Doubtless, it is unnatural to be drunk.  But then in a real sense it is unnatural to be human.  Doubtless, the intemperate workman wastes his tissues in drinking; but no one knows how much the sober workman wastes his tissues by working.  No one knows how much the wealthy philanthropist wastes his tissues by talking; or, in much rarer conditions, by thinking.  All the human things are more dangerous than anything that affects the beasts—­sex, poetry, property, religion.  The real case against drunkenness is not that it calls up the beast, but that it calls up the Devil.  It does not call up the beast, and if it did it would not matter much, as a rule; the beast is a harmless and rather amiable creature, as anybody can see by watching cattle.  There is nothing bestial about intoxication; and certainly there is nothing intoxicating or even particularly lively about beasts.  Man is always something worse or something better than an animal; and a mere argument from animal perfection never touches him at all.  Thus, in sex no animal is either chivalrous or obscene.  And thus no animal ever invented anything so bad as drunkenness—­or so good as drink.

The pronouncement of these particular doctors is very clear and uncompromising; in the modern atmosphere, indeed, it even deserves some credit for moral courage.  The majority of modern people, of course, will probably agree with it in so far as it declares that alcoholic drinks are often of supreme value in emergencies of illness; but many people, I fear, will open their eyes at the emphatic terms in which they describe such drink as considered as a beverage; but they are not content with declaring that the drink is in moderation harmless:  they distinctly declare that it is in moderation beneficial.  But I fancy that, in saying this, the doctors had in mind a truth that runs somewhat counter to the common opinion.  I fancy that it is the experience of most doctors that giving any alcohol for illness (though often necessary) is about the most morally dangerous way of giving it.  Instead of giving it to a healthy person who has many other forms of life, you are giving it to a desperate person, to whom it is the only form of life.  The invalid can hardly be blamed if by some accident of his erratic and overwrought condition he comes to remember the thing as the very water of vitality and to use it as such.  For in so far as drinking is really a sin it is not because drinking is wild, but because drinking is tame; not in so far as it is anarchy, but in so far as it is slavery.  Probably the worst way to drink is to drink medicinally.  Certainly the safest way to drink is to drink carelessly; that is, without caring much for anything, and especially not caring for the drink.