Essays or Discourses from the works of Feyjoo, Volume 2

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME

THE BALANCE OF ASTREA; OR, Upright Administration of Justice: — SECT. I.

ON THE IMPUNITY OF LYING. — SECT. I. — SECT. II. — SECT. III. — SECT. IV. — SECT. V. — SECT. VI. — SECT. VII. — SECT. VIII. — SECT. IX. — ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY, AND National Prejudice or Prepossession. — SECT. I. — SECT. II. — SECT. III. — SECT. IV. — SECT. V. — SECT. VI. — SECT. VII. — SECT. VIII. — SECT. IX. — ON TRUE and FALSE URBANITY. — SECT. I. — SECT. II. — SECT. III. — SECT. IV. — SECT. V. — SECT. VI. — SECT. VII. — SECT. VIII. — SECT. IX. — SECT. X. — SECT. XI. — SECT. XII. — SECT. XIII. — SECT. XIV. — SECT. XV. — SECT. VI. — SECT. XVII. — SECT. XVIII. — SECT. XIX. — SECT. XX. — SECT. XXI. — A DEFENCE OR VINDICATION of the WOMEN. — SECT. I. — SECT. II. — SECT. III. — SECT. IV. — SECT. V. — SECT. VI. — SECT. VII. — SECT. VIII. — SECT. IX. — SECT. X. — SECT. XI. — SECT. XII. — SECT. XIII. — SECT. XIV. — SECT. XV. — SECT. XVI. — SECT. XVII. — SECT. XVIII. — SECT. XIX. — SECT. XX. — SECT. XXI. — SECT. XXII. — SECT. XXIII. — SECT. XXIV. — ON CHURCH MUSIC. — SECT. I. — SECT. II. — SECT. III. — SECT. IV. — SECT. V. — SECT. VII. — SECT. VIII. — SECT. IX. — SECT. X. — SECT. XI. — SECT. XII.

I. Two common errors present themselves to me with respect to the subject-matter of this discourse, the one theoretical, the other practical. The theoretical is derived from lying among men being reputed as infamous, or as a vice nearly bordering upon infamy. Let us admit, for argument’s sake, the divisions the theologians make of a lie, into officious, jocose, and pernicious. Let us admit also, that a pernicious lie is reputed in the common opinion as it deserves to be reputed, and that it is treated with all possible abhorrence, so that those who are noted for telling lies to the prejudice of their neighbours, are generally considered as the pests of society; but notwithstanding all this, my remarks will be principally confined to officious and jocose lies; that is, to such as are not intended to injure a third person, but are only told to entertain, or because they may be of some utility to a man’s self, or to some other person. I must also premise, that I mean to treat this point more as a politician, than as a moral theologian. The theologians estimate officious, and jocose lies, as venal sins; nor should I or any one else in a moral light, represent them blacker. But if viewed in a political light, my sentiment is, that the common opinion is excessively favourable and indulgent to this species of vice.

II. And what is the reason of this excessive indulgence? Why the reason is, because this sort of lie is not considered as an affront offered to any man. The being noted for an officious or jocose liar, does not take from any man the honour, which in other respects is thought due to him. A gentleman, let him tell as many of these sort of lies as he will, is still looked upon as a gentleman; a nobleman also, notwithstanding his being remarked for this vice, is considered as a nobleman, and a prince as a prince. But this appears to me repugnant to all reason. Lying is infamous, bad, and vile; and a liar is unworthy of human society; he is an impostor, who traiterously avails himself of the good faith of other men, in order to deceive them. The most precious intercourse among men, is that of a frank and reciprocal communication of their souls; with which, they in conversation lay open and disclose to each other, the affections of their wills, the sentiments of their mind, and all that is treasured up in their memories. Now what is a liar, but a solemn circumventor of this inestimable commerce? what, but a deceiver, who imposes on us delusions for realities? what but a circulator of false money, who passes the iron of a lie for the gold of truth? and finally, what can there be found in this man, that should excuse him from being discarded and rejected by all others, as a nuisance to company, a vile contaminator of conversation, and as a detestable falsifier of all intelligence and information?

III. I cannot help remarking a monstrous contradiction, that is very frequent in this matter. If a man of any rank or figure in the world, is told to his face that he lies, he considers himself as very seriously injured, and according to the cruel laws of human honour, is esteemed as having put up with a very gross affront, if he does not demand of the man who told him so, a very sanguinary satisfaction; but I would be glad to know, how telling a man he lies, can be a very serious injury, if lying is not esteemed a very serious defect in him who is addicted to it; or how a man can be considered as affronted, because he is told he lies, if the action of lying is not scandalous or unworthy. The degree of reproach annexed to a vice, is generally estimated according to the light in which that vice is considered by the world at large. If the vice is not held to be such a one, as tarnishes a man’s honour, his honour will not be deemed wounded by the commission of it; and it may be said of a man in such a case, that his honour is not injured. This being a notorious fact, the inference I would draw from the before-mentioned observation, is, that the frequency of lying, lessens in the generality of mankind, the abhorrence, which natural reason left to itself, has of this vice; but notwithstanding this custom, it has not diminished so thoroughly, but that there still remains in the soul of man, a clear conviction, that lying is a baseness.

IV. I am confirmed in this opinion, by the observation, that a man’s denying what he has said, is looked upon as an opprobrium to him. And why is this? why because it amounts to a confession that he had before told a lie. The opprobrium cannot lie in the truth of what he now confesses; and therefore must consist in the lie which he told before. Confessing that he has lied, is a mark of sincerity, and no one need blush for having been sincere; therefore all the ignominy must be annexed to the lie. This, I say, makes it manifest to me, that their native sentiment of this matter is not so obscured in mankind, but that it represents a lie to them as a most unworthy and a vile thing.

V. The practical error in this matter, is derived from a lie’s going unpunished, and from the laws not having prescribed any punishment for liars. Why is there no bridle to curb the propensity men have to deceive one another? and why should a man be allowed to lie to what amount he pleases at free cost? Although men are not contented with enjoying a total indemnity in this case, but frequently glory in what they have done, and go on to insult those they have imposed on, and to treat the sincerity of other men as imprudence; is not this an abominable offence, and such a one as deserves to be punished?

VI. I may be told, that human laws do not attend to deterring by the fear of punishment, people from committing any other crimes, except such as are prejudicial to the public, or injurious to a third person; and that officious or jocose lies, which are those we are discoursing of at present, hurt no body, for if they had been found to be injurious, they would before this, have been classed among, and deemed as pernicious offences.

VII. Against this remark, solid as it may appear, I have two very notable replies to make. The first is, that although every officious or jocose lie considered by itself, is injurious to nobody; still, the frequency and impunity with which they are told, have a pernicious effect on the public; for they deprive the generality of mankind of a very valuable benefit. To make my meaning more clearly understood, I must beg every man to contemplate the inconveniencies that would arise from a doubt or distrust, whether whatever is told us be true or false; which distrust is unavoidable, and founded on prudence, if we advert to the frequency with which people lie. Upon hearing any piece of intelligence, in which our wishes, or our conveniencies are interested, we remain in a state of perplexity, whether to believe or disbelieve it; and this perplexity is generally attended with a very disagreeable agitation of the mind, that sets a man at variance as it were with himself, and causes him to halt between two opinions, and to remain in a disagreeable state of suspence, whether to reject as false, or assent to the intelligence he hears as true. Those to whom the rumour that is propagated may be serviceable, either with regard to their communicating it, or on account of the use it may be of to illustrate any thing they have been writing, and are about to publish, are set on the tenters by reason of this uncertainty. They would give any thing to ascertain the reality of a curious event, that was applicable to, and would tend to embellish the subject they had been writing upon, but cannot take a step towards informing themselves, without meeting with a stumbling block in their way. Some affirm the truth of the thing, others deny it; here they tell the story in one way, and there they relate it in another; and all this while, the pen of the author is obliged to stand still, and to continue for a long time in a disagreeable and violent state of suspence.

VIII. But although the perplexity that may attend our doubting whether we shall give our assent to what we hear, may be productive of these evils, the mischief that would result from our giving easy faith and credit to all we are told, would be much greater; for if we reflect, we shall find, that the altercations, disputes, and disturbances which arise in conversation, are produced for the most part by easy credulity. Different people, hear different accounts of the same thing, and because each believed what he heard; they afterwards altercate furiously, each persisting, that the account he had heard of the matter was the true one. Reflect how many people have made themselves ridiculous, by believing what they should have rejected as fabulous. Reflect also, that human society, which is the sweetest boon of life, or which would be so if mankind were to behave to each other with truth and candour, is made ungrateful and disgusting at every turn, by the distrust which is occasioned, in consequence of our experiencing how much people are addicted to lie.

IX. In order to comprehend how great a good we are deprived of by this distrust, let us figure to ourselves a republic, although I fear there never was such a one in the world, where either from the generous influence of their soil and climate, men were more noble-minded; or from the fear of a lie being punished with great severity, all the individuals who compose it, were strict observers of the truth; I say admitting this, my imagination represents to me, that such a community would be a sort of Heaven upon earth. What brotherly love would there prevail in it! and how sweet and savoury would the confidence between man and man be, and how grateful the satisfaction, with which they talked and listened to each other, free from the suspicion of not being believed, or the fear of being deceived! There we should survey at every step, the most pleasing spectacle the world can afford, that of a man’s opening the whole theatre of his soul to another. I do not think that Heaven adorned with all its splendor, or the spring embellished with all its flowers, could furnish a more delightful picture to the eyes of man, than that which would be presented to human curiosity, by the exposure of a variety of sentiments, affections, and passions, of those with whom we converse. In such a society, all men would enjoy a peaceable tranquillity of mind, without the dread, that by means of political arts, a traitor should impose himself upon them for a friend; that hypocrisy should usurp an unjust veneration; that applause should be tainted with the venom of flattery; that advice should be insincere, and calculated to promote the interest of him who gave it; or that correction should be the child of anger, and not the offspring of zeal. But unhappy for us, how distant are we from enjoying the blessings of such happy citizens! for we scarce are allowed an instant of relaxation, from the fears, inquietudes, and suspicions, that continually afflict us, and which are produced, by the experience we have, of the little sincerity there is to be met with in the world. Consider now, whether the frequency of lying, does not rob us of a great blessing, or to speak more properly, of many inestimable blessings.

X. The second reply I have to make to the before-named observation, is, that it very frequently happens, that those lies which are only looked upon as officious and jocose, are attended with pernicious consequences. What does it signify, that he who tells a lie did not do it with an intention to injure any one, if in reality the mischief follows? The emperor Theodosius the second, presented the empress Eudoxia with an apple of uncommon magnitude; and she afterwards gave it to Paulinus a learned and discreet man, whose conversation she was very fond of, and with whom, her correspondence was perfectly innocent. Paulinus, ignorant of the hand by which the apple was brought to the Empress, shewed it to the Emperor, and begged him to accept of it; the Emperor, recollecting that it was the same apple he had given the Empress, took an occasion to ask Eudoxia by surprize, what she had done with the apple? The question coming upon her unawares, and she, apprehensive the Emperor might be displeased with her for parting with the apple, answered she had eaten it. This, in the intention of Eudoxia, was a lie purely officious; but was attended with a most pernicious consequence, as it was the occasion of Paulinus being put to death; for Theodosius, suspecting the commerce between him and the Empress not to be very chaste, ordered him to be dispatched.

XI. Caligula having recalled from banishment, one who had been sentenced to that punishment by his predecessor, asked him how he employed his time while he was banished; and he, to recommend himself to the good graces of the Emperor, answered, that he employed the greatest part of it in praying to the gods for the death of Tiberius; because that would make way for his ascending the throne. What lie to all appearance could be more innocent than this? Yet in its consequences, it was very pernicious, for Caligula, taking it into his head, that those he had banished would occupy themselves in the same way, ordered them all to be put to death.

XII. I could give more examples of the same sort; but am aware, that it may be said in answer to them, that these are unforeseen accidents; but they notwithstanding, are the evil accidental consequences of lies, which although the person who tells them cannot foresee, are not unworthy the attention of the legislature; and of their taking measures to prevent the mischiefs arising from them, by assigning some species of punishment to all kinds of lies whatever. At least, the motive of preventing these accidental mischiefs, should operate jointly with the reasons we have already given, to induce the legislature, to fall upon some mode of punishment to curb the vice of lying.

XIII. But the principal mischiefs that are produced by lies, which are called jocose and officious, do not only happen by accident, but such lies have in their own nature, a tendency to bring on those mischiefs. Of this sort are all flattering lies. Of the many apophthegms we meet with, that have been severe upon liars, there is no one seems to me to be better pointed, than that of Bion one of the seven wise men of Greece. He being one day asked, what animal he esteemed the most pernicious? answered, that to the world at large it was a tyrant, and in private life, a flatterer. For so it is, that flattery always, or nearly always, is pernicious to the person to whom it is addressed. The same man, who if the incense of unmerited applause was not offered to him, would be gentle, prudent, and modest, would by the application of it, be corrupted to such a degree, as to become proud, fierce, intolerable, and ridiculous. It is not one man only, that a flattering lie may be the undoing of, but it is also capable of ruining a whole kingdom; and this is a fatality that has often happened. Many princes, who have had a portion of the taint of ambition in their compositions, if there had not been those about them, who fomented this evil tendency of their minds, would have led happy and peaceable lives, but upon being persuaded by a flatterer, that their greatest glory consisted in adding new dominions to their crown, have become bloody scourges, both to their own subjects, and those of their neighbours.

XIV. The great Louis the Fourteenth, was without doubt, endued with excellent qualities; and was blessed with a sufficient understanding, to distinguish in what the most solid glory of a king consisted, and to be convinced, that it consisted in making his subjects happy. Notwithstanding which, through the whole of his dominions, the bulk of his people were oppressed, and groaned under the intolerable weight of the taxes, he found it necessary to load on them, in order to support the vast expences of the many wars he engaged in; to which grievance, might be added the lamentation and grief that was produced, by the loss of the infinite quantity of French blood that had deluged the fields in his quarrels. From whence did all this mischief proceed? Why from the venomous influence of poisonous flatterers, who persuaded him, that his greatest glory consisted in extending his dominions by his arms, and in making himself dreaded by all the neighbouring powers. They not only persuaded him to this, but even intimated to him, that these were the most effectual means, to render his own kingdom happy and flourishing. A flattering poet carried his servile complaisance so far, as to sing in his ear, that by pursuing this conduct, he would not only make his own people happy, but would make those so likewise, whom he conquered; and that they would hug the chains, with which he bound the little liberty they ever possessed; and what was beyond all the rest, this fulsome poet, went so far as to assert, that his desire of making them happy, was his only motive for bringing them under his yoke.

In the idea of this poet, desolating his own country by excessive contributions, carrying fire and sword into the territories of his neighbours, and sacrificing men by tens of thousands on the altars of Mars, is the most effectual way to make people happy; and that it is the great glory of a monarch, to be the pest of his own dominions, and those of all his neighbours. To these extravagant lengths has flattery been carried, and such are the unhappy effects it has produced.

XV. A flattering lie in private life, is not capable of doing so much mischief, if we consider it as standing by itself; but the mischief is infinitely extensive, that results from many of those lies put together; as the use of them is so general, that their numbers are nearly infinite. A learned modern French author, says, that the practice of the world, is made up of people’s occupying themselves continually in circulating false complaisance. Mankind depend reciprocally upon each other; and the poor man not only flatters the rich one, but the rich one flatters the poor one in his turn. The poor man courts the rich one, because he has need of his contributions; and the rich one endeavours to conciliate himself with the poor man, because he cannot subsist without the aid of his labour. The money they all go to market with, to gain and purchase the hearts of each other, is coined from the bullion of flattery; which is the falsest money that can be circulated, because in consequence of trafficking with it in this vile commerce, all sides are cheated.

XVI. But besides flattering lies, there are many others which are hurtful in various ways, notwithstanding we find them classed among the jocose and officious ones. A coward brags of his prowess, and martial deeds; a stander-by who hears him, and believes what he says, endeavours to make a friend of him, in hopes that he will bear him out in any fray or quarrel in which he should happen to be engaged; and in consequence of the confidence he puts in this support, he precipitates himself into some dispute, where his bravo deserts him, and he loses his life. An ignorant fellow, palms himself upon simple people for a learned man, and they, by believing all he says to be right and true, get their heads filled with extravagances, which they afterwards by venting in other companies, expose their folly, and so by a very easy and short method, acquire the reputation of blockheads.

A neglected or disappointed man, brags of the interest he has with a great person; and some who hear and believe what he says, fancy he will be a good channel through which they may convey an application to that great person, and induce him to assist them in a matter they have much at heart, and in which they are deeply interested, and in hopes of the great benefits they may derive from his friendship and aid, pay great court to him, and waste the greatest part of their substance in presents and bribes to him. A spiritual puffer, brags of the miracles he has seen and experienced of such and such a saint; which one way or other, is generally attended with prejudicial consequences to the cause of religion. The physician brags of a skill or knowledge he does not possess; a valetudinary person who hears him, believing him to be an Esculapius, surrenders himself without further enquiry to his management, and becomes a voluntary victim. A young mariner, brags of his great abilities and skill in navigating and conducting a ship, which afterwards being trusted to him, is shipwrecked and dashed to pieces, on some rock or shoal. The same dangers, in a greater or a less degree, and in proportion to the matters that are confided to their management, are we exposed to, by trusting vaunters in all arts and professions, who although they are unskilful, presume to boast of their great knowledge. I should never have done, was I to set about enumerating all the species of lies, which go under the name of jocose and officious, and which are attended with pernicious consequences.

XVII. But I cannot avoid making particular mention, of a certain species of lies, which find ample protection with, and pass current through the world, as if they were perfectly innocent; when in reality, they are extremely injurious to the public. I mean judicial lies; such, as when in stating a fact which gave rise to, or is the subject matter of a litigation, the parties interested, and those employed in the suit, disguise and disfigure it, to make it appear more favourable to their own side. This species of deceit, or as I may say lie, is so frequent, that we scarce see a cause in which it is not practised, and in which, both parties agree in the state of the facts, on which the matter in issue rests; and from hence arise the length of the pleadings, and the principal delay, and great expence of law-suits. Who can entertain a doubt, but that this is very injurious to the public? Yet there is nobody will attempt finding out a remedy for the evil. It might perhaps be asked, what remedy can be applied to it; but to this I should answer, the remedy that is made use of in Japan. Among those islanders, whose political government there is no doubt excells ours in many particulars, they punish a judicial lie, or one advanced in a legal process, with great severity; and the Algerines do the same. Whoever lies, or when he is brought before the Bey, or any of his judicial magistrates, to answer to a civil process, shall deny, if the prosecution is for a debt, that he owes the person suing for it the money in question, or if the prosecutor shall be found guilty of making a false or unjust demand, in either of these cases, he who shall be found to falsify, is adjudged to a rigorous bastinadoing. Thus these causes are speedily and safely determined, nor is there the least necessity for any writing in them, for the fear of that severe punishment, deters any man from demanding what is not due to him, and terrifies any one from denying a just debt. If something like this method was to be adopted among us, law-suits of this sort in Spain, would be as short as they are in those places. What delays law-suits, is not so much the difficulty of finding out what the law is with respect to the matter in question; but such delays arise for the most part, from fallacious suggestions, and evasive statings of facts. If the suitors, and all the parties concerned or employed in a cause, knew, that for every fallacy they advanced, they were to pay a large fine, they would be careful not to suggest or advance any thing, that was not simply and exactly true. By this means, the parties would soon be agreed as to the fact, and a determination would quickly be made in favour of the person who had the right of his side, and there would be nothing left to do, but for process to issue agreeable to the ordinary forms of law, in order to enforce and compleat the judgment. The doing of this, is seldom attended with much expence or delay; and by adopting the before-mentioned method of proceeding, there would soon be a stop put to all law-suits, that are founded on false or sinister suggestions; and people would not be near so exposed to have vexatious and roguish prosecutions commenced against them, as they are at present. The state or public at large, would be great gainers by such a regulation taking place, as the loss occasioned by the attendance, that many artificers, and people employed in useful branches of trade are obliged to give on courts of law would be avoided. So that the whole loss that would be incurred by adopting this method, would fall on the advocates, solicitors, and other men of the law; but this would be amply compensated for to the state, by the increase it would occasion of professors in useful arts.

XVIII. It is true, that our laws in Spain have not been so deficient in this respect, as not to have assigned certain punishments in various cases to judicial lies. One of those which is to be found among the laws which we term the laws de Partida seems to me admirably calculated to suppress this evil. It runs thus: He of whom any thing is demanded judicially by another person, as his property, who shall deny the person making the demand was ever possessed of it, shall, if it is afterwards proved that the person who makes the demand was possessed of it, be obliged to surrender it to him who demands it, although the demander should not be able to prove the thing ever was his property. But I could wish in the first place, that both this law, and all others of the same sort, should be extended to more cases than they take in, or to speak more properly, to all cases whatever; so that every judicial lie should be liable to a punishment, proportioned to the mischief it might be attended with. I would wish secondly, that some lawyers in expounding those laws, had given a larger extent to them, and not have limited the operation of them but to few cases; for we have reason to apprehend, that it is in consequence of these expositions, that we very rarely or never, have seen any one punished for this offence, at least I do not remember to have ever known, or to have ever heard of any one that was punished for it. The greatest part of the Judges, although there may appear but little reason for their acting with lenity, are apt to lean to the compassionate side; but it seems to me, that it would be for the good of the public, if upon these occasions, they would exercise a proper degree of severity.

XIX. Finally, by contemplating a lie in all its extent, I find it so inconvenient to the life of man, that I am disposed to think the whole rigour of the laws should be levelled against it, and that it should be treated as a most pestiferous enemy to human society. Zoroaster the famous legislator of the Persians, or Zerduscht, which according to the learned Thomas Hyde was his name, in which sentiment Thomas Stanley differs but little from him, he writing it Zaraduissit; from all which we may conclude, that the changing his name to Zoroaster, was an alteration made by the Greeks to make it correspond the better with their own language; but to have done with criticising upon his name, he in the statutes he formed for the government of that nation, estimated a lie, as one of the most serious crimes a man could commit. I must confess; that he erred in this as a Theologian; but that he was quite right, and acted wisely as a politician; because no better means can be fallen upon, to make men live happy in society, than that of introducing among them, an utter abhorrence of a lie; and on the other hand, if the great propensity in man to lying is not curbed, although the rest of the laws should be ever so pious and just, they will not be able to prevent innumerable mischiefs and disorders.

XX. It is only in one particular instance, that I look upon lying to be sufferable; and that is, when there is no fence to resist the impertinent and officious enquiries of people into secrets, that are trusted to a man in confidence. I state the case thus: a friend of mine, for the sake of asking my advice, informs me in confidence of a crime that he has committed. A person in power suspects him to be the man who committed the crime, and by making an improper use of his authority, demands of me, whether I do not know that such a person committed such a crime. I will suppose for argument’s sake, that he is a person of such penetration, that I could not deceive him by evasions, and giving answers, that amounted to my neither owning nor denying that I knew any thing of it; and that my not giving a positive answer, would only tend to confirm him in the opinion that my friend had actually committed the crime he suspected him of; so that I am drove to the necessity of answering positively, yes, or no. It is certain in such a case, that I am bound by the laws of friendship, fidelity, charity and justice, not to reveal the secret confided to me. How then am I to act in such a pressing exigency?

XXI. After stating a variety of different opinions of Theologians, and other eminent men upon cases of this sort, which I shall omit to insert, as I apprehend they would rather seem tedious, than afford either entertainment or instruction to the reader; Father Feyjoo proceeds thus: But I do not chuse to take any part in this question, as it would require more time to discuss, than I at present have leisure to bestow upon it; and therefore shall waive entering into it, and returning to the subject of my discourse, shall say, that admitting a man, upon being unfairly pressed, cannot avoid disclosing a secret which has been confided to him, without telling a lie, those lies ought to be tolerated by human society, and the punishment of them should be left to God alone, for that a republic or state is exposed to no inconvenience from them; and that on the contrary, daily mischiefs might result to it, by not preventing the evil effects, of the malicious, and vicious curiosity of men, who are impertinently fond of prying into other people’s secrets. And he who makes these enquiries, should blame himself for any imposition or deceit that happens in consequence of them, and not the person who told the lie, for the inquisitor is the aggressor in this case, as he may be termed an invader of other people’s secrets, which he had improperly, and without any right so to do, taken upon him officiously to pry into.

I. I Seek in men that love of their country, which I find so much celebrated in books, but I do not meet with it; I mean that just, noble and virtuous love, which they owe to their country. In some, I see no kind of affection for their country at all; in others, I perceive only a criminal affection, which is vulgarly called national prejudice.

II. I do not deny, that by turning over history, you will find thousands of victims sacrificed to this idol. What war is undertaken without this specious pretence? What field do we see drenched with human blood, that posterity, over the carcases from whence it flowed, has not fixed the honourable inscription, that those men lost their lives for the good of their country? But if we examine things critically, we shall find the world is much mistaken, in thinking there have been so many, or so refined sacrifices made to this imaginary deity. Let us figure to ourselves a republic, armed for a war, undertaken on the principle of a just defence; and let us also proceed to examine by the light of reason, the impulse which animates men’s hearts to expose their lives in the quarrel. Among the private men, some inlist for the pay and the plunder, others with the hopes of bettering their fortunes, and acquiring military honour and preferment; but the greatest part, from motives of obedience, and fear of the Prince or the General. He who commands the army, is instigated by his interest and his glory. The Prince, or Chief Magistrate, who is at a distance from the danger, acts more for the sake of maintaining his dominion, than for supporting the republic. Now admitting that all these people should find it more for their interest to retire to their houses, than to defend the walls, you would hardly see ten men left on the ramparts.

III. Even those feats of prowess of the antients, which are so blazoned and immortalized by fame, as the ultimate exertions of zeal for the public good, were more probably generated by ambition, and the love of glory, than by the love of their country; and I am inclined to think, that if there had not been witnesses present, to have handed down to posterity an account of their exploits, that from a principle of love to his country, neither Curtius would have precipitated himself into the pit, nor Marcus Attilius Regulus have submitted to die a lingering death in an iron cage; nor would the twin brothers, for the sake of extending the boundaries of Carthage, have consented to be buried alive. The incitement of posthumous fame had great influence among the Gentiles; and it might also happen, that some rushed on a violent death, not so much with a view of acquiring posthumous fame, as from the mad vanity of seeing themselves admired and applauded for a few instants of their lives, of which Lucian gives us a striking example, in the death that was submitted to by the philosopher Peregrinus.

IV. Among the Romans, the love of their country, was so much in vogue and so prevalent, that it seemed as if this noble inclination was the soul of their whole republic. But what appears to me is, that the Romans themselves, on account of Cato’s constant and steady attachment to the public, looked upon him as a very uncommon man, and as one descended from Heaven. It may be said of all the rest of them, almost without exception, that in serving their country, they sought more their own exaltation than the public utility. They gave Cicero the glorious surname of father of his country, for the successful and vigorous opposition he made to Catiline’s conspiracy. This in appearance was a great merit, although in reality it was but an equivocal one; for not only the success of Cicero’s attaining the consulate, depended upon that fury’s not carrying his point, but his life also; for it is true, that when afterwards Cæsar tyrannized over the republic, Cicero accommodated himself very well with him. The subornations of Jugurtha, King of Numidia, shewed abundantly, what sort of spirit influenced the Roman senate; which, contrary to the interest of the republic, tolerated in that penetrating and violent Prince, many grave and pernicious evils, because every new insolence he committed, was accompanied with a new present to the senators. He was at last brought to Rome, and detained there; and although he was so far from correcting or reforming his old practices, that within the city itself, he committed new and enormous offences; by the favour of gold, he was permitted to go at large, which in the delinquent himself begot such a contempt of that government, that when he left Rome, after getting at a little distance from the city, he turned about, and looking at it with disdain, called it a venal city, adding, that it would soon perish, if any one could find money enough to pay the price of its ruin: Urbem venalem, et mature perituram, si emptorem invenirit (Sallust in Jugurtha). The same thing, and even more pointedly, was said by Petronius:

This is a picture of the love of their country so celebrated among the Romans, and to which many at this day, judge they owed the enormous extension of the Roman empire.

V. Our opinion of this matter differs greatly from that of the bulk of mankind, by whom it is generally believed, the love of their country is natural to, and transcendent in all men; and as a proof of it, they alledge the repugnance, which all, or nearly all men feel at abandoning the country in which they were born, to go and reside in any other whatever; but I find here a great equivocation, and that what men call the love of their country, is in reality, nothing else but the love of their own convenience. There is no man who does not leave his own country cheerfully, when he has expectations by going to another of mending his fortune; and examples of this sort are seen every day. Of all the fables that have been fabricated by the poets, there is no one appears to be more void of probability, than that of Ulysses’s having preferred the dreary and unpleasant rocks and craigs of his own country Ithaca, to the immortality full of delights, which was offered him by the nymph Calipso, upon condition that he would come and live with her in the island of Ogygia.

VI. I may be told, that the Scythians, as Ovid testifies, fled from the delicacies of Rome, to the asperities of their own frozen soil; that the Laplanders, maugre all the conveniences and accommodations that were offered them at Vienna, sighed to return to their own poor steril country; and that but a few years ago, a Canadian savage who was brought to Paris, where he was furnished with every possible convenience, lived there in a seeming state of affliction and melancholy.

VII. I say in answer to all this, that it is true; but it is also true, that these men live with more convenience to themselves in Scythia, in Lapland, and in Canada, than in Vienna, at Paris, or in Rome. Habituated to the food of their country, however hard and coarse it may appear to us, they find it both grateful and salutary. They are born among snow, and live pleasantly in the midst of it; and as we cannot bear the cold of northern regions, they cannot endure the heat of southern ones. Their mode of government, is suited to their tempers and dispositions, and although the form is but indifferent, they being reconciled to it by custom, believe that nature itself never dictated any other. Our policy seems as barbarous to them, as theirs does to us. Here, we think it impossible to live without a house or permanent abode; they look upon this as a voluntary imprisonment, and regard it as much more convenient, to be at liberty to change their habitation, when, and unto wherever it is most agreeable to them, fabricating it in the evening, for the use of the night and the next day, either in the valley, on the side of the mountain, or in the plain. The accommodation afforded by changing situations as the seasons of the year vary, is enjoyed among us, by none but the great and the opulent; among those barbarians, there is no one who does not enjoy it; and I must confess for myself, that I look upon a man’s having power, whenever he pleases, to remove from a disagreeable neighbourhood, and settle himself in one he likes better, as a very enviable happiness.

VIII. Olaus Rudbec, a noble Swede, who had travelled a great deal through the northern regions, in a book that he wrote, intitled Lapland Illustrated, says, that the inhabitants of it, are so convinced of the advantages of their situation, that they would not exchange their own, for all the countries in the world. In fact, they possess some benefits or conveniencies in it, which are not imaginary, but real. That country, produces some regaling fruits, although they are different from ours; and the abundance of game and fish in it, all of them remarkably fine flavoured, is immense. The winters, which with us are so disagreeably damp and rainy, are there clear and serene; from whence it follows, that the natives are active, healthy, and robust. Thunder storms are scarce ever known in that region, nor is there a venomous snake to be found in all the country. They live also exempt from those two great scourges of Heaven, war and pestilence, their climate defending them from both these visitations, it being as obnoxious to strangers and the plague, as it is healthy to the natives. The snow does not incommode them, for by their natural agility, added to art and contrivance they fly over the tops of the snowy heights like crows. The multitude of white bears with which the country abounds, serves them for amusement and diversion; for they are so dextrous in combating these fierce animals, that there is scarce a Laplander, who does not kill many of them in a year, although it is very rare, that a Laplander is ever killed by one of them.

IX. We may add, that the long nights in those subpolar regions, of which they give us so horrible a representation, are not so dismal as they are imagined to be. They hardly experience total darkness there above one whole month; the reason is, because the sun descends below his horizon only twenty-three degrees and a half; and according to the computation of astronomers, the twilight may be perceived at eighteen degrees of depression. Neither does the apparent absence of the sun continue for six months, as it is commonly thought, but for five only, for on account of the great refraction of the rays in that atmosphere, you see the sun, half a month before it mounts above the horizon, and for the same space of time after it descends below it. Some Dutchmen in a northern voyage they made in 1596, being in the latitude of 76, were vastly astonished at seeing the sun fifteen or sixteen days before they expected to see it. In our discourse on mathematical paradoxes, we explained this phænomenon, and shewed, that by attending to, and computing all things, those who inhabit near the Poles, enjoy the light of the sun for a greater portion of the year, than those who live in the temperate and torrid zones; therefore what is said of the equal repartition of light all over the world, although it is generally assented to, is not true.

X. We much admire, and live very happily on the aliments we commonly use; but there is no nation, to which the same thing does not happen. The people of the northern regions, find the flesh of bears, wolves, and foxes, very savoury and regaling. The Tartars are fond of horse-flesh; the Arabs of the flesh of camels; and the Africans and Chinese, of that of dogs; for they both eat and sell them in the markets as we do pig pork. In some regions of Africa, they eat monkies, crocodiles, and serpents; and Scaliger says, that in various parts of the east, bats are esteemed as regaling a dish, as chickens are with us.

XI. The same that happens in point of food, happens with respect to everything else, for whether it proceeds from the force of habit or the proportion of temperament or disposition of each nation respectively, or that things of the same species, have different qualities in different countries, which make them more or less commodious or agreeable; every one finds himself better satisfied with the things of his own country, than with those of a foreign one, and he is therefore attached to it, because he feels his own convenience better gratified there, and his partiality for it is not influenced by the supposed love of his country.

XII. The inhabitants of the Marian islands, which are so called from Dona Mariana of Austria, who sent missionaries among them for their conversion, made no use of, nor had any knowledge of fire. Who, however, would venture to assert, that this element was not indispensably necessary to human life, or that there was any nation whatever, which could subsist without it? But notwithstanding this, those islanders, without fire, lived contented and happy. They were not sensible of the want of it, because they did not know it. Roots, fruit, and crude fish, were all their aliment; and still they were more healthy and robust than we, for living to a hundred years of age, was very frequent and common among them.

XIII. The force of custom is amazingly powerful, for it is capable of not only making the greatest asperities sufferable, but by peoples being familiarized to them, it also causes their being satisfied under them. He who was not well apprized of this truth, would be led to think what passed between Esteban King of Poland, and the Peasants of Livonia, incredible. This glorious Prince having observed, that these poor people were cruelly and very ill-treated by the nobles of the province, convened them together, and after condoling with them on their misery, told them, he proposed to make their subjection less severe and easier to be tolerated, by restraining the exercise of power in the nobility, within more mild and moderate bounds; but wonderful to relate, instead of seeming sensible of his benevolence, and embracing the offer he made them, they threw themselves at his feet, and begged he would not alter their customs, with which, through long usage, they were quite satisfied. What will not the force of habit conquer, if it is capable of making tyranny agreeable! Join to this, the circumstance of the Muscovite women, who are not happy or contented, unless their husbands, without their giving them any occasion for it, beat or cudgel them every day, regarding this unprovoked ill-treatment, as a token of their great love for them.

XIV. We may add to the foregoing remarks, that an uniformity of language, religion, and customs, makes the intercourse with our countrymen grateful and pleasing, as a diversity in those matters, makes the society of strangers aukward and unentertaining. Our particular connections and personal friendships also, tend to produce the same effect; and generally speaking, the love of convenience, and of that private ease and happiness, which every man finds in his own country, is what attracts him to, and retains him in it, and not the love of the country itself. He who should experience better personal accommodation in another region, would do as St. Peter did, who, as soon as he found himself happily situated on Mount Tabor, resolved to fix his lasting abode on that eminence, and to abandon for good and all the valley in which he was born.

XV. It is also true, that not only real, but imaginary conveniences, have their influence, to promote an adherence to our country. Entertaining a flattering opinion of the country in which we were born, and preferring it to all others in the world, is one of the most common of all common errors. There is scarce any man, and among the lower class of people not a single one, who does not think his own country the first production of nature, and abounding in a three-fold proportion, with all the goods she distributes, either with respect to the genius or ability of the natives, the fertility of the soil, or the happiness of the climate. To understandings of inferior rank, near objects are represented as by the corporeal eye, which although they are really less, appear larger than things at a distance. In his nation only, are to be found learned and wise men, those of other kingdoms are hardly civilized; the customs of his country only are rational, and the language of it is the only soft and sufferable one; the hearing a stranger speak, as effectually excites them to laughter, as seeing Jack Pudding on a stage; his nation only abounds in riches, and the Prince of it is the only powerful one. At the end of the last century, when the arms of France were so prevalent, a junto of people at Salamanca being talking on this subject, a low Portugueze who was among them, with an air of great sagacity and importance, made the following political remark: There is certainly now no Prince in Europe capable of resisting the King of France, except the King of Portugal. But what Michael Montona, in his treatise intitled Moral Reflections, relates of a rustic Savoyard, is more extravagant still, who said, I don’t believe the King of France has the ability he is said to have, for if that was the case, he would have negotiated with our Duke long ago, about making him his Major Domo. Nearly after this manner, do all the low vulgar discourse of the things of their own country.

XVI. Neither are many of those exempted from so gross an error, although it is in a less degree, who by their birth or professions, are much superior to the lower class of people. The number of vulgar who do not associate with the common herd, but are intruded among people of understanding, is infinite. How many men of school learning, whose heads were stored with texts, have I seen filled with the caprice, that our nation is the only seat of knowledge and learning, and that in other countries, they print nothing but puerilities and bagatelles, more especially if they write in their own native idiom; nor does it appear to them, that any thing worth reading, can be published in French or Italian, which is in a manner maintaining, that the most important truths can’t be expressed or explained in other languages, although it is certain, the Apostles expounded the most essential and sublime ones in all tongues. But strangers are sufficiently revenged on us for this conceitedness, for in return for our considering them as people of little learning, they look upon us as illiberal and barbarous. Thus in all countries, you will find this piece of bad road to travel through, which is worn in holes and made rough, by the hacknied passage of carriages, loaded with the high notions and opinions the natives have of themselves, and the low ones they entertain of strangers.

XVII. The worst is, that those who do not think with the vulgar, talk like the vulgar. This proceeds, from what we call national passion or prejudice, the legitimate child of vanity, and emulation. Vanity teaches us, that we are interested in our nation being esteemed superior to all others, because every individual looks upon himself as a partaker in the pre-eminence; and emulation causes us to view strangers, especially those who are nearest us, with a jealous eye, and also inclines us to wish their abasement for our own security. From both these motives, people attribute to their own country, a thousand feigned excellencies, although at the time they mention them, they know they are fictitious.

XVIII. This abuse, has filled the world with lyes, and has corrupted the faith of almost all histories. When the glory of his own nation influences him, you will hardly find an historian competently sincere. Plutarch was one of the most impartial writers of antiquity; notwithstanding which, the love of his country, in matters that related to it, made him deviate not a little from his candour; for, as the illustrious Cano remarks, he aggrandizes the events and things appertaining to Greece, beyond their just proportion. And John Bodin observes, that upon examining his lives, you will find, although his comparisons between Greek heroes and Greek heroes, and between Roman and Roman ones, were rightly and fairly made; that when he came to draw the parallel between Greeks and Romans, he warped in favour of his own countrymen.

XIX. I have always admired Titus Livius, not only for his eminent discretion, method, and judgment, but also for his veracity. He does not conceal or dissemble the failings of the Romans, when in the course of his history they come in the way of his pen; but on the contrary he lays them open and exposes them; and what is more, at the hazard of offending Augustus, he highly extolled Pompey, and blazoned his character as preferrable to Cæsar’s, which in those times amounted to the same thing, as declaring himself a zealous republican. Notwithstanding this, I observe a fault in this prince of historians, which if it did not proceed from want of his adverting to, or being aware of it, we must confess to be the effect of his passion for the marvellous. In the two first ages of their republic, he gives an account of as many battles gained, and as many cities taken by the Romans, as would be sufficient to compleat the conquest of a vast empire; but at the end of this time, we see that republic confined within such narrow bounds, that few less states are at this day to be found in all Italy, which is a proof that the antecedent victories, were not so many nor so great in the original, as they are represented to be in the copy.

XX. There is scarce one of the modern historians I have read, in whom I have not observed the same inconsistency. If they relate the events of a long war, they paint them so favourably to their own side, that the reader from those premises, is induced to promise himself, that it will end in an advantageous peace, in which his nation will give the law to the enemy; but as the premises are false, the conclusion does not follow, and in the end, he finds things turn out quite contrary to what he expected.

XXI. I am not insensible, that during a war, such sort of lies may be politically necessary; therefore in all countries, they print Gazettes with privilege; I don’t say of lying, but of colouring events, so that they should not dishearten, but seem encouraging to the people; and in their description of things, they imitate the artifice of Apelles, who painted Antigonus in profile, to conceal his being blind of one eye; I mean, that they display the favourable side of events, and cover the adverse one by a deception. I say, that policy requires this should be done in Gazettes, to prevent the subjects being dismayed by the adverse strokes of fortune; but in books that are written many years after the transactions, what danger is there in speaking the truth?

XXII. The case is, that although none could happen to the public by it, the writer himself who should make the attempt, would be exposed to a great deal. The poor historians, scarce dare to do otherwise than disguise such truths, as are not advantageous to their countrymen. They must either flatter their own nation, or lay down the pen; for if they fail to do this, they will be branded with the epithet of being disaffected to their country. I lament most heartily the lot of father Mariana; this very learned Jesuit, over and above possessing the other talents necessary for an historian, was exceedingly sincere and ingenuous; but this illustrious quality, which aggrandized his glory with found critics, diminished it among the vulgar of Spain; they said he had not a Spanish heart, and that his affections and his pen were inimical to his country; and as heretofore, the extreme rigour of Septimus Severus to the Romans, was attributed to his being of African extraction by his father’s side, they imputed to father Mariana, a certain kind of pique against the Spaniards, and assigned as the cause of it, I don’t know whether with truth or not, his being of French descent on the side of his mother. They would have had him relate events, not as they happened, but in such a way as should seem most pleasing to them; and by such as are fond of adulation, the man who is not a flatterer is regarded as an enemy. But the same thing which made this great man ill looked upon in Spain, gained him the highest eulogiums from the most eminent personages in Europe: the following, bestowed on him by the great Cardinal Baronius, is sufficient to establish his honour and his fame: Father John Mariana, a scrupulous lover of the truth, an excellent pattern and sectary of virtue, a worthy professor among the society of Jesus, and a Spaniard by birth, but void of all national passion or prejudice, in a learned and elegant stile, wrote a most perfect and faithful history of Spain. (Baron. ad ann. Christi 688.)

XXIII. It is not only in Spain, that they would have their historians panegyrists, for the same thing happens in other countries. The King of England, sent for the famous Gregory Leti, to write the history of that kingdom; but he having protested he would not take pen in hand, unless he was allowed to speak the truth; the King, to encourage him to engage in the undertaking, assured him, that he should be permitted to comply with this indispensable obligation, upon which, he set to work, and compiled his history from the best authorities, and the most faithful monuments and records he could discover; but the natives having found reason to be dissatisfied with many of the facts laid open in it, the King repented of the permission he had given him, the copies were all called in by the procurement of administration, and the historian obliged to leave England, but ill recompensed for his trouble.

XXIV. We Spaniards, complain much of the French authors, alledging, that from their hatred to us, they disfigure transactions which are glorious to our nation, and aggrandize in proportion, such as are favourable to their own. This complaint is reciprocal, and I believe well founded on both sides. When there have been frequent wars between two nations, you will always observe, that from the jealousies and animosities these have produced, the wars are constantly kept up in the writings of the authors of both kingdoms; for united as in the arrow, the feather follows the impetus of the steel.

XXV. But as a tribute due to truth and justice, I can’t avoid taking notice in this place, of an unjust accusation, which has been fulminated by our countrymen against the authors of that nation. They say, that in relating the events of that kingdom in the reign of Francis the first, they are either silent, or deny the imprisonment of that King at the battle of Pavia. This complaint has not the least foundation, for I have read accounts of this advantage of our arms in various French authors, and even in one of them, I saw celebrated the piquant answer of a French lady to King Francis, on the event of his imprisonment. The King in a satyrical manner, that insinuated Time had robbed her of her charms, said to her, Madam, how long is it since you came from the land of Beauty? To which the lady readily answered, Ever since you came from the country of Pavia.

XXVI. Where I find the most reason for the Spaniards to be angry with the French authors, is in their denying the coming of St. James to Spain, and in their refusing to acknowledge that his sacred body is deposited there; but these pretensions are more the offspring of criticism than national jealousy, and never were material objects of emulation between the two nations. It is on the subject of the justice of wars, and the advantages gained in the prosecution of them, that the pens engage with the most acrimony.

XXVII. From this spirit of national prejudice, which prevails in almost all histories, it happens, that with respect to an infinite number of facts, the things which are past seem as uncertain to us, as those which are to come. I acknowledge, that the historical Pyrrhonism of Campanela was extravagant, who carried his want of confidence in history to such a point, as to say, he doubted whether there ever was an Emperor in the world named Charles the Great. But with respect to those events, which the historians of one nation affirm, and those of another deny; and as there are many such events, it will be prudent for us to suspend our judgment, till some well-informed third person shall decide upon them; for, excited either by vanity or inclination, or led by condescension, every one goes on to flatter his own nation; the light of truth at the same time, being concealed from the eyes of the people, by the smoke of the incense of flattery, and the harmony of adulation, preventing their listening to the voice of reason.

XXVIII. I shall not dwell upon those authors, who carried the passion for their country, to lengths of extravagance, such as Goropius Becanus, a native of Brabant, who very deliberately endeavoured to prove, that the Flemish tongue was the first in the world; and Olaus Rudbec, a Swede, who, in a book he wrote on purpose, tried to evince, that all which the antients had said of the Fortunate Islands, the garden of the Hesperides and Elysian fields, alluded to Sweden, pronouncing at the same time, his own country to be the source and perfection of European learning; and asserting, that letters and the art of writing, did not descend from Phœnicia to Greece, but from Phœnicia to Sweden; in the prosecution of which undertaking, he rummaged out, and expended in waste, much hidden learning.

XXIX. It may also be proper to observe here, that another opposite vicious extreme, if it is not derived from, arises in consequence of this prejudice. It has been remarked by some, of a modern Spanish author, that he has been guilty of unjustly denying to Spain, the honour of some glorious antiquities, with a view of being applauded as a sincere man among strangers. Perhaps this was not his motive, but that his criticism was defective, for want of being tempered with a due mixture of the indulgent and the severe; and that to avoid the imputation of flattery, he ran into the opposite offensive extreme; for

XXX. But the national prejudice of which we have spoken hitherto, is, if we may so call it, an innocent vice compared to another, which by being more common, is more pernicious. I speak of that preposterous affection, which is not relative to a republic at large, but applies to a particular district or territory which we call our own. I do not deny, that by the term country, is understood not only the republic or state of which we are members, and which may be called our common country, but also the province, diocese, city or district, where every one drew his first breath, and which on that account may be termed his particular country; but it is certain, the phrase “love of our country,” cannot be supposed to be confined or apply to our country according to this second definition, but according to the first; for that is the sense, in which it is recommended and enforced, by examples, persuasions, and apophthegms, of historians, orators, and philosophers. The country to which we should sacrifice our lives in heroic arms, and which we ought to esteem superior to all our private interests, and as the creditor of all our possible obsequies and services, is that body of state, under which we are united in one civil government, and protected by, and bound to the observance of the same laws. Thus Spain is the proper object of the love of a Spaniard, France of a Frenchman, and Poland of a Polander. But this should be understood, not to relate to such people, who by migrating to, and settling in other countries, make themselves members of other states, in which case, the duty they owe to the country where they reside, and are protected, ought to prevail over the affection they bear to the country in which they were born; and on this distinction, we shall in the sequel make an important remark. The dividing of a kingdom into provinces or districts, which is done for the convenience of administering justice, and conducting other business of government, has a material influence over, and is in a great measure the cause of dividing men’s hearts.

XXXI. The particular or limited love of one’s country, instead of being useful to a state, is in many respects injurious and hurtful, because it induces a division in the minds of those, who ought to be reciprocally united for the sake of making more firm and stable, the bond of common society; and because also this limited love of our country, is an incentive to civil wars, and revolts against the sovereign power; for always when a particular province or district fancies itself aggrieved, all the individuals of it think the redressing the grievances of their injured country, an obligation superior to all others; and finally, this confined principle, is an obstacle to the right administration of justice among all classes of people, and in every judicial and ministerial department.

XXXII. This last inconvenience is so common and apparent, as to be hidden from no man; and what is worse, no one endeavours to hide it. This pestilence of partiality to countrymen is, to the perversion and corruption of good regulation, introduced and cherished in the most bare-faced manner, into those departments which are vested with the power of distributing honourable and useful employments. What sanctuary has been able to protect or preserve us, from the violencies of this declared enemy of reason and equity? How many hearts, inaccessible to the temptations of gold, insensible to the allurements of ambition, intrepid, and proof against the threats of power, have suffered themselves to be miserably deluded and perverted, by national passion? Now-a-days, if a man is a candidate for an office or employment, he always reckons upon as many protectors as he has countrymen, who have any concern or interest in the disposal of it. His pretensions being unreasonable, to a man swayed by national or provincial prejudice, are no objection, because the only merit with such a one, is the candidate’s being his countryman. We have seen men, in other respects of unimpeachable integrity, who were much infected with this malady; from hence I have been inclined to conclude, that this is an infernal machine, artfully invented by the Devil, to subdue those souls, who by all other ways are invincible; but alas, Achilles, although in one little part only, you are vulnerable, what does it avail you, if Paris, in shooting the arrow, has the skill and address to hit that little part?

XXXIII. I do not condemn that affection for our native soil, which does not operate to prejudice a third person. Aristotle’s employing his favour with Alexander, to procure the rebuilding the town of Stagira his native country, ruined by the soldiers of Philip, always appeared to me right and proper; and I condemn the indifference of Crates, whose city had suffered the same misfortune, for having, when Alexander asked him if he was desirous it should be rebuilt, answered, Of what use would the rebuilding it be, if there should come another Alexander to destroy it afresh? How exceedingly and ridiculously affected was the behaviour of that philosopher, who lost to his countrymen so signal a benefit, for the sake of a cold apophthegm? The misfortune was, that no other opportune sentence of a contrary tendency occurred to the philosopher just at that time; for if there had, he would have accepted the favour offered by Alexander. I have observed, that there are no people more unfit to be consulted upon serious and weighty points of business, than those who pride themselves in speaking with grace and elegance; for they are always apt to warp their opinion towards that side, on which a striking expression occurs to them, and provided they deliver themselves with air and brilliancy, they do not embarrass themselves about a little false reasoning.

XXXIV. I say once more, that I do not condemn any innocent or moderate affection for our native land. A love extremely soft and tender, is better suited to women, and more proper for children just rising up in the world, than for men; and therefore I am of opinion, the divine Homer humanizes Ulysses to a degree of excess, when he paints him, amidst all the regales of Pheacia, panting and pining, to see the smoke arise on the mountains of Ithaca, his own country:

This tenderness in one of the wisest of the Greeks was very puerile; but with all, there is not much inconvenience in viewing with tenderness the smoke of one’s country, provided the smoke does not blind the eyes of him who looks at it. Let him view the smoke of his own country; but alas, do not let him prefer it to the light and splendour of foreign ones; but this is what we see every day. He who by being placed at the head of an eminent department, has the disposal of various employments at his pleasure, can scarce find any persons properly qualified for those employments, but people of his own country. In vain it is represented to him, that these men are unfit to fill the post, and that there are others better qualified. He finds the smoke of his country so grateful an aromatick, that he would abandon for it the most brilliant lights of other places. O how strangely does this smoke blind men’s eyes! How wonderfully does it disorder and affect their heads!

XXXV. In truth, some sin in this particular with their eyes wide open; I speak of those, who with the view of forming a party to support their authority, promote as many of their countrymen as they possibly can, without paying the least attention to merit. This is not manifesting their love to their country, but to themselves, and is benefiting their own soil, as the earth is benefited by the labour of the husbandman, who does not bestow it with a view of improving the land, but of advantaging himself. These are open and declared enemies of a republic, because it being next to impossible, that one district can furnish people sufficiently qualified for such a variety of employments, the places are filled with unworthy objects; this, if it is not the greatest evil that can befall a state, at least ultimately disposes towards producing such an evil.

XXXVI. Of those, who exercise their passion for their countrymen, from a belief that they are the most deserving, I am at a loss what to say, although the motive of their partiality in this matter frequently appears to me a voluntary blindness; and if that is the case, they do not stand excused. When the excess of merit in the person set aside, is so notoriously superior to that of the man promoted, that it is manifest to all the world, except to him who dispensed the preferment, what doubt can there be, that he shut his eyes to avoid seeing it? or else, that the microscope of his passion magnified to his view, the virtues of the man preferred, and the defects of him neglected? There is scarce any man, who has not a portion of good and bad in his composition; a man without fault would be a miracle, and one without a single virtue would be a monster. This made St. Austin say, that gigantic vice was as rare to be found among us, as eminent virtue: Sicut magna pietas paucorum est, ita et magna impietas nihilominus paucorum est. (Serm. 10. de verbis Domini.) What happens then is, that passion, being to chuse between persons of unequal merit, magnifies what is good in the bad man, and also what is bad in the good one. There is not a more unfaithful balance to weigh merit in, than that of passion and prejudice; but this is what men commonly use for the purpose. This caused David to say, men are false in their balances: Mendaces filii hominum in stateris. Job, to express the greatness and power of God, says, that he is able to give weight to the wind: qui fecit ventis pondus. But I am not clear in what sense to understand this, because I also see, that the powerful of the world in the balance of their passion, frequently give weight, and much weight to the air. What do you see in that person they have just raised? Nothing solid, nothing but air and vanity; but to this air, the great man who exalted him gave more weight, than to the gold of the other person who was his competitor for the office. But how was this done? Why, together with the air, he put earth into the scale, I mean the earth of the country in which he was born, and this earth weighs very heavy in that balance.

XXXVII. It happens in the contentions about occupying places, as it happened in the conflict between Hercules and Antæus. Hercules was much more valiant and powerful than the other, and threw him repeatedly to the ground; but the falls, enabled Antæus to renew the combat with redoubled vigour, because by his contact with the earth, his strength was doubled. The explanation of the matter is this: The antients under the veil of fables, concealed physical and moral maxims, and according to the heathen mythology, which was the term they used to signify the exposition of those mysterious fictions, Antæus was the son of the Earth. I believe, to make this fable apply to the present question, we need say no more, than that as things go in the world, every country by its recommendation, gives strength to its sons to overcome strangers, although they are people of superior abilities and vigour. Hercules lifted Antæus from the ground, and kept him suspended in the air, by which means he found no difficulty in overcoming him. It were much to be wished, that upon many occasions, in order to determine the worth of people, they should be examined divested of all favour and advantage they can derive from belonging to a particular country, for then it would be much better known to whom the preference is due.

XXXVIII. These men of national genius and prejudice, whose spirits are all flesh and blood, and whose breasts are always in contact with the earth, like that of a snake, do in a community, what the old serpent did in paradise, or as Luzbel did in Heaven, that is, introduce into it, seditions, revolts, schisms, and battles. No fire assails a civil edifice so violently, as the flame of national passion, for it consumes the very stones of the fabric, levels merit to the ground, and makes reason tremble, excites tumults and insults, and makes way for the triumphant entry of ambition. Those hearts which ought to be cordially united by the bond of brotherly love, that bond being broken asunder, are miserably divided, and breathe nothing but vengeance and rancour. They form parties, inlist auxiliaries, and range their forces; but alas! in the end both the victors and vanquished are unfortunate and unhappy; the last lose the day and their patience, and the first by their conquest lose themselves.

XXXIX. In no words of sacred writ, is a call to a generous and virtuous life painted in more lively colours, than in those of the Psalmist, Psalm xliv. Mark me, my Son, incline your ear, and attend to my words, you must forget your townsmen, and the house of your father. But how greatly does he deviate from the precept contained in this admonition, who so far from forgetting his townsmen, and the house of his father, treasures up in his heart and memory, not only a house or a town, but a whole province or kingdom.

XL. Alexander, after he had conquered Persia, caused the Macedonian soldiers to marry Persian women, to the end, says Plutarch, that forgetting their native land, they should only esteem as their countrymen, those who were good, and regard as strangers those who were bad: Ut mundum pro patria, castra pro arce, bonos pro cognatis, malos pro peregrinis agnoscerent.

XLI. It is an apophthegm, of many learned and wise men among the Gentiles, that to a man of a strong and liberal mind, all the world is his country. He who attaches his heart to that corner of the earth in which he was born, cannot look upon all the world as his country, nor himself as a citizen of it, and therefore the world should despise him, as a narrow-minded and mean-spirited person.

XLII. I believe notwithstanding, that there is something figurative contained in the words of the sentences before quoted, for mankind can never be understood to be exempted from the love and service they owe to the republic of which they are members, in preference to all other states and kingdoms; but I apprehend also, that this obligation should not be confined to a republic, because we were born within its limits, but because we are members of its society; therefore, he who has legally transferred his residence from the kingdom in which he was born, to another different one, where he has settled himself, and taken up his abode, contracts with respect to that kingdom, the same obligations he owed to that in which he was born and nursed, and he ought to regard it as the country to which he belongs. This is a distinction, that was not rightly understood by many great men of antiquity; and for this reason, we see in various authors of note, some actions celebrated as heroic, which ought to have been condemned as infamous. Demaratus King of Sparta, when he was unjustly dethroned and driven out of his kingdom by his own subjects, was kindly received and protected by the Persians. He lived among them as a member of the Persian empire, and owed to that country, besides the obligation of gratitude, the duty of a subject; but mark the sequel: the Persians meditate a military expedition against the Lacedemonians; and Demaratus, who is let into the secret, communicates the design to the Spartans, in order that they might be prepared to defeat the enterprize. Herodotus, and many other authors, celebrate this action, as a commendable mark of the glorious and heroic love which Demaratus entertained for his country; but I say, it was a perfidious, base, unworthy, and treacherous act; because in virtue of the antecedent circumstances, the obligation of his loyalty, together with his person, had been transferred from Lacedemonia to Persia.

XLIII. To conclude: I assert that if by reason of being born in it, we contract any obligation to a particular district or place, that obligation is inferior to, and ought to give place to every other christian or political one whatever. Surely the difference of being born in this or that country is not so material, that this should out-weigh every other consideration; therefore we ought never to prefer our countryman only because he is our countryman, except in those cases, where there is a perfect equality of all the other circumstances.

XLIV. In superior rulers, I don’t even with this limitation, admit of any partiality, with respect to countrymen, for the following reasons: first, because without being perfectly divested of this passion, it is hardly possible in one instance or another, to shun the danger of passing from favour to injustice. Secondly, that in whatever manner, favour to our countrymen is limited and restrained, we are apt to fall into an acceptation or preferable choice of persons, which by all those who govern ought to be studiously avoided. Thirdly, superior rulers being truly the fathers of their people, their impartial affection for them should be regarded as a consideration so incomparably superior to all others, that it ought to stifle and suffocate every kind of motive or inclination to preference, except that, which is derived from superior merit. It would be ridiculous in a father to love one child better than another, only because this was born in his own town or city, and the mother was delivered of the other in a different place, in consequence of her being from home on a journey. Therefore all those who govern, ought ever to retain in their hearts and memories, the maxim of the famous queen of Carthage, who being informed that the Trojans, in consequence of her marrying Eneas, entertained hopes of receiving superior indulgences to the Tyrians from her, declared her perfect indifference of affection for them all as a queen in the following words:

XLV. Having spoken in this discourse, of the favour that may be shewed to a countryman in preference to a stranger, in case he is a man of equal merit, I thought it would not be improper here, to take notice of a moral point, which frequently occurs in practice, and in which I have often seen men mistake, who in other respects are far from absurd. Those, who have annexed to their charges the distribution of honourable and useful employments, if they have not a perfect knowledge of the competitors for a vacant place, commonly avail themselves of judicial or extrajudicial informations touching their merits. This is a case that often occurs in the appointment to such professorships in many universities, as are in the disposal of the king, or his supreme council; and in these instances, all the doctors of this university of Oveido give their information to the royal council promiscuously. It is to be supposed, that the person, who by his own or delegated authority appoints to the office, when two persons of equal merit are proposed to him, may very consistently chuse which he pleases; but with respect to the equality of merit, if he is a stranger to the parties, he must be guided by the informations he receives; and I have seen it very common, when they had no just reason for doing it, for people to give their information in favour of the man they liked best, and I have known them go so far, as not only to recommend him in preference to his competitor, but to represent him as the only person qualified to fill the vacant office.

XLVI. I call this an error, because that in my opinion, such an information upon the face of it, is injurious and void of all probability, which I shall endeavour to demonstrate, by exposing the malice and indirect proceeding of him, who between two equal subjects, Peter and John for example, gives his information in favour of Peter, in preference to John; for I perceive in such behaviour, not only one, but three serious and distinct offences. And first, he offends materially in his information, against the virtue of legal and impartial justice, which requires, that he should represent people according to the true degree of their merits; but he swerves from this principle, who represents Peter as superior to John, when he is not so in reality. Secondly, he behaves unworthily and unjustly to his Prince, by usurping and preoccupying the right, which he has to chuse between the parties. Thirdly, he is guilty of injustice to the said John, who has a right to be represented according to the true degree of merit he possesses; and the proposing him as inferior to Peter, when in truth he is equal to him, is doing him a manifest injury, which besides prejudicing him with regard to other contingencies, renders it impossible in this instance, for him to partake of the king’s grace of chusing him in preference to his competitor Peter.

XLVII. From what has been premised, it may be inferred, that no contingent can ever happen, in which an informant or voter can consistently shew favour, or be partial to any man, either in such an instance as we have just mentioned, or in any other whatever, judicial or extrajudicial; because as we have shewn, competitions between subjects of equal merit do not admit of it, and if the merits of the competitors are unequal, the injustice of such a proceeding is self-evident; consequently, to him who acts conscientiously, all recommendations or solicitations are useless and improper; for he will not be biassed by friendship, country, gratitude, school-alliances, religion, college-connections, or any other motives whatever. But the misfortune is, that in the practice of the world, we see but few examples of such disinterested and upright conduct, even in cases where the merits of candidates are unequal; but on the contrary, whenever an opposition is set on foot, the favourers of each candidate, are more occupied in canvassing suffrages, than in studying questions, and more busied in examining the connections of voters, than books of faculty. The abuse is carried to such a length, that sometimes a man’s acting with integrity is imputed to him as a crime. If a voter, who is solicited by a man of eminence, answers ingenuously, and excuses himself from complying with what is requested of him; they say he is a rough, ill-bred, unpolished man: if he does not yield to the solicitations of a benefactor, they call him ungrateful; and if he does not give way to the intreaties of a friend, they exclaim that he is callous to the feelings of friendship. Finally, it appears to me, that a more intolerable error than this cannot exist, for I have seen men much esteemed by the generality of mankind for their worth, who have always prostituted their votes to these or some other temporal motives; but in the name of reason, can a man have any friend so great or so good as God? Is there any benefactor, to whom we owe so much as to him? How shall we reconcile this? Can he be called a grateful, an honourable, or a good man, who can be wanting in his duty to his best friend and greatest benefactor, by acting unjustly to oblige a creature, to whom he owes this or that limited respect, and to whom also it is impossible he should owe any thing whatever, but what he owes principally, and in the first instance to God? In vain I have urged these arguments in various private conversations; and I believe it is in vain also, that I now use them with the public at large; but if they shall not be effectual to amend the abuse, they will at least serve to disburthen my mind, and give vent to my chagrin.

I. The signification of the word Urbanity is equivocal, so that when you read it in different authors who lived in distinct times, you will find, the sense they understood it in varied exceedingly. It’s immediate derivation is from the Latin word Urbanus, which springs from urbs a city; but notwithstanding this, it did not imply city in general; for it’s meaning at first, was confined in an especial manner to signify the city of Rome.

II. The reason of this was, that the word urbanus began to be first made use of, at the time that the Roman republic was in the zenith of it’s prosperity, and this may be evidently inferred, from Quintilian’s saying the word was new in the days of Cicero; Cicero favorem, et urbanum nova credit. It was then that the generical word urbs began to be used by way of eminence, to signify the city of Rome, on account of it’s portentous grandeur; and with the same pace that Rome proceeded to domineer over the world, that sort of culture which the Romans looked upon as an excellence peculiar to themselves, proceeded to gain ground, and prevail in the city, and it was then that the Romans began to make use of the word Urbanus, to express that compound sort of cultivation that people received there, which seemed not to be confined to letters and sciences only, but also to comprehend manner and punctillo also; homo urbanus, sermo urbanus; and they used the word urbanitas, to express those accomplishments in an abstracted sense.

III. But all authors did not give the same extension to the cultivation implied by the word urbanitas. Cicero, as we know from his book de claris oratoribus, restrained it to a graceful manner of speaking, which was peculiar to the Romans.

IV. Quintilian thinks, the graceful manner of speaking, which was peculiar to the Romans, and which consisted in their proper choice of words, their just application of them, and the decent tone of their voices, did not comprehend the whole, but was only a part of the accomplishment that was meant to be expressed by the term Urbanity; and he assigns as another part appertaining to it, a tincture of erudition acquired by frequent conversation with learned men; nam, et urbanitas dicitur, qua quidem significari sermonem præ se ferentem in verbis, et sono, et usu proprium quemdam gustum urbis, et sumptam ex conversatione doctorum tacitam eruditionem, denique cui contraria sit rusticitas.

V. Domitius Marsus, an author who lived about mid-way between the days of Cicero and Quintilian, and who wrote a treatise upon Urbanity, which we are indebted to Quintilian for the knowledge of, strikes into a new track, and maintains Urbanity to consist in the keenness and force of a short pithy expression, which delights and inclines the hearer to be affected in the manner the speaker could wish; and which is well adapted to excite either resistance or assent, according to the circumstances of persons and things: Urbanitas est virtus quædam in breve dictum coacta, et apta ad delectandos, movendosque in omnem affectum animos, maxime idonea ad resistendum, vel lacessendum, prout quæque res ac persona desiderant. (Quintilian ubi supra.) This definition is truly confused, and either explains nothing, or else, only explains a particular idea of the author, distinct from every thing that has hitherto been understood, respecting the meaning of the word Urbanity.

VI. The moral philosophers, who have studied and laboured to explain the admirable ethics of Aristotle, have considered this word as equivalent to the Greek one Eutrapelia, which Aristotle made use of to express that virtue, which influences people to observe moderation in the tone of their voice, and their manner of expressing themselves; as vicious extremes in these particulars, were apt to degenerate into rusticity, or else, to be attended with scurrility and buffoonry; and these are the sentiments of our cardinal Aguirre and count Manuel Thesaurus.

VII. But neither the word urbanity, nor that of rusticity, which is its opposite, are made use of to express at present, what they were understood to imply formerly. They call him now-a-days, an agreeable or well-bred man, and not a man of urbanity, who speaks in a moderate and pleasing tone of voice, and who expresses himself in decent and opportune phrases; and he who delivers himself in an opposite manner, they do not call a rustic, but a coarse or an unpleasant man, or else describe him by phrases that are equivalent to those.

VIII. But to come to the acceptation that is given to the word Urbanity in these present times, and to the sense in which it seems now to be generally understood in Spain, it signifies the same as Cortesania; but it is also true, that some give a more limited, and some a more extensive signification to this phrase. There are those who understand cortesane, or courteous, to mean the same as well-bred, and to express a man who in his commerce with other men, conducts himself with that decorum and ceremony which is prescribed by good education. But amongst those who define things with propriety, I believe a courteous man is understood to mean one, who, by his natural disposition, has a propensity in all his words and actions, to conduct himself with that temper and manner, that makes his conversation and company agreeable and pleasing to the rest of mankind. Taken in this sense, the Spanish word Cortesania, is equivalent to the French one Politesse, to the Italian one Civilitá, and to the Latin one Comitas.

IX. The derivation of the word Cortesania, is analogous to that of Urbanitas; for as this last was taken from the word Urbs, which according to the custom then in use, was looked upon to be applicable to the city of Rome, which was then the capital of a very great part of the world, the term Urbanity was understood to imply, that sort of cultivation which was then in vogue at Rome. Just so Cortesania, which in Spain is derived from Corte, or court, where it is generally supposed people behave with the greatest politeness is understood to imply that sort of good breeding which is generally practised there, and which we express by the term Cortesania.

X. Understanding then the word Urbanity in this sense, I shall define it in the following manner; that it is a virtue, or virtuous habit, which directs and leads a man both in his words and actions in such a way, as makes his company and behaviour savoury, grateful, and engaging, to the rest of mankind. I shall not embarrass myself, about whether some people think this definition too redundant, and that it seems to express more than the term Urbanity implies. I adjust the definition to the interpretation I myself put upon the term, and to the sense it is understood in, by those who have treated of the subject in the most approved manner. Those who give less extension to the word, may, if they please, define the thing in another manner. Disputes about definitions are mere nominal questions, and may not improperly be called playing upon words. Every one defines a thing, according to the acceptation he gives to the word that expresses it. If all men were to agree in the acceptation of a word, they would scarce ever differ in the definition of the object that is expressed by it; but the misfortune is, that the same word, excites in different people different ideas with respect to the meaning of it, and hence it is, that we see such a variety of definitions.

XI. There is no doubt, but that all the particulars which compose a courteous carriage, should lead to the attainment of a certain end, and should be calculated to induce a certain manner in all a man’s exterior behaviour, that should be free from any mixture of the indecent, the offensive, or the tiresome; but that on the contrary it should rather be combined, with the grateful, the decent, and the opportune.

XII. Urbanity, like all other moral virtues, is placed between two vicious extremes; one of which it is apt to run into by exceeding, and the other by deficiency, or not doing enough. The first is occasioned by that excessive complaisance which borders upon meanness; and the second, by a rigid unsavoury reserve, which has the appearance of rusticity.

XIII. As there is no virtue, whose use is so general and common as than of Urbanity, so there is no one which is so much counterfeited and falsified by hypocrisy. There are men who by seldom finding themselves in a situation to exercise some particular virtues, are not very anxious about contriving means to imitate them by hypocrisy; but as Urbanity is a virtue that all men have opportunities of exercising, it is in the power of all men to counterfeit it by deceit. In truth, the hypocrites in the line of Urbanity are innumerable. All the world super-abound with expressions of submission and profound respect, with obsequious offers, and with exaggerated professions of esteem, with smiling countenances, whose essence consists in the command they have of their features, and in expressions of their lips, in which their hearts have not the least share; but on the contrary, are rather impressed with sentiments, that are quite opposite to those false appearances, and mock demonstrations.

XIV. What, then, should Urbanity be implanted in the heart? Without doubt it should, or it is at least from thence that it ought to derive its origin. If it was otherwise, how could it be a virtue? Reason tells us, that there is an honest complaisance due from one man to another; and whatever reason dictates should be esteemed a virtue. But how can a lying, deceitful, and affected complaisance be a virtue? It is evident it cannot. Urbanity then should arise from the bottom of the soul. What does not do that, is not Urbanity, but hypocrisy that counterfeits it. An honest soul, stands in no need of fiction to assist it in the observance of all those attentions which compose good-breeding, because it is naturally inclined to the observance of them, left alone to itself. By an innate propensity, accompanied by the light of reason, such a one will never, upon any occasion, be found wanting in the respect that is due to his superiors, nor in the condescension he should shew to his equals, nor in the affability he should practice with his inferiors, nor in the good-will and gracious manner, with which he should manifest to all men, both in words and deeds, these laudable dispositions of his mind, and his love of human society.

XV. I am not ignorant, that Urbanity is commonly understood to consist in our external testification of respect and benevolence to those with whom we converse. But if this testification, is not accompanied with the affections of the mind that are expressed by it, it becomes deceitful, and cannot possibly constitute that sort of urbanity, which consists in a virtuous habit; for in order to constitute such a one, it would be necessary that the testification should be sincere, which amounts to the same as saying, that there is essentially included in urbanity, the existence of those sentiments, which are expressed by courteous words and actions.

XVI. It is certain, that courts are the great public schools of true Urbanity; but they have mixed so much false in those schools in the practice of it, that some have been led to think, it has nearly obscured the true, of which, there seems to be scarce any thing left but the mere appearance. I believe, that without disparagement to any other courts we ever heard of, those of antient Rome, and modern Paris, may be esteemed the most cultivated and polite that have been known in the world. After mentioning this, let us hear what two authors say who were well versed in the practice of them both. The first is Juvenal, who clearly gives us to understand, that he who could not lie and flatter should withdraw from court, as there were no hopes of his getting any thing by his attendance there—

XVII. The second is the abbot Boileau, a famous preacher at Paris in the reign of Louis the Fourteenth. This eminent man, in a treatise he published, entitled Choice Thoughts or Reflexions, drew such a picture of the court of Versailles, as shews the Urbanity exercised there, had degenerated not only into dissimulation, but even into treachery, although he admits, this was not the practice of every one who attended it. These are his words:

XVIII. “What are the manners and behaviour of a courtier? Why they consist in flattering his enemies while he is afraid of their power; and in endeavouring to destroy them whenever he finds an opportunity for doing it; in being civil to, and making use of his friends when he stands in need of their assistance, and in turning his back upon them when they can be of no further service to him; in seeking out powerful protectors, whom he fawns on, and idolizes exteriorly, and frequently despises in secret.

XIX. “Courtly Urbanity, consists in converting dissimulation and deceit, into the law or rule of a man’s actions; and representing all sorts of people in such colours, as your interest dictates to you that you should paint them; in bearing slights and disappointments with a forced reserve, and in awaiting with a strained appearance of modesty and composure, the favours of Fortune.

XX. “In a court, for the most part there is no sincerity, but almost every thing you see there, is compounded of hypocrisy, deceit, and malevolence; for example, in peoples doing underhand ill offices to each other; in contriving and laying snares that nobody can be aware of; in bearing painful and mortifying disgusts with a smiling countenance; and in hiding under an apparent shew of modesty, the pride of Lucifer. It is very common in a court, for a man not to be permitted to love whom he likes, to do what he should, nor to speak what he thinks. It is necessary to keep silence, in order to conceal your sentiments, and it is also necessary, to acquire a facility at changing them. You must applaud, abuse, love, abhor, speak, and live, not according to your own liking or inclination, but in conformity to the arbitrary will and caprice of other people.

XXI. “In what do the other manners and mode of a man’s conducting himself consist in a courtier? Why in dissembling injuries, and in revenging them; in flattering his enemies, and in destroying them; in promising every thing for the sake of obtaining a dignity or promotion, and in performing none of these promises after he has got it; in repaying favours with words, services with plausible assurances, and debts with threatenings. At court, they in the same breath implore and execrate Fortune, applaud and despise merit; and they also disguise the truth, under an ostentatious appearance of frankness.”

XXII. I believe there is a great deal of this sort of dissimulation all over the world; but it is natural to suppose, there is more of it practised in courts than in other places, for the incitements to the exercise of the before-mentioned vices, are generally stronger there, than they are found to be out of those circles. There is not a passion nor an appetite, which there a man does not seem within reach of indulging, and the objects which stimulate his desires, shine forth there also in their greatest splendor. The ambitious man fancies himself on the point of grasping honours, and the covetous one riches. The pretenders are vying with each other, the emulous contending with the emulous, and the envious with the envied. There the success of the unworthy man, is staring the neglected deserving one in the face, and there the hands of the unskilful artist fully employed, is exhibiting a disgusting spectacle, to the able one who has nothing to do. And although a modest man who only views this at a great distance, or who only hears it from report, may reason upon it, and contain himself like a philosopher, still, when the mortifying prospect is so near him, he can scarce speak of the thing with temper, nor look upon it without falling into a passion. Thus it is almost morally impossible, that the hearts of the neglected men should not be in a continual state of fermentation, and their feelings in a tumultuous agitation, which is attended, not so much with the corruption of the men themselves, as with that of their manners.

XXIII. But notwithstanding all that has been alledged, we ought to conclude, that the two before-named authors exaggerated the evils they meant to reprehend. There is a great deal of bad in courts, but there is also some good to be found in them. The complaints that merit is neglected, are frequently nothing more than sighs, which express the grief and disappointments of the heart from whence they proceed. The same man who laments political mismanagement, while he is not permitted to go beyond the porch of the favourite’s house, when he has once gained admittance into it, begins to applaud his conduct, as he ascends the steps leading to his levee-room; which is a proof that what he meant by mismanagement and a bad conducted government, was such a one as he got nothing under, and that what he understands by a good one, is such a one as is advantageous to him. I have at all times heard the administration ill spoken of, but if we come to enquire by whom, we shall find it is chiefly done, by importunate candidates for places and employments, who are unable to attain what they never deserved, and by litigious suitors, who were justly disappointed of success in their vexatious attempts, and who have been condemned to pay costs, for commencing unjust prosecutions; by delinquents who have been legally mulcted for their misdeeds; by ignorant people who have passed for men of understanding, and who without having studied in any other school, than that of a coffee-house or a club-room, have presumed to give positive opinions, upon the most important and difficult political and military questions; and finally, by weak people, who fancy that a good government can effect impossibilities, and that they are able to make all the subjects of a state, happy and contented.

XXIV. Neither my genius, nor my destiny have allowed me to have much intercourse with ministers in high stations; but I have heard sincere judicious men, who have known many of them well, speak of them, in terms very different from those they have been spoken of by the vulgar; and who have expressed a different opinion, both of their abilities and their intentions, from that which has been commonly propagated. Nor indeed is it credible, that princes, who generally know men’s political characters better than private people, should make choice of men for their ministers, who are either incapable, or wickedly disposed. If in case that they should have been mistaken in the opinion they entertained of them, and they find upon trying them, that they are not equal to conduct the business they have confided to their management, they may easily remove them. Thus it is utterly improbable to me, that a man destitute of all merit, should for any length of time, occupy a post of great importance, or have the ear of his sovereign.

XXV. With respect to inferior ministers, such for example, as the principal people and magistrates in the provinces, I have had a great deal of experience, and protest, that for the most part, I have found them to be the best sort of men to be met with in the country. I say for the most part, for it cannot be denied, that among this class, there are men to be found that are not very upright, and more than a little addicted to avarice. And by what I find the principal directors, lawyers, and magistrates in the country to be, I judge of those about the court; and it seems natural to me, that the higher the sphere of life is in which people move, they are the more stimulated by motives of honour, and less likely to descend to, or be guilty of mean actions.

XXVI. Neither do I believe above half that is said, of the neglect that is shewn to merit, and the abandoned situation it finds itself in at court; for the number of candidates for preferment that may be found there, who have no merit at all, would upon enquiry appear to be very considerable, and that among them, you will meet with mischief-makers, together with crafty, deceitful, and treacherous people, whose bad practices and characters, it is almost beyond the power of language to describe; who are a sort of imps of Satan, that for the most part serve the Devil without pay; and are a kind of galley slaves upon earth, who join to that slavery, being the galley boatswains mates, or drivers of each other, whose oar, and whose scourge, are never out of their hands, for fear of their not being the first to arrive at the desired port, and to accomplish what they had in view. They are a species of idolaters of Fortune, who sacrifice as victims to that deity, their companions, their relations, their friends, and their benefactors; and in the end themselves also, or their own souls. What have we not to expect, or what have we not to fear from men of this character?

XXVII. I have been three times at court, but either from my natural incuriosity, or because my stay there each time was but short, I came away as ignorant of the practices of a court, as I went; and only took particular notice of one circumstance, which is relative to the subject I am now treating of. I saw there, as in other places, Urbanity degenerate into that fulsome kind of ceremony, which may be termed cringing complaisance. Accident furnished me with numberless opportunities of seeing such things; and I have frequently observed two people who have usually met together in their walks, and who, as I have been informed, had a tolerable indifference for each other, and even looked upon one another with reciprocal contempt; I say I have seen these people upon their meeting, strive which should excel in expressions of the love, veneration and respect they bore to each other. There was scarce a word came out of their mouths, which was not accompanied with some affected gestures. Their eyes cast glances of tender devotion on each other, and milk and honey flowed from their lips; but at the same time their affectation was so palpable, that any man of the least discernment, might have perceived the disagreement there was, between their hearts and their appearances. I laughed inwardly at them both, and I believe they also in their hearts, laughed mutually at each other.

XXVIII. I saw once two lawyers accost each other, with such extreme expressions of tenderness, that a Portuguese might have learned from them, phrases and gestures for feats of gallantry. Both these people had places at court, on which account they could not avoid seeing each other pretty frequently; and there was no friendship between them; notwithstanding which, their expressions were like those of the most cordial friends, who had met together after a long absence.

XXXIX. Having expressed to some people who were used to the court, how disgusting this appeared to me, they answered that this was behaving in the court stile; but would not any one who hears this, conclude the court was nothing but a comic theatre, where all the world act the part of enamoratos; although to speak the truth, it was only in spirits of inferior order, that I noted this amorous kind of farrago. In those of more elevated hearts and minds, if they don’t owe the thing to their own genius and disposition, the education of a court produces a better effect, and exhibits people of a more noble behaviour, and such as is proper to, and expressive of true urbanity. I say I have observed in such, affability, sweetness, expressions of benevolence, and offers of kind services; all which were tendered with propriety, and in a decent generous manner, free from affected exaggerations, but animated at the same time, and expressed with so natural an air, that the articulations of the tongue, were indications of the emotions of the mind, and the feelings of the heart.

XXX. Cato, as Tully tells us, said, he wondered how two augurs whenever they met, could refrain from laughing at each other; as they both well knew, that their whole art was a mere imposture. I think the saying may be applied to two fulsomely complaisant courtiers; for I do not see how those who have once saluted each other in this cringing and affected way, can upon meeting again, forbear laughing in each others faces, as they both know, that all the hyperbolical professions of their esteem, affection, and readiness to oblige, mean nothing, and that this is all a mere common-place farrago or rhapsody, quite destitute of truth or reality.

XXXI. I have said, that in the lesser towns I have visited, I have not observed so much by a great deal, of this ridiculous parade. It is true, that you will find in them, some few people who walk about the streets with incense in their hands, to offer up to, and idolize all those, whom they fancy can be of any service to them; but they are looked upon like what they are, not as men of worth, but as men of craft, whose incense smells savoury in the nostrils of none but fools. This sort of behaviour about the court, frequently passes for good-breeding; but in these other places it is condemned as meanness.

XXXII. I am persuaded that solid and brilliant urbanity, has much more of the natural than the acquired in its composition. A good, sound, and unembarrassed mind, accompanied with discretion, which is gentle without meanness, and is disposed by genius and inclination to conform to every thing that is not contrary to reason, to which dispositions there is annexed a clear understanding, or native prudence, which dictates to a man how he should speak and act, according to the different circumstances and situations in which he finds himself, will, without studying in any school, acquit himself well, and appear agreeable in his commerce with mankind. It is true, that he will be deficient in his knowledge of those forms, modes, and ceremonies, which people study in courts, and which are changed by caprice at every turn; but in the first place, natural advantages, which always are intrinsically valuable, and which will ever operate, will supply upon ordinary occasions, the want of studied forms; and secondly, a modest and candid confession, to those you happen to be in company with, of your ignorance of political forms and ceremonies, on account of your having been born and bred in the provinces where they are not generally practised, will be a sufficient excuse for your transgression of those forms, and even your doing this, will appear better in the eyes of reasonable people, than your observing a strained and scrupulous attention to them.

XXXIII. I have availed myself many times of this resource at court; where I have made no scruple to declare, that I was born and bred in a small country town; and that I early entered myself a member of a religious order, whose principal care it was, to seclude its sons, and especially in their youth, from all commerce with the world. That my genius naturally disposed me to abhor bustle, and avoid great concourses of people; and excepting three years that I was a student at Salamanca, which may not improperly be termed three years of solitude, on account of the heads of our college not permitting their young members to have the least intercourse with secular people; I say excepting these three years, I have lived all the rest of my life, in Galicia and Asturias, which are provinces at a great distance from court; and besides all this, I have a natural dislike to studying ceremonies; but I am aware however, that not only the substance, but the forms of them also, are necessary to political society; although I do not consider that as an important form, which consists of rules that are established to-day, and changed to-morrow, just as whim and caprice dictate; some of which forms, or modes, prevail in one country, and are different in another; but I mean to speak of those forms or modes only, which reason dictates should be observed in all times, and in all places. From the before-named declaration, it may be easily conceived how little I understand of courtly ceremonies; notwithstanding which, with the assistance of the above frank confession, I never found myself the least embarrassed, and I perceived, nothing I said or did appeared disagreeable to those I conversed with, but that rather on the contrary, my natural behaviour seemed pleasing to them.

XXXIV. Men of sublime spirits and elevated understanding, possess a natural privilege to dispense with formalities whenever they think proper; just as musicians of great genius are allowed upon many occasions, to depart from the common rules of their art; their doing which, hardly ever renders the music ungrateful to the ear; so men who are endowed with great talents, and display a manifest superiority in conversation, may dispense with the ordinary and common methods of speaking, without ever offending the ears of their auditors. Natural advantages shine forth with a greater lustre, and are more solid, and more pleasing than borrowed acquisitions. Thus the world are well satisfied, to accept the first in the room of the last, and look upon themselves as over-paid for the loss of the one, by the introduction of the other in its stead.

XXXV. I was even about to say, that the establishment of ceremonies of urbanity, was only calculated for people of middling or inferior geniuses, and was meant as a succedaneum for a discretion so superior to that which the others we have mentioned possess, as to be capable of dictating of itself, the rule of deportment one man should observe to another. I believe it happens in this, with very little difference, the same that it happens in all material movements. There are men, who naturally and without any teaching, have a grace and air in all their actions, in the motions of their hands, and their feet, in the bending their bodies, and inclining their heads, in the casting downwards and lifting up their eyes, and in whom in every motion and gesture, all is done with such a native grace, that it enamours those who behold them; and is that sort of excellence, which is described by Tibullus to have been possessed by Sulpicia:

I should consider it as very useless and unnecessary, to prescribe rules for the carriage and actions of such sort of people. Let precepts be kept for the use of those who are naturally aukward, and let them be tried to see whether by art, they can mend this defect of nature.

XXXVI. It is only with respect to two sorts of people, that no body is allowed to be exempt from observing ceremony, and they are princes and women. The first, from time immemorial, have instituted ceremonies as essential appendages to majesty. The second, from education and habit, have been taught, and accustomed to regard as the substance, what in reality is an accidental or visionary entity, and even to prefer this visionary or accidental entity, to the substance itself. Thus they are apt to disesteem the most discreet and agreeable man in the world, and to give the preference to one of much inferior talents, because he is well instructed in fashionable formalities, and is a strict observer of them. I except from this number, the women of superior abilities, who know as well as any body, how to distinguish, and do justice to true merit.

XXXVII. Whether this native grace is an integrant part of, or an ornament to that urbanity, which seasons and adorns men’s words and actions, it is certain, that study and art can never supply the defect of it.

XXXVIII. This is that sort of perfection, which Plutarch extols in Agesilaus, and by the help of which, he observes, that although he was but a little man, and his figure rather contemptible, he in his old age, appeared more amiable and engaging, than any of the handsome young fellows. Dicitur autem pusillus fuisse, et specie aspernanda; cæterum hilaritas ejus omnibus horis, et urbanitas aliena ab omni, vel vocis, vel vultus morositate, et acerbitate, amabiliorem eum ad senectutem usque præbuit omnibus formosis.

XXXIX. This is that species of seasoning of which Quintilian speaks, when he says, that it makes the same sentence seem to come better from the mouth of one man than another: Inest proprius quibusdam decor in habitu, atque vultu, ut eadem illa minus, dicente alio, videantur urbana esse.

XL. This is that kind of ornament, which Cicero called the colour, or blazon of urbanity, and instances Brutus, as one who was tinged with it in great perfection, but when he came to explain or describe this blazon, he defined it to have consisted of a mysterious je ne scai quoi. These are his words, taken from his dialogue De claris Oratoribus: et Brutus, quis est, inquit, tandem urbanitatis color? Nescio, inquam, tantum esse quendam scio. Which last expression, I am obliged to decipher by the sentence Je ne scai quoi, as I can find no other that is equivalent to it. This native grace, or if you please to call it by the figurative name Cicero has expressed it by, this colouring of urbanity, is composed of many particulars. For example, the neatness of the articulation, the good tone, and the harmonious flexibility of the voice, the graceful attitude of the body, the well regulated movements of the action, the amiable modesty of the carriage or manner, and the striking or lively expression of the eyes, are the parts, which constitute the whole of this grace.

XLI. It is easy to perceive, that all the before-mentioned are gifts of nature; which can never be acquired by study, or supplied by instruction. Many people have hoped to succeed, by attempting to imitate those, in whom these natural gifts are resplendent, or to speak more properly, are a part of their nature; but the very means they employ to give themselves a pleasing and agreeable air, cause them to appear ridiculous. That which is a grace in the original, has often an apish look in the copy. The imitation of natural endowments, seldom amounts to more, than a contemptible mock semblance of them. The affectation in these attempts is glaring and palpable, and all affectation is surfeiting.

XLII. I shall only state two limitations, or exceptions, to the possibility of acquiring those parts of gracefulness, which consist in the position of the body, and the motion of its members; and shall admit in the first place, that these may in some measure be acquired by imitation; but when? why when people do not think of acquiring them, and are not sensible that they do acquire them; that is in their infant state. It is then that nature is so pliant and flexible, that like soft wax, it may be easily molded to any shape, and made to receive any impression; and hence it is, that we frequently see children in their ordinary actions and motions, greatly resemble their parents.

XLIII. In Galicia where I was born, there are many people who understand Spanish perfectly well, who speak it in a drawling sort of a way, and by leaving out now and then a letter, are apt to lose the exact and proper pronunciation. Many have attributed this defect, to the imperfect organization of the tongues of the people of Galicia, produced by the influence of the climate; but it is no such thing, for this vicious pronunciation, is derived from the bad habit of speaking they contract in their infancy; and it is evident that it proceeds from thence, because many Galician children who have been carried from home when they were very young, and have been afterwards brought up and educated at Castile, some of whom I have seen, pronounce the Castilian language with as much clearness and readiness, as the natives of that province themselves. It is not many years ago, that there was a celebrated actress, who was born in a small village in Galicia, and who was carried to court by her uncle at four years old, and was there trained up to the stage, and who was greatly admired for her neat and ready pronunciation.

XLIV. The second limitation and exception I admit to the position I have advanced, is, that both a vicious pronunciation, and an aukwardness of motion and manner, may be greatly corrected and amended, even after people are grown to a state of maturity, and especially when these defects proceed from bad habits contracted in their youth. But in order to accomplish this, there is need of great perseverance and application. Even an inveterate bad habit, may be torn up by the roots by applying vast force and exertion to eradicate it; but when the fibres of the root, are inserted into the profundities of nature, all endeavours are vain.

XLV. Although Urbanity, with respect to the most brilliant and beautiful parts of it, which we describe by the term gracefulness, as we have before observed, depends very little upon study or instruction, still in all its substantial and essential parts, it admits of precepts and rules; so that any man who has been taught, or has made himself acquainted with them, may perfectly understand in what this appearance of Urbanity consists.

XLVI. People very frequently, and in many ways offend against the laws of Urbanity; and I have seen those, who have had a reasonable good education, who have notwithstanding that, been frequently guilty of offending against the rules of good-breeding. All those imperfections, are the very reverse of Urbanity, which tend to make people disagreeable in their conversation, and when in company with other men troublesome or disgusting in their behaviour; and this explanation, suits well with the definition we at first gave of Urbanity. But which are these imperfections? To this I shall answer, that they are many, and that I will proceed to point some of the most striking ones out, which I apprehend will be the most instructive part of this essay, as enumerating the most glaring imperfections that tend to make people disagreeable and troublesome in conversation, will have the same effect, as prescribing rules that should be observed, to render their company pleasing and desirable to society. As I proceed, the reader may accompany me, and examine his political conscience as we go on, in order to discover whether any of the faults or failings I point out, are applicable to himself.

Loquacity.

XLVII. I consider talkative people as a sort of tyrants of conversation; for according to my opinion, who admit of a limited species of reason in brutes, talking is a faculty more peculiar to man than reasoning; and engrossing all the conversation to a man’s self is a most arbitrary proceeding. He who is always desirous of being heard, and is impatient of attending to any one else, usurps a privilege to himself, which should be enjoyed in general by all mankind, as a prerogative proper to their being. But what fruit can be gathered from his torrent of words? None, except the tiring and disgusting his hearers may be called a fruit, who after they are rid of him, make amends for the silence he had imposed on them, by speaking of him with derision and contempt. No time is worse employed, than that which is consumed in hearing talkative people; who are generally men without discretion or reflection, for if they had any, they would be more reserved and keep within reasonable bounds, in order to avoid making themselves contemptible; and if they want reflection, they must want judgement also, and how can he who wants judgement talk with propriety? Or what benefit can result to those who listen to an extravagant prating man, except that of his affording them an opportunity for the meritorious exercise of their patience? Thus what Theocritus said of the verbose fluency of Anaximenes, may be applied to all talkative people; that he considered them as a luxuriant river of words, in the whole stock of whose waters, you could not find one drop of understanding: Verborum flumen, mentis gutta.

XLVIII. What flows from such tongues, may be compared to vomitings of the soul; or to the sickly discharges from an unsound mind, which throws up before it has digested them, all the mental species or aliment it has received. They would have that pass for a faculty or power of explaining themselves, which in reality is nothing more than the want of a retentive faculty, or the power of keeping down what is in them. I would describe this malady, by calling it a relaxation of the rational faculty; whereas others might be apt to say, that is not the case, for the species are thrown up, for want of space to contain them in the part destined for their reception.

XLIX. Let no man plume himself too much, upon his being well attended to or applauded when he first begins to speak in public; for this may be a favourable tempting breeze, that may encourage him to loose the sails of loquacity; but although it may be a favourable and a tempting one, it may be a breeze of but short duration. Conversation is the food of the soul, but the cravings of the soul, are as various, as delicate, and as capricious as those of the body. The most noble diet persisted in for too long a time, becomes satiating, and loathsome. Thus the oratory of him, who for a certain space shall be listened to with pleasure by his hearers, may become tiresome to them after a while, and they would not attend to what he said, if he persisted in talking too long. The planets a man should consult the aspect of, to know when he should enter deep, or go but a little way into the gulph of conversation, are the eyes of his auditors; their pleasing serenity, or lowering appearances, should be the signs, that should either encourage him to spread all the sails of rhetoric and make great way; or else should warn him of the hazard and risque of proceeding any further, and that for the present it would be most prudent for him to lay-by, and wait a more safe and favourable opportunity to pursue his course.

L. But even these appearances may be fallacious and deceiving, and more especially to persons of high rank and authority; for the dependants of such, not only flatter them with their tongues, but with their eyes also. Why should I confine their adulation to the expressions of their tongues and their eyes, when they convert their whole bodies, and every limb and member of them, to instruments of delusion and flattery? for with certain fawning movements, and certain mysterious gestures of complaisance and admiration, they attend to and applaud all that is said or done by a man in power, on whom they are in any shape depending. He at the same time, big with his own cleverness, and his chops watering with approbation of himself, with the drivel running out at both corners of his mouth, vents his oratory, and talks whatever comes uppermost, be it good or bad, in a full persuasion, that the words of Apollo of Delphos were never listened to with more attention, or more respect. But, unhappy man, how do you deceive yourself! for you tire every body, and you disgust every body; and, the worst is, that those who had been just listening to you with such seeming applause, as soon as your back is turned, to relieve themselves from the pain the forced tribute of their adulation to you gave them, vent themselves in repeated bursts of laughter and derision at your folly. Great people may believe what I say, and be convinced that this is the way of the world; and they may also believe me when I tell them, that power in the hands of a weak man, only tends to make him appear more ridiculous; and that in the hands of a discreet one, if he is not extremely so, it tends in a great measure to cast a blemish on his understanding.

Lying.

LI. What can be more obnoxious to urbanity than lying? What man of understanding is there whom it does not offend? Or to whom is it not disgusting? and how can deceit cease to be injurious? All the utility, all the delight that can be obtained by conversation, is destroyed by a lie. If he, with whom I converse, tells me lies, of what service will the information I receive from him be to me? for if I do not believe him, all he says will only tend to irritate me; and if I do, to fill me with errors. If I am not assured he tells me truth, what satisfaction can I have in attending to him? For his conversation, so far from affording me entertainment or instruction, will set my mind on the rack, and cause me to waver, and continue in a painful state of doubt, and also perplex me, to find out reasons for believing or disbelieving what he has told me.

LII. Conversation is a species of traffic, in which mankind exchange informations and ideas with each other; and what better name can we give to him, than that of a cheat and a deceiver, who in this commerce, passes false informations and ideas for true ones; and ought we not also to treat him as a prevaricator, who is unworthy of being admitted into human society?

LIII. I have always been amazed at, and have always condemned, the indulgence and toleration that lying people find in the world. I have already exclaimed against this practice in my Essay on the Impurity of Lying, and must beg leave to refer the reader thither for a more full discussion of the point; but it has occurred to me since I wrote that Essay, that it is probable, this toleration may have arisen from the great extension of the vice of lying; and that the number of those who find themselves interested in this indulgence, is much greater, than that of those who find themselves injured by it; and that perhaps they tolerate lying in one another, because the toleration is necessary and useful to both parties. If the sincere part of the world consists of but few people, they cannot, without being guilty of great rashness, attempt to wage war against the many; but they at least may remonstrate, and with temper complain of the disgust they receive, from the indulgence that is shewn to lying. I ingenuously confess for myself, that I look upon him as a man of but little sincerity, who hears a lie with much seeming composure, and without expressing any signs of his dislike of it; although I must confess at the time I say this, that a frank manifestation of our dislike of the practice, cannot so easily be shewn, unless it is to our equals or our inferiors.

LIV. There is a species of lie, that passes in the world for humour and pleasantry, which I would punish as a crime. Whenever there happens to be a person in company who is noted for being an exceeding credulous man, it frequently happens, that some one or other tells a very incredible story, for the sake of exposing the easy faith of such a person, and of shewing, how apt he is to swallow absurdities and improbabilities for truth. This is received as a piece of wit, and all the by-standers laugh and applaud the ingenuity and invention of him who told the lie, and they all regale themselves at the expence of the innocent credulous person. But I consider this as an abuse; for does the simple and easy credulity of any person give others a right to insult him? admitting that his excessive credulity proceeds from the scantiness of his understanding; are we peradventure only obliged to be civil to, and treat with urbanity, the discreet and the acute? If God has blessed you with more talents than another man, would it not be an insolent abuse of them, if you made that person an object of your scorn, and played upon him, and treated him with the same derision and contempt that you would treat a monkey? Would this be using him like your neighbour? Or would it be applying your talents to the end and purpose, for which God was pleased to endow you with them?

LV. But the truth is, that excessive credulity proceeds more from goodness of heart, than from want of discretion. I have seen men who were very simple, and at the same time very penetrating. The same rectitude of heart, which excites a man of simplicity of manners to conduct himself without deceit, inclines him to think, that other people conduct themselves upon the same principle. It often happens, that a lie is believed by one person because he is an ingenuous man; and discredited by another, because he is a simpleton. The case is, that the first, excited by the goodness of his disposition, sets himself about finding out grounds of probability for what he has heard, and by his penetration discovers such. The other, who is only influenced by the dictates of his malice, never seeks after any such thing; and although he should seek after it, his stupidity would not permit him to discover it.

LVI. I don’t know whether the story that is commonly told of St. Thomas Aquinas, which is, that he was made to believe there was an ox that could fly, be true or not, as likewise what was said about his going out very anxious to see the spectacle; but this I know, that the rebuke which was couched in the answer he gave to those who attempted to put that affront on his credulity, is well worthy of a St. Thomas; I say worthy of that great repository of excellent virtues, both moral and intellectual, and worthy also the generosity of heart, and exalted prudence, of that sublime genius. The answer was as follows: I could more easily be made to believe that there was an ox which could fly, than I could be made to believe, that mankind were capable of giving a lying relation of such a thing. What reproof could be more discreet than this! and what energy and delicacy is there contained in it! I esteem this sentence more, than I do any of those which the ancient Grecians have recorded of their wise men. The sublimity of it persuades me, that it was the legitimate child of St. Thomas’s brain, and of course I can have no doubt, but the story we have related was true. Thus we see, the greatest discretion is not incompatible with, but may be easily reconciled to, and brought to unite with the greatest simplicity.

Speakers of bold Truths.

LVII. As there are many people who behave with ill-breeding, from being addicted to relate falsehoods, so there are many others, who offend against the laws of urbanity by speaking ill-timed and uncivil truths. I mean to hint at those, who under pretence of undeceiving people, and of being their friends, out of time, and contrary to all the rules of decency, take the liberty of pointing out all their faults, and of speaking their opinion, both of them and their conduct. This is an act of barbarism, disguised under the veil of honest sincerity.

LVIII. We shall describe these people, by giving the character and behaviour of Philotimus. Philotimus is a man, who at all times is dinning in people’s ears the professions of his ingenuousness, and declaiming till he is out of breath against adulation. He is ever dwelling upon his immutable love of truth, which he uses as a sort of coupling, to all the insinuations he throws out against this or that person. He rudely tells a man his faults to his face, and then shelters himself under the pretence, that when an occasion presents itself for his doing it, he cannot refrain from speaking the truth, for all the gratifications and indulgences the world can afford. If he hears any person praised, be he absent or present, in whose conduct he conceives there is something reprehensible, he immediately gives vent to his spleen, and tells all he knows or has ever heard to that person’s prejudice, and reproaches those who have spoke well of him, with having flattered or been partial to him; and then immediately pleads his great love of truth, as a justification for what he has done.

LIX. What shall we say of such a man? We may venture to pronounce, that there is much more stuff about him, than is necessary to form either a fool or a rustic; and that he is an extravagant babbler, who in his conversation observes no order or bounds; that he is a rude, yea a very rude unpolished man, who does not understand the difference between servile adulation, and bare-faced effrontery. He being such a sort of man, why should those who hear him regard any thing he says? Or who can believe that he is capable of forming a just opinion of matters or things, who is so far infatuated as to overlook, or not attend to the maxims, which natural reason has so clearly dictated and pointed out? But if we were to admit that he does not err in the conception he forms of things, we must at least grant, that he errs in his mode of advancing his opinions, if he prefers them out of time, inopportunely, and without method. Has he peradventure a royal licence or patent, for being the superintendent or corrector of other men’s manners and conduct? But admitting for argument’s sake, that he is a man of as great veracity as he pretends to be, which by the way is what I very much doubt of; for my experience has convinced me, that if it does not apply to every individual, that fine sentence is most true and applicable to the bulk of mankind, which I have read somewhere, although I can’t remember in what author, and is as follows: Veritatem nulli frequentius lædunt, quam qui frequentius jactant. There are no people lie more frequently, than those who are always boasting of their veracity. I say, admitting that they are as sincere as they pretend to be, does their being men of veracity give them a right to go about cudgeling, and breaking the heads of all the world? Truth, according to the doctrine of St. Paul, is the beloved companion of charity: Charitas congaudet veritati; and should it then be used in a gross manner, and so as to become offensive and disgusting? The truth of the Christians, according to the description given of it by St. Austin, is more beautiful than the Helen of the Greeks: Incomparabiliter pulchrior est veritas Christianorum, quam Helena Græcorum; and should it appear, or be characterised with so brasen a face, that it abashes and stares every body out of countenance?

LX. I confess that there are occasions, on which every man is obliged to speak the truth, although his doing it should offend, or be attended with the resentment of those who hear him; but this licence should only be taken in one of the three following instances, the vindication of divine honour, the defence of accused innocence, and the reforming or reclaiming your neighbour; and I suppose this last is the only motive, from which the speakers of bold truths we have just been describing pretend to act; but are they ignorant, that, although it will always be sure to give offence, their manner of attempting this, can never accomplish the reformation they affect to bring about? Nor can it be otherwise, for how can their sour, overbearing, and arrogant behaviour, produce so good an effect? Or how can they expect, according to the scripture phrase, that by sowing thorns, they should hereafter gather a harvest of grapes?

Tenaciousness or Obstinacy.

LXI. Not less tiresome than those we have just been speaking of, nor less interrupting to the pleasure of conversation, are tenacious or obstinate people. The spirit of contradiction is an infernal spirit, and at the same time so perverse a one, that I very much doubt, whether there has hitherto been a remedy found out for the cure of those who are possessed with it.

LXII. This brings to my mind the example of Aristius. He is a great frequenter of, and a busy man in clubs and coffee-houses, to which he is always running, in quest of disputations and argumentations. His opinion is his idol, and nobody must dissent from it, on pain of experiencing the effects of his indignation; neither must any body prefer an opposite one, lest he should be treated by him as an enemy; and nothing can satisfy him, but a total acquiescence in, or silent approbation of all he says. His influence in conversation may be compared to that of the southern constellation, called Orion’s Belt, which excites nothing but tempests. Nimbrosus Orion, as Virgil calls it. No sooner does he enter a company, than the serenity of a pleasing tranquil conversation, begins to degenerate into a turbulent tumultuous noise. He begins with contradicting, the person contradicted defends himself, others take part in the dispute, the fire of altercation lights up, and catches from one to the other like the contagion of a pestilence, Insequitur clamorque virùm, stridorque rudentum, till at last, the conversation sounds like the talking of gibberish, and becomes a confused jargon and noise, so that the company can neither hear or understand each other. All this mischief in political society, may be, and frequently is introduced by a tenacious and obstinate man. Nor is this malady ever to be cured; for you can more easily turn the stream of a rapid river, and make it run back contrary to its course, than force him to give up an opinion he has once advanced.

Excessive Gravity.

XLIII. Opportune cheerfulness, is the most savoury seasoner of conversation, and has so great a share in true urbanity, that some, as we observed before, have considered it as the most essential part of it; for, when introduced with propriety, it produces the most desirable effects, as it enlivens both the speakers and the auditors, conciliates their good-will to each other, and affords a relaxation to the mind, after it has been fatigued with study, or any serious occupation. It was on this account, that the moral gentiles, and even the christians also, placed cheerfulness among the number of moral virtues. Hear what Saint Thomas says on this head, in l. 2. quæst. 168. art. 2. after declaring cheerfulness to be a virtue, he describes the delight that results from it, not only to be useful, but necessary also for the purpose of giving ease and relaxation to the soul: Hujusmodi autem dicta, vel facta, in quibus non quæritur nisi delectatio animalis, vocantur ludicra vel jocosa. Et ideo necesse est talibus interdum uti, quasi ad quandam animæ quietem.

LXIV. Men who are always grave, may be termed a sort of entities between men and statues. Risibility being a property or quality inseparable from reason, he who denies himself the pleasure of laughing, degrades himself below the degree of a rational animal. Fools, are apt to esteem such people as men of sense, judgment, and mature understanding. But is a man’s deporting himself with the dryness and rigidity of a stock or a stone, a proof of his understanding? No brute is capable of laughing; and ought a property that is common to every brute, to be considered as a descriptive mark of, and the characteristic of a man of understanding? I look upon such a carriage, to bespeak an obstinate genius, and a man of a sullen temper. The antients were used to say, that all those who had ever entered the enchanted cavern of Trophonius, never laughed afterwards. If there is any truth in this story, which many people doubt, it is probable, that the infernal deity who was consulted in that cavern, instilled into those who consulted him this black diabolical melancholy.

Disgusting or unseasonable Jocoseness.

LXV. But excessive gravity, is perhaps not more repugnant to true Urbanity, than unseasonable jocoseness. Pleasantry in conversation, can be disagreeable but in three ways; by exceeding in the quantity of it, by indecency in the quality of it, and by its being deficient in point of nature.

LXVI. He who is always laughing and upon the gog, may be more properly termed a buffoon, than a man of good-breeding. No person makes himself more ridiculous, than one who is always laughing, and he who is always affecting to be gay, is ever disgusting; and a man likewise who acts the jack-pudding all his life, is a mere jack-pudding and nothing more.

LXVII. Cheerfulness may be also reprehensible, by degenerating into ribaldry, or by being over satyrical. The first, is properly the language of stables and tippling houses, and as I don’t write for lacqueys, grooms, and coachmen, we shall pass this over, and proceed on to the second point. Those who have a high opinion of their own talents, are very frequently guilty of this fault. I mean to speak of those who set themselves up for dictators, but who ought more properly to be termed babblers and praters, but I do not mean to enumerate in this catalogue, such, as may be truly termed men of understanding, but such only as Horace spoke of, when he said, that if opportunities occurred for indulging their satyrical vein, they made no scruple of lashing their most intimate friends.

Of those, who according to the description given of them by Ennius, could more easily retain in their mouths a hot iron, than a keen saying; these are a sort of people, who seem to claim a right of making error pass for sterling gold, of converting comedy into tragedy, injurious treatment into good behaviour, and of converting honey also into poison. Their tongues may be compared to those of the lions, which are so rough and sharp, that wherever they lick they take the skin off. They are also called hummers; and so they are, for like wasps, hornets, flies, and all other vile insects of the humming kind, they the instant they have hummed, implant their sting.

LXVIII. But let them make what parade they will of their abilities, they can never escape being noted for malignant or troublesome people; and whether they are one or the other, all honest men should either discard them from their company, or restrain them by threatenings. The Count de Amayuelas, whom I became acquainted with in my youth, said to a gentleman of this kind, who had taken frequent occasions to say rude and ill-natured things to him, under the pretence of being jocose, Friend Don N. I have bore with several indelicacies from you, and you may vent as many more upon me as you think proper, but let it be understood between us from henceforward, that for every indelicacy you must expect a stab. By which intimation, he took the sting out of the tail of the hummer.

LXIX. There is a serious fault in hummers, and one that they very frequently commit, which is their exercising their banter upon common-place things, and general topics, and pointing their sneers, for example, against the rank, or nation of the person they attack. I am obliged for this observation, to that great master of Urbanity Quintilian; these are his words: Male etiam dicitur quod in plures convenit: si, aut nationes totæ incessantur, aut ordines, aut conditio, aut studia multorum. People of steril geniuses, are the most apt to fall into this absurdity, who being at a loss what to say concerning men’s actions or personal qualities, fall upon some common-place observations, respecting their condition, country, &c.

LXX. The reason why this should be avoided is, because among the multitude of those who are comprehended in common-place and general observations, there may be more than a few of them, who may construe the hum into an affront; and although they may not have been present at the conversation in which this happened, upon hearing afterwards what passed in it, may be excited to shew their resentment against what they have been told was said, which is a thing I have often experienced. And I have also seen this attended with not a little injury to common-place hummers, who have drawn on themselves resentments they were not aware of. But although there should be no danger attending this practice, it should be avoided from motives of equity; for notwithstanding pleasantry is in its own simple nature innocent, it is not right to exercise it towards him, who may fancy himself injured by it. Those who are so tender and delicate, that they would feel as a hard blow, what to others would only seem a playful pat with the hand, should never be so much as lightly touched with the finger, for if the lightest touch goes to their hearts, whoever touches them can’t fail to wound them. It not being possible then, for those who deal in general or common-place humour and banter, to avoid giving offence to many people, every one who would be thought a man of urbanity or good-breeding, should abstain from that practice entirely.

LXXI. Finally, all pleasantry that is not natural is disgusting. Those who without genius attempt to be witty, soon grow tiresome, and make themselves appear ridiculous. There is nothing more insipid, than a man who is desirous of making himself seem entertaining, by venting studied conceits, and by aukward and forced endeavours to imitate people of natural humour. It is true, that they succeed in part of what they aim to accomplish, which is the making other men laugh, but then they themselves, and not their wit, stand as the object of their laughter. If there happens to be a man in a town, who is remarkable and celebrated for his humour, and saying of good things, twenty or thirty others, will attempt to imitate and set themselves in competition with him; but all their endeavours, will never enable them to exhibit more than a ridiculous mock copy of that person. Mankind don’t care to be convinced, that in this and all other such endowments, nature not only furnishes the means, but does the whole executive part of the business herself. It is for the want of making this reflection, that those who are the least qualified for it by nature, attempt to imitate others, on whom she has with a bountiful hand bestowed the choicest qualities. The exceeding likeness there is between a man and a monkey, seems to me to be greater still, if in making the comparison between them, we begin with the man first. It has been insisted, that both in Asia and Africa, there have been apes or monkeys found, who have the exact appearance of men; and I insist, that in Africa, Asia, and Europe, and in all other places, there are men who have the exact appearance of monkeys, and in effect, that they put on, or wear this appearance, by their attempting to imitate each other. There never starts up an excellent original in our species, of which you will not see innumerable affected copies; but then these are a sort of copies, that never exceed a mock scare-crow imitation.

