However, it was Erasmus the humanist who was inspired to make this connection between Luke's gospel and the Acts of the Apostles — a connection which Peter, when faced by the scoffers, did not have the presence of mind to make. In deploying this notion of drunkenness as a kind of divine ecstasy, Erasmus was thinking back to his reading in classical literature, no matter that he tried to disguise the debt by a reference to the Old Testament:
Erasmus then goes on to show how "vulgare and common drounkennesse" produces parallel, though diminished, effects to those produced by the heavenly drunkenness of the Apostles. When he ran that argument, Erasmus may be said to have been both more Christian and more heathen than the Apostles.
At the end of the 16th century Montaigne composed his Essais, which were first published in 1580. The second essay of the second book is entitled "De l'Yvrongnerie", or "On Drunkenness". Montaigne, unlike Erasmus, is unwilling to admit that there is a divine potential in drunkenness. He insists that drinking is "un vice grossier et brutal". Montaigne says that in general his beliefs are enslaved to "l'authorité des opinions anciennes", yet in this case he cannot follow them: drinking is nothing more than "un vice lache et stupide". Some vices have affinities with higher things — with learning, with diligence, with courage and prudence. But drinking "est tout corporel et terrestre" — completely carnal and earthy.
He then gives a catalogue of the blunders and crimes into which men have fallen as a result of drunkenness: ambassadors who have given away secrets after being plied with drink, and women who have allowed themselves to be raped without knowing either what was happening or who was doing it.
He tells a story of a woman of good repute who lived nearby in Castres (apparently it was Mme d'Aimar, the wife of the Président of the Parlement of Bordeaux, and a cousin of Montaigne's):
Whether or not one quite credits this anecdote, it shows very clearly how Montaigne's view of drinking is resolutely modern, materialistic, and opposed to that ecstatic view of drinking which was common in antiquity, and obliquely revived by Erasmus in his Paraphrases.
Not greatly separated in time (Erasmus died when Montaigne was three), nevertheless Erasmus and Montaigne speak to us from different sides of an interpretative line, drawn during the Renaissance, concerning wine and its effects.
Very largely dyd they drynke of that celestiall cup, whereof Dauid the wryter of psalmes speaketh: howe excellent is my cup whiche maketh thee drounke.
Erasmus then goes on to show how "vulgare and common drounkennesse" produces parallel, though diminished, effects to those produced by the heavenly drunkenness of the Apostles. When he ran that argument, Erasmus may be said to have been both more Christian and more heathen than the Apostles.
At the end of the 16th century Montaigne composed his Essais, which were first published in 1580. The second essay of the second book is entitled "De l'Yvrongnerie", or "On Drunkenness". Montaigne, unlike Erasmus, is unwilling to admit that there is a divine potential in drunkenness. He insists that drinking is "un vice grossier et brutal". Montaigne says that in general his beliefs are enslaved to "l'authorité des opinions anciennes", yet in this case he cannot follow them: drinking is nothing more than "un vice lache et stupide". Some vices have affinities with higher things — with learning, with diligence, with courage and prudence. But drinking "est tout corporel et terrestre" — completely carnal and earthy.
He then gives a catalogue of the blunders and crimes into which men have fallen as a result of drunkenness: ambassadors who have given away secrets after being plied with drink, and women who have allowed themselves to be raped without knowing either what was happening or who was doing it.
He tells a story of a woman of good repute who lived nearby in Castres (apparently it was Mme d'Aimar, the wife of the Président of the Parlement of Bordeaux, and a cousin of Montaigne's):
becoming aware of the first hints that she might be pregnant, [she] told the women of the neighbourhood that if only she had a husband she would think she was expecting. But as the reason for her suspicions grew bigger every day and finally became evident, she was reduced to having a declaration made from the pulpit in her parish church, stating that if any man would admit what he had done she promised to forgive him and, if he so wished to marry him. One of her young farm-labourers took courage at this proclamation and stated that he had found her one feast-day by her fireside after she had drunk her wine freely; she was so deeply and provocatively asleep that he had been able to have her without waking her up. They married each other and are still alive.
Whether or not one quite credits this anecdote, it shows very clearly how Montaigne's view of drinking is resolutely modern, materialistic, and opposed to that ecstatic view of drinking which was common in antiquity, and obliquely revived by Erasmus in his Paraphrases.
Not greatly separated in time (Erasmus died when Montaigne was three), nevertheless Erasmus and Montaigne speak to us from different sides of an interpretative line, drawn during the Renaissance, concerning wine and its effects.

















