orders; for, by following the temperate life, they could
easily deliver themselves from these ailments, which,
later on, if allowed to make further progress, will
become incurable. I do not wonder so much that some
young men— those of them, at least, whose lives and
habits are controlled by sensuality— should neglect
sobriety; but certainly, after a man has passed the age
of fifty, his life should be altogether guided by reason,
which teaches that the gratification of the tastes and
appetites means infirmity and death.

If this pleasure of the taste were a lasting one, we
might have some patience with those who are so ready

[89]

THE ABT OP LIVING LONG

to yield to it. But it is so short-lived that it is no sooner
begun than ended; while the infirmities which proceed
from it are of very long duration. Moreover, to the man
who follows the temperate life it is assuredly a great
satisfaction to know, when he has finished eating, that
the food he has taken will never cause him any sickness,
but will keep him in perfect health.

I have now completed the short addition I wished to
make to my treatise, "The Temperate Life"— an addi-
tion based on new arguments, though, at the same time,
it is one of few words. For I have observed that long
discourses are read by a few only, while brief ones are
read by many; and I most heartily desire that this be
read by many, in order that it may prove useful to many.

[90]

THE THIPD DISCOURSE

Written at the Age of Ninety- one
A LETTEK FROM THE VENERABLE CORNARO

TO

THE REVEREND DANIEL BARBARO^

PATRIARCH ELECT OF AQUILEIA**

In which he gives manWnd a rule of life that will, If

followe<l, assure a heaifhv and

happy old age

rE intellect of mdn truly partakes, in some degree,
of the divine prerogatives; for it was, indeed,
something divine which led him to find a way of
conversing, by means of writing, with another who is at
a distance. And a thing altogether divine, also, is that
natural faculty which enables him, when thus separated,
to behold, with the eye of thought, his beloved friend;
even as I now see you. Sir, and address to you this my
discourse on a pleasant and profitable subject.

* See Note J ** See Note K

[91]

THE ART OF LIYINQ LONG

It is true that what I shall write will be upon a mat-
ter which has already been treated at other times, but
never by any man at the age of ninety-one— at which
time of life I am now writing. On account of my age,
I cannot be at fault; for the more my years multiply,
the more my strength also increases. And I, who am
well aware from what cause this proceeds, feel compelled
to make it known, and to show that all mankind may pos-
sess an earthly paradise after the age of eighty— a para-
dise with which I myself am blessed. But one cannot
attain it otherwise than by means of holy self-restraint
and the temperate life— two virtues much loved by the
great God, because they are the enemies of sensuality
and the friends of reason.

Now, Sir, to begin my discourse, I shall tell you
that I have, within the past few days, been visited by a
number of excellent professors who lecture in our Uni-
versity—doctors of medicine as well as philosophy.
These gentlemen are all well acquainted with my age,
and with my manner and habits of living, and know how
full I am of cheerfulness and health. They know, too,
that all my senses are in perfect condition— as also are
my memory, my heart, and my mind— and that this is
equally true of even my voice and my teeth. Nor are
they ignorant of the fact that I constantly write, and
with my own hand, eight hours a day, and always on
subjects profitable to the world; and, in addition to this,
that I walk and sing for many other hours.

Oh, how beautiful and sonorous has my voice
become! If you could but hear me sing my prayers to
the accompaniment of the lyre, as King David sang to
that of the harp, I assure you that you would derive great
pleasure.

Among other things, my visitors, the doctors, said:

[92]

LOUIS CORNAKO S TEEATISE

"It is certainly marvelous that you are able to write so
much, and upon subjects which require such thought and
spirit. ' ' Concerning which, Sir, to tell you the truth, one
can fonn no idea of the extreme pleasure and satisfac-
tion I experience in writing thus; and, when I reflect
that my writings will assuredly be useful to mankind,
you can readily understand how great is my delight.

In fine, they said that I could by no means be con-
sidered an old man. For all my actions are those of
youth, and not at all like the actions of other old persons ;
who, when they have arrived at the age of eighty, are
almost helpless, besides having to suffer either from
pains in the side or from some other complaint. In
order to rid themselves of these troubles, they are con-
tinually subject to medical treatment or surgical opera-
tions, all of which are a great annoyance. Should there
be any among them so fortunate as not to suffer from
these infirmities, it will be found that their senses have
begun to fail— either that of sight, or that of hearing,
or some other one. We know of old persons who cannot
walk, and of others who cannot use their hands because
they tremble; and, if one of the number is so favored
as to be free from the above troubles, it will be observed
that he does not have a perfect memory, or else that his
heart or his mind is weak. In a word, there is not one
among them who enjoys a cheerful, happy, and contented
life, such as mine is.

But, besides these many advantages which I pos-
sess, there is a special one which caused them to wonder
extremely, because it is so very uncommon and contrary
to nature; and that is, that I should have been able to
keep myself alive during the past fifty years, notwith-
standing the presence of an extreme difficulty— one of a
mortal character— that has always been present in me.

[93]

THE ART OP LIVING LONG

This diflficulty, which cannot be remedied, because it is a
natural and hidden property of my constitution, con-
sists in this: every year, from the beginning of July
and throughout the whole of August, I cannot drink any
kind of wine soever, be it of what variety of grape or
of what country it may; for, during the whole of those
two months, wine, besides being very unfriendly to my
palate, disagrees with my stomach. So that, being with-
out my milk,— for wine is truly the milk of the aged,—
I am left without anything to drink ; for waters, in what-
ever way they may be doctored or prepared, have not
the virtue of wine, and fail to relieve me. My stomach
becomes very much disordered, and I can eat but very
little in consequence. This scarcity of food and lack of
wine reduces me, by the latter part of August, to a con-
dition of extreme mortal weakness. Neither does strong
chicken broth nor any other remedy benefit me in the
least; so that, through weakness alone,— not by any ail-
ment,—I am brought very near a dying condition. It
was evident to my visitors that, if the new wine, which
I am always careful to have ready every year by the
beginning of September, were not then forthcoming, the
delay would be the cause of my death.

But they were yet more amazed at the fact that this
new wine should have power to restore, in two or three
days, the strength of which the old wine had deprived
me— a thing of which they had themselves been eye-wit-
nesses, and which could not be believed except by those
who have seen it.

**Some of us," the doctors went on to say, ''have
observed your strange case for many years in succes-
sion ; and, for the past ten years, it has been our opinion
that, considering what a mortal difficulty you are under
as well as your increasing age, it would be impossible

[94]

LOUIS COBNARO'S TREATISE

for you to live more than a year or two longer. Yet we
see, this year, that your weakness is less than in previous
years. ' '

This blessing, associated with so many others,
forced them to the conclusion that the union of all these
many favors was a special grace bestowed on me at birth
by Nature or by the heavens. In order to prove this
conclusion true,— though as a matter of fact it is false,
because not based upon good reasons and solid founda-
tions, but simply upon their own opinions,— they found
themselves under the necessity of giving utterance to
many beautiful and lofty things with the finest eloquence.
Eloquence, Sir, in men of intellect, verily has great
power; so much so, indeed, that it will persuade some
people to believe things that are not and can not be true.
Their words, however, were to me a great pleasure and
quite an amusing pastime; for it is certainly highly
entertaining to listen to such talk from men of their
intelligence.

And here I was granted another satisfaction;
namely, the thought that advanced age, by reason of its
experience, is able to confer learning upon the unlearned.
This is not difficult to understand; for length of days is
the real foundation of true knowledge— by means of
which, alone, I was made aware of the erroneousness of
their conclusions. Thus you see. Sir, how apt men are
to err in forming their opinions when these are not based
upon solid foundations.

In order, therefore, to undeceive them as well as to
be of other service to them, I told them plainly that their
conclusion was wrong, and that I would convince them
of this by clearly proving that the blessing which I enjoy
is not a special one, conferred upon me alone, but a gen-
eral one and such as every man may possess if he

[95]

THE ART OP LIVING LONG

choose. For I am only an ordinary mortal. Composed,
like everybody else, of the four elements, I have— in
addition to existence— sense, intellect, and reason. With
the two latter faculties every one of us is born, the great
God having willed that man. His creature whom He loves
so well, should possess these gifts and blessings; for
thus has He raised him above all the other creatures
which have sense only, in order that, by means of these
faculties, he may preserve himself in perfect health for
many years. Therefore mine is a universal blessing,
granted by God, and not by Nature or the heavens.

Man is, in his youth, however, more a sensual than
a rational creature, and is inclined to live accordingly.
Yet, when he has arrived at the age of forty or fifty, he
certainly ought to realize that he has been enabled to
reach the middle of life solely through the power of
youth and a young stomach, those natural gifts which
have helped him in the ascent of the hill. Now he must
bear in mind that, burdened with the disadvantage of old
age, he is about to descend it toward death. And, since
old age is exactly the opposite of youth, just as disorder
is the reverse of order, it becomes imperative for him
to change his habits of life with regard to eating and
drinking, upon which a long and healthy life depends.
As his earlier years were sensual and disorderly, the
balance of them must be exactly the contrary, reasonable
and orderly; because without order nothing can be pre-
served—least of all, the life of man. For it is well
proved by experience that, while disorder does grievous
harm, order is constantly beneficial.

It is necessarily impossible, in the nature of things,
that a man should be determined to satisfy his taste and
appetite, and yet, at the same time, commit no excesses ;
so, to be free from these excesses, I adopted the orderly

[96]

LOUIS CORN ABO 'S TEEATISE

and temperate life when I had once reached the state of
manhood. I shall not deny that, in the beginning, I
experienced some difficulty in abandoning an intemperate
life after leading it for so many years. But, in order
that I might be able to follow the temperate life, I prayed
to God that He would grant me the virtue of self-
restraint, knowing well that, when a man has firmly
resolved to realize a noble enterprise and one which he
is convinced he can accomplish,— though not with-
out difficulty,— it is made much easier by bending all
his energy upon doing it and actually setting to work.
Spurred by this resolve, I began, little by little, to draw
myself away from my disorderly life, and, little by little,
to embrace the orderly one. In this manner I gave
myself up to the temperate life, which has not since been
wearisome to me; although, on account of the weakness
of my constitution, I was compelled to be extremely
careful with regard to the quality and quantity of my
food and drink.

However, those persons who are blessed with strong
constitutions may make use of many other kinds and
qualities of food and drink, and partake of them in
greater quantities, than I do; so that, even though the
life they follow be the temperate one, it need not be as
strict as mine, but much freer.

After they had heard my arguments and found them
grounded, as they were, upon solid foundations, my
visitors admitted that all I had said was true. The
youngest of them, however, while ready to grant that the
graces and advantages which I enjoyed were general,
contended that I had had at least one special blessing
vouchsafed me, in being able to relinquish so easily the
kind of life I had so long followed, and to accustom
myself to lead the other ; because, although he had found

[97]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

this change, by his own experience, to be feasible, to
him it had been very difficult.

I replied that, being a man like himself, I had also
found it no easy matter to pass from the one kind of life
to the other; but I knew it was unworthy of a man
to abandon a noble undertaking simply on account of the
difficulties encountered. For, the more obstacles a man
meets and overcomes, the greater is the honor he gains
and the more pleasing his action in the sight of God.

Our Maker, having ordained that the life of man
should last for many years, is desirous that everyone
should attain the extreme limit; since He knows that,
after the age of eighty, man is wholly freed from the
bitter fruits of sensuality and is replenished with those
of holy reason. Then, of necessity, vices and sins are
left behind. Wherefore it is that God wishes we should
all live to extreme age; and He has ordained that they
who do so reach their natural limit of earthly existence,
shall terminate it without pain or sickness and by simple
dissolution. Such is, indeed, the natural way of depart-
ing from this world, when we leave the mortal life to
enter upon the immortal one— as it will be my lot to do ;
for I feel certain that I shall die while singing my
prayers.

The awful thought of death does not trouble me in
the least, although I realize, on account of my many
years, I am nigh to it; for I reflect that I was born to
die, and that many others have departed this life at a
much younger age than mine.

Nor am I disturbed by that other thought, a com-
panion of the foregoing one; namely, the thought of the
punishment, which, after death, must be suffered for
sins committed in this life. For I am a good Christian ;
and, as such, I am bound to believe that I shall be

[98]

LOUIS CORNARO's TREATISE

delivered from that punishment by virtue of the most
sacred blood of Christ, which He shed in order to free
us, His faithful servants, from those pains. Oh, what
a beautiful life is mine, and how happy my end will be !

Having heard me out, the young man replied that,
in order to gain the numerous and great advantages I
had gained, he was determined to embrace the temperate
life I had so long practiced. He further declared
he had already gained a highly important one; namely,
that as he had always had a lively wish to live to a very
great age, so now he desired to attain it as quickly as
possible, in order to enter sooner into possession of the
delights of that most enjoyable season.

The great longing I had to converse with you, Rever-
end Sir, has forced me to write at considerable length;
while that which I still wish to say to you obliges me to
continue my letter. But I shall be brief.

Dear Sir, there are some very sensual men who
claim that I have only wasted time, as well as labor, in
composing my treatise, ''The Temperate Life," and the
additions I have made to it; for, as they allege, I am
exhorting men to adopt habits to which it is impossible
for them to conform. They assert that my treatise will
be as vain as is the "Republic" by Plato, who labored
to write of a system which was impracticable— that, as his
work is useless, so also will mine be.

I wonder much at such a line of argument on the
part of intelligent men; for, if they have read my
treatise, they must have clearly seen that I had led the
temperate life for many years before writing anything
regarding it. Nor should I ever have written, had not
my own experience convinced me, without a shadow of
doubt, not only that it is a practicable life and such as
all men may easily lead, but, furthermore, that it profits

[99]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

greatly because it is a life of virtue. I am so much
indebted to it myself that I felt obliged to write of it,
in order that I might make it known to others as the
inestimable blessing it truly is. I know of many persons,
who, after reading my treatise, have adopted that life;
and I know, too, that in past ages, as we read in
history, there were many who were remarkable as its
followers. Hence the objection which is urged against
Plato's ''Republic" certainly does not hold good in the
case of my treatise, "The Temperate Life." But these
sensual men, enemies of reason and friends of intemper-
ance, will only receive their just deserts if, while seeking
to gratify their every taste and appetite, they incur
painful sicknesses, and meet, as many such do, with a
premature death.

[100]

LORD BACON
1561—1626

From the painting by Paul Van Somer— No. 520, National Portrait Gallery,

London

Photograph copyrighted by Walker and Cockerell

THE rOURTH DISCOURSE

Written at the Age of Ninety-five

The Birth and Death or Man

n LOVING EXHORTATION

Irv which, bg the authorltg of his own experleace, the aged author

strives to persuade all mankind to follow the orderly and

temperate life, In order that they, too, may reach an

advanced age. In which to enjoy all those graces

and blessings that God In His goodness

Is pleased to grant to mortals

IN order that I may not fail in the discharge of my
duty— a law to which every man is bound— and, at
the same time, that I may not forego the pleasure
I invariably experience in being of service to my
fellow-men, I have determined to write and to make
known to those persons who do not know them— because
unacquainted with me— the things which are known and
seen by those who frequent my company. Certain facts
I shall now relate will, to some, appear difl&cult of belief

[103]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONQ

and well-nigh impossible ; nevertheless, since they are all
true and to be seen in reality, I will not refrain from
writing of them, that the knowledge of them may benefit
the world at large.

In the first place, I shall say that I have, through
the mercy of God, reached the age of ninety-five; that I
find myself, in spite of my great age, healthy, strong,
contented, and happy; and that I continually praise the
Divine Majesty for so much favor conferred upon me.
Moreover, in the generality of other old men whom I see,
no sooner have they arrived at the age of seventy, than
they are ailing and devoid of strength; melancholy; and
continually occupied with the thought of death. They
fear, from day to day, that their last hour will come ; so
much so, that it is impossible for anything to relieve
their minds of that dread. For my part, I do not ex-
perience the least trouble at the idea of death; for, as I
shall later on explain more clearly, I cannot bring my-
self to give it so much as a thought.

In addition to this, I shall demonstrate, beyond
question, the certainty I entertain of living to the age of
one hundred years. But, in order that I may proceed
methodically, I shall begin with the consideration of man
at his birth, studying him thence, step by step, through
every stage of life until his death.

I say, then, that some human beings are ushered into
this world with so little vitality that they live but a very
few days, months, or years, as the case may be. The
cause of this want of vitality it is impossible to know to
a certainty, whether it arises from some imperfection of
the father or mother, from the revolutions of the heavens,
or from some defect in Nature. This latter, however,
can happen only when she is subject to the influence of
the heavens ; for I could never persuade myself to believe

[104]

LOUIS CORNARO'S TREATISE

that Nature, being the mother of all, could be so ungener-
ous to any of her children. Hence, not being able to
ascertain the real cause, we must be content to accept the
facts as we daily observe them.

Others are bom with greater vitality, yet with feeble
and poor constitutions. Of these, some live to the age
of ten, others to twenty, others even to thirty or forty
years; but they never reach old age.

Others, again, begin life with perfect constitutions
and live to old age ; but the health of the greater x^art of
them is, as I have said before, in a very wretched con-
dition. They are themselves the sole cause of this;
simply because, foolishly relying too much upon their
perfect natures, they are unwilling, under any circum-
stances, to modify their manner of living when passing
from youth to old age, as though they still possessed
their early vigor unimpaired. Indeed, they expect to be
able to continue to live as disorderly a life, after they
have begun the descent of the hill, as they did throughout
the years of their youth; since they never for a moment
consider that they are approaching old age and that
their constitutions have lost their former vigor. Nor do
they ever pause to reflect that their stomachs have lost
their natural heat, and that they should, by reason of this
circumstance, be more careful with regard to quality in
the selection of their food and drink, and also with regard
to the quantity thereof, to lessen it gradually. But the
latter they refuse to do; instead of which, they attempt
to augment it, claiming— as an excuse— that, since a man
loses his strength with advancing age, the deficiency
must be made good by a greater quantity of nourish-
ment, as it is that which keeps him alive.

These persons, however, argue very incorrectly.
For, as the natural heat of man gradually diminishes with

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The art of living long

the increase of age, it becomes necessary for him to
decrease gradually, in proportion, the amount of his
food and drink ; since nature requires very little to main-
tain the life of an old man. Although reason should
convince them tliat this is the case, yet these men refuse to
admit it, and pursue their usual life of disorder as here-
tofore. Were they to act differently, abandoning their
irregular habits and adopting orderly and temperate
ones, they would live to old age— as I have— in good con-
dition. Being, by the grace of God, of so robust and
perfect constitutions, they would live until they reached
the age of a hundred and twenty, as history points out
to us that others— born, of course, with perfect constitu-
tions—have done, who led the temperate life.

I am certain I, too, should live to that age, had it
been my good fortune to receive a similar blessing at my
birth; but, because I was born with a poor constitution,
I fear I shall not live much beyond a hundred years. Yet
all those who are born delicate, like myself, would no
doubt reach, in perfect health, the age of a hundred and
more years,— as I feel will be the case with me,— were
they to embrace the temperate life as I have done.

This certainty of being able to live for many years
seems to me of great value. Indeed, it should be highly
prized ; since no man can be sure of even one single hour
of existence unless he be one of those who follow the
temperate life. These alone have solid ground for their
hopes of a long life— hopes founded upon good and true
natural reasons which have never been known to fail.
For it is impossible, in the regular course of nature, that
he who leads the orderly and temperate life should ever
fall sick; nor, though death is eventually certain, need
he ever die a premature or an unnatural death. It is
not possible that he should die earlier than is occasioned

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by the natural failure of the body ; for the temperate life
has the power to remove every cause of sickness; and
without a cause, sickness cannot develop. When the
cause is removed, sickness likewise is removed ; and sick-
ness being removed, an unnatural death is out of the
question.

It is beyond doubt that the orderly and temperate
life has the power and strength to remove the causes
of illness; for it is that which changes, for the better,
the humors of the body upon which— according as they
are good or bad— man's health or sickness, life or death,
depends. If these humors were bad, the temperate life
has the natural power to make them better and, in time,
perfect; and, being able to make them so, it has the
further power to maintain, equalize, and unite them so
that they cannot become separated, agitated, or altered,
and cause cruel fevers and, finally, death.

It is true, however,— and this no one can reasonably
deny,— that even though they be made ever so good, yet,
as time progresses, consuming all things, these humors
of the body will also be consumed and dissolved at last.
When they are thus dissolved, man must die a natural
death,— without pain or illness,— just as, in the course
of time, I shall pass away when the humors of my body
shall be finally consumed.

They are now, however, all in good condition. It
is not possible they should be otherwise ; for I am healthy,
cheerful, and contented; my appetite is so good that I
always eat with relish; my sleep is sweet and peaceful;
and, moreover, all my faculties are in a condition as
perfect as ever they were ; my mind is more- than ever
keen and clear; my judgment sound; my memory tena-
cious; my heart full of life; and my voice— that which is
wont to be the first thing in man to fail— is so strong and

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THE AKT OF LIVING LONG

sonorous that, in consequence, I am obliged to sing aloud
my morning and evening prayers, which I had formerly
been accustomed to say in a low and hushed tone.
These are true and certain indications that the humors
of my body are all good and can never be consumed
save by time alone, as everybody who is well acquainted
with me declares.

Oh, how glorious will have been this life of mine ! so
full of all the happiness that can be enjoyed in this world,
and so free— as it truly is— from the tyranny of sensu-
ality, which, thanks to my many years, has been driven
out by reason! For, where reason reigns, no place is
left for sensuality, nor for its bitter fruits, the passions
and anxieties of the mind accompanied by a well-nigh
endless train of afflicting and sorrowful thoughts.

As for the thought of death, it can have no place in
my mind; for there is nothing sensual in me. Even the
death of any of my grandchildren, or of any other rel-
atives or friends, could never cause me trouble except
the first instinctive motion of the soul, which, however,
soon passes away. How much less could I lose my
serenity through any loss of worldly wealth! Many of
my friends have witnessed this to their great astonish-
ment. However, this is the privilege of those only who
attain extreme age by means of the temperate life and not
merely through the aid of a strong constitution ; it is the
former, not the latter, who enjoy every moment of life,
as I djo, amid continual consolations and pleasures.

And who would not enjoy life at an age when, as
I have already shown, it is free from the innumerable
miseries by which we all know the younger ages are
afflicted! How wholly mine, in its happiness, is free
from these miseries, I shall now set forth.

To begin, the first of joys is to be of service to one's
beloved country. Oh, what a glorious enjoyment it

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LOUIS CORNAEO'S TBEATISE

is, what a source of infinite pleasure to me, that I am
able to show Venice the manner in which she may pre-
serve her valuable lagoon and harbor so that they will
not alter for thousands of years to come ! Thus she will
continue to bear her wonderful and magnificent name of
Virgin City, which indeed she is, there being no other
like her in all the world; while her high and noble
title. Queen of the Sea, will, by this means, become still
more exalted. I can never fail to fully rejoice and take
great comfort in this.

There is another thing which affords me much con-
tentment ; it is, that I have shown this Virgin and Queen
how she may be abundantly supplied with food, by pre-
paring for cultivation— with returns much above the ex-
pense—large tracts of land, marshes as well as dry plains,
all hitherto useless and waste.

Another sweet and unalloyed satisfaction I ex-
perience is, that I have pointed out to Venice how she
may be made stronger, although she is now so strong
as to be almost impregnable ; how her loveliness may be
increased, although she is now so beautiful; how she
may be made richer, although now exceedingly wealthy;
and how her air, which is now so good, may be made
perfect.

These three pleasures afford me the greatest possible
satisfaction, because based wholly upon my desire to
be useful to others. And who could find a drawback to
them, since in reality none exists !

Having lost a considerable portion of my income
through misfortunes befallen my grandchildren, it is
another source of happiness to me that, merely through
the activity of my thoughts which do not sleep, without
any bodily fatigue, and with but little labor of the mind,
I found a sure and unerring way of repairing— yea, of

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THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

doubly remedying— that loss, by means of true and scien-
tific farming.

Yet one more gratification afforded me is the abun-
dant evidence I receive that my treatise, **The Temper-
ate Life," which I composed to be of service to others,
is really doing much good. I can entertain no doubt of
this; since some tell me, by word of mouth, that they
have derived great benefit from it— and it is evident they
have; while others acknowledge by letter that, after
God, it is to me they owe their very lives.

Another great consolation enjoyed by me is that of
writing with my own hand— and, to be of use, I write a
great deal— on various topics, especially upon archi-
tecture and agriculture.

Yet another of my pleasures consists in having the
good fortune to converse with various men of fine and
high intellect, from whom, even at my advanced age, I
never fail to learn something. Oh, what a delight it
is to feel that, at this great age of mine, it is no labor
whatsoever to learn, no matter how great, high, and diffi-
cult the subjects may be!

Furthermore, though it is a thing which to some may
seem impossible and in no manner to be believed, I wish
to say that, in this extreme age of mine, I enjoy two
lives at the same time : one, the earthly, which I possess
in reality; the other, the heavenly, which I possess in
thought. For thought truly has the power of imparting
happiness when it is grounded upon something we are
confident we shall enjoy, as I do firmly hope and cer-
tainly believe I shall enjoy an eternal life through
the infinite goodness and mercy of the great God. I en-
joy this earthly existence through the excellence of the
orderly and temperate life, which is so pleasing to His
Majesty because it is full of virtue and the enemy of
vice. At the same time I rejoice in the heavenly one.

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LOUIS COKNAKO'S TREATISE

which God has given me now to enjoy in thought; for
He has taken from me the power to think of it differently,
so sure am I to possess it some day.

And I hold that our departure from this world is
not death, but merely a passage which the soul makes
from this earthly life to the heavenly one, immortal and
infinitely perfect— a belief which I am sure cannot but
be the true one.

Hence my thoughts are raised to heights so sublime
that they cannot descend to the consideration of such
worldly and common occurrences as the death of the
body, but, rather, are wholly absorbed in living the
heavenly and divine life. In this manner it comes to
pass that, as I said before, I incessantly enjoy two lives.
And I shall not feel any regret on account of the great
happiness I have in this earthly life, when that life shall
cease; for then my joy will be boundless, knowing, as I
do, that the ending of this life is but the beginning of
another, glorious and immortal.

Who could ever find weariness in a lot so truly
blessed and happy as the one I enjoy! Yet this happi-
ness would be the portion of every man if he would but
lead a life similar to the one I have led. And, assuredly,
it is in every man's power to lead such a life; for I am
nothing but a man and not a saint, only a servant of
God, to Whom the orderly life is well-pleasing.

There are many men who embrace a holy and beau-
tiful, spiritual and contemplative life, full of prayer.
Oh, were they faithful followers also of the orderly and
temperate life, how much more pleasing in the sight of
God would they render themselves, and how much more
beautiful would they make the world! They would be
esteemed as highly as were those, who, in ancient times,
added the practice of the temperate life to that of the
spiritual.

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THE ART OF LIVING LONG

Like them, they would live to the age of one hundred
and twenty; and, by the power of God, they would per-
form countless miracles, just as those others did.
Furthermore, they would constantly enjoy a healthy,
happy, and cheerful life ; whereas they are at present, for
the greater part, unhealthy, melancholy, and dissatisfied.

Since some of them believe that these aflfiyictions are
sent them by the great God for their salvation,— that they
may, in this life, make reparation for their sins,— I can-
not refrain from saying that, according to my judgment,
these persons are mistaken; for I cannot believe God
deems it good that man, whom He so much loves, should
be sickly, melancholy, and discontented. I believe, on
the contrary, that He wishes him to be healthy, cheerful,
and contented, precisely as those holy men in ancient
times were; who, becoming ever better servants of His
Majesty, performed the many and beautiful miracles of
which we read.

Oh, what a lovely and enjoyable place this world
would be— even more so than it was in the olden times I
For there are now many Orders which then did not ex-
ist, in which, if the temperate life were followed, we
might see so many venerable old men; and a wonderful
sight it would be. Nor would they, in the practice of the
temperate life, deviate from the regular rules of living
enjoined by their Orders ; on the contrary, they would im-
prove upon them. For every Order allows its members,
in the way of fare, to eat bread and drink wine, and, in
addition to that, sometimes to take eggs. Some Orders
allow even meat, besides vegetable soups, salads, fruits,
and pastries made with eggs— foods which often harm
them, and to some are a cause of death. They make use of
these because allowed to do so by their Orders, thinking,
perhaps, they would be doing wrong were they to abstain
from them. But it would not be wrong at all ; indeed, they

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LOUIS CORNARO S TREATISE

would act more properly, if, after they have passed the
age of thirty, they were to give up the use of such foods,
and live solely upon bread dipped in wine, bread soup,
and eggs with bread— the true diet to preserve the life of
a man of poor constitution. It would be, after all, a rule
less severe than that of those holy men of old in the
deserts; who, subsisting entirely upon wild fruits and
roots of herbs, and drinking nothing but pure water,
lived, as I have said, many years, and were always
healthy, cheerful, and contented. So, also, would these
of our own day be, were they to follow the temperate life.
And, at the same time, they would more easily find the
way to ascend to heaven, which is always open to every
faithful Christian; for thus it was our Redeemer left it
when He descended thence, coming upon earth that He
might shed His precious blood to deliver us from the
tyrannical servitude of the devil— all of which He did
through His infinite goodness.

In conclusion, I wish to say that, since old age is—
as, in truth, it is— filled and overflowing with so many
graces and blessings, and since I am one of the number
who enjoy them, I cannot fail— not wishing to be wanting
in charity— to give testimony to the fact, and to fully
certify to all men that my enjoyment is much greater
than I can now express in writing. I declare that I have
no other motive for writing but my hope that the
knowledge of so great a blessing as my old age has
proved to be, will induce every human being to deter-
mine to adopt this praiseworthy orderly and temperate
life, in favor of which I ceaselessly keep repeating. Live,
live, that you may become better servants of God!

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0 Luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree.
How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee!
How do thy potions, with insidious joy.
Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy!
Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown.
Boast of a florid vigor not their own:
At every draught more large and large they grow,
A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe;
Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound,
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.

— Oliver Goldsmith.

PART II

EXTKACTS

Selected and Arranged from

LORD BACON'S

"History or lite and Death"

and from
SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S

"Health and Long Lite"

The first physicians by debauch were made;
Excess began and sloth sustains the trade.
By chase our long-lived fathers eam'd their food;
Toil strung the nerves, and purified the blood;
But we their sons, a pamper d race of men.
Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten.
Better to hunt in fields for health unbought
Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.
The wise for cure on exercise depend:
God never made his work for man to mend.

— John Dryden.

EXTRACTS

Selected and Aeeanged from

LORD BACON'S

"History or Lite and Death"

Etc.*

T

o THE Present Age, and Postebity.
Gbeeting :

I have hope, and wish, that it [the ** History
of Life and Death"] may conduce to a common
good ; and that the nobler sort of physicians will advance
their thoughts, and not employ their time wholly in the
sordidness of cures; neither be honored for necessity
only; but that they will become coadjutors and instru-
ments of the Divine omnipotence and clemency in pro-
longing and renewing the life of man. For though we
Christians do continually aspire and pant after the land

* See Note C

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THE ART OF LIVING LONG

of promise, yet it will be a token of God's favor toward
us in our journeyings through this world's wilderness,
to have our shoes and garments— I mean those of our
frail bodies— little worn or impaired.

Fe. St. At. bans.

Men fear death, as children fear to go into the dark ;
and as that natural fear in children is increased with
tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation of
death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another world,
is holy and religious ; but the fear of it, as a tribute due
unto nature, is weak. It is as natural to die as to be born.
He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is
wounded in hot blood ; who, for the time, scarce feels the
hurt; and therefore a mind fixed and bent upon some-
what that is good, doth avert the dolors of death. It will
be hard to know the ways of death, unless we search out
and discover the seat or house, or rather den, of death.

Truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that
the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing
of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it,
and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the
sovereign good of human nature. Certainly, it is heaven
upon earth, to have a man's mind move in charity, rest
in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.

Man, the servant and interpreter of nature, does and
understands as much as he has actually or mentally
observed of the order of nature— himself, meanwhile,
inclosed around by the laws of nature ; he neither knows
nor can do more. The limit, therefore, of human power
and knowledge is in the faculties, with which man is
endowed by nature for moving and perceiving, as well
as in the state of present things. These faculties, though
of themselves weak and inept, are yet capable, when

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properly and regularly managed, of setting before the
judgment and use things most remote from sense and
action, and of overcoming greater difficulty of works and
obscurity of knowledge than any one hath yet learned to
wish.

Men see clearly, like owls, in the night of their own
notions ; but, in experience, as in the daylight, they wink
and are but half-sighted. I should wish to have Para-
celsus and Severinus for criers, when, with such clamors,
they convoke men to the suggestions of experience.

It appears to me that men know not either their
acquirements or their powers, and trust too much to the
former, and too little to the latter. Hence it arises, that,
either estimating the arts they have become acquainted
with at an absurd value, they require nothing more; or,
forming too low an opinion of themselves, they waste
their powers on trivial objects, without attempting any-
thing to the purpose. The sciences have thus their own
pillars, fixed as it were by fate ; since men are not roused
to penetrate beyond them either by zeal or hope. All
sciences seem, even now, to flourish most in their first
authors— Aristotle, Galen, Euclid, and Ptolemy; succes-
sion having not effected, nay, barely attempted, any great
matter. Men, therefore, are to be admonished to rouse
up their spirits, and try their strengths and turns, and
not refer all to the opinions and brains of a few. Even
those who have been determined to try for themselves,
to add their support to learning, and to enlarge its limits,
have not dared entirely to desert received opinions nor
to seek the springhead of things. Yet there have not
been wanting some, who, with greater daring, have con-
sidered everything open to them; and, employing the
force of their wit, have opened a passage for themselves
and their dogmas by prostrating and destroying all
before them.

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Power to do good is the true and lawful end of
aspiring; for good thoughts— though God accept them—
toward men are little better than good dreams, except
they be put in act.

The greatest trust between man and man is the trust
of giving counsel. Heraclitus saith well in one of his
enigmas, **Dry light is ever the best"; and certain it is,
that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from
another, is drier and purer than that which cometh from
his own understanding and judgment, which is ever
infused and drenched in his affections and customs; so
there is as much difference between the counsel that a
friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is
between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer; for
there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and there is
no such remedy against flattery of a man's self as the
liberty of a friend. The best preservative to keep the
mind in health is the faithful admonition of a friend. It
is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and
extreme absurdities many do commit, for want of a friend
to tell them of them, to the great damage both of their
fame and fortune.

The help of good counsel is that which setteth busi-
ness straight. The wisest princes need not think it any
diminution to their greatness, or derogation to their suf-
ficiency, to rely upon counsel. Solomon hath pronounced
that **in counsel is stability." Solomon's son found the
force of counsel, as his father saw the necessity of it.

It hath been noted that those who ascribe openly too
much to their own wisdom and policy, end unfortunate.
He that questioneth much, shall learn much and content
much— especially if he apply his questions to the skill of
the persons whom he asketh ; for he shall give them occa-
sion to please themselves in speaking, and himself shall
continually gather knowledge. Set before thee the best

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examples; for imitation is a globe of precepts. Ask
counsel of both times : of the ancienter time what is best,
and of the latter time what is fittest. Do not drive away
such as bring thee information, as meddlers; but accept
of them in good part. Always, when thou changest thine
opinion or course, profess it plainly, and declare it,
together with the reasons that move thee to change.

This is a true and grave admonition, that we expect
not to receive things necessary for life and manners from
philosophical abstractions, but from the discreet obser-
vation and experience, and the universal knowledge, of
the things of this world. The shame it is, that men, hav-
ing the use of so many arts, are not able to get unto
themselves such things as nature itself bestows upon
many other creatures ! Whosoever doth thoroughly con-
sider the nature of man, may be in a manner the contriver
of his own fortune, and is bom to command.

It is an ancient saying and complaint, that life is
short and art long ; wherefore it behooveth us, who make
it our chiefest aim to perfect arts, to take upon us the
consideration of prolonging man's life— God, the author
of all truth and life, prospering our endeavors. Only
the inquiry is difficult how to attain this blessing of long
life, so often promised in the old law; and so much the
rather, because it is corrupted with false opinions and
vain reports. Verily, it were a great sin against the
golden fortune of mankind, the pledge of empire, for me
to turn aside to the pursuit of most fleeting shadows.
One bright and radiant light of truth must be placed in
the midst, which may illuminate the whole, and in a
moment dispel all errors. Certain feeble and pale lamps
are not to be carried round to the several comers and
holes of errors and falsehoods.

We ingeniously profess that some of those things

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THE ART OF LIVING LONG

which we shall propound, have not been tried by us by
way of experiment,— for our course of life doth not per-
mit that,— but are derived, as we suppose, upon good
reasons, out of our principles and grounds,— of which
some we set down, others we reserve in our mind,— and
are, as it were, cut and digged out of the rock and mine
of Nature herself. Nevertheless, we have been careful,
and that with all providence and circumspection,— seeing
the Scripture saith of the body of man, that it is more
worth than raiment,— to propound such remedies as may
at least be safe, if peradventure they be not fruitful.

All things in living creatures are in their youth
repaired entirely; nay, they are for a time increased in
quantity, bettered in quality, so as the matter of repara-
tion might be eternal, if the manner of reparation did not
fail. But this is the truth of it: there is in the declining
of age an unequal reparation. By which it comes to
pass, that, in process of time, the whole tends to dissolu-
tion; and even those very parts which, in their own
nature, are with much ease reparable, yet, through the
decay of the organs of reparation, can no more receive
reparation, but decline, and in the end utterly fail. And
the cause of the termination of life is this: the spirits,
like a gentle flame, continually preying upon bodies,
conspiring with the outward air,— which is ever sucking
and drying of them,— do, in time, destroy the whole
fabric of the body, as also the particular engines and
organs thereof, and make them unable for the work of
reparation. These are the true ways of natural death,
well and faithfully to be revolved in our minds; for he
that knows not the way of nature, how can he succor her
or turn her about?

We see the reign or tyranny of custom, what it is.
Men's thoughts are much according to their inclination;
their discourse and speeches according to their learning

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and infused opinions; but their deeds are after as they
have been accustomed. Therefore, as Machiavel well
noteth, there is no trusting to the force of nature, nor to
the bravery of words, except it be corroborate by custom.
Nature is often hidden, sometimes overcome, seldom
extinguished. But custom, only, doth alter and subdue
nature. He that seeketh victory over his nature, let him
not set himself too great nor too small tasks ; for the first
will make him dejected by often failing, and the second
will make him a small proceeder— though by often pre-
vailing. Where nature is mighty and, therefore, the
victory hard, the degrees had need be : first, to stay and
arrest nature in time— like to him that would say over
the four-and-twenty letters when he was angry; then, to
go less in quantity— as if one should, in forbearing wine,
come from drinking healths to a draught at a meal ; and,
lastly, to discontinue altogether; but if a man have the
fortitude and resolution to enfranchise himself at once,
that is the best. But let not a man trust his victory over
his nature too far ; for nature will lie buried a great time,
and yet revive upon the occasion, or temptation; like as
it was with ^sop's damsel, turned from a cat to a
woman, who sat very demurely at the board's end till a
mouse ran before her.

The predominancy of custom is everywhere visible;
insomuch as a man would wonder to hear men profess,
protest, engage, give great words, and then do just as
they have done before, as if they were dead images and
engines, moved only by the wheels of custom. A man's
nature runs either to herbs or weeds; therefore let him
seasonably water the one, and destroy the other. Neither
is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature as a wand to a
contrary extreme, whereby to set it right; understanding
it where the contrary extreme is no vice. Many examples
may be put of the force of custom, both upon mind and

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THE ART OF LIVING LONG

body; therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate
of man's life, let men by all means endeavor to obtain
good customs. Certainly, custom is most perfect when
it beginneth in young years ; this we call education, which
is, in effect, but an early custom.

To procure long life, the body of man must be con-
sidered. The ancients seemed not to despair of attaining
the skill, by means and medicines, to put off old age, and
to prolong life; but this to be numbered rather among
such things, having been once happily attained unto, are
now— through men's negligence and carelessness—
utterly perished and lost, than among such as have been
always denied and never granted; for they signify and
show that the divine bounty is not wanting unto men in
the obtaining of such gifts. Surely every medicine is
an innovation; and he that will not apply new remedies
must expect new evils ; for time is the greatest innovator.
And if time, of course, alter things to the worse, and
wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to the better,
what shall be the end!

The nature of the spirits is as the uppermost wheel,
which tumeth about the other wheels in the body of man ;
and, therefore, in the intention of long life, that ought to
be first placed. Age is nothing of itself, being only the
measure of time; that which causeth the effect is the
native spirit of bodies, which sucketh up the moisture of
the body, and then, together with it, flieth forth ; and the
air ambient, which multiplieth itself upon the native
spirits and juices of the body, and preyeth upon them.
The spirits are the master workmen of all effects in the
body; this is manifest by consent, and by infinite
instances. The actions or functions which are in the
several members, follow the nature of the members them-
selves,—attraction, retention, digestion, assimilation, sep-
aration, excretion, perspiration, even sense itself,—

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SELECTIONS FROM BACON

according to the propriety of the several organs ; yet none
of these actions would ever have been actuated, but by
the vigor and presence of the vital spirit, and heat
thereof. The operation upon the spirits, and their wax-
ing green again, is the most ready and compendious way
to long life.

It conduceth unto long life, and to the more placid
motion of the spirits, which thereby do less prey and
consume the juice of the body, either that men's actions
be free and voluntary, or, on the other side, that their
actions be full of regulation and commands within them-
selves ; for then the victory and performing of the com-
mand giveth a good disposition to the spirits, especially
if there be a proceeding from degree to degree ; for then
the sense of the victory is the greater. An example of
the former of these is in a country life ; and of the latter
in monks and philosophers, and such as do continually
enjoin themselves. The spirits, to keep the body fresh
and green, are so to be wrought and tempered that they
may be in substance dense, not rare; in heat strong, not
eager; in quantity sufficient for the offices of life, not
redundant or turgid ; in motion appeased, not dancing or
unequal. It is to be seen in flames, that the bigger they
are, the stronger they break forth, and the more speedily
they consume. And, therefore, overgreat plenty, or
exuberance of the spirits, is altogether hurtful to long
life ; neither need one wish a greater store of spirits, than
what is sufficient for the functions of life and the office
of a good reparation.

The living spirit stands in need of three things that
it may subsist: convenient motion, temperate refrigera-
tion, and fit aliment. We suppose all things in modera-
tion to be best.

No body can be healthy without exercise, neither
natural body nor politic. It is altogether requisite to

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THE ART OF LIVING LONG

long life, that the body should never abide long in one
posture; but that every half-hour, at least, it change the
posture, saving only in sleep. As for exercise, an idle
life doth manifestly make the flesh soft and dissipable;
robust exercise, so it be without overmuch sweating or
weariness, maketh it hard and compact. Also exercise
within cold water, as swimming, is very good; and, gen-
erally, exercise abroad is better than that within houses.
Exercises which stir up a good strong motion, but not
overswift, or to our utmost strength, do not hurt, but
rather benefit.

Men ought to beware that they use not exercise and
a spare diet both; but if much exercise, then a plentiful
diet; and if sparing diet, then little exercise. The bene-
fits that come of exercise are : first, that it sendeth nour-
ishment into the parts more forcibly; secondly, that it
helpeth to excern by sweat, and so maketh the parts
assimilate the more perfectly ; thirdly, that it maketh the
substance of the body more solid and compact, and so
less apt to be consumed and depredated by the spirits.

That exercise may resolve either the spirits or the
juices as little as may be, it is necessary that it be used
when the stomach is not altogether empty; and, there-
fore, that it may not be used upon a full stomach,— which
doth much concern health,— nor yet upon an empty
stomach,— which doth no less concern long life,— it is
best to take a breakfast in the morning, of plain meat and
drink ; yet that very light, and in moderate quantity.

Both exercise and frications conduce much to long
life ; for agitation doth fineliest diffuse and commix things
by small portions. But in exercise and frications there
is the same reason and caution, that the body may not
perspire or exhale too much. Therefore, exercise is
better in the open air than in the house, and better in
winter than in summer. Gentle frications, and moderate

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exercises, causing rather perspiration than sweating,
conduce much to long life. But, generally, exercise, if
it be much, is no friend to prolongation of life ; which is
one cause why women live longer than men, because they
stir less.*

Refrigeration, or cooling of the body, which passeth
some other ways than by the stomach, is useful for long
life. The reason is at hand: for seeing a refrigeration
not temperate, but powerful,— especially of the blood,—
is above all things necessary to long life, this can by no
means be effected from within as much as is requisite,
without the destruction of the stomach and bowels.

The body of man doth regularly require renovation
by aliment every day, and a body in health can scarce
endure fasting three days together; notwithstanding, use
and custom wiJl do much, even in this case; but in sick-
ness, fasting is less grievous to the body. We would
have men rightly to observe and distinguish, that those
things which are good for a healthful life, are not always
good for a long life ; for there are some things which do
further the alacrity of the spirits, and the strength and
vigor of the functions, which, notwithstanding, do cut off
from the sum of life. It is hard to distinguish that which
is generally held good and wholesome, from that which
is good particularly, and fit for thine own body. It doth
no good to have the aliment ready, in a degree removed,
but to have it of that kind, and so prepared and supplied,
that the spirit may work upon it ; for the staff of a torch
alone will not maintain the flame, unless it be fed with
wax; neither can men live upon herbs alone. Nourish-
ment ought to be of an inferior nature and more simple
substances than the thing nourished. Plants are nour-
ished with the earth and water, living creatures with
plants, man with living creatures. There are also cer-

* See Note A

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THE AST OF LIVING LONG

tain creatures feeding upon flesh ; and man himself takes
plants into a part of his nourishment.

The stomach— which, as they say, is the master of
the house, and whose strength and goodness is funda-
mental to the other concoctions— ought so to be guarded
and confirmed that it may be without intemperateness
hot; it is to be kept ever in appetite, because appetite
sharpens digestion. This also is most certain, that the
brain is in some sort in the custody of the stomach ; and,
therefore, those things which comfort and strengthen the
stomach, do help the brain by consent. I do verily con-
ceive it good that the first draught be taken at supper,
warm. I knew a physician that was very famous; who,
in the beginning of dinner and supper, would usually eat
a few spoonfuls of very warm broth with much greedi-
ness, and then would presently wish that it were out
again, saying he had no need of the broth, but only of
the warmth.

A pythagorical or monastical diet, according to strict
rules, and always exactly equal,— as that of Comaro
was,— seemeth to be very effectual for long life. If
there were anything eminent in the Spartans, that was to
be imputed to the parsimony of their diet. It is not more
true, that many dishes have caused many diseases,— as
the proverb is,— than this is true, that many medicines
have caused few cures.

It seems to be approved by experience, that a spare
diet, and almost a pythagorical,— such as is either pre-
scribed by the strict rules of a monastical life, or prac-
ticed by hermits, which have necessity and poverty for
their rule,— render eth a man long-lived. Celsus, who
was not only a learned physician, but a wise man, is not
to be omitted, who adviseth interchanging and alterna-
tion of the diet, but still with an inclination to the more
benign. Conservation of health hath commonly need of

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no more than some short courses of physic; but length
of life cannot be hoped without an orderly diet.

Curing of diseases is effected by temporary medi-
cines; but lengthening of life requireth observation of
diets. Those things which come by accident, as soon as
the causes are removed, cease again; but the continual
course of nature, like a running river, requires a con-
tinual rowing and sailing against the stream. Therefore
we must work regularly by diets. Now, diets are of two
kinds: set diets, which are to be observed at certain
times ; and familiar diet, which is to be admitted into our
daily repast. But the set diets are the more potent; for
those things which are of so great virtue that they are
able to turn nature back again, are, for the most part,
more strong, and more speedily altering, than those which
may without danger be received into a continual use.

Certainly this is without all question: diet, well
ordered, bears the greatest part in the prolongation of
life. But if the diet shall not be altogether so rigorous
and mortifying, yet, notwithstanding, shall be always
equal and constant to itself, it worketh the same effect.
We see it in flames, that a flame somewhat bigger— so it
be always alike and quiet— consumeth less of the fuel,
than a lesser flame blown with bellows, and by gusts
stronger or weaker. That which the regimen and diet
of Cornaro, the Venetian, showed plainly; who did eat
and drink so many years together by a just weight,
whereby he exceeded a hundred years of age, strong in
limbs, and entire in his senses.

I am of opinion, that emaciating diseases, afterward
well cured, have advanced many in the way of long life;
for they yield new juice, the old being consumed; and to
recover a sickness is to renew youth. Therefore it were
good to make some artificial diseases, which is done by
strict and emaciating diets.

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THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

We see that all things which are done by nutrition
ask a long time ; but those which are done by embracing
of the like— as it is in infusions— require no long time.
Therefore, alimentation from without would be of princi-
pal use; and so much the more, because the faculties of
concoction decay in old age; so that if there could be
some auxiliary nutritions, by bathing, unctions, or else
by clysters, these things in conjunction might do much,
which single are less available.

Also, sleep doth supply somewhat to nourishment;
and, on the other side, exercise doth require it more
abundantly. But as moderate sleep conferreth to long
life, so much more if it be quiet and not disturbed.

Assimilation is best done when all local motion is
suspended. The act itself of assimilation is chiefly accom-
plished in sleep and rest, especially toward the morning,
the distribution being finished. Those that are very
cold, and especially in their feet, cannot get to sleep ; the
cause may be that in sleep is required a free respiration,
which cold doth shut in and hinder. Therefore, we have
nothing else to advise but that men keep themselves hot
in their sleep.

Sleep is regularly due unto human nature once
within four-and-twenty hours, and that for six or five
hours at the least; though there are, even in this kind,
sometimes miracles of nature; as it is recorded of
Maecenas, that he slept not for a long time before his
death. The fable tells us that Epimenides slept many
years together in a cave, and all that time needed no
meat; because the spirits waste not much in sleep.

Some noises help sleep ; as the blowing of the wind,
the trickling of water, humming of bees, soft singing,
reading, etc. The cause is that they move in the spirits
a gentle attention; and whatsoever moveth attention,
without too much labor, stilleth the natural and discursive

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motion of the spirits. Sleep nourisheth, or at least pre-
serveth, bodies a long time, without other nourishment.

There have some been found who sustained them-
selves—almost to a miracle in nature— a very long time
without meat or drink. Living creatures may subsist
somewhat the longer without aliment, if they sleep ; now,
sleep is nothing else but a reception and retirement of
the living spirit into itself. Experience teacheth us that
certain creatures, as dormice and bats, sleep in some
close places a whole winter together; such is the force
of sleep to restrain all vital consumption. That which
bees or drones are also thought to do, though sometimes
destitute of honey; and likewise butterflies and other
flies. Beasts that sleep in winter,— as it is noted of wild
bears,— during their sleep wax very fat, though they eat
nothing. Bats have been found in ovens, and other
hollow close places, matted one upon another ; and, there-
fore, it is likely that they sleep in the winter time, and
eat nothing. Butterflies, and other flies, do not only
sleep, but lie as dead all winter ; and yet with a little heat
of sun or fire, revive again. A dormouse, both winter
and summer, will sleep some days together, and eat
nothing.

Sleep after dinner— the stomach sending up no
unpleasing vapors to the head, as being the first dews of
our meat— is good for the spirits, but derogatory and
hurtful to all other points of health. Notwithstanding,
in extreme old age there is the same reason of meat and
sleep; for both our meals and our sleeps should be then
frequent, but short and little; nay, and toward the last
period of old age, a mere rest, and, as it were, a perpet-
ual reposing, doth best— especially in winter time.

To be free-minded and cheerfully disposed at hours
of meat and of sleep and of exercise, is one of the best
precepts of long lasting.

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THE AKT OF LIVING LONQ

We suppose that a good clothing of the body maketh
much to long life; for it fenceth and armeth against the
intemperances of the air, which do wonderfully assail
and decay the body.

Above all things, in youth, and for those that have
sufficiently strong stomachs, it will be best to take a good
draught of clear cold water when they go to bed.

Washing the body in cold water is good for length
of life.

Especially, care must be taken that no hot things be
applied to the head outwardly.

Not only the goodness or pureness of the air, but
also the equality of the air, is material to long life. It
is a secret that the healthfulness of air, especially in any
perfection, is better found by experiment than by dis-
course or conjecture. The country life is well fitted for
long life; it is much abroad, and in the open air; it is
not slothful, but ever in employment. They are longer
lived, for the most part, that live abroad in the open air,
than they that live in houses ; and it is certain that the
morning air is more lively and refreshing than the
evening air. Change of air by traveling, after one be
used unto it, is good ; and, therefore, great travelers have
been long-lived. Also those that have lived perpetually in
a little cottage, in the same place, have been long livers ;
for air accustomed consumeth less, but air changed
nourisheth and repaireth more.

The heart receiveth benefit or harm most from the
air which we breathe, from vapors, and from the affec-
tions.

We must come now to the affections and passions of
the mind, and see which of them are hurtful to long life,
which profitable.

Every noble, and resolute, and— as they call it—
heroical desire, strengthenetii and enlargeth the powers

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of the heart. Goodness I call the habit, and goodness
of nature the inclination. This, of all virtues and dig-
nities of the mind, is the greatest, being the character
of the Deity ; and without it, man is a busy, mischievous,
wretched thing, no better than a kind of vermin.

Hope is the most beneficial of all the affections, and
doth much to the prolongation of life, if it be not too
often frustrated, but entertaineth the fancy with an
expectation of good; therefore, they which fix and pro-
pound to themselves some end,— as the mark and scope of
their life,— and continually and by degrees go forward
in the same, are, for the most part, long-lived.

Admiration and light contemplation are very power-
ful to the prolonging of life ; for they hold the spirits in
such things as delight them, and suffer them not to
tumultuate, or to carry themselves unquietly and way-
wardly. Therefore, all the contemplators of natural
things, which had so many and eminent objects to admire,
were long-lived.

Action, endeavor, and labor, undertaken cheerfully
and with a good will, doth refresh the spirits; but with
an aversation and unwillingness, doth fret and deject
them. Therefore it conferreth to long life, either that a
man hath the art to institute his life so as it may be free
and suitable to his own humor, or else to lay such a com-
mand upon his mind, that whatsoever is imposed by for-
tune, it may rather lead him than drag him.

No doubt it furthereth long life, to have all things
from our youth to our elder age mend and grow to the
better; that a youth full of crosses may minister sweet-
ness to our old age.

One thing, above all, is grateful to the spirits: that
there be a continual progress to the more benign.
Therefore we should lead such a youth and manhood,
that our old age should find new solaces, whereof the

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THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

chief is moderate ease; and, therefore, old men in hon-
orable places lay violent hands upon themselves, who
retire not to their ease. But this thing doth require two
cautions: one, that they drive not off till their bodies
be utterly worn out and diseased, for in such bodies all
mutation, though to the more benign, hasteneth death;
the other, that they surrender not themselves to a slug-
gish ease, but that they embrace something which may
entertain their thoughts and mind with contentation.

Ficino saith— not unwisely— that old men, for the
comforting of their spirits, ought often to remember and
ruminate upon the acts of their childhood and youth.
Certainly, such a remembrance is a kind of peculiar
recreation to every old man ; and, therefore, it is a delight
to men to enjoy the society of them which have been
brought up together with them, and to visit the places
of their education. Vespasian did attribute so much to
this matter, that, when he was emperor, he would by no
means be persuaded to leave his father's house,— though
but mean,— lest he should lose the wonted object of his
eyes and the memory of his childhood. And, besides,
he would drink in a wooden cup tipped with silver, which
was his grandmother's, upon festival days.

The spirits are delighted both with wonted things
and with new. Now, it maketh wonderfully to the con-
servation of the spirits in vigor, that we neither use
wonted things to a satiety and glutting, nor new things
before a quick and strong appetite. Therefore, both
customs are to be broken off with judgment and care,
before they breed a fullness ; and the appetite after new
things to be restrained for a time, until it grow more
sharp and jocund. Moreover, the life, as much as may
be, is so to be ordered, that it may have many renova-
tions; and the spirits, by perpetual conversing in the
same actions, may not wax dull. For though it were no

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ill saying of Seneca's, ''The fool doth ever begin to
live"; yet this folly, and many more such, are good for
long life.

It is to be observed touching the spirits,— though
the contrary used to be done,— that when men perceive
their spirits to be in good, placid, and healthful state,—
that which will be seen by the tranquillity of their mind,
and cheerful disposition,— that they cherish them, and
not change them; but when in a turbulent and untoward
state,— which will also appear by their sadness, lumpish-
ness, and other indisposition of their mind,— that then
they straight overwhelm them and alter them. Now, the
spirits are contained in the same state by a restraining
of the affections, temperateness of diet, moderation in
labor, indifferent rest and respose; and the contrary to
these do alter and overwhelm the spirits; as, namely,
vehement affections, profuse feastings, difficult labors,
earnest studies, and prosecution of business. Yet men
are wont, when they are merriest and best disposed, then
to apply themselves to feastings, labors, endeavors, busi-
ness; whereas, if they have a regard to long life,— which
may seem strange,— they should rather practice the con-
trary. For we ought to cherish and preserve good
spirits; and for the evil-disposed spirits, to discharge
and alter them.

Grief and sadness, if it be void of fear, and afflict
not too much, doth rather prolong life.

Great joys attenuate and diffuse the spirits, and
shorten life. Great fears, also, shorten life; for though
grief and fear do both strengthen the spirits, yet in grief
there is a simple contraction; but in fear, by reason of
the cares taken for the remedy, and hopes intermixed,
there is a turmoil and vexing of the spirits.

Whosoever is out of patience, is out of possession
of his soul.

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THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

Envy is the worst of all passions, and feedeth upon
the spirits, and they again upon the body. Of all affec-
tions, envy is the most importune and continual; there-
fore it was well said, ''Envy keeps no holidays," for it
is ever working upon some or other. It is also the vilest
affection, and the most depraved; for which cause it is
the proper attribute of the devil, who is called "The
envious man, that soweth tares amongst the wheat by
night."

Certainly, the more a man drinketh of the world, the
more it intoxicateth. I cannot call riches better than the
baggage of virtue. The Roman word is better, "impedi-
menta"; for as the baggage is to an army, so is riches
to virtue ; it cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hin-
dereth the march; yea, and the care of it sometimes
loseth or disturbeth the victory.

It is most certain, that passions always covet and
desire that which experience forsakes. And they all
know, who have paid dear for serving and obeying their
lusts, that whether it be honor, or riches, or delight, or
glory, or knowledge, or anything else, which they seek
after; yet are they but things cast off, and, by divers
men in all ages, after experience had, utterly rejected
and loathed.

There is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of
physic : a man 's own observation, what he finds good of,
and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve
health. But it is a safer conclusion to say, ' ' This agreeth
not well with me, therefore I will not continue it"; than
this, "I find no offense of this, therefore I may use it";
for strength of nature in youth passeth over many ex-
cesses which are owing a man till his age. Discern of the
coming on of years, and think not to do the same things
still; for age will not be defied. Beware of sudden
change in any great point of diet, and, if necessity enforce

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it, fit the rest to it; for it is a secret both in nature and
state, that it is safer to change many things than one.
Examine thy customs of diet, sleep, exercise, apparel,
and the like; and try, in anything thou shalt judge
hurtful, to discontinue it by little and little.

Entertain hopes; mirth rather than joy; variety of
delights, rather than surfeit of them; wonder and
admiration, and therefore novelties ; studies that fill the
mind with splendid and illustrious objects, as histories,
fables, and contemplations of nature. If you fly physic
in health altogether, it will be too strange for your body
when you shall need it; if you make it too familiar, it
will work no extraordinary effect when sickness cometh.
Despise no new accident in your body, but ask opinion
of it. In sickness, respect health principally; and in
health, action; for those that put their bodies to endure
in health, may, in most sicknesses which are not very
sharp, be cured only with diet and tendering.

Physicians are some of them so pleasing and con-
formable to the humor of the patient, as they press not
the true cure of the disease; and some others are so
regular in proceeding according to art for the disease,
as they respect not sufficiently the condition of the
patient. Take one of a middle temper; or, if it may
not be found in one man, combine two of either sort;
and forget not to call as well the best acquainted with
your body, as the best reputed of for his faculty.

Touching the length and shortness of life in living
creatures, the information which may be had is but
slender, observation negligent, and tradition fabulous.
In tame creatures, their degenerate life corrupteth them ;
in wild creatures, their exposing to all weathers often
intercepteth them.

Man's age, as far as can be gathered by any certain
narration, doth exceed the age of all other living

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THE ART OF LIVING LONG

creatures, except it be of a very few only. No doubt
there are times in every country wherein men are longer
or shorter lived: longer, for the most part, when they
fare less deliciously, and are more given to bodily exer-
cises; shorter, when they abandon themselves to luxury
and ease. The countries which have been observed to
produce long livers are these; Arcadia, ^tolia, India
on this side Ganges, Brazil, Taprobane [Ceylon], Britain,
Ireland, with the islands of the Orcades [Orkneys] and
Hebrides. We read that the Esseans [Essenes], amongst
the Jews, did usually extend their life to a hundred
years. Now, that sect used a single or abstemious diet,
after the rule of Pythagoras. The monks and hermits,
which fed sparingly, and upon dry aliment, attained
commonly to a great age. Amongst the Venetians there
have been found not a few long livers, and those of the
more eminent sort: Francis Donato, Duke; Thomas
Contarini, Procurator of St. Mark; and others. But
most memorable is Comaro the Venetian; who, being
in his youth of a sickly body, began first to eat and drink
by measure to a certain weight, thereby to recover his
health; this cure turned by use into a diet; that diet to
an extraordinary long life, even of a hundred years and
better, without any decay in his senses, and with a con-
stant enjoying of his health.

Being admonished by Aristotle's observation touch-
ing plants, that the putting forth of new shoots and
branches ref resheth the body of the tree in the passage ;
we conceive the like reason might be, if the flesh and
blood in the body of man were often renewed, that
thereby the bones themselves, and membranes, and other
parts,— which in their own nature are less reparable,—
partly by the cheerful passage of the juices, partly by
that new clothing of the young flesh and blood, might
be watered and renewed. If any man could procure

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that a young man's spirit could be conveyed into an old
man's body, it is not unlikely but this great wheel of the
spirits might turn about the lesser wheels of the parts,
and so the course of nature become retrograde. The
spirit, if it be not irritated by the antipathy of the body
inclosing it, nor fed by the overmuch likeness of that
body, nor solicited nor invited by the external body,
makes no great stir to get out.

We denounce unto men that they will give over
trifling, and not imagine that so great a work as the
stopping and turning back the powerful course of nature
can be brought to pass by some morning draught, or the
taking of some precious drug; but that they would be
assured that it must needs be that this is a work of labor,
and consisteth of many remedies, and a fit connection of
them amongst themselves.

If a man perform that which hath not been attempted
before, or attempted and given over, or hath been
achieved, but not with so good circumstance, he shall
purchase more honor than by affecting a matter of
greater difficulty, or virtue, wherein he is but a follower.

Experience, no doubt, will both verify and promote
these matters. And such, in all things, are the works
of every prudent counsel, that they are admirable in their
effects.

[139]

Voluptuous man
Is hy superior faculties misled;
Misled from pleasure even in quest of joy.
Sated with Nature's boons, what thousands seek.
With dishes tortur'd from their native taste.
And mad variety, to spur beyond
Its wiser will the jaded appetite!
Is this for pleasure? Learn a juster taste!
And know that temperance is true luxury.

Know, whate'er
Beyond its natural fervor hurries on
The sanguine tide; whether the frequent bowl,
High-season'd fare, or exercise to toil
Protracted; spurs to its last stage tired life.
And sows the temples with untimely snow.

— John Armstrong.

EXTRACTS

Selected and Arranged from

SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S

"Health and Long Lite"

Etc.*

I can truly say, that, of all the paper I have blotted,
which has been a great deal in my time, I have never

written anything for the public without the intention
of some public good. Whether I have succeeded, or no,
is not my part to judge; and others, in what they tell
me, may deceive either me or themselves. Good inten-
tions are at least the seed of good actions; and every
man ought to sow them, and leave it to the soil and the
seasons whether they come up or no, and whether he or
any other gathers the fruit.

I have chosen those subjects of these essays, wherein
I take human life to be most concerned, and which are

* See Note C

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

of most common use, or most necessary knowledge ; and
wherein, though I may not be able to inform men more
than they know, yet I may, perhaps, give them the occa-
sion to consider more than they do. All men would be
glad to be their own masters, and should not be sorry
to be their own scholars, when they pay no more for
their learning than their own thoughts, which they have
commonly more store of about them than they know what
to do with. Of all sorts of instructions, the best is
gained from our own thoughts as well as experience;
for though a man may grow learned by other men's
thoughts, yet he will grow wise or happy only by his
own— the use of other men's toward these ends, is but
to serve for one's own reflections.

Some writers, in casting up the goods most desirable
in life, have given them this rank: health, beauty, and
riches. Of the first I find no dispute, but to the two
others much may be said; for beauty is a good that
makes others happy rather than one's self; and how
riches should claim so high a rank, I cannot tell, when
so great, so wise, and so good a part of mankind have,
in all ages, preferred poverty before them. All the
ancient philosophers— whatever else they differed in-
agreed in this of despising riches, and at best esteeming
them an unnecessary trouble or encumbrance of life; so
that whether they are to be reckoned among goods or
evils is yet left in doubt.

The two great blessings of life are, in my opinion,
health and good humor; and none contribute more to
one another. Without health, all will allow life to be
but a burden; and the several conditions of fortune to
be all wearisome, dull, or disagreeable, without good
humor; nor does any seem to contribute toward the
true happiness of life, but as it serves to increase that

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treasure, or to preserve it. Whatever other differences
are commonly apprehended in the several conditions of
fortune, none, perhaps, will be found so true or so great
as what is made by those two circumstances, so little
regarded in the common course or pursuits of mortal
men.

Health in the body is like peace in the State and
serenity in the air. Health is the soul that animates all
enjoyments of life, which fade and are tasteless, if not
dead, without it. A man starves at the best and the
greatest tables, and is poor and wretched in the midst
of the greatest treasures and fortunes. With common
diseases, strength grows decrepit; youth loses all vigor,
and beauty all charms ; music grows harsh, and conversa-
tion disagreeable; palaces are prisons, or of equal con-
finement; riches are useless; honor and attendance are
cumbersome ; and crowns themselves are a burden. But
if diseases are painful and violent, they equal all con-
ditions of life, and make no difference between a prince
and a beggar. The vigor of the mind decays with that
of the body, and not only humor and invention, but even
judgment and resolution, change and languish with ill
constitution of body and of health; and, by this means,
public business comes to suffer by private infirmities,
and Kingdoms or States fall into weaknesses and dis-
tempers or decays of those persons that manage them.
I have seen the counsels of a noble country grow bold
or timorous, according to the fits of his good or ill health
that managed them; and the pulse of the government
beat high or low with that of the governor. Thus, acci-
dents of health grow to be accidents of State ; and public
constitutions come to depend, in a great measure, upon
those of particular men.

To know that the passions or distempers of the mind

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make our lives unliappy, in spite of all accidents and
favors of fortune, a man, perhaps, must be a philosopher
and requires much thought, and study, and deep reflec-
tions. To be a Stoic, and grow insensible of pain, as
well as poverty or disgrace, one must be, perhaps, some-
thing more or less than a man, renounce common nature,
oppose common truth and constant experience. But
there needs little learning or study, more than common
thought and observation, to find out that ill health loses
not only the enjoyments of fortune, but the pleasures of
sense, and even of imagination; and hinders the com-
mon operations both of body and mind from being easy
and free. Let philosophers reason and differ about the
chief good or happiness of man; let them find it where
they can, and place it where they please; but there is
no mistake so gross, or opinion so impertinent,— how
common soever,— as to think pleasures arise from what
is without us, rather than from what is within.

But to leave philosophy, and return to health.
Whatever is true in point of happiness depending upon
the temper of the mind, 'tis certain that pleasures depend
upon the temper of the body; and that, to enjoy them,
a man must be well himself. Men are apt to play with
their health and their lives, as they do with their clothes.
To find any felicity, or take any pleasure in the greatest
advantages of honor and fortune, a man must be in
health. Who would not be covetous, and with reason, if
this could be purchased with gold? who not ambitious,
if it were at the command of power, or restored by
honor? But, alas! a white staff will not help gouty feet
to walk better than a common cane; nor a blue ribbon
bind up a wound so well as a fillet; the glitter of gold
or of diamonds will but hurt sore eyes, instead of curing
them; and an aching head will be no more eased by
wearing a crown than a common nightcap.

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If health be such a blessing, and the very source of
all pleasure, it may be worth the pains to discover the
regions where it grows, the springs that feed it, the
customs and methods by which it is best cultivated and
preserved. Toward this end, it will be necessary to
consider the examples or instances we meet with of
health, and long life, which is the consequence of it ; and
to observe the places, the customs, and the conditions of
those who enjoyed them in any degree extraordinary;
from whence we may best guess at the causes, and make
the truest conclusions.

Health and long life are usually blessings of the
poor, not of the rich ; and the fruits of temperance, rather
than of luxury and excess. And, indeed, if a rich man
does not, in many things, live like a poor, he will cer-
tainly be the worse for his riches: if he does not use
exercise, which is but voluntary labor; if he does not
restrain appetite by choice, as the other does by neces-
sity; if he does not practice sometimes even abstinence
and fasting, which is the last extreme of want and pov-
erty. If his cares and his troubles increase with his
riches, or his passions with his pleasures, he will cer-
tainly impair in health, whilst he improves his fortunes,
and lose more than he gains by the bargain ; since health
is the best of all human possessions, and without which
the rest are not relished or kindly enjoyed.

It is observable in story, that the ancient philoso-
phers lived generally very long ; which may be attributed
to their great temperance, and their freedom from com-
mon passions, as well as cares, of the world. The
Brazilians, when first discovered, lived the most natural
original lives of mankind, so frequently described in
ancient countries, before laws, or property, or arts made
entrance among them; they lived without business or

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labor, further than for their necessary food, by gather-
ing fruits, herbs, and plants; they knew no drink but
water; were not tempted to eat nor drink beyond com-
mon thirst or appetite; were not troubled with either
public or domestic cares; nor knew any pleasures but
the most simple and natural. Many of these were said,
at the time that country was discovered by the Europe-
ans, to have lived two hundred, some three hundred
years.

From these examples and customs it may probably
be concluded, that the common ingredients of health and
long life— where births are not impaired from the con-
ception by any derived inl&rmities of the race they come
from— are great temperance, open air, easy labor, little
care, simplicity of diet, and water— which preserves the
radical moisture without too much increasing the radical
heat; whereas sickness, decay, and death proceed com-
monly from the one preying too fast upon the other, and
at length wholly extinguishing it.

I think temperance deserves the first rank among
public virtues, as well as those of private men ; and doubt
whether any can pretend to the constant, steady exercise
of prudence, justice, or fortitude, without it. That
which I call temperance, is a regular and simple diet,
limited by every man's experience of his own easy
digestion, and thereby proportioning, as near as well
can be, the daily repairs to the daily decays of our wast-
ing bodies. Temperance, that virtue without pride, and
fortune without envy! that gives indolence [repose] of
body, and tranquillity of mind; the best guardian of
youth, and support of old age; the precept of reason,
as well as religion; the physician of the soul, as well as
the body; the tutelar goddess of health, and universal
medicine of life; that clears the head, and cleanses the

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blood; that strengthens the nerves, enlightens the eyes,
and comforts the heart!

No degree of temperance can, I think, be too great
for the cure of most diseases to which mankind is
exposed, rather by the viciousness, than by the frailty,
of their natures— diseases by which we often condemn
ourselves to greater torments and miseries of life than
have, perhaps, been yet invented by anger or revenge,
or inflicted by the greatest tyrants upon the worst of
men. I know not whether some desperate degrees of
abstinence would not have the same effect upon other
men, as they had upon Atticus; who, weary of his life
as well as his physicians by long and cruel pains of a
dropsical gout, and despairing of any cure, resolved by
degrees to starve himself to death; and went so far,
that the physicians found he had ended his disease
instead of his life.

For one life that ends by mere decay of nature or
age, millions are intercepted by accidents from without
or diseases within; by untimely deaths or decays; from
the effects of excess and luxury, immoderate repletion
or exercise. Men are, perhaps, most betrayed to all
these dangers by great strength and vigor of constitu-
tion, by more appetite and larger fare, in colder cli-
mates ; in the warm, excesses are found more pernicious
to health, and so more avoided; and if experience and
reflection do not cause temperance among them, yet it
is forced upon them by the faintness of appetite. I can
find no better account of a story Sir Francis Bacon tells,
of a very old man, whose customs and diet he inquired;
who said he observed none besides eating before he was
hungry and drinking before he was dry, for by that
rule he was sure never to eat nor drink much at a time.
I do not remember, either in story or modem observa-

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THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

tion, any examples of long life common to any parts of
Europe, which the temper of the climate has probably
made the scene of luxury and excesses in diet.

And, I doubt, pleasures too long continued, or rather
too frequently repeated, may spend the spirits, and
thereby life, too fast, to leave it very long; like blowing
a fire too often, which makes it indeed burn the better,
but last the less. For as pleasures perish themselves
in the using,— like flowers that fade with gathering,—
so 'tis neither natural nor safe to continue them long,
to renew them without appetite, or ever to provoke
them by arts or imagination where Nature does not
call; who can best tell us when and how much we need,
or what is good for us, if we were so wise as to consult
her.

The faintness of appetite, especially in great cities,
makes the many endeavors to relieve and provoke it by
art, where nature fails; and this is one great ground of
luxury, and so many, and various, and extravagant
inventions to heighten and improve it; which may serve
perhaps for some refinement in pleasure, but not at all
for any advantages of health or of life. On the con-
trary, all the great cities, celebrated most by the con-
course of mankind, and by the inventions and customs
of the greatest and most delicate luxury, are the scenes
of the most frequent and violent plagues, as well as
other diseases.

In the course of common life, a man must either
often exercise, or fast, or take physic, or be sick; and
the choice seems left to everyone as he likes. The first
two are the best methods and means of preserving
health; the use of physic is for restoring it, and curing
those diseases which are generally caused by the want
or neglect of the others; but is neither necessary, nor

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perhaps useful, for confirming health, or to the length
of life, being generally a force upon nature— though the
end of it seems to be rather assisting nature, than oppos-
ing it in its course. Nature knows her own wants and
times so well, as to need little assistance; leave her to
her course, who is the sovereign physician in most
diseases, and leaves little for others to do.

'Tis true, physicians must be in danger of losing
their credit with the vulgar, if they should often tell a
patient he has no need of physic, and prescribe only
rules of diet or common use; most people would think
they had lost their fee. But the first excellence of a
physician's skill and care is discovered by resolving
whether it be best in the case to administer any physic
or none— to trust to nature or to art; and the next, to
give such prescriptions, as, if they do no good, may be
sure to do no harm.

In the midst of such uncertainties of health and of
physic, for my own part, I have, in the general course
of my life, trusted to God Almighty; to nature; to tem-
perance or abstinence ; and the use of common remedies,
vulgarly known and approved, like proverbs, by long
observation and experience, either of my own, or such
persons as have fallen in the way of my observation or
inquiry. The best cares or provisions for life and health
consist in the discreet and temperate government of
diet and exercise, in both which all excess is to be
avoided.

As hope is the sovereign balsam of life, and the best
cordial in all distempers both of body or mind; so fear,
and regret, and melancholy apprehensions— with the
distractions, disquiets, or at least intranquillity, they
occasion— are the worst accidents that can attend any
diseases; and make them often mortal, which would

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THE ART OP LIVING LONG

otherwise pass, and have had but a common course. I
have known the most busy ministers of state, most for-
tunate courtiers, most vigorous youths, most beautiful
virgins, in the strength or flower of their age, sink under
common distempers, by the force of such weights, and
the cruel damps and disturbances thereby given their
spirits and their blood. 'Tis no matter what is made
the occasion, if well improved by spleen and melancholy
apprehensions: a disappointed hope, a blot of honor, a
strain of conscience, an unfortunate love, an aching
jealousy, a repining grief, will serve the turn, and all
alike.

I remember an ingenious physician, who told me,
in the fanatic times, he found most of his patients so
disturbed by troubles of conscience, that he was forced
to play the divine with them before he could begin the
physician; whose greatest skill, perhaps, often lies in
the infusing of hopes, and inducing some composure and
tranquillity of mind, before he enters upon the other
operations of his art. This ought to be the first
endeavor of the patient, too; without which, all other
medicines may lose their virtue. In all diseases of body
or mind, it is happy to have an able physician for a
friend, or discreet friend for a physician; which is so
great a blessing, that the wise man will have it to pro-
ceed only from God, where he says : ' * A faithful friend
is the medicine of life, and he that fears the Lord shall
find him."

Greece, having been the first scene of luxury we
meet vnth in story, and having thereby occasioned more
diseases, seemed to owe the world that justice of pro-
viding the remedies. Among the more simple and orig-
inal customs and lives of other nations it entered late,
and was introduced by the Grecians. In ancient Baby-

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SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE
1628—1699

From the painting by Sir Peter Lely — No. 152, National Portrait Gallery,

London

Photograph copyrighted by Walker and Cockerell

SELECTIONS FROM TEMPLE

Ion— how great and populous soever— no physicians
were known, nor other methods for the cure of diseases,
besides abstinence, patience, and domestic care.

Whoever was accounted the god of physic, the prince
of this science must be by all, I think, allowed to have
been Hippocrates, whose writings are the most ancient of
any that remain to posterity. He was a great philosopher
and naturalist, before he began the study of physic, to
which both these are perhaps necessary. His rules and
methods continued in practice as well as esteem, without
any dispute, for many ages, till the time of Galen; and I
have heard a great physician say, that his aphorisms are
still the most certain and uncontrolled of any that science
has produced. I will judge but of one, which, in my
opinion, has the greatest race and height both of sense
and judgment that I have read in so few words, and the
best expressed: *'Ars longa, vita brevis, experientia
fallax, occasio praeceps, judicium difl&cile" [''Art is long,
life is short, experience deceptive, opportunity sudden,
decision difficult"]. By which alone, if no more remained
of that admirable person, we may easily judge how great
a genius he was, and how perfectly he understood both
nature and art. In the time of Adrian, Galen began to
change the practice and methods of physic, derived to
that age from Hippocrates; and those of his new
institution continue generally observed to our time. Yet
Paracelsus, about two hundred years ago, endeavored to
overthrow the whole scheme of Galen, and introduce a
new one of his own, as well as the use of chemical
medicines; and has not wanted his followers and ad-
mirers ever since.

I have, in my life, met with two of above a hundred
and twelve; whereof the woman had passed her life in
service ; and the man, in common labor, till he grew old.

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and fell upon the parish. But I met with one who had
gone a much greater length, which made me more curious
in my inquiries : 'twas an old man, who told me he was
a hundred and twenty-four years old. I have heard, and
very credibly, of many in my life, above a hundred years
old.

One comfort of age may be, that, whereas younger
men are usually in pain, when they are not in pleasure,
old men find a sort of pleasure, whenever they are out of
pain. And, as young men often lose or impair their
present enjoyments, by raving after what is to come, by
vain hopes, or fruitless fears; so old men relieve the
wants of their age, by pleasing reflections upon what is
past. Therefore men, in the health and vigor of their
age, should endeavor to fill their lives with the worthiest
actions,— either in their public or private stations,— that
they may have something agreeable left to feed on, when
they are old, by pleasing remembrances. But, as they
are only the clean beasts which chew the cud, when they
have fed enough ; so they must be clean and virtuous men
that can reflect, with pleasure, upon the past accidents or
courses of their lives. Besides, men who grow old with
good sense, or good fortunes, and good nature, cannot
want the pleasure of pleasing others, by assisting with
their gifts, their credit, and their advice, such as
deserve it.

Socrates used to say, that 'twas pleasant to grow old
with good health and a good friend. But there cannot
indeed live a more unhappy creature than an ill-natured
old man, who is neither capable of receiving pleasures,
nor sensible of doing them to others ; and, in such a con-
dition, it is time to leave them.

Thus have I traced, in this essay, whatever has fallen

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in my way or thoughts to observe concerning life and
health, and which I conceived might be of any public use
to be known or considered; the plainness wherewith it
is written easily shows there could be no other intention ;
and it may at least pass, like a Derbyshire charm, which
is used among sick cattle, with these words : " If it does
thee no good, it will do thee no harm. ' '

[165]

/ would recommend to everyone that admirable
precept which Pythagoras is said to have given to his
disciples . . . : ''Pitch upon that course of life which
is the most excellent, and custom, will render it the most
delightful/' Men whose circumstances will permit
them to choose their own way of life are inexcusable if
they do not pursu£ that which their judgment tells
them is the most laudable. The voice of reason is more
to be regarded than the bent of any present inclination,
since, by the rule above mentioned, inclination will at
length come over to reason, though we can never force
reason to comply with inclination. — Joseph Addison.

APPENDIX

A Short History

OF

ThcCornt^ro TT^niLY

Some Account

OF

CniNCNT CORNT^ROS

A Eulogy upon Louis Cornhro

BY

Baetolomeo Gamba

"The Vill7\s Erected by Louis Corn?^ro'

BY

De. Peof. Emilio Lovaeini

Health, brightest visitant from heaven.

Grant me with thee to rest!
For the short term by nature given.

Be thou my constant guest!
For all the pride that wealth bestows,
The 'pleasure that from children flows.
Whatever we court in regal state
That makes men covet to be great;

Whatever sweets we hope to find

In Love's delightful snare;
Whatever good by Heaven assign d.

Whatever pause from care:
All flourish at thy smile divine;
The spring of loveliness is thine.
And every joy that warms our hearts.
With thee approaches and departs.

— Robert Bland.

A SHORT HISTORY

OF

THE ANCIENT AND ILLUSTRIOUS

CORNARO TaMILY

OF VENICE

Nor can the skillful herald trace
The founder of thy ancient race.

— Jonathan Swift.

The noble steeds, and harness bright.
And gallant lord, and stalwart knight.
In rich array —

Where shall we seek them now? Alas!
Like the bright dewdrops on the grass.
They passed away.

— Manrique (trans, by Longfellow).

NEVER was parent better repaid by the steadfast devo-
tion of her children than was that Mistress of the
Seas, who, century after century, was the wonder
and admiration of mankind ; the center of the trade and finance
of the world, supreme as she was in every mart; the most

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1?HE ART OF LIVING LONG

valiant defender of civilization in its wars against the Turks;
as well as the example to humanity, and its inspiration, in all
the arts of peace.

Among her patriotic sons and daughters, none labored in
her service with a more earnest self-denial than did the mem-
bers of the illustrious patrician family of CORNARO, whose
name is found interwoven for centuries in every honorable
particular of the remarkable history of the Republic of
Venice. Almost every line of the annals of this celebrated
family shows unmistakably that their ambition, their aspira-
tion, their toil, their courageous exposure — and often sacri-
fice— of life and fortune, were always for the advancement
of their country's safety and glory, for which their own was
counted as naught ; determined, as they were, that Venice
should excel in virtue, power, and splendor, any land which
presumed to be her rival, and that her children should thus
enjoy a life of happiness and security. This, for generations,
was the ruling passion and guiding principle of this proud
and noble family.

The Cornari, the history of whom, for generations, added
imperishable fame to their illustrious source, were descended,
according to the most authoritative traditions of the
chroniclers, from the ancient and noble race of the Cornelii*
of Rome. Having in remote times settled at Rimini,
they were subsequently among the first inhabitants of Rialto,
the name by which Venice was known in its infancy. The
orthography of the name, during the family's long history,
was gradually modified ; so that, from Cornelii, it became suc-
cessively Cornelii, Coronelli, Coronetti, Coronarii, and finally
Cornaro, or Corner. The names Corner and Cornaro are
identical, the first being the abridged Italian form of the
Venetian Cornaro; in the i8th century some members of the
family adopted that of Corner, by which all are now known.
(To be uniform, the ancient mode, that of Cornaro, is adhered
to throughout this work.)

Having been enrolled among those who comprised the

* See Note L

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THE CORNABO FAMILY

body of the Venetian nobility, the Cornaros were included
among the first twelve patrician families of the Republic,
called the apostolical, or tribunal families, which for centuries
gave the military tribunes to the Republic ; many of the family
were members also of the famous Great Council, established
in 1 172.

In the 14th century, the family separated into two
distinct branches, the first of which was distinguished by
contemporaries, and later by historians, by the name of
Cornaro of the Great House; the other was that of Cornaro
Piscopia, so called from the castle and fief of Piscopia which
they had acquired in the island of Cyprus, and which, formerly
the property of Giovanni Ibelini, Count of Jaffa, had come
into the possession of this branch of the family by a grant
from the king, in 1363, to Federico (Frederick) Cornaro.
This was the branch to which Caterina (Catherine) Cornaro,
Queen of Cyprus; Elena Lucrezia (Helen Lucretia) Cornaro,
the famous scholar; and Louis Cornaro, the author of "The
Temperate Life," belonged. After the ascent of Caterina to
regal power, by her marriage, in 1468, to James of Lusignan,
King of Cyprus, the branch known as Cornaro of the Great
House was also designated by the name of Cornaro of the
Queen. It was then, also, that the family quartered with
their own the royal arms of Cyprus, as shown in their coat
of arms on page six.

To attempt even a short biography of all the many dis-
tinguished members of this noted family would be im-
possible in a work of this nature ; however, abbreviated
sketches of the lives of a few among those most cele-
brated may be of interest to the reader, and are to be found
elsewhere in this volume. Few family records, in any country,
show so large a number of members who have, by such a
variety of paths, attained exalted station. The list comprises
a queen, four princely doges of the Venetian Republic, twenty-
two procurators of St. Mark, nine cardinals, and a host of
names made illustrious by noteworthy achievement. As

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THE ART OF LIVING LONG

valiant leaders in peace or war; as honored councillors and
trusted diplomats; as reverend senators and magistrates; in
letters; philosophy; the sciences; and the arts, — the descend-
ants of the Cornelii have proudly blazoned a record upon the
scroll of fame that few historic families can equal.

Yet, of all this illustrious number, to that plain and unas-
suming gentleman and true nobleman, Louis Cornaro,
the veteran author of "The Temperate Life," is due the
greatest distinction — the gratitude of all mankind.

That the memory of the race of Cornaro is indelibly
preserved in marble and granite, the palaces, once the
homes of illustrious members of the family; many of the
churches of Venice, built by their aid, and often wholly
or in part at their expense; and the monuments, erected by
reverent descendants or by a grateful country to do honor to
the memory of individuals of this family, — emphatically
though silently testify.

In the Church of Sant' Apostoli — built largely at the
expense of the family, and rebuilt in 1750 — is a magnificent
Cornaro Chapel, supported by fanciful Corinthian pillars.
This chapel — erected in 1575 — contains the sepulchral urn of
Marco (Mark) Cornaro, father of Queen Caterina, and that
of her brother, the famous nobleman Giorgio (George) Cor-
naro— the husband of Elisabetta Morosini — who died July 31,

1527.

In the magnificent Italian-Gothic Church of Santi Gio-
vanni e Paolo, better known as San Zanipolo, and often called
The Westminster Abbey of Venice, — begun in 1234, but not
finished until 1430, — is the gorgeous mausoleum of the Doge
Marco Cornaro, the sarcophagus decorated with roses, the
canopy above it adorned with five very beautiful statues, the
work of the most celebrated Venetian sculptors of the Middle
Ages; here also may be seen the sepulchral urn of Pietro
(Peter) Cornaro, who died in 1361.

In the Church of San Salvatore, — begun in 1506 and
completed about 1534, — where lie the remains of Queen
Caterina, in the center of a Corinthian portico there is a

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THE CORNAEO FAMILY

beautiful monument erected to her memory in the year 1570,
the relief representing her resigning her crown to Doge
Agostino Barbarigo (the 74th doge of Venice, 1486-1501) ; as
well as one erected in the i6th century to three Cornaro car-
dinals, Marco, Francesco (Francis), and Andrea (Andrew).
In the Church of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari —
designed about 1250, and containing the colossal monument
of Titian, unveiled in 1853 — is the chapel of Angelo Cornaro,
sculptured in marble (15th century). In the Church of Santa
Maria della Salute — founded in 1631 as a monument of thanks-
giving for the cessation of the great plague, and thus known
as one of The Great Plague Churches of Venice — is the
sepulchral urn of Antonio (Anthony) Cornaro, rich in carv-
ings (i6th century). In the Church of San Pietro di Castello
— the Cathedral of Venice from the earliest days of the
Republic until 1807 — is the urn of Filippo (Philip) Cornaro,
very rich in ornaments (i6th century). In the Seminary (II
Seminario) is the urn of another Antonio Cornaro, with bas-
reliefs representing infants and griffins (i6th century).
There is also a Cornaro monument in the Church of I
Tolentini.

It is impossible to do justice, in this work, to the beauty
and grandeur, or to the historic associations, of the sev-
eral magnificent palaces in Venice, once the homes of
members of the Cornaro family, but now either inhabited by
strangers, or else converted to the use of the public or of the
government; consequently, we shall allude to them very
briefly.

At that part of the venerable city known as Sant' Apo-
stoli, is a Cornaro Palace of the i6th century, the whole facade
of which was originally painted in fresco. At San Samuele,
and facing upon the Grand Canal, is an imposing Cornaro
Palace, which, in the early part of the i8th century, was the
home of the nobleman Girolamo (Jerome) Cornaro. Another,
at San Canciano, was, in the i8th century, the home of the
senator and famous author Flaminio (Flaminius) Cornaro.

At San Cassiano, in the Street of the Queen, is the Cor-

[163]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

naro Palace of the Queen, the old name of palace and street
being still retained ; here was born, in 1454, Caterina Cornaro,
afterward Queen of Cyprus. The ancient pile, however, does
not exist, the present one having been erected upon the site
of the old one in 1724. The new edifice, inelegant in style,
manifests the decadence of art; but the entrance from the
Grand Canal is really imposing, and is said to have cost an
immense sum. This structure is now a Mount of Piety
(Italian, Monte di pieta), a government establishment, the
object of which is to lend money, no matter how small in
amount, at only a nominal interest, to those who are in neces-
sity; this custom, originating in Italy in the 15th century,
has since been adopted in various countries.

Giovanni (John) Cornaro, nephew of Queen Caterina,
built, in 1548, upon an old site in the square of San Polo, what
is now known as the great Cornaro-Mocenigo-Revedin Palace,
of which Sammicheli was the architect. This palace gave to
the neighboring street the name of Cornaro. The Cornaro
Palace of the Great House, a massive and magnificent pile,
with a Doric, Ionic, and Composite front, was erected (by
Sansovino) in 1532, at San Maurizio, by the nephews of Queen
Caterina; it faces the Grand Canal, and is now the office of
the Royal Prefect of the Province. There are two other Cor-
naro Palaces on the Grand Canal : one in the Court of the
Tree, now called the Cornaro-Spinelli Palace, a work of the
Renaissance ; the other, at San Benedetto, at the corner of the
Canal of the Mails, is now called the Cornaro-Mocenigo
Palace, and is used as the office of the city's water-works.

The Cornaro-Piscopia Palace at San Luca — later called,
and still known as, the Loredan Palace, and now used as the
palace (or offices) of the municipality of Venice — was, in the
14th century, the residence of Federico Cornaro, whose guest
Peter of Lusignan, King of Cyprus, was in 1363 and 1364.
To show his gratitude, in addition to the grant of the fief of
Piscopia in his kingdom, the King created Cornaro a knight
of an ancient Cyprian order, having for its motto "To main-
tain loyalty" ("Pour loyaute maintenir"). To perpetuate
the memory of this visit of the King, Cornaro caused to be

[164]

THE CORNAKO FAMILY

graven upon the front of his palace on the Grand Canal, the
royal arms of Cyprus beside those of the Cornaros, together
with the knightly emblem of his order; there they may be
seen to this day. The exact age and origin of this palace,
an early Byzantine one, are not known ; but it is believed to
date back as early as the loth or nth century. In "The
Stones of Venice" Ruskin says of it : "Though not conspicu-
ous and often passed with neglect, the Loredan Palace, will,
I believe, be felt at last, by all who examine it carefully, to be
the most beautiful of all the palaces in the whole extent of
the Grand Canal. It has been restored often, once in the
Gothic, once in the Renaissance times — some writers say even
rebuilt; but, if so, rebuilt in its old form." It was in this
palace, in the year 1646, that that marvel of her age, Elena
Lucrezia Cornaro, was born.

When the great name of Cornaro and the prosperity of
the family were at their zenith, their sumptuous palaces were
filled with memorials of the glorious history of their ances-
tors. These mute testimonials to the prowess of warriors,
as well as to the victors in more peaceful pursuits, were to
be seen in an abundance more than sufficient to satisfy the
most ambitious.

Nor will the visitor in Venice, once familiar with its
streets, have any reason for ignorance of the existence of the
name of Cornaro; for here, too, will he be confronted by
mementos of this ancient family.

At San Maurizio, the footway and bridge known as Cor-
naro Zaguri lead to the Cornaro Palace of the Great House,
as the Street of the Queen, at San Cassiano, leads to the Cor-
naro Palace of the Queen ; and the street which gives access
to the Cornaro Palace that faces on the Grand Canal, at San
Samuele, is still called Cornaro. Another, bearing the family
name, is Cornaro Street, near the square of San Polo, named
after the palace in the square.

The Cornaro family began to be interested in the
Paduan country for the first time, so far as is known by

[165]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

the records, in the year 1406, when Francesco Cornaro
became the proprietor of a portion of the confiscated property
of the ancient lords of Carrara — from 1318 to 1405 the sover-
eign lords of Padua. The palace on the Via Melchiorre
Cesarotti in Padua, built by Louis Cornaro, is still in exist-
ence, and is known as the Cornaro Palace. In the Church
of San Antonio in Padua, one of the most remarkable build-
ings in Italy, — begun about 1230 and completed in 1307, —
there is a monument dedicated to Caterino Cornaro, General
of the Republic of Venice in the wars against the Turks.

When Caterina became Queen of Cyprus, the power
of the Cornaro family in that kingdom was naturally in-
creased. It is certain, however, that they were not only
residents of the island, but possessed considerable in-
fluence there, for a long time prior to this event ; and it is
known that, in the middle of the 14th century, their wealth
and position were such that the king resorted to them for a
considerable loan of money. At the court of Cyprus, Venice
was regularly represented by a consul; and some contempo-
raneous documents go to prove the zeal which the Venetian
Senate showed in having his appointed salary paid, and in
seeing, at the same time, that the debts contracted by that
court with Venetian merchants and bankers should be dis-
charged. In one of these documents, dated September 17,
1455, it is deplored that "injustice should have been commit-
ted, to the damage of the heirs and claimants of Giovanni
Cornaro" ; and, furthermore, that "the noble citizen Marco
Cornaro," father of Caterina, "should have been injured in
his rights in not receiving that which the king owed him."
The tutelage of Venice over Cyprus was, indeed, so diligent
as to interest the king in the solution of a question of water
necessary for the good culture of the sugar-cane in the fief
of the Cornaros.

But with the glory, the power, and the commanding
influence of The Queen of the Adriatic, that, too, of the
race of the Cornari has well-nigh departed. The fortunes

[166]

THE COKNARO FAMILY

and personality of a house whose opulence and great-
ness were seldom, if ever, surpassed by any of their country-
men, and the lives of whose sons and daughters have fur-
nished themes for an almost endless number of writers, are
now but a memory. In Venice there are, to-day, five families
who bear the name, and who, as descendants of the old race,
are recognized as belonging to the Venetian patriciate. Not
a Cornaro, however, lives in the halls of his ancestors. But
the patriotic fire of the lords of generations ago still burns
in the breasts of their children ; proud of the history of their
family, they still hold Queen Caterina especially dear; and,
in order to perpetuate the memory of that noble woman, a
custom was long since instituted to give the name of Caterino
to a male child, in the event of the denial, to any family, of
a girl baby.

Among the many portraits of the members of this cele-
brated family — not elsewhere mentioned in this work — is that
of Giorgio Cornaro, in the collection of the Earl of Carlisle;
and The Cornaro Family, in Alnwick Castle, the baronial
residence of the dukes of Northumberland, — both by Titian.

[167]

Mans rich with little, were his judgment trite;
Nature is frugal, and her wants are few;
These few wants, answer'd, bring sincere delights;
But fools create themselves new appetites.

At thirty, man suspects himself a fool.
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty, chides his infamous delay.
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve.
In all the magnanimity of thought;
Resolves, and re-resolves, then dies the same.
And why? Because he thinks himself immortal.
All men think all men mortal hut themselves.

— Edward Young.

SOMS ACCOUNT

OP

EMINENT MEMBERS

OP

The Cornaro Tamily

PILGRIM,
Feom Lives thus spent thy earthly Duties leaen ;
Fbom Fancy's Deeams to active Vietue tuen:
Let Feeedom, Feiendship, Faith, thy Soul engage,
And sebve, like them, thy Countey and thy Age.*

CATERINA (CATHERINE) CORNARO, one of the
most illustrious women of the Renaissance, was the
daughter of Marco Cornaro — grandson of the Doge
Marco Cornaro — and Fiorenza, his wife ; and was born in the
city of Venice, November 25, 1454, in that Cornaro Palace
to which — as well as to the present one, built in the i8th cen-
tury on the site of the ancient structure — the fact of her birth

* From a mural tablet in The First Church, Quincy, Massa-
chusetts; placed there in memory of John Adams, the second
President of the United States, and Abigail Smith, his wife.

[169]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

and of her subsequent elevation to royal power gave the name
of the Cornaro Palace of the Queen, and, to the street in which
it is located, the name of the Street of the Queen.

Her brilliant, though mournful, history has afforded a
theme for many writers in all languages. Giving evidence
at an early age of rare qualities of mind, character, and per-
son,— for there were few, if any, of her countrywomen who
excelled her in charm and grace, — she was educated with the
scrupulous care due the daughter of a royal house ; as on her
mother's side she had an imperial ancestry by reason of her
descent from the Comneni emperors of Trebizond. She was
married. July lo, 1468, — when not yet fifteen years of age, —
with the most gorgeous and extraordinary ceremonies and pub-
lic rejoicings, to James of Lusignan, King of Cyprus, whose
love for her was first aroused on seeing her portrait in the
hands of her uncle, Andrea Cornaro ; at the same time she was
adopted by the Venetian Senate as The Daughter of the
Republic, in order that her rank might equal that of her hus-
band; and a dowry of one hundred thousand golden ducats
was presented to her.

In 1473, o^ the death of her husband in his thirty-third
year, she succeeded him on the throne as Queen of Cyprus;
in August, 1474, she suffered the loss of the infant Prince
James, her only child — born August, 1473 ; and after a
troubled reign of sixteen years, — during which time she
acquired the well-deserved reputation of a very superior,
wise, energetic, liberal woman, — worried by political jealousies
and intrigues, she abdicated, February 26, 1489, in favor of
the Venetian Republic. On her return to Venice, she was
received with great pomp and consideration, the reigning
doge himself meeting her in the celebrated historic Bucen-
taur.* The beautiful country-seat and castle of Asolo, nine-
teen miles from Treviso and still in existence, was given her
in sovereignty; this, together with her palace in Venice, she
made her home for the remainder of her life, spending her
time in works of charity, in the cultivation of her rural
retreat, and in the pleasures of art and literature — maintain-
ing at Asolo a court for poets, scholars, and artists.

* See Note M

[170]

ILLUSTHIOUS COBNAEOS

Her death occurred at Venice, July lo, 1510; and the
body of the dead Queen was followed by all the dignitaries
of Church and State, as well as by a vast concourse of citi-
zens, to its resting-place in the Cornaro Chapel in the Church
of Sant' Apostoli ; whence it was removed in 1660, and placed
in her mausoleum in the right transept of the Church of San
Salvatore, where it now lies. The inscription, in Latin,
plainly marks the final home of the remains of "Catherine,
Queen of Cyprus, Jerusalem, and Armenia."

Her eminent relative. Cardinal Bembo, in his "Gli Aso-
lani," pays a high tribute to her intellectual qualities, as well
as her many womanly virtues. Her portrait, taken at the
age of eighteen, in her crown and queenly robes, was painted
by Titian ; another, by Veronese, hangs in the Belvedere at
Vienna ; while the one by Pordenone is in the Dresden Gal-
lery. A magnificent painting of her by Makart hangs in the
National Gallery at Berlin ; in it, as Queen of Cyprus, she is
seen receiving the proffered homage of the Venetian patri-
cians.

ELENA LUCREZIA (HELEN LUCRETIA) COR-
NARO PISCOPIA, one of the most accomplished and illus-
trious women of her day, was born at Venice, June 5, 1646,
in the Cornaro Piscopia Palace — now the Loredan. She was
the daughter of Giovanni Battista (John Baptist) Cornaro,
Procurator of St. Mark, and of Zanetta Boni, his wife.

Naturally of a very retiring as well as devotional dis-
position, she wished to enter some religious order ; but her
father's entreaties altered her purpose. For, recognizing, while
she was still a child, her extraordinary gifts, he determined
that nothing should interfere with his cherished ambition
that his family should possess, in the person of his beautiful
daughter, — though so delicate and modest, and averse to the
world or to any kind of publicity, — the most learned woman
of her day. This purpose he realized, albeit at the early
sacrifice of the health, and, indeed, of the life, of the innocent
victim of his paternal and ancestral pride.

[171]

THE ABT OP LIVING LONG

Although entirely devoid of wordly ambition, yet, in
order that she might not disappoint the parent whose every
hope was centered in his daughter's triumph, she devoted all
her energies to the task assigned her; so that, such were her
wonderful powers of mind and memory, she soon excelled in
every branch of learning. She acquired a perfect knowledge
of many of the modern languages, — writing them with ease
and speaking them fluently, — as well as of Latin, Greek,
Hebrew, and Arabic. Her natural taste for poetry and music
was so highly cultivated, that she sang, in a sweet and flexible
voice, her own verses in various languages, set to music of her
own composition, and to her own accompaniment, either on
the viol, harp, or harpsichord. She became a perfect mistress
of many of the arts and sciences, and of ancient and modern
history, including, of course, that of her own country and
family. In theology, philosophy, and dialectics she was no
less accomplished. In a word, her response to her father's
appeal was so sincere that, although deaf to the applause of
all, — nay, embarrassed by the admiration she constantly ex-
cited, distasteful to her as it was unavoidable, — she became a
miracle of learning.

On a certain occasion, the haughty Venetian Senate went
so far as to suspend an important session, in order that they
might go in a body to hear a disputation in which, with that
eloquence for which she was noted, she was engaged in the
presence of an illustrious gathering, as was the fashion of the
time. Contrary to her wishes, she was created a master of
arts and doctor of philosophy by the renowned University of
Padua, — founded early in the 13th century by the Emperor
Frederick II., — receiving the title of Unalterable. The cere-
mony, which took place June 25, 1678, in the Cathedral of
Padua, was attended by illustrious scholars of all countries,
and was witnessed by an immense multitude, attracted by the
unwonted spectacle. She was also elected to membership in
all the principal literary societies of Italy. At Rome, she was
admitted at the University, and was entitled The Humble;
and princes and representatives of all nations paid homage to

[172]

ILLUSTRIOUS CORNAROS

her learning and virtues. Her hand was asked in marriage
by some of the most noted men of her time ; all of these offers,
however, in obedience to a resolution made in her girlhood,
she declined.

Her uninterrupted application to her studies, but es-
pecially the atmosphere of unwelcome publicity in which she
had always lived, — so uncongenial and often painful to her
sensitive nature, — completed the ruin of her naturally delicate
health. Although anticipating her death to be not far distant,
yet, to further please her father, — blind to her critical condi-
tion,— she wrote eulogies upon many of the most eminent per-
sonages of her day; these were followed by her remarkable
panegyric on the Republic of Venice.

But the replies to these final efforts, which had been
accomplished at such a fearful cost to her health and life,
found the illustrious maiden stretched upon a bed of pain,
which, in a short time, proved to be her couch of death — the
release from her sufferings coming to her in the city of Padua,
July 26, 1684. From that day to the 29th, — the day of her
funeral, — when her body was laid to rest in the Church of
Santa Giustina, the city, with all affairs suspended, presented
the spectacle of a universal, heartfelt grief, so deeply in the
affections of all was she enshrined. Her death was recorded
by poetical effusions from the learned of Europe. In an
eloquent oration, pronounced at a funeral solemnity performed
in her honor at Rome, she was celebrated as triumphing over
three monsters. Pride, Luxury, and Ignorance. At the foot
of the staircase on the right of the entrance to the University
of Padua, is a statue erected to her memory in 1773.

The first edition of her works was published at Parma in
1688.

MARCO (MARK) CORNARO, the 59th doge of
Venice, held that princely and historic office from July 21,
1365, to January 13, 1368, when he died at the age of eighty-
two — one of the most famous doges of The Golden Book.*
During his term the Venetians waged a bitter war against the

* See Note N

[173]

THE ABT OP UVINQ LONG

Turks and, also, subdued the rebellion in Candia. His tomb
is in the Church of Santi Giovanni e Paolo.

GIOVANNI (JOHN)— I.— CORNARO, the 96th doge of
Venice, was elected January 4, 1625, as the successor
of Francesco Contarini (doge, 1623-1624). During his
reign the Venetians defended Mantua against the Imperial
army ; about which period a severe plague raged in Venice and
throughout northern Italy. At this time, also, occurred a
bitter feud between the powerful Zeno family — descendants
of Renier Zeno, the 45th doge of Venice, 1253-1268 — and his
own. Cornaro died December 23, 1629.

FRANCESCO (FRANCIS) CORNARO, the loist
doge of Venice, was born May 6, 1585. He was the son of
Doge Giovanni (I.) Cornaro, and was chosen to his exalted
office May 17, 1656. During his very short term — he died
June 5 of the same year — the Venetians continued their
victories over the Turks.

GIOVANNI (JOHN)— II.— CORNARO, the nith doge
of Venice, was born August 4, 1647. His mother, Cornelia
Contarini, was of that illustrious family which gave the
great Republic eight of its one hundred and twenty doges,
a greater number than can be claimed for any other family.
He was elected doge May 22, 1709. During his administration
the Turks made war on Venice and, in 1715, took the Morea.
He concluded these hostilities by the peace of Passarowitz,
July 21, 1718. It was during his term that Venice lost her
last possessions in the island of Candia. He died August 21,
1722. He married his relative, Laura Cornaro, who survived
him, dying in May, 1729. He also left three sons, Francesco,
Nicolo (Nicholas), and Alvise.

FEDERICO (FREDERICK) CORNARO, one of the
three Venetian commanders in the struggle with the Genoese
known as the War of Chioggia (1379-1381), impoverished

[174]

ILLUSTRIOUS CORNAROS

himself by the voluntary sacrifice of his princely fortune to the
use of his country. In August, 1379, when it was thought
the Genoese might attack the city, arms were distributed to
the people, and Cornaro was placed in command.

GIORGIO (GEORGE) CORNARO, nephew of the
Doge Marco Cornaro, held during his lifetime many positions
of trust and responsibility, both civil and military. He was
a nobleman of sterling worth and considerable influence, his
exalted patriotism inspiring ceaseless efforts for the welfare
of his country; and such was the exposure consequent to
his zeal in his profession of arms, that it caused the sacrifice
of his health, and finally of his life, in her service. He died
December, 1439, and his remains were followed by the entire
population of Venice to their final resting-place in the Cornaro
Chapel in the Church of Sant' Apostoli.

ANDREA (ANDREW) CORNARO, a Venetian noble-
man, and uncle of Caterina, Queen of Cyprus, was an exten-
sive trader in that island. He and his nephew, Marco Bembo,
were murdered during the political disturbances subsequent
to the death of Caterina's husband. King James.

MARCO CORNARO, son of Giorgio Cornaro and Elisa-
betta Morosini his wife, and nephew of Queen Caterina, be-
came Patriarch of Constantinople. He was a very eminent
man and of great service to Venice. He died at that city,
July 20, 1524.

FRANCESCO CORNARO was born in 1488. In early
years he followed a military life, and became distinguished
as a leader in the army of Venice in the wars — in which
his country became involved — caused by the rival ambitions
of Francis I., King of France, and Charles V., Emperor
of Germany. When peace was secured he abandoned
the profession of arms and devoted himself to politics and
literature, becoming the ambassador of the Republic to the

[175]

THE ABT OF LIVINQ LONG

court of Charles V. He was a man of great learning, and, in
1527, was created a cardinal. He died September, 1543, in
his fifty-fifth year, and was buried in the Church of San
Salvatore, where his monument may still be seen.

ALVISE (LOUIS) CORNARO, Knight of Malta and
Grand Prior of Cyprus, was born February 12, 1516, and died
at Rome, May 10, 1584.

FEDERICO CORNARO, son of the Doge Giovanni
(I.) Cornaro, was made Patriarch of Venice in 1632. He
was Grand Prior of Cyprus, and died June 5, 1653, at the age
of seventy-eight.

GIROLAMO (JEROME) CORNARO was born June
25, 1632; he succeeded the illustrious Francesco Morosini
as Captain-General of the Venetian army when, in 1688,
the latter was elected the 108th doge of the Republic —
the last of that family to attain the ducal dignity. Cornaro's
valuable services to his country were, however, cut short in
1690 by his untimely death from fever at Valona, — a seaport
town in Albania, European Turkey, — which the Turks had
held since 1464, and the Venetians, under his command, had
besieged and recovered. His loss was regarded as a great
calamity.

GIORGIO BASILIO (GEORGE BASIL) CORNARO,
a younger brother of the Doge Giovanni (II.) Cornaro,
was born August i, 1658. His early years were spent in the
military service of his country; abandoning this, he entered
the field of politics, holding many offices of considerable
responsibility, for which his great learning, and the experience
gained by extensive foreign travel, eminently qualified him.
In 1692 he represented Venice at the court of Portugal, and
was later tendered the office of ambassador to the French
king; this honor, however, he declined, preferring to embrace
an ecclesiastical life. He was a member of the order of

[176]

ILLUSTRIOUS COBNAROS

Knights of Malta, a religious and military order instituted in
the nth century; was also Grand Prior of Cyprus, an office
hereditary in his family; and was made a cardinal July 22,
1697. He died August 10, 1722.

FLAMINIO (FLAMINIUS) CORNARO was born at
Venice, February 4, 1693, where he died December 28, 1778.
He was a Venetian Senator, and was distinguished for great
learning, attaining eminence as a hagiographer, historian, and
antiquarian. He was the author, in 1749, of a valuable work
on the churches of Venice (15 vols.), and of another on those
of Torcello (3 vols.). His home was the Cornaro Palace at
San Canciano, in Venice.

ANDREA CORNARO was Governor of the island of
Candia, and fell while fighting valiantly at Retimo, on the
northern coast of the island.

[177]

Health is, indeed, so necessary to all the duties as
well as pleasures of life, that the crime of squandering
it is equal to the folly; and he that for a short grati-
fication brings weakness and diseases upon himself, and
for the pleasure of a few years passed in the tumults
of diversion and clamors of merriment condemns the
maturer and more experienced part of his life to the
chamber and the couch, may be justly reproached, not
only as a spendthrift of his happiness, but as a robber of
the public; as a wretch that has voluntarily disqualified
himself for the business of his station, and refused that
part which Providence assigns him in the general task
of human nature. — Samuel Johnson.

A EULOGY

UPON

Lou IS CORNARO

BY

BAKTOLOMEO GAMBA*

Delivered on the Tenth Day of August, 1817, in the

Royal Academy of Fine Arts of Venice, on

THE Occasion of the Annual

Distribution of

Prizes

ON this most impressive occasion, amid these appropriate
surroundings, after the dignified speeches you have
heard, I shrink from addressing you, my Lord Count
the Governor, supreme magistrates of this city, most learned
professors, worthy scholars — all of you, my kind hearers ; but
I speak in grateful submission to the honorable charge laid
upon me, in obedience to the statutes of this Royal Academy,
which direct that every year shall be renewed the praises of
those among our national geniuses who have so distinguished
themselves as to be most deserving in the three divine arts of
desig^.

To-day, since this august temple of the Muses is more
resplendent than ever, he should not presume to attempt ful-
filling this noble office who but imperfectly knows and under-

♦ See Note O

[179]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

Stands their alluring graces. As for me, to come forth as
little ingloriously as possible from this difficult undertaking,
I intend to devote my efforts to another object; and I trust
that I shall see your courtesy smile upon me, if, leaving aside
pencil, rule, and chisel, I look rather toward those who
protect artists, and call your attention to a most remarkable
Maecenas.* I shall thus, overcoming any excessive timidity,
be able to entertain you a little regarding the advantages
which students of the Academy may derive from this kind of
tutelage; and I shall present to you, in his proper light, a
great man of the sixteenth century who belonged to the order
of the Venetian patriciate.

LOUIS CORNARO is known to all cultured nations by
the famous abstemiousness of his long career and by the
golden rules he formulated concerning the temperate life;
but it is not perhaps so well known how deeply versed he was
in the arts, how much he loved artists, and how faithfully he
labored in their interest. I shall speak now of these merits
of his, and I shall do it with the rapidity of a hasty traveler
who does but lightly observe and examine. If I turn my eyes
upon Cornaro in preference to so many other great men, who,
for the good of the arts, were nurtured upon these shores, I
trust the choice will be approved; since it will bear upon a
subject honorable to our fellow-citizens, pleasing to our
worthy professors, useful to these valiant youths — one which
may, in fine, be heard patiently by every kind and gentle soul.

Of the youthful years of our Cornaro, spent in Padua,
there is little to say, and that little were better left unsaid.
Although well trained in excellent studies, as became a gentle-
man of fine intellect, he admits that he soon put his studies
aside, and wasted his time in thoughtlessness and excesses;
from which cause he contracted infirm health and such bad
habits that, having arrived at the age of thirty-five, he ha'd
nothing left to hope for but that he might end in death the
sufferings of a worn-out and disconsolate life. Let us not
linger, my dear young men, over this state of affairs, which,
happily, we shall soon see corrected; but let us learn, by his

* See Note P

[180]

A EULOGY UPON COENARO

example, how important it is to follow the straight path of
virtue and study. Though the contrary way of dissipation and
idleness may seem, to some, to be one of peace and calmness,
in reality it is nothing but war and storm.

When he had grown ripe in years and judgment, his
inborn love having unfolded toward those sister arts which
are the dearest ornaments of our native land, Cornaro found
in them the truest, most useful, and most delightful enter-
tainment. Let us listen to the substance of his words: "O
most honorable gentlemen, great in intellect, in manners, and
in letters, and you who excel in some other quality, come with
me to honor the arts and artists, and, in doing so, obtain
satisfaction and comfort ! . . . I live in the most beautiful part
of this noble and learned city of Padua, and derive from it a
thousand advantages. I build according to architecture, enjoy
my several gardens, and always find something to delight
me. ... In April and May, as also in September and October,
I find other pleasures in enjoying a country-seat of mine
among the Euganean Hills, — in the finest site thereof, — with
its fountains and gardens, and, above all, its commodious and
beautiful abode ; also my villa in the plain, which is very fine,
with streets and a square, and a church much honored;. . . a
country, which, once deserted on account of bad air and
marshy waters, is now, by my labors, all rich in inhabitants
and fields most fertile; so that I may say, with truth, that in
this spot I have given to God an altar, a temple, and souls to
adore Him.. . .Here I take pleasure with men of fine intellect —
architects, painters, sculptors, musicians, and agriculturists ;
for, indeed, with such men our age is abundantly furnished."

And you well know, gentlemen, how fruitful that age
was in fine minds. Happy age ! Private individuals vied with
noblemen and princes to rejoice the heavens with splendid
light ; and, thanks to this union of choice spirits, the genius
of Italy was aroused, literature came to the fore, the arts
thrived, and a refined delicacy was diffused into every liberal
study. Let us not stir from this incomparable Venice of ours
and we will see that, if her noblest citizens — a Daniel Barbaro,
a Cardinal Bembo, a Doge Gritti, a Cardinal Grimani, a

[181]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

Giorgio Trissino of Vicenza, and our own Cornaro — ^had not
lived, the world would perhaps have never seen a Titian, a
Paolo [Veronese], a Sammicheli, a Palladio. How many,
indeed, are the opportunities of an intelligent protector!
Besides showing himself liberal of his substance, he converses
with his learned friend, whose inventions and fancies are thus
fostered ; he goes to the office of the rich merchant, into whom
he transfuses the enthusiasm with which he himself is filled;...
nor does he neglect any occasion whatsoever that the arts
may gloriously flourish. In Greece, the mother of all elegance
and philosophy, the Porticos and the Piraeus became earth and
brambles, once the ages of Pericles and Alexander were past;
and in earth and brambles the Laocoon and the Apollo for
centuries lay buried.

Among the many artists for whom Cornaro entertained
a strong affection, — proofs of which he has left us, — I shall
limit myself to telling you of one. Giovanni Maria Falconetto*
of Verona, who excelled as painter, architect, and sculptor,
flourished in his day. This man was a good speaker, frank
and pleasant; and, after having wandered hither and thither,
he found a refuge in the hospitable home of our Cornaro,
who offered him the most generous recognition. These two
souls were soon united in close fellowship ; and there followed
many learned and agreeable conversations, and the most
valued friendship and intimacy.

A large collection of drawings, which Falconetto had
brought with him from Rome, so fascinated Cornaro with the
attractions of that queenly city that he insisted upon going
to visit it, in company with his friend. He departed for Rome,
rich in expectations; most rich in knowledge, he returned to
his beloved Padua. There he erected a magnificent loggia,
decorated it with paintings, statues, and pictures taken from
the designs of Raphael, and inclosed in its courtyard a most
noble casino, devoted to music — all under the superintendence
and according to the directions of his friend Falconetto. He
also availed himself of his assistance in other grand construc-
tions at his villa at Codovico, on the Paduan hill, and at
Luigiano, near Torreglia, among the Euganean Hills. Nor

* See Note E

[182]

A EULOGY UPON CORNAKO

did the happy alliance between the Maecenas and the artist
ever cease; and the latter was comforted at his death by the
assurance that the most hospitable kindness would ever be
lavished upon his wife, three sons, and six daughters, the
fortunes of all of whom remained, in fact, at the mercy of the
credit and authority of their patron and friend. The candid
soul of Louis bore so great a predilection to Falconetto and
another happy mind, the Paduan Ruzzante,* that Vasari has
related, in his works, how Cornaro wished that Falconetto and
Ruzzante should be buried together, and that he might be
the third to share the same grave — in order that (says the
historian) "not even after death should their bodies be
separated, whose souls friendship and virtue had united
whilst living."

I have pointed out some of the edifices designed and
erected by Cornaro ; and it will be pleasing to you, gentlemen,
if I remind you that the magnificent loggia raised in Padua
is still in existence and much admired, and that the very cele-
brated architect Sebastiano Serlio proposed the designs of this
masterpiece to the studious as a model worthy of imitation.
Temanza, in his account of the life of Falconetto, also speaks
to us, at length, of the buildings erected in the villa at Codo-
vico, where he still found remains of perfect invention and
execution ; it was there he discovered a portrait of our most
honored Maecenas, one that I should like to see decorating
this magnificent hall on this solemn occasion in which I am
striving to recall his deeds. Temanza was not well informed
when speaking to us of the palace at Luigiano, which he
believed had been built near the Sile, not far from the city of
Trevigio, and razed by time ; but to the culture and knowledge
of the illustrious Knight Giovanni de Lazzara, I owe — and
you do, likewise — the pleasing news that this structure, with
its truly royal stairways, remains standing in that most
delightful spot I have spoken of among the Euganean Hills.
It has become the property of the famous Bishopric of Padua,
and does not belie the estimate given of it in his day by our
Francesco Marcolini, who, in one of his dedications, wrote
thus: "If a gentleman wishes to learn how to build in the

* See Note Q

[183]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

city, let him come to the Comaro Palace at Padua If he

wishes to lay out a garden, let him also find his model
there. ... If he wants to build in the country, let him go and
see at Codovico, at Campagna, and at other places, the
structures created by the nobility of Cornaro's great soul ....
If he wants to build a palace fit for a prince, — out of the city,
too, — let him go to Luvignano, where he will behold a
dwelling worthy to be inhabited by a pontiff or an emperor ;. . ,
Comaro knows all there is to know in this and in the rest of
human undertakings." Note, my hearers, that the engraver
Marcolini was no ordinary man ; but was indeed a most
famous artist, and so skilled in the mechanical sciences that
he was praised to the skies by Daniel Barbaro himself.

And here I wish to interrupt my narrative a while to
listen to you, gentlemen, who take pleasure in considering
the things which I propound. It seems to me you would
wish to rejoin: "Granted, that thy Cornaro was the mirror
of Maecenases — and who does not know that to them the
arts owe both favor and increase? and we may add that
they owed these same things at one time to the majesty of
religion, now enfeebled,. . .and also to many men of wealth
grown poor to-day. Let a Cornaro return now, and with
him a Titian and a Paolo ; let the artists return in throngs, —
what of it? Poor father of a family, thou dost spend, and
indeed waste, for that son of thine who is now a studious
scholar in this Academy, but who runs the risk of remaining
afterward destitute, without bread and without fortune!
Poor boy, thou burnest the midnight oil in the sweat of thy
brow, but in the future thou wilt, perforce, be inactive; and
it would be wrong to dare thee to the field of valor, where
there will be no palms to gather when thou hast attained
thy end !"

I shall not invoke the shade of the Venetian Maecenas
to answer similar whisperings; for, if our times are not his,
it is to ours we must conform. I wish to say, however, that
many unfounded difficulties proceed from vain fears. If
religion, the comforter, seems to have become feeble, or to
have lost its power with some, the neglect of a few is not

[184]

A EULOGY UPON CORNABO

a fault to be laid to the many; and all know that a society
without religion is like a ship without rudder or sails. Do
we not see it burning bravely in the hearts of our ruler and
so many of his excellent magistrates ; burning in the honored
breasts of the best of our citizens; burning in the bosoms of
noble matrons and of the humble peasant girls? And you
need but enter the churches to see the solemn services always
attended by throngs of people, or to journey through the
country to witness respect and veneration everywhere mani-
fested.

It is only too true that the murderous weapons from
beyond the hills, catching us unarmed, deprived us of a great
part of our riches; and, alas! too often now the oak stands
bare which used to tower in vigor. But, perhaps, rather than
to the lukewarmness of divine worship or the swords of the
enemy, we might attribute to other causes the scarcity of
work among our artists. It is incessantly repeated that we
have become poor; but how is it, then, that there is im-
moderate luxury in all that regards outward pomp? that an
Indian fabric, a bit of Sevres porcelain, a piece of Birming-
ham earthenware, the gold and silver spun in France or
Germany, and many other useless but costly trifles from
foreign countries, never lie dusty in our shops, while the hands
of our artists are idle? Pray do not lead me to exclaim that
there is among us more poverty concerning the true love of
our country's splendor, than poverty of goods.

The conditions of modern Italy would with difficulty
give us back a Cornaro; but there must be other means for
the protection of the arts, even without so much power as his.

This Adria of ours is no longer, such as the illustrious
Roberti depicted it, "Like to the ancient Tyre, whose navi-
gators were her Phoenicians; when its commerce, which
raised up the towers and halls of the lagoons, at the same
time made the country everywhere populous and honored."
Nevertheless, for an active Maecenas of the arts, an earnest
magistrate is often sufficient; frequently one enlightened
citizen is enough, or the wise pastor of a church ; and, indeed,
we see active Maecenases in not a few of the latter, who, in

[185]

THB ABT OP LIVINQ LONG

the midst of rural surroundings, erect magnificent temples
enriched in many ways. By enthusiasm, intelligence, and
activity, we shall see our buildings repaired and beautified,
and our houses more properly decorated with the riches of our
national productions — thus, in a word, our cities ennobled.
Call to mind, gentlemen, that through the activity and fervor
of one of our pastors in these latter days, the temple of Santi
Giovanni e Paolo has been transformed into a magnificent
gallery; that the worthy Knight Morelli has there rearranged
and enriched, with many relics of the fine arts, a library, the
most splendid abode Apollo and Minerva could have ; that the
Prefect of the Seminary, Giannantonio Moschini, has con-
verted a dilapidated building into a magnificent and ornate
lyceum ; that our most illustrious President, whom I name
not to flatter but to honor, and who is always intent upon
honorable undertakings which nourish the arts and carry
their teachings to the farthest shores, has obtained for you
from our rulers the means by which this Academy now ranks
above all others. Seeing all this, let us rejoice and take com-
fort— you especially, most learned professors. Rejoice that
you are the fortunate ministers who maintain here the sacred
fire of the divine works of the intellect, and know all that is
exquisite and hidden in their structure. Take comfort in the
names of. . .many who were once your scholars and who are
now the solace and help of their families, their brows wreathed
with crowns of honor woven for them by your teachings.
And you, dearest youths, who are this day prepared to receive
new and much-desired laurels, never pay heed to the reports
spread by ignoble fear, but redouble your earnestness in study ;
and you will thus become the delight of your friends and the
honor of your country.

Let us return now to Louis Cornaro, and follow him in
what we may of his long life ; nor let us abandon him until its
last day. Oh, how I wish the chroniclers had been less
niggardly to us! For, history having passed over in silence
so many of the personal acts of that gentle spirit, we cannot
now know positively either all his works or many of his
writings ; but must be content with the little we have, which,

[186]

A EULOGY UPON CORNARO

like the plan of a majestic building, suffices only to make us
guess at the grandeur of the structure and the splendor of its
decorations. The few letters which remain to us from his
pen, show how well versed he was in every noble science;
and, being addressed to great men, such as Bembo, Speroni,
Barbaro, and Fracastoro, they suffice to show of what ex-
cellence were his ties of friendship. He left nothing undone
that would promote intellectual enjoyment. The celebrated
tragedy, "CEdipus," by Giovanni Andrea dell' Anguillara, he
caused to be sumptuously presented under his own roof for
the recreation of the Paduans. The "Canace" of Speroni was
also to have been given in Padua with singular magnificence,
and to our Louis was entrusted the direction of the perform-
ance. Forcellini, in his biography of Speroni, relates that
Cornaro's companions in this were Alessandro Piccolomini
and Angelo Beolco, called Ruzzante; and that, besides hav-
ing provided music, costumes, and luxurious scenery for the
beauty of the performance, he had prepared a great banquet
for forty chosen gentlewomen and their husbands, the
academicians and the flower of the men of merit who were
at that time in Padua ; but the unexpected death of Ruzzante
put an end to all these plans. Finally, we know how deeply
he had studied the works of Vitruvius and Leon Battista
Alberti; and that he was much praised by Andrea Palladio,
as the inventor of a new kind of stairway introduced into his
habitations. Nor is that all ; for he dictated various treatises
concerning painting, architecture, music, and agriculture.
But the only writings which were not destroyed by time, are
the discourses upon his cherished temperate life — translations
of which were published in many foreign tongues — and a
learned pamphlet upon our lagoons, which he used to style
"the most strong and holy ramparts" of his dear country.

I, who like to borrow the words of the aged, which
breathe candor and simplicity and add faith to speech, beg
you to hear with me how a cultured Tuscan man of letters,
Antonmaria Graziani, in the life he wrote of the celebrated
Commendone, — whose secretary he was, — points out the many
blessings which our Cornaro was in the habit of receiving

1187]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

from the virtuous temper of his soul. His words are in the
Latin tongue, and this is their import in ours: "This most
honorable man, whom the surname of Temperate became so
well, was courted, revered, and respected by all, whether
those of eminent birth or those distinguished by great in-
tellect; and men of all ranks of society were eager to visit
him, for the pleasure of hearing his conversation, which was
always moderate, pleasant, and ingenious. Prudence, wis-
dom, sagacity, counsel, and liberality formed about him a
most beautiful and splendid body-guard. No house in Padua
was more looked up to than his; and he, always magnificent
and bountiful, never ceased to bestow upon all — but, in an
especial manner, upon those conversant with the fine arts —
every favor of a generous and perfect soul." . . .

But I shall lead you at length, gentlemen, to the last
days of Louis Cornaro; and it will be sweet to you to know
that to spend one's time unceasingly for the common good
is to lay up precious consolation for the last hour of our lives.
And here I shall again make use of Graziani's words, that
you may see how the tranquil and restful end of our great
man. . .was as serene as the beautiful sunset of an unclouded
day. "The good old man" (I follow the faithful translation)
"feeling that he drew near the end, did not look upon the
great transit with fear, but as though he were about to pass
from one house into another. He was seated in his little bed
— he used a small and very narrow one; and, at its side, was
his wife, Veronica, almost his equal in years. In a clear and
sonorous voice he told me why he would be able to leave this
life with a valiant soul ; and he expressed the best wishes for
the happiness of my Commendone, to whom he insisted upon
writing with his own hand a letter of advice and consolation.
He told me he thought he might yet survive two days; but,
feeling a little later the failure of vital forces, and having
received anew the assistance of consoling religion, ... he ex-
claimed: 'Glad and full of hope will I go with you, my good
God!' He then composed himself; and having closed his
eyes, as though about to sleep, with a slight sigh he left us
forever." A departure joyful and enviable, but how great a

[188]

A EULOGY UPON COENAEO

misfortune to the world! For the loss of men of so great
wisdom is irreparable ; nor is anything left to us but to follow,
as far as may be, their authority and example. . . .

Dear and noble youths, this solemnity is sacred chiefly
to you ; and, addressing you, I shall close my discourse. With
the voice of warmest affection, I urge you to be industrious
in winning for yourselves the patronage of the prince and the
assistance of the Maecenas; and never again to forget Louis
Cornaro and the artist Falconetto, his friend. Yes, to-day
also you will find protectors, if, having made for yourselves
a treasure of all domestic virtues, you broaden the sphere of
your intellect with a great variety of knowledge; and if you
will bear in mind that he does not win fame and celebrity
who is slothful, but rather does he who works night and day,
so far as human nature will permit. Livy and Plutarch have
described for us Philopoemen, an illustrious leader of armies,
and have narrated the great labors and efforts which bore
him to celebrity. Reynolds set that general as an example
before his young scholars, and showed them that not less
arduous are the labors and efforts of the artist who would
ascend the heights of immortality. Therefore, we all trust
to your talent and good-will ; and by you, valiant youths, this
city will continually rise to greater luster; which, for delight-
fulness of climate, vividness of genius, holiness of institutions,
majesty and splendor of buildings, and for the purest milk
afforded the three divine sister arts, has ever been famous
throughout the whole world.

[189]

"0 flowerets of the field!" Sidddrtha said,

"Who turn your tender faces to the sun, —

Glad of the light, and grateful with sweet breath

Of fragrance and these robes of reverence donned.

Silver and gold and purple, — none of ye

Miss perfect living, none of ye despoil

Your happy beauty. 0 ye palms! which rise

Eager to pierce the sky and drink the wind

Blown from Malaya and the cool blue seas;

What secret know ye that ye grow content.

From time of tender shoot to time of fruit.

Murmuring su^h sun-songs from your feathered crowns?'

— Sir Edwin Arnold.

THB3 VILLAS

Crcctcd by Louis Cornt^ro

BY

Dk. Pkof. EMILIO LOYAKINI*

OF THE

Rbale Liceo Minghetti op
Bologna**

rAMOUS for his treatise, "The Temperate Life," which
has not only been translated into several languages, but
has seen many editions, the illustrious Venetian gentle-
man, Louis Cornaro, deserves imperishable renown, likewise,
for the great and useful love which he bore for the arts —
particularly for architecture.

"He delighted," we have from Serlio, "in all the noble
arts and singular attainments ; and especially was he fond of
architecture." It was in the latter that he acquired his title
to undying fame, as even his contemporaries acknowledged.
Among these was Ortensio Lando, who, wishing to praise
him, made this merit precede all others when he called him
"a great builder, an enthusiastic hunter, and a man of pro-
found piety."

♦ See Note R
*♦ From Vol. 1I„ Nos. VI. -VII.,— April -July 1899,— of "L'Arte" of Rome.

[191]

THE AET OF LIVING LONG

Architecture was not for him, as it is for so many, purely
a luxury, and a means by which he could exhibit his riches
to the envious and wondering eyes of his equals, and of the
world in general. Rather was it the object of an ardent wor-
ship; so much so that he became not only a friend, but even
a helper and companion, of his artist proteges.

He studied the works of Vitruvius, Leon Battista Alberti,
and other writers, and visited the ancient and modern archi-
tectural monuments; he originated, according to Palladio,
"two kinds of stairways"; and he composed a work on
architecture, which a relative of his, in a letter dated January
27, 1554, insisted should be published ; but nothing came of it,
and it has never been known.

Fortunately, instead of a treatise on the subject, he left
something better to us, in the form of several very hand-
some buildings. Much more would he have left had his
means allowed it; for, as Vasari writes, "He was a man of
great genius and of a truly regal spirit — the truth of this
statement being proved by so many of his honored under-
takings." This opinion is perfectly in accord with that of
Pietro Valeriano, who, in a Latin dedication of a work to
Cornaro, wrote: "To-day, no private individual understands
better than you the science, beauty, and elegance of construc-
tion, or has more artistically turned his knowledge to practical
use. Had, perchance, a destiny worthy of your great soul
befallen you, our age would be considered inferior to no
ancient one in the development of such a noble art."

What he did accomplish, however, is undoubtedly well
worthy of being recorded. The ingenious Francesco Marco-
lini, an expert printer and artist, and designer of the bridge
"whence Murano watches Venice," was the first and last to
prepare a list, which is thus the only one we have, of Cornaro's
buildings.

One finds this list in a letter, dated June i, 1544, in which
the editor, — Marcolini, — dedicating to Cornaro the fourth
book of Serlio, writes: "To you alone can one give the
name of 'executor' of true architecture, as is attested by the

[192]

COBNAEO S VILLAS

splendid edifices ordered by your superhuman intellect. If a
nobleman or private gentleman wishes to know how to build
in a city, let him come to the Cornaro Palace at Padua;
there he will learn how to construct not only a superb
portico, but also the other parts of sumptuous and com-
fortable buildings. If he wishes to adorn a garden, let him
take, as a model, the one you have arranged, not only under
your dwelling, but crossing beneath the highroad for twenty
paces — all in rustic style. If he is desirous of building in the
country, let him go to Codevigo, to Campagna, and to the
other places where he will find the buildings which are the
product of your great genius. Whoever wishes to build
a princely palace — also away from the city — may go to
Luvignano; there he will view, with astonishment, a mansion
worthy of a pope or an emperor, or, at any rate, of any prelate
or gentleman — a mansion erected by the wisdom of your
Excellency, who knows all that is possible in this and other
human achievements."

With all the exaggerations to be noted in the laudatory
expressions of those times, Cornaro is by Marcolini called
merely the "executor" of true architecture ; this does not mean
that he was the author of all those magnificent edifices, but
rather that they were "ordered" by him, as is added later on.

It ought to have been known even in that time — as
Vasari tells us, though it is omitted above — that, even if
Cornaro was the architect of his palace in Padua, "the beau-
tiful and richly ornamented portico," close by, was the work
of the skillful Falconetto* — a fact which is also mentioned in
the inscription existing above the central archway. It should,
moreover, be remembered that Falconetto "worked a great
deal with the said Cornaro." Without further proofs, and
without any documents, we think it quite useless at the
present day to try to discover, by the examination of the archi-
tectural style alone of what remains, how much is the work
of the one and how much that of the other. Equally devoted
to classical art, they lived together twenty-one years in an
uninterrupted unison of feelings and ideas; so much so, that

♦ See Note E

[193]

THE ART OF LIVINQ LONG

Cornaro expressed a wish that he might be buried in one
tomb with his friend — "so that their bodies might not be
separated in death, whose souls in this world had been united
by friendship and virtue."

With these facts before us, it does not seem right to
accept the opinion of some, who, like Temanza, see Falco-
netto's work wherever Cornaro has built ; or that of others who
attribute all to Cornaro; but, until further proof is attain-
able, it would be wise to abstain from giving any positive
opinion.

The portico, together with other parts of the city palace,
has been described and commended by many; and, though it
is not widely known, there are always foreigners who visit it.
But who goes to visit the edifices mentioned by Marcolini,
and the others omitted by him, all away from the city? Not
only has very little been written about them, but some of
them have, unfortunately, been forever lost.

Last summer, while traveling through the Venetian
country, I went to the scenes of Cornaro's work, to find how
much had, by time and man, been left of the buildings. I did
not find all that he had built, or even all that had been seen
by some writers at the end of the last century; but I clearly
saw that what yet remains is well worth illustrating and
writing about. Among these remains is a fine architectural
work, which, until now, so far as I am able to learn, had been
forgotten; I also found some useful documents in the course
of my researches in the archives. Therefore, uniting the fruits
of my two investigations, I deemed it well to make known
what I have myself learned about the works constructed in
the country by the illustrious nobleman.

It is well, from the very first, to make a distinction
between the edifices built at Cornaro's own expense and for
his own use, and those built by him for the account of
Cardinal Francesco Pisani, — Bishop of Padua from 1524 to
1567, — for whom Cornaro acted as administrator during

[194]

COENAKO'S VILLAS

several years. The distinction is readily made; for there
still remain the documents relating to Cornaro's property,
which had been presented at different times to the officials of
the Commune of Padua. They do not register any property
at either Campagna or Luvigliano. Here, therefore, his work
was for the Bishopric and not for himself. Let us now com-
mence with these two places.

At Campagna Lupia, near Dolo, not very far from the
lagoon, is a large farmhouse which belonged to the Bishop of
Padua, but is now owned by a gentleman of that city. It was
this house that Temanza recognized as the one mentioned
by Marcolini as Cornaro's work; though he arbitrarily put it
to the credit of Falconetto, and published it as such in his
biographical work, in 1778.

Twenty-four years later, it was visited by the publisher
Pietro Brandolese, a passionate lover of artistic researches
relating to Venice, who described it minutely in an un-
published letter to Count Giovanni de Lazzara, as follows:
"At a short distance from the church, or rather just before
coming to it, is a country-house belonging to the Bishopric
of Padua, built by Falconetto. It is the same one to which
Temanza refers, at page 138 and the following pages, under
the simple denomination of 'seventeen arches.' It is wholly
of a rustic style, built of brick and carefully selected stone.
The faqade is formed of seventeen arches of slight propor-
tions, flanked by very strong pillars. There is no aperture
whatever above these, and the faqade ends with a simple band
which serves as a cornice. Under the portico the building is
divided into three parts by two stairways which lead to the
granaries, the central section receding a little from the sides.
Without a plan before us, it is not possible to describe the
arrangement of the ground floor, which possesses every con-
venience for farming purposes : rooms for the peasants ;
stables for cattle, horses, and all kinds of animals ; cellars ; etc.,
— all very cleverly arranged. The vaults are wholly in brick
— not beams. On the first floor are the granaries, which one
can enter by the stairs, as well as from the terraces by means

[195]

THE ABT OF LIVINQ LONG

of an arched bridge, as is clearly seen by what remains near
the courtyard door. This door, in rustic style, is nearly all
lost. The facade of the portico is all of hewn stone, with
apertures cleverly arranged, corresponding to the uses of the
house and to its internal disposition. The entire building, in
fact, gives evidence of a very skillful architect. Its plans
would serve, to-day, as an ingenious model for a farmhouse,
with due allowance, however, for all the modern needs which
differ from those of that age."

The Count de Lazzara, fifteen years later, in a letter
which was published by Gamba, warrants the statement that
Cornaro had "presided" over the construction of this farm-
house, and that its architect was his g^est. But not even
Bishop Dondi Orologio, who had made researches for him
among the old documents, had been able to find the name of
this architect, or of any other. Wherefore he wrote thus:
"If Temanza speaks of the beautiful portico at Campagna as
having been built by Louis Cornaro, the author of 'The
Temperate Life,' I doubt his being right. Cornaro was the
administrator of the Bishopric of Padua for many years ;
and, under the date of August 17, 1546, there is a writing of
Cardinal Pisani, in which the Bishop admits owing the afore-
said Cornaro 11,120 ducats, for buildings and improvements
made by him on the property of the Bishopric. The docu-
ment does not say where the buildings were, nor where the
improvements were made; perhaps, among the former, the
one at Campagna is included."

The learned Bishop was wise in presuming only that
which was likely, and affirming nothing more. If it is prob-
able that Falconetto may have had something to do with it,
there are no proofs ; so it is useless to mention his name. We
may, indeed, believe that the building was erected during
Cornaro's administration ; and the fact of its having been
attributed to him since 1544, in a letter publicly addressed
to him, ought to be more than sufficient proof. Under such
circumstances, doubt is unreasonable.

Certain documents, regarding the adjustment of the

[196]

CORNARO'S VILLAS

accounts of Cornaro and Cardinal Pisani, testify that the
illustrious administrator was occupied, during the years 1532,
'33, and '34, in establishing throughout the lands of the
Bishopric the system of farming on equal shares; and an
eye-witness tells us that "at Campagna his ambitions in this
regard were fully realized." In all likelihood that was the
time when the necessity for some large place in which to store
the harvest was most felt; and Cornaro must have provided
for it by building the country-house in question. There are,
in fact, records of an account for stone used in building the
barns at Campagna, which account was presented to the
Cardinal. The place was commonly called "the granary of
Campagna," and it was also designated "the episcopal palace
in the domain of Campagna." It is, to-day, in much the
same condition as described by Brandolese.

Not very far from the monumental Abbey of Praglia —
upon a little eminence at the foot of the Euganean Hills, from
which one commands the view of a great part of the Paduan
plain — rises the palace at Luvigliano, to which ascent is
gained from the east and west by superb double stairways.
This was probably the site of the old village church and
parish house which were demolished and built elsewhere, in
1474, at the expense of Bishop Jacobo Zeno, to make way,
perhaps, for the new building and the adjacent gardens. At
all events, the palace was erected and completed much later
by Cornaro — as Marcolini tells us — and, consequently, during
his administration ; indications, indeed, are not wanting to
confirm this view.

In the documents pertaining to the adjustment already
alluded to, this palace at Luvigliano is likewise mentioned in
reference to the stone employed, as well as to other building
expenses. It is also likely that when Cornaro gave up his
care of the Bishopric's property the palace was already com-
pleted, as would appear from the allusion referring to it, found
in a summary of his administration : "and he completed the
work which he had begun."

Later, during the incumbency of Francesco and Alvise

[107]

THE ABT OF LIVINQ LONG

Pisani, — prior to 1570, — the fine doorways leading into the
park and courtyard, the fountain, the crenelated battlements,
and other things of more or less secondary importance, were
constructed by the architect Andrea Da Valle, the sculptor
Agostino Righetti, and others. In the course of time occurred
other small additions or restorations; but always in con-
formity with the original design of the villa, in which one can
admire, to this day, the happy intellect that created it.

This, like the rest of Cornaro's buildings, has been at-
tributed to his friend without any proof or reason. Selvatico
alone reasoned, after examining the palace, that "The style
of architecture, more than any of the historical notes, dis-
closes it to be the work of Falconetto"; and he added this
opinion: "Though not everyone may be contented with all
that adorns this structure, none can help admiring the beauty
and richness of its design."

Great astonishment was felt that Cardinal Francesco
Pisani visited only once — perhaps in 1547, and just for a few
hours — that superb and exquisite palace which used to fill
with pride the hearts even of those who had merely the good
fortune to own property in its neighborhood ; as was the case
with that chaplain who wrote, in Latin, this inscription on
the wall:

''langfrancus canipanona, nicknamed ligneami-
neus, the son of alexander, chaplain of the
church of the father, has prepared this house,
together with the adjoining hill carefully culti-
vated by him and covering fifteen fields, near the
very beautiful palace and delightful gardens of the
bishopric, in the village of livianus, for pleasure and
for the convenience of his friends, in the year

MDLXni.''

In one of his dialogues, published in 1561, the eminent
jurist, Marco Mantova Benavides, puts these words in the
mouth of Ulisse Bassiani : "You certainly do the place [the
suburban villa at Bassanello] a wrong no less than does
Cardinal Pisani, who has only been once to the palace which

[198]

COBNAKO'S VILLAS

he has constructed at Covigliano [sic] at such an enormous
expense that it commands the admiration of all who see it;
and even then he did not remain more than a day." Oh, what
were the quiet pleasures of a residence in such a place, to the
ambition of a Cardinal who was eligible to the papal chair!
He abandoned even his Bishopric for Rome!

Louis Cornaro, on the other hand, knew how to, and did,
find such pleasures; and all the things he had built for him-
self he enjoyed both heartily and for a great length of time.
In 1542, remembering that he had always benefited "literati,
musicians, architects, painters, sculptors, and others," and
that he had spent "many and many thousands of crowns in
stately buildings and in many beautiful gardens," to Speroni
he prided himself that he knew how to enjoy every happiness
in "such well-arranged habitations and beautiful gardens of
his own creation." And, though "many who attain these
things do not generally enjoy them," he promised himself that,
thanks to his temperate life, he would yet continue to enjoy
them many and many years — which promise he certainly ful-
filled. Later, in his happy and industrious old age, he again
expressed his satisfaction over it; and he delighted to tell
how he divided his time between town and country. To this
very circumstance we are indebted to him for some interesting
points on the subject of our research.

"I go," he writes, "in April and May, and again in
September and October, to enjoy a country-seat of mine in
the Euganean Hills, most beautifully situated, with its gardens
and fountains, and especially its beautiful and comfortable
dwelling. I sometimes go there, also, to take part in the
pleasant and agreeable hunting, of the kind suitable to my
age. I enjoy, for as many days, my villa in the plain, which is
beautiful, with many pretty streets all meeting in a fine
square, in the center of which stands its church, highly
honored, as befits the importance of the place. The villa is
divided by a wide and rapid branch of the river Brenta, on

[199]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

either side of which the country extends in cultivated and
fertile fields ; and it is now — the Lord be thanked ! — very well
populated, which before was certainly not the case, but rather
the opposite, as it was marshy and malarial, and niore suited
to snakes than to men. After I had drained off the water, the
air became pure, and people began to settle; the inhabitants
multiplied greatly, and the place grew to the perfect state
in which one sees it to-day. I can, therefore, truly say that
in this place I gave to God an altar, a temple, and souls to
worship Him."

This is the village of Codevigo, about four miles distant
from Piove di Sacco; here the records of the Paduan Com-
mune indicate, in addition to the numerous and extensive
possessions of Cornaro, a house for his own use, "with a
courtyard, kitchen-garden, orchard, and vineyard" of about
the size of "five fields." One of his nephews, in a letter,
describes it as follows: "His country-seat, both comfortable
and adapted to agriculture, is built according to the finest
architecture, and is stronger and more commodious than any
other in the neighborhood. He wished to construct the vaults
entirely of stone, so as to be safe in case of fire, war, or any
other calamity." Marcolini also confirms that it was built by
Cornaro.

In the same village, — according to this nephew, — besides
the beautiful church which he transformed from the un-
attractive structure it had formerly been, and the altar of
which Cornaro himself spoke, he also built the bridge over the
river Brenta — "a work worthy not only of a single individual
but of a whole community" — as well as many houses for the
farmers. But, in the course of time, much of all this was lost;
and there remains, at present, even less than was seen by
Temanza and Brandolese.

Temanza, who always returned gladly to those places to
see Cornaro's edifices, which he judged as "works of merit
and worthy of being imitated," wrote in the following man-
ner: "At the village of Codevigo in the country round Padua,
situated on the right bank of the river Brenta, — which, in that

[200]

COBNAEO'S VnJ.A-S

part, is called Brentone, — Cornaro owned an enormous estate.
The health of the place was impaired by stagnant waters, for
the drainage of which no means had as yet been provided ; and
he, who for those times was learned in hydrostatics, reduced the
marshes to dry land, improved the condition of the atmosphere,
and thereby caused a great increase in the number of settlers.
He first built the parish church, dedicated to the prophet
Zacharias. He then constructed a noble, though not very
large, palace, with porticos and courtyards, as becomes a villa.
All these buildings are the work of Giovanni Maria [Fal-
conetto]. A majestic doorway forms the entrance to the
palace. It has two Ionic columns on the sides, a rich cornice,
and a majestic frontispiece, which bears, carved in the center
of its upper part, a large eagle with wings outspread. This
edifice has two stories; the first is vaulted, the second has
rafted ceilings. The lower part of the church facade, — ^which
is in Doric style, — as well as the doorway and windows,
reminds one of the style of Falconetto. The altar bears the
same character, and has a fine terra-cotta bas-relief of good
workmanship, representing a scene in the life of the prophet
Zacharias."

One cannot imagine where Temanza obtained his in-
formation about the priority of the building of the church, or
the certainty that all these edifices were due to Falconetto,
though his writings are decidedly of value; for, as early as
1802, vandal hands had begun to destroy these monuments.

As good fortune would have it, in that very year, on the
eighth of July, Brandolese happened to be there ; and he gave
to Count de Lazzara the following narrative of his experience :
"I proceeded eagerly to Codevigo, to learn what remained
there of Falconetto's work. The church does not exist any
more, except, as you know, the Doric part of the faqade; and
of these remains I admired the model and the elegance of
different parts. On entering the church to see the altar, I
found that the place where it used to exist was in the course
of reconstruction, and saw the original pieces thrown care-
lessly on the ground. I inquired what was to be the fate of

[201]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

this fine monument, and learned that it was to be reduced and
refitted for a new chapel. I pleaded with the parish priest
that it might be rebuilt as it was originally, and I trust I have
obtained the favor. I observed the archway in the buildings
close by, now belonging to the Foscari family ; and I admired
more than ever the wise investigator of the remains of Roman
art."

Brandolese's words were heeded, and the exquisite altar
remains to this day, though without the table and the terra-
cotta bas-relief; and it occupies the chapel to the left of the
principal altar.

The old bridge, and the doorway of the Cornaro Palace,
however, exist no longer. The building has been repeatedly
modified, and now presents nothing especially worthy of
notice ; only a few stones, which may have formed the base of
the columns of the doorway, still lie scattered about under the
courtyard portico. The facade of the church, which is Doric
below and Corinthian above, had been recently whitened ; and
the old steeple, which leaned so greatly to one side as to
threaten a collapse, had been supported with a buttress
extending nearly to the belfry.

We have yet to speak of the other villa mentioned by
Cornaro before he spoke of Codevigo. He does not name it,
but only says it was in the Euganean Hills and "in their most
beautiful spot." Some thought of Luvigliano, and supposed
that he had there taken to draining the marshes, felling the
woods, breaking up the ground, and cultivating the lands;
and they said that the fact of his having breathed the pure air
of that place was one of the causes which prolonged his life
to a very old age. Gamba believed that it did not become the
property of the Bishopric of Padua until sometime later ; but
such, as we have seen, it had always been ; and we cannot be-
lieve that the noble Cornaro considered it, even during his ad-
ministration, as his own property, or lived there as if it were
his own home. Of which place, then, does he mean to speak?

[202]

CORNARO^S VILLAS

Not one of the many who have written about him has ever yet
told us, notwithstanding the fact that in 1842, among the
collection of Venetian inscriptions edited by Cicogna, was
published the letter of Cornaro's nephew, already mentioned,
which explains that this villa was at Este.

"He created," writes the nephew, "on a hill near Este, a
delightful garden, full of divers and delicate fountains and
perfect grapes." And, continuing : "In his youth he delighted
in hunting big game, such as wild boar and the stag; and, as
such animals were not to be found in this country [near
Padua], but in the territory of Este divided by an arm of the
Po [stc]y he built there a comfortable hunting residence; and
annually, for many a year, he used to go there, killing a large
number of these animals, which he either sent to some of
his friend^ or else distributed in Venice or Padua. When the
sport was at its end, he had a comedy prepared and given in
his own hall, which he had built in imitation of the ancient
ones. The stage was made of durable stone; but the part
reserved for the audience was of wood, so that it could be
taken down and removed. These performances were all very
successful, as he had living with him some clever artists, such
as the famous *Ruzzante."

Furthermore, the Paduan records confirm, without any
doubt, that he owned "a house on the hills outside the gates
of Este, with an orchard and a vineyard of six fields," which
he kept for his private use.

Carefully examining all the records, as well as all the
histories of Este that have ever been published, I found — and
that in a monograph of 185 1— only the following uncertain
allusion to a Cornaro Villa built at that place : "Beyond [the
Kunkler Palace] to the left, is a palace, perhaps in old days
that of Cornaro, and later belonging to the Farsetti family ; it
is built on a beautiful height, and has been, according to the
designs of Japelli, enlarged and improved with great taste by
its present owner. Doctor Adolfo Benvenuti."

I then went to Este to find this Villa Benvenuti ; and, to
my surprise and delight, I found at the entrance of the garden

* See Note Q

[203]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

a fine archway of classic style, in which I thought I saw no
little resemblance to the architectural works of Cornaro and
Falconetto. The situation of the villa coincides precisely with
the description in the records of Padua; for we find, by
examining old topographical maps, that, in order to get to it
from the center of the city, it was necessary to pass the Santa
Tecla gate, which was demolished centuries ago.

The archives of the city of Este contained nothing that
could convert my supposition into certainty; but a few days
later, while examining the old papers of the Bishopric of
Padua, I came upon a contract of 1650, in which the Procura-
tor Giovanni Battista Cornaro had leased to Giorgio Cornaro,
Bishop of Padua, for ten years, "his palace at Este, near the
convent of the Capuchins, with all its fields, kitchen-gardens,
orchards, parks, fountains, vineyards, etc." To this contract
was annexed a minutely detailed inventory of the furniture in
the house. This document dispelled all my doubts, as many
details mentioned in it are identical with the views of the Villa
Farsetti and its garden, drawn by Coronelli in the beginning
of the eighteenth century; and other particulars have been
preserved, and are noticeable to this day, in the Villa
Benvenuti. This villa, belonging formerly to the Farsetti
family, is therefore none other than the old Villa Cornaro: it
is near the convent of the Capuchins, and nearer to it is the
house of the farmer who has charge of it; just as we know
that the palace of the Procurator Cornaro was near the
convent, and that nearer still was the house of his steward.

In the Benvenuti garden there is running water, which
is very scarce in these hills ; this is made to pass through lead
pipes. In fact, we find recorded in the inventory "eighty-six
pipes of lead, weighing 2080 lbs.," to be used for the fountains.
And, furthermore, a historian of Este, in 1743, published the
following: "There is Cavalier Farsetti's villa near the
convent of the Capuchins, where the house, being an un-
pretentious one, does not arouse great curiosity to see it ; but
the site and the playing fountains are worthy to be considered,
and the place has frequent visitors." If we also examine

[204]

COKNAEO'S VIULAS

minutely the engravings of Coronelli we shall see a portico of
seven arches under the palace ; in the garden a large stairway,
with many flower vases on pedestals on each side; and, close
by, two vine trellises. The inventory, furthermore, mentions
a portico below in the front of the palace; a stairway on the
outside; numerous boxes and vases of plants — among them
lemon trees, orange trees, and prickly-pear trees ; fifty
pedestals of stone for the orange trees ; and vine trellises
supported by columns of stone, connected by iron arches.

These comparisons are more than sufficient to establish
the identity of the two villas. But, in ending, I shall not omit
to add another piece of information furnished by the inven-
tory. In it is a full list of an interesting collection of pictures
which were distributed about the rooms of the palace. Among
them, besides "a Cornaro coat of arms painted on canvas," and
a portrait of the well-known Queen of Cyprus, there is a
painting of Ruzzante, the protege and affectionate friend of
Louis Cornaro, who used to frequent with him these lovely
hills, and who, after the hunting, would recite in the hall
which Cornaro had built in his own house. Of this hall there
is now no vestige ; and the palace is really no longer the one
of yore, as the architect of the Caffe Pedrocchi has repaired it
on an extensive scale. But Coronelli's engraving remains, and
it gives us some idea of the physiognomy of the building
erected by the famous author of "The Temperate Life."

We can suppose the same about the garden, on com-
paring the other engraving, where we see the stairway
leading from the courtyard to the first floor of the palace, but
not the classical archway which stood at the foot of it. And
yet the engraver Sebastiano Giampiccoli did not omit to
picture it — though very imperfectly — with the garden and
stairway, the palace and the large lateral conservatories ; as
did also an amateur, who, in 1775, engraved a panorama of the
city. We find it more faithfully reproduced in the "Design
of the Ancient City of Este," of 1566, which accompanies the
unpublished history of Michele Lonigo, to be found in the
Estense Library of Modena. This drawing proves that the

[205]

THE AET OP LTVINQ LONG

archway was there at least as early as the year following
Louis Cornaro's death, and it is reasonable to suppose that it
was he who built it ; this supposition is strengthened by the
proofs of the great resemblance between the architectural
style of this arch and the works of Cornaro and his friend
Falconetto.

The Este archway belongs to the Roman style, of which
the two were such enthusiastic admirers ; and it is, indeed, a
free imitation of the archway of Janus Quadrifrons, erected
in Rome not earlier than the reign of Caracalla, or that of
Septimius Severus, or, according to some, as late as the time
of Constantine, In the treatises on architecture of the six-
teenth century it had already taken its place among the
models. Furthermore, the two architects, Cornaro and Fal-
conetto, must certainly have seen and examined it, during
their visits to Rome to study the building art of the ancients.

In the modern, as well as in the ancient arch, there are
small niches, with vaultings in the shape of shells; but in the
former their number was reduced from twelve to eight in the
first two divisions, and were omitted altogether in the third
to the summit of the arch, on which there was simply an attic,
as on others of Falconetto's arches — but without inscriptions
or figures. The style of the little pillars between the niches
is not varied as in the Roman model ; but only the Composite
is used, which was also called Triumphal, from the triumphal
archways. The grand arch itself rests on two protruding sills,
the keystone is sculptured, and the panaches are ornamented
by two flying Victories with their torches extended. These
particulars, which are wanting in the arch of Janus, are found
in the works of Falconetto and the buildings erected by
Cornaro. In fact, the jambs of the famous portico present the
same shape as the archway — fine or heavy, as the case may
be. Besides, the central arch of the portico bears two sculp-
tured Goddesses of Fame, undoubtedly different and better,
but respectively analogous in the attitude of the arms ; and the
next two parts of the archways inclose here, likewise, a head
of a satyr with ram's horns — an ornament used by the
Veronese artist also on the exterior of the gate of Savonarola.

[206]

COENAEO'S VILLAS

One could find other analogies beyond these, of which
there is, perhaps, no need. Let us observe, instead, a
difference which seems to contradict. The proportion
between the width and the height of the opening in the Este
archway is less than one-half; Falconetto, instead, always
made the breadth surpass half of the height. But we must
know here that, as Japelli had to lower the level of the court-
yard, he lowered also the ground under the arch and
lengthened the ends of the pillars, as is told us by the people
of the place, and as is visible by the difference in the new stone
which was used. To him, therefore, is due the alteration ; and
it does not in the least weaken the supposition that it was
erected by Cornaro, perhaps with Falconetto's aid.

Though my effort to arrive at this conclusion may, after
all, appear to some a useless one, surely it will not be judged
so by those who reflect that I have called the attention of the
learned to a fine work of the closing period of the Venetian
Renaissance — one which no one had as yet brought to notice.

Emilio Lovarini.

[207]

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that
when we are sick in fortune — often the surfeit of our
own behavior — we make guilty of our disasters the sun,
the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains by neces-
sity, fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and
treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars,
and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary
influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrust-
ing on: an admirable evasion of man, to lay his goatish
disposition to the charge of a star! — "King Lear."

NOTES

A — According to the official count of the returns of the Twelfth
Census, (Census Reports, Vol. II., pp. XXXVI. and XXXVIII.),
the population of the mainland of the United States (excluding
Alaska, Hawaii, and persons in the military and naval service of
the United States, stationed abroad) was, in 1900, as follows:

Total Males Females

75,994,575 38,816448 (51. i per cent.) 37,178,127 (48.9 per cent.)

The number of persons returned as 90 years of age and over
was 33,762, classified by sex and age groups as follows:

Total Men Per cent. Women Per cent.

90 to 94 years 23,992 9,858 41. i I4,i34 58.9

95 to 99 years 6,266 2,417 38.6 3,849 61.4

100 years and over 3,504 1,271 36.3 2,233 63.7

B — John Witt Randall (1813-- 1892) was a great-grandson of Samuel
Adams, the American Revolutionary patriot. This poem was selected
by William Cullen Bryant for publication in his review of Randall's
"Consolations of Solitude." The article appeared in the New York
"Evening Post" of December 17, 1856. The poem is here reproduced
by courtesy of Francis Ellingwood Abbot, editor of Randall's "Poems
of Nature and Life" (George H. Ellis, Boston, 1899).

C — In the selections from Addison, Bacon, Temple, etc., the
spelling and punctuation have been, to some extent, modernized.
The Bacon article is not an unbroken section of his works, but a
collection of many short passages, in the arrangement of which we
have avoided the use of the customary indication of omissions of
irrelevant matter. The same is true of the article from Temple's
works.

The given name of the author of "The Temperate Life" has long
been familiar to his English readers in its anglicized form; and we
have thought it best, in speaking of the members of his family, to
insert the English equivalents of their names, where such exist, with
the object of bringing the work as near as possible to the general
reader.

D — The Di Spilimbergo family was an Italian patrician branch of
a house of German origin, which, as early as the 13th century, resided
and ruled in that part of Friuli, in northern Italy, known as Spilim-
bergo. This noble and ancient house was very powerful, exercising —

[209]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

in some cases feudal, in others aUodial — lordship over many vast
estates, among which were the castles of Spilimbergo, Zuccola, Solim-
bergo, Flambro, Belgrado, and others. The family, ennobled in 1532
by Emperor Charles V., numbered among its eminent members many
soldiers, statesmen, prelates, and artists — one of the latter being the
famous painter, Irene di Spilimbergo (1540-1559). The city of Spilim-
bergo,— of which the population in 1901 was 2,331, — on the Tajamento,
14 miles west of Udine, was named after this family.

E — Giovanni Maria (John Mary) Falconetto, one of the most
eminent of Italian architects, was born at Verona, in 1458. He
studied architecture at Rome, then returned to Verona, later making
his home in Padua. Greatly improving the style of architecture in
the Venetian states, he designed and constructed many admirable
buildings and other works in Padua, Verona, and elsewhere. His
masterpiece, the celebrated Cornaro Loggia in Padua, suggested to
Palladio the design of his villa at Vicenza, the famous Rotonda Capra;
the latter — once one of the greatest monuments of modern archi-
tectural art, and described by Goethe as a marvel of splendor — has,
in its turn, served as a copy for others, among them the beautiful
Chiswick House, the villa of the dukes of Devonshire, at Chiswick,
England. In the Church of San Antonio, in Padua, the Cappella del
Santo, so remarkable for its grandeur and beauty, was completed by
him. He died in 1534.

F — Claudius Galenus, commonly known as Galen, the most
eminent physician, as well as one of the most learned and accom-
plished men, of his day, was born at Pergamus, in Mysia, Asia Minor,
A. D. 130. At the age of fifteen he studied logic and philosophy at
his native city; two years later he began the study of medicine, con-
tinuing it at Smyrna, Corinth, and Alexandria. At the age of thirty-
four he removed to Rome; there he gained great fame, and became
the physician of the illustrious philosopher. Emperor Marcus Aurelius
Antoninus, as well as of the Emperors Lucius Verus, Lucius Aurelius
Commodus, and Lucius Septimius Severus. He was born with a very
delicate constitution; yet, by living a strictly temperate life and never
fully satisfying his appetite, he was enabled to attain great age.
The place and date of his death are uncertain, occurring, according
to some historians, at his native city, in the year 201; while others
place the date as much as eighteen years later. There are good
reasons for believing the latter to be correct.

Galen confessed himself greatly indebted to the writings of
Hippocrates, who preceded him about six centuries, and who is known
as The Father of Medicine. He was an extensive writer on medicine
and philosophy, as well as on logic and ethics; of his works there
are still in existence eighty-three treatises, besides fifteen com-
mentaries on the works of Hippocrates. For thirteen hundred years,

[210]

NOTES

throughout Europe and the East, Galen was the recognized authority
in the science of medicine.

G — Doge (the Venetian modified form of the Italian duce, from
the Latin dux, a leader or duke) was the title of the chief magis-
trate of the Republic of Venice. The dignity, or office, was called
Dogato. The incumbent was always elected for life, and was origi-
nally chosen by universal suffrage. He continued to acquire more
and more irresponsible authority, until, in 1033 and 1172, laws were
passed which, in various ways, greatly reduced his power. These in-
cluded the association with him of a body of 470 councilors, known
as the Great Council. At the same time universal suffrage was
abolished.

In 1268, the doge — "King in the forum, senator in the legislative
hall, prisoner in the palace" — was elected by a peculiarly complex
method, which remained in vogue, with but little change, until the
fall of the Republic: thirty members of the Great Council, elected by
ballot, chose nine members; they, in their turn, chose forty; twelve
of these forty, selected by lot, chose twenty-five; the twenty-five
were reduced to nine; the nine elected forty-five; the forty-five were
reduced to eleven; and the eleven chose the final forty-one, in whose
hands lay the actual election of the doge. The powers of the doge
became, in time, so restricted as to be little more than nominal; and
the constant espionage to which he was subjected, made the office
less sought for than in the past; indeed, in 1339, it was necessary to
forbid, by law, the resignation of the incumbent. There were, in all,
one hundred and twenty doges; the first, Paolo Lucio Anafesto, was
elected in 697; the last, Lodovico Manin, in 1789. Of the whole
number, the Cornaro family furnished four.

H — After the dignity of Doge, that of Procurator of St. Mark
(Italian, Procuratore di San Marco) was the highest. Originally,
there was only one procurator; but, in 1442, the number was increased
to nine. They discharged functions of a varied and responsible
character, and were designated as follows: the procurator de supra
(above), in whose care was the imposing Basilica of St. Mark — one
of the most interesting churches in Europe, begun in 828 but not
consecrated until mi — as well as the revenues attached to it; the
procurator de citra (this side), who had charge of the charitable works
on "this side"; and the procurator de ultra (beyond), who had charge
of them on "that side," — of the Grand Canal. As the office was be-
stowed only upon the foremost men of the day, it was occupied by
many whose names form a part of Venetian, and often of European,
history. Twenty-two members of the Cornaro family are found in
this roll of illustrious men, which ended with the fall of the Republic.

I — The Euganean Hilla (Italian, Colli Euganei) were so named
from the people, who, according to Livy, occupied this territory until

[211]

THE ABT OF LIVING LONG

driven out by the Veneti. The highest point is Monte Venda. These
hills are covered with a luxuriant growth, and the views from their
summits are the finest in all Italy. It was the red larch, and the
granitic and porphyritic rocks abounding there, that were largely used
in the construction of the Doge's Palace — built originally about the
year 820 — and other famous buildings of Venice. Of the many col-
lections of prehistoric relics found in these hills, that in the Museum
of Antiquities of Mantua is especially interesting and valuable. With
lovers of musical verse, Shelley's poem, "Lines Written Among the
Euganean Hills," has long been a familiar favorite.

J — Danielle (Daniel) Barbaro, an Italian ecclesiastic and Patri-
arch of Aquileia, was born at Venice, in 1513. He was an extensive
writer, among his works being a treatise, "On Eloquence," and a com-
mentary, "On the Architecture of Vitruvius"; the latter contributing
largely toward the return to the classical style of architecture. His
beautiful residence, a unique specimen of the villas of the Venetian
nobility of the period, was created and adorned by the united genius
of three of the great artists of the Renaissance, — Andrea Palladio,
Paolo Veronese, and AUessandro Vittoria, — and was a noted center of
arts and letters. He died in 1570.

K — Aquileia, an ancient city at the head of the Adriatic, 22 miles
northwest of Trieste, was colonized by the Romans about 181 B. C.
At a later period it was chosen by Julius Caesar as headquarters for
his forces in Cisalpine Gaul. In 160, the Emperor Marcus Aurelius
Antoninus fortified it so strongly that it was considered the first
bulwark of the Roman Empire against the northern barbarians, and
was called The Second Rome. At one time it was the capital and
first city of Venetia. In the Sth century it had 100,000 inhabitants;
but, in 452, it was destroyed by Attila, King of the Huns, and the
inhabitants fled to the lagoons on which Venice now stands. From
this it never fully recovered; yet, rebuilt, it continued to enjoy con-
siderable prosperity. At the council of 556, the Bishop of Aquileia
separated from the Church of Rome and took the title of Patriarch.
In 1420, Venice deprived it of most of its possessions; and, in the
latter half of the eighteenth century, the Patriarchate was abolished.
The city is said to have derived its name from the Latin aquila, an
eagle having appeared as a favorable omen to its founders; but it is
more probable that the name owes its origin to the fact that the
"aquila" was the standard of the Romans. The population is now
about 2,000.

L — The Cornelii ranked among the most illustrious of the patri-
cian families of Rome, and no other house produced a greater number
of individuals who notably distinguished themselves in war and
civil affairs. To this family belonged Cornelia, — daughter of the
famous Scipio, and wife of Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus, — who is

! [212]

NOTES

known in history not only as Cornelia, Mother of the Gracchi, but
also as the purest woman mentioned in the historical period of Rome.
She was the mother of twelve children and lived to extreme old age,
dying about 130 B. C.

M — The Bucentaur (Italian, II Bucentoro), the state galley of
the Venetian doges, was employed to conduct illustrious guests,
whom the Republic delighted to honor, to the Ducal Palace. It was
also used in the ceremony of espousing the Adriatic, into whose
waters the doge dropped a ring, with these wards: "We espouse thee,
Sea, in token of true and perpetual sovereignty." This historic
custom, which was in itself a proclamation and a challenge to the
world, originated in the celebration of the triumph, in 1177, of the
Venetians under Sebastiano Ziani, the 39th doge, over the forces of
Frederick I. (Barbarossa), Emperor of Germany; and was annually
observed, without interruption and with all its original pomp and
splendor, from that year until the close of the Republic in 1797. The
galley, 100 feet long and 21 feet in extreme breadth, was manned by
168 rowers, four to each oar, and by 40 sailors. Its fittings, gorgeous
in the extreme, were brilliant with scarlet and gold; its long banks
of oars brightly burnished; and its deck and seats inlaid with costly
woods. The ship perhaps received its name from the figure of a
bucentaur — head of a man and body of a bull — in the bow.

N — The Golden Book (Italian, II Libro d'Oro), was the parch-
ment register in which were kept the complete records of the births,
marriages, deaths, etc., of all the members of the Venetian hereditary
nobility. Anyone enrolled in this famous register, had he attained
the age of twenty-five and been found worthy, was eligible to mem-
bership in the Great Council. It was a unique institution; opened in
131S, it enjoyed a duration of centuries, until it was closed, forever,
in the fatal year of 1797. It is now among the archives of the
Republic.

O — Bartolomeo (Bartholomew) Gamba, a noted Italian biog-
rapher and author, was born at Bassano, — on the river Brenta, in
northern Italy, — May 15, 1766. As a distinguished printer and editor,
he was elected, in 1831, Vice-Librarian of the Marciana. There he
acquired such fame as a bibliographer, that he was made a member
of several Italian academies, including the one at Florence. Among
his many writings, acknowledged to be of great merit, are: "A Gallery
of the Literati and Artists of the Venetian Provinces in the Eight-
eenth Century" (1824), and his "Life of Dante" (1825). He died
May 3, 1841.

P — Caius Cilnius Maecenas, a celebrated Roman statesman, and
the most influential patron of literature at Rome, was born about
70 B. C, of an ancient and noble Etruscan family. He was, for many
years, the intimate friend, as well as chief minister and adviser, of

[213]

THE ART OF LIVING LONG

the Emperor Augustus, by whom he was held in the highest respect
and honor. His palace, on the Esquiline Hill, was long the prin-
cipal resort of the literati of Rome. It was chiefly due to his
aid that the poets Horace and Virgil were granted the means for
the enjoyment of literary leisure; and the latter wrote his "Geor-
gics" at the request of his benefactor. His death, occurring at Rome,
in the year 8 B. C, was considered by all — especially by Augustus —
an irreparable loss. As early as the ist century his name had become
proverbial as a patron of letters; indeed, among all the names —
royal, noble, or otherwise eminent — associated with their patronage,
none in ancient or modern times is so familiarly known as that of
Maecenas; a century after whose death the poet Martial wrote: "Let
there but be Maecenases, and Virgils shall not be lacking." Maecenas
is a familiar character in Shakespeare's "Antony and Cleopatra."

Q — Ruzzante, a favorite Italian dramatic poet, whose true name
was Angelo Beolco, was born at Padua, in 1502. Gifted with remark-
able talent, he was the author of many dialogues, discourses, and
various other writings in the rustic Paduan dialect, which he had
thoroughly mastered. The large number of comedies which he com-
posed were all highly applauded wherever heard.

A few young men of good family accompanied him on his
travels as an artist, reciting, as he did, under the shelter of a dis-
guise—concealing their real names under others borrowed from the
scenes in which they appeared. In the recital of these farces he
took the part of the joker or jester (Italian, Ruzzante); and it was
to this circumstance that he owed his sobriquet of Ruzzante, which
clung to him ever after. Indeed, from that time on, he used it
instead of his family name; it even appeared in his works, which were
published, complete, at Vicenza, in 1584, 1598, and 1617, under the title:
"All the Works of the Most Famous Ruzzante, Newly and with the
Greatest Diligence Revised and Corrected." He died March 17, 1542.

R — Emilio Lorenzo Lovarini, professor of Italian literature in the
royal Liceo (High School) Minghetti, of Bologna, was born at Venice,
March 7, 1866. His youth was passed in Padua, where he completed
his education, receiving his degree of doctor of philology from the
University of that city, July, 1889.

Although still a young man. Dr. Lovarini has already acquired
considerable reputation as an authority on various subjects, his
researches covering a wide range. His chief writings pertain to the
customs, dialect, folk lore, and rustic literature of ancient Padua;
the habits and pastimes of students of the University in the i6th
century; etc. He is the author, also, of a biography of Ruzzante,
an illustrated critical edition of whose works he is now preparing.
He has published a highly interesting work on gypsy melodies, and
the songs of Taranto.

[214]

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