Ostentation of Knowledge.

LXXII. Science is a treasure that should be expended with œconomy, and not squandered away profusely. It is of great value to the possessor who lays it out sparingly, but if squandered and made ostentation of, it becomes trifling and ridiculous; and indeed upon a strict enquiry, it will be found that they very seldom possess it, who boast or make parade of being masters of it. They who know but little, are the only people, who in all places, are fond of exposing their whole stock of knowledge to view. They never enter into a conversation, that without waiting a fit opportunity for doing it, they don’t exhibit their whole scanty budget of informations. Between those who are truly learned, and men of but slender literary acquisitions, there is the same difference, that there is between merchants who keep great stocks of goods, and pedlars who go about with a pack. The first in their warehouses, lay up large assortments of things, where all people may resort, and be furnished with what they have occasion for; the others carry their miserable scanty shop of wares at their backs, and there is neither street, alley, or corner, where they don’t cry them about, and expose and offer them to sale.

LXXIII. Some are so simple, as among all classes of people, to introduce, or as we may say lug-in by the head and shoulders, a conversation, on the subject of the profession they were bred to. The abbé Bellegarde, tells a story of a military man, who in a visit he made to some ladies, without being asked to do it by any body, set himself about relating very circumstantially, all the particulars of a siege he had been employed in, which he did in all the technical terms of military art, taking care also, to mention the regiments and officers that assisted at it, and to describe minutely, all the manoeuvres both of the besiegers and the besieged, from the time of investing the place to the day of its surrender; which tedious relation, must without doubt have been very entertaining to the ladies. But Moliere’s comic description of these sort of people, which he gives us in the character of a young practitioner in surgery, is more laughable still; who in one of his first visits to a lady he paid his addresses to, after having exhausted all his compliments, in anatomical phrases and chyrurgical terms of art, invited her to see the dissection of a dead body, and expressed how greatly he should be obliged to her for her company; for that he himself was to be the operator. This undoubtedly could not fail of affording a pleasing entertainment to a delicate and tender-hearted lady.

LXXIV. One of the most essential instructions that can be acquired by true Urbanity, is that of learning upon all occurrences, to accommodate yourself and your conversation, to the genius and capacities of your company; and of leaving to the choice of others, the subject-matter of discourse, and in following them in the pursuit of it, as far as they shall find it pleasing and agreeable to carry it. He is not more absurd and extravagant who talks to another on a subject or faculty he does not understand, than he, who talks to him in a language he is an utter stranger to.

Affectation of Superiority.

LXXV. The different behaviour of some people at their first entrance into a room, and after their coming to engage in conversation with the company they find there, is very remarkable. At their first coming in, if the people they meet happen not to be such as they are pretty intimate with, they seem over and above complaisant, make most respectful congées, are very hyperbolical in their professions of attachment and esteem to every one they accost, and are very profuse of their offers to oblige and serve them; but after a little while, they begin to draw themselves up, to assume an air of gravity and consequence, and in all their words and actions, to behave as if they were vested with a senatorial, or legislative authority. Such a man begins to array himself with a habit of importance, and to appear on the theatre with an air of pomp and arrogance. He lays by the easy sock, and assumes the buskin. His sol fa which commenced in a low tone in e faut, is raised in a very little time, to the highest note in g solre. His political stature grows to a gigantic size, and he begins to look down on all around him, and to treat all they say with that scorn and disdain, which is generated by, and lineally descended from rustic pride.

LXXVI. Treating on this subject, brings to my mind a story which Moreri tells of Brunon, bishop of Langres, who in the beginning of one of his pastoral letters stiles himself humilis præsul, and afterwards in the body of it, assumes a majestic tone, and says, nostram odiens majestatem. Those who behave in this manner, must certainly lie under the delusion, that urbanity and modesty, were only calculated for exordiums, prologues, and salutations at peoples first meeting.

Speaking in a magisterial tone.

LXXVII. Among the professors of literature, there are not a few, who make themselves unpleasant companions, by assuming an overbearing and dictatorial manner. With them every place is a school, every chair a professional one, and all their auditors their pupils. Conceited, and full of themselves and their science, and big also with the dignity of their office and degrees, they look upon those who have not gone through the schools, as people of an inferior species, whom they scarce ever deign to speak to, but with a frowning brow, and a contemptuous look. They always talk in a dictatorial tone of voice, and express themselves with the majestic authority of an oracle, and in their conversation with other men, seem to exercise the power of a chapel master, who regulates the tone the whole band are to sing and play in.

LXXVIII. I have known many, indeed very many, who were prepossessed with the error, that study augments the understanding. And is this an error? without doubt it is, for whether we suppose, that inequality of understanding or reason in mankind, proceeds from an entitive inequality of souls, as some have imagined; or whether we suppose it proceeds from a different temperament or formation of men’s organs, which is the most generally received opinion; it will necessarily follow from these premises, that with the assistance of study, or without it’s aid, the intellectual faculty, must ever remain equally and identically the same; it being certain, that study can never alter the organization or native temperament of man; and much less can it change the substantial entity of the soul. Thus after many years study, the reasoning faculty can never be increased in natural strength, so much as half a degree. The before-named argument demonstrates it; but besides this, my own experience has shewn me the thing palpably and clearly. I have seen people of great application to letters, who after consuming a large portion of their lives in that pursuit, reasoned miserably on whatever subject they attempted to talk upon; and I have observed others, whom I have had frequent opportunities of seeing for a great number of years, and who were scarce ever without a book in their hands, who laboured under the same inability of reasoning, and whose ideas were equally confused, and their comprehension just as obscure at the end of that period, as at the beginning. Study assists people with certain informations, and furnishes them with a variety of species or matter, by the help of which, they are enabled to make many deductions, which they could not have made without that aid; but the power or activity of the understanding, cannot be increased or enlarged by any such means. A workman, who should be furnished with many instruments of his art, which he was not possessed of before, would with this assistance, be enabled to do many things, which without their help he could not have executed; but this would not prove that the strength of his arm was increased.

LXXIX. Even with respect to the particular faculty or science men study, they never can get over, or pass beyond the fence rail which nature has placed before them; they read much, converse much, and treasure up a great many species in their memories, but never collect them with any order, or separate and apply them with any judgment or discretion, and never clearly penetrate or comprehend their uses. Thus one of these comes out from his studies, like a learned man that is only skilled in perspective, and capable of fascinating the ignorant vulgar with false lights and shadowings; or such a one as the common people call wells of science, but they are only wells of muddy water, that is of no use or benefit to mankind.

LXXX. This being the case, which it most undoubtedly is, it is very clear and evident, that the faculties they have studied, give them no right or pretensions to the magisterial air they assume on account of the degrees they have taken, and that the insignia or outside marks of those honours and dignities, give them no just reason for affecting, or claiming any authority or superiority, over the rest of mankind. The most provoking part of this matter, and that which heightens the ridiculousness of it to an extreme degree, is, that those who for the most part are under the dominion of this vain presumption, are professors of inferior note; for those who are really ingenious, and men of clear understandings, let themselves be influenced by reason. I repeat again, that the professors of little note, are those who are ostentatiously fond of enlarging the size of their little letters, and of making them all appear like capitals. They are those, who from study extract a great deal of smoke, but little clear or luminous fire. Thus when they mix with the rest of the world, they assume an air of superiority over other men, and say a thousand silly things, with as solemn and grave a face, as if all they articulated were profound apophthegms.

LXXXI. It may be thought that I exaggerate, but I do not; for the reader may believe me when I assure him, that I have known many, nay very many, who without any more merit, than that of having kept their terms at a university for a certain number of years, and of having taken a degree, and being authorized to wear the insignia of academic dignity, treat with contempt every thing that is advanced by a lay man, and behave to him, as if he was a rational animal of an inferior order to himself. In whatever company such a man finds himself, whether the conversation turns upon war, politics, or civil government, he with a ridiculous self-sufficiency, takes upon him to give his opinion, although it is in opposition to that of a man, who may be reasonably supposed to understand these things much better than him. And what does he get by all this? He causes himself to be despised and derided, and to be pointed and laughed at for a blockhead.

LXXXII. I can’t omit mentioning another gross fault, which these men of slender talents are apt to fall into; although it may with truth be said, that it is frequently incurred by people of all classes; which is, being much addicted to criticise and censure the productions or abilities of others, who are better informed than themselves. It is to be sure very laughable, to think of a silly fellow, who runs about calling the rest of the world fools; and to reflect, that he who does not know a word of science, should busy himself with measuring by inches, the scientific talents of other men, which he hardly ever will vouchsafe to estimate by feet or yards, because there are very few instances, in which he will admit their talents to arrive at those dimensions. Thus a bad preacher, will never acknowledge that he has heard a good sermon; a bad taylor, that he has seen a suit of cloaths which were well made; or a bad smith, that he has seen a piece of work that was well executed, &c.

Troublesome or ill-timed visits.

LXXXIII. There are some men, who by being over attentive and civil to their friends, become intolerable. I speak of those, who make visiting an employment or occupation, and who are always exercising themselves in that way, as if it was their profession. These are a sort of people, who not knowing what to do with themselves, or how to employ their own time, run about tiring and breaking-in upon the avocations of other people, who are engaged in most honourable and important occupations; they are a sort of robbers of men’s time, who steal from them that, which it is necessary for them to employ in their business; they are a sort of knights errant, whose tongues instead of spears, are ever prepared for attack, and who busy themselves in doing wrongs, instead of redressing them; a kind of dealers in common-place phrases, who go about like beggars from house to house; and who may be termed cheats in good-breeding, and such, as would impose on the world vexation for obsequiousness.

LXXXIV. Those who think to recommend themselves to the good graces of men in power, by a repetition of visits, deceive themselves greatly; for what merit can there be in keeping such a person confined an hour to his room every third day, where he may possibly remain as uneasily, as if he was sitting in the stocks, and be deprived of an opportunity of taking some amusement or recreation he is fond of, or else, of employing that time in some business he wanted to attend to? What most commonly happens in these cases is, that the visitor has no sooner taken leave and turned his back, than the person visited vents a thousand curses on his impertinence; and if there should chance to be any one by to whom he can unbosom himself in confidence, he declares to him, that he never met with a greater savage in all his life.

LXXXV. I feel much for ministers who are exposed to this sort of persecution; for to the heavy load of their office that lays on them, may be added the surcharge of these tiresome visits, the weight of which may possibly sit more burthensome on them, than that of the whole duty they have to do besides.

Visits to sick people.

LXXXVI. On the head of visits to sick people, there is much to be said, as in making them, we should attend not only to the rules of good-breeding, but to those of charity also; and it is impossible, if we are wanting in the last of these obligations, for us to comply with those of the first. Sick people, both with respect to their souls and bodies, should be treated and dealt by with as much delicacy and caution, as you would handle an exquisitely thin vessel of glass. A sick body is affected by, and sensible of the slightest touch; and an afflicted soul, may be inquieted by such a sensation as cannot be defined.

LXXXVII. Visiting sick people, is not only an act of urbanity, but an act of tenderness and humanity also; but in order to constitute it such an act, it is essentially and absolutely necessary, that the visit should be so managed, and attended with such circumstances, as will afford relief and comfort to the sick person. But how many of these kind of visits are experienced by the poor sick? one may venture to assert, scarce one in fifty. The prudent part of mankind are but few in number, but the visitors consists of many. What effect must his visits have on a sick man, who tires and disgusts one in health with them? Nor is it sufficient, that he who visits a sick person is discreet, if his discretion does not lead to instruct him, when, how much, and in what manner a sick person should be talked to. To know when he should be talked to, the physician, and those who attend him should be consulted; how much, in what manner, and on what subject, must be determined and regulated, by the prudence of the person who visits him.

LXXXVIII. The how much, is the point which visitors most commonly mistake. Sick people should be but little talked to, even although the subject of the conversation is such as they are fond of; for their attention to what is talked of, is apt to fatigue them, and to wade those spirits, which would be better employed in resisting the disease. Thus it in general is better to leave them in that sort of half slumber, and languid quiet of mind, which by not being disturbed or interrupted, permits all the ideas that occur to them to pass easily through the brain.

LXXXIX. With regard to the manner they should be talked to in, it ought to be such, as by no means should inquiet or disturb them; and to prevent their being surprized or alarmed, it will be necessary to talk to them in a low voice. If loud talking is capable of cracking a head of brass, what effect must it have on a glass one? They should not be asked many questions, nor should they as little as possible, be put under a necessity of replying to what is said of them, for from thence there would result two fatigues, that of reasoning, and that of talking.

XC. The subject of the conversation with a sick Person, should in general turn upon such things, as he was observed to be most fond of when in health; for with respect both to the aliments of the soul, as well as those of the body, I am of opinion, that physicians and those who attend on, or visit sick people, should have regard to their appetites and desires, and I am inclined to think, that with respect to these particulars, there are frequent mistakes made, and especially with relation to the aliments of the soul, for by making them grateful to people, there will seldom any inconvenience result, but having regard to doing this, may be attended with much use and benefit. Whenever an epidemical distemper prevails in a town or country, it may not be improper now and then, to talk to sick people on the subject of that disorder; but in doing this, care should always be taken to mention to them only those who have been visited with, and have recovered from the disease; and regard should likewise be had, never to say a word of such as have died of it; but I have known visitors who were such blunderers, as scarce to tell a sick person any other news, than that such a one, or such a one is dead. This tends to make a sick man very unhappy, for according to the logic of his melancholy, he is apt to conclude, that his death must be an infallible consequence of that of the other persons.

XCI. To these general rules, I shall add a remark on two mistakes that are very commonly fallen into by those who visit sick people. The first of these is, their beginning upon their entrance into the chamber of a sick person, if there are three or four of them, to ask him one by one, how he goes on, and how he finds himself. A man had need have the patience of Job, to answer such a number of identical questions. Even in slight illnesses, the pain and uneasiness it gives a man to answer the same string of questions over and over again, is very evident and palpable. Therefore the method people should pursue in their visits to a man who is seriously ill, should be, to ask in a low voice, how he is of those who attend him. Or the expedient may be had recourse to, that was practised by a friend of mine, who was of the same religious order as myself; who when he was once very ill, to avoid this inconvenience, ordered that every morning, there should be written on a piece of paper, all the questions that are generally asked by visitors, together with the answers to them; such as what sort of a night he had had, whether the pain in his head was abated, whether his thirst continued, or whether he had taken any nourishment, &c. This paper he ordered to be stuck with wafers on the side of his chamber door, that those who came to visit him might read it, in order to prevent their fatiguing him with a number of those questions.

XCII. The second mistake, is that of all the visitors taking upon them to be physicians, and to prescribe for the sick person. This is an affectation practised by many; but when we consider, how abstruse and how arduous a study physic is, and how long practice and experience it requires to obtain a competent knowledge of it, and that the greatest ingenuity is found to be unequal to the acquisition; I say when we consider all this, must it not appear very absurd and presumptuous, for every one to pretend to take upon him the office. Thus, whatever a visitor fancies would be serviceable to the diseased person, either as food, or medicine, he is continually teasing the sick man, and vexing the physician with his recommendation of. How often have I seen very prudent and able physicians, much perplexed to determine what they should prescribe; and at the same time, have observed a thousand vain pretenders flourish away, and very self-sufficiently, and much to their own satisfaction, determine off hand, the medicine the patient should take! How many times also have I seen these conceited wrong-headed people, with their importunities, drive an able learned physician out of his course, who had determined, after well considering all the circumstances of his patient, to stand still for a little while, and leave the disease to nature, in order to see which way she would point; but persecuted and overcome by the pressing instances of the people we have been mentioning, he is brought to break this resolution, and to set pen to paper, and prescribe something that he had better have desisted from ordering! These ignorant folks, are ever exclaiming that nature should always be assisted. This is a grand aphorism; and one that all the world pretend to understand; but what such men as we have just mentioned fancy to be assisting nature, is in reality, and most commonly, cutting off her legs and arms.

Visits of Condolence.

XCIII. All those who labour under any great misfortune, may properly be classed among the sick or infirm. Those things which we commonly call diseases, begin with the body, and from thence proