If what brother Eugenius Philalethes, author of Long Livers, a book dedicated to the Free Masons, says in his Preface[1] to that treatise, be true, those mystical gentlemen very well deserve a place amongst the learned. But, without entering into their peculiar jargon, or whether a man can be sacrilegiously perjured for revealing secrets when he has none, I do assure my readers, they are very great friends to the vintners. An eye-witness of this was I myself, at their late general meeting at Stationers’ Hall, who having learned some of their catechism, passed my examination, paid my five shillings, and took my place accordingly.
We had a good dinner, and, to their eternal honour, the brotherhood laid about them very valiantly. They saw then their high dignity; they saw what they were, acted accordingly, and shewed themselves (what they were) men[2]. The Westphalia hams and chickens, with good plum pudding, not forgetting the delicious salmon, were plentifully sacrificed, with copious libations of wine for the consolation of the brotherhood. But whether, after a very disedifying manner their demolishing huge walls of venison pasty, be building up a spiritual house, I leave to brother Eugenius Philalethes to determine. However, to do them justice, I must own, there was no mention made of politics or religion, so well do they seem to follow the advice of that author[3]. And when the music began to play, “Let the king enjoy his own again,” they were immediately reprimanded by a person of great gravity and science.
The bottle, in the mean while, went merrily about, and the following healths were begun by a great man, The King, Prince and Princess, and the Royal Family; the Church as by Law established; Prosperity to Old England under the present Administration; and Love, Liberty, and Science; which were unanimously pledged in full bumpers, attended with loud huzzas.
The faces then of the most ancient and most honourable fraternity of the Free Masons, brightened with ruddy fires; their eyes illuminated, resplendent blazed.
Well fare ye, merry hearts, thought I, hail ye illustrious topers, if liberty and freedom, ye free mortals, is your essential difference, richly distinguishes you from all others, and is, indeed, the very soul and spirit of the brotherhood, according to brother Eugenius Philalethes[4]. I know not who may be your alma mater, but undoubtedly Bacchus is your liber pater.
’Tis wine, ye Masons, makes you free,
Bacchus the father is of liberty.
But leaving the Free Masons, and their invaluable secrets, for I know not what they are worth, come we now to speak of other men of learning, who loved to indulge their genius with the delicious juice of the grape. And here we need not fly to antiquity, which would swell this work into a large volume, later times will furnish us with many a bright example. Non semper confugiamus ad vetera.
A man of learning, after ten or twelve hours daily study, cannot do better, than to unbend his mind in drinking plentifully of the creature; and may not such a one say to himself these verses of the French poet:—
“Dois-je mal a propos secher a faire un livre