139. Other duties in regard to the body.—Temperance.—We have just seen that man has no right to destroy his body, or mutilate it, or, in short, uselessly to reduce or enfeeble its power; in a word, he must not voluntarily injure his physical functions: for, in impairing himself as a physical being, he thereby injures his personality, which is the principle of all morality. But there are two things to be distinguished in the functions of the human body: on one side, their utility, and on the other, the pleasure which attends their healthful exercise. The same function may be exercised with more or less pleasure on the side of the senses. Hence a moral problem: What is to be granted to the pleasures of the senses?—Certainly for the proper exercise of their functions a certain sensuous agreeableness is necessary; a good appetite, for instance, is a pleasant seasoning which excites and facilitates digestion. Nevertheless, we all know that there is not an exact and continued proportion between the pleasure of the senses and physiological necessity; we know that enjoyment may by far exceed necessity, and that health even often requires a certain limitation in enjoyment.

We know, for example, that the pleasures of the palate may be far more sought after and prolonged than is necessary for the gratification of the appetite. Man needs very little to live on; but he can continue to tickle his palate long after his hunger is satisfied. Thirst, in particular, has given rise to a multitude of refinements invented by human industry, and which are but very distantly related to the principle which has given them birth. Wine and alcoholic drinks, which, used in moderation, may be useful tonics, are stimulants demanding a constant renewal: the more they are indulged in, the more they provoke and captivate the imagination.

From this disproportion and incongruity which exist between the pleasures of the senses and the real wants of the body, arise vices, certain habits, namely, which sacrifice want to pleasure, and the consequence of which is the depravation and ruin of the natural functions. Pleasure, in fact, is, in a certain measure, the auxiliary, and in some sort, the interpreter of nature; but beyond a certain limit, it can only satiate itself at the expense of the legitimate function, and by solidarity, at the expense of all the others. Thus too much eating destroys the digestive functions; stimulating drinks burn the stomach and seriously injure the nervous system. The same, and with still graver consequences, attends upon the pleasures attached to the function of reproduction.

“Who would,” says Bossuet, “dare think of other excesses which reveal themselves in a still more dangerous manner? Who, I say, would dare speak of them, or dare think of them, since they cannot be spoken of without shame nor thought of without peril, though it be but to condemn them? O God, once more, who would dare speak of this deep and shameful plague of nature, this concupiscence which binds the soul to the body with bonds so tender and so violent—bonds man can scarcely defend himself against, and which cause such frightful disorders among the human race! Woe to the earth! woe to the earth, from whose secret passions rise continually vapors so thick and black, concealing from us both sky and light, but of which we are reminded through the lightnings and thunder-bolts they send forth against the corruption of the human race!”[94]

The abuse of the pleasures of the senses is in general called intemperance, and the proper use of these pleasures, temperance. Gormandizing is the abuse of the pleasures of eating; intoxication or drunkenness, the abuse of the pleasures of drinking; immodesty or lust, the abuse of the pleasures attached to the reproduction of the species. The opposites of these three vices are, to the first two, sobriety, to the last, chastity.

The duty of temperance is enforced by two considerations: 1, intemperance being, as experience shows, the ruination of health, is thereby contrary to the duty of self-preservation; 2, intemperance destroying the intellectual faculties, and making us unfit for any energetic and manly action, is contrary to the duty imposed on us to respect our moral faculties and protect against all injury within us the free personality which constitutes the essence of humanity.

Kant does not admit that the first of these considerations—that, namely, which is deduced from the interest of our health—has any validity in morals: “Vice,” he says, “should not be judged from the damage it does to man, for to resist it would then be resisting it for reasons of comfort and commodity, which could never be a principle to found a duty on, but only a measure of prudence.” This is true; but if we have in the foregoing pages established that self-preservation is one of man’s duties, that he should not destroy his health or abridge his life, an evident corollary of this principle is to avoid intemperance, because intemperance abridges life. This consideration is then as legitimate from the standpoint of morality as from that of interest.

The ancients have spoken admirably about temperance. Socrates in particular, in Xenophon’s Memorabilia, showed clearly that temperance makes of man a free man, and intemperance, a brute and a slave.

“Tell me, Eutydemus, thinkest thou not that liberty is a precious and honorable thing for an individual and for a State?—It is the most precious of all.—Thinkest thou him then who allows himself to be overruled by the pleasures of the body, and thereby disabled from doing good, a free man?—Not the least.—Perhaps callest thou liberty the power to do good, and servitude the being prevented from it by obstacles.—Precisely.—The intemperate then appear to thee as slaves?—Yes, by Jupiter, and rightly so.—What thinkest thou of masters who hinder the doing good, and oblige one to do wrong.—It is, by Jupiter, the worst possible kind.—And which is the worst of servitudes?—To my mind that which subjects us to the worst masters.—Then is intemperance the worst of servitudes?—So I think.”

Plato, on his side, in a charming picture brings out with force the insatiableness of sensual passions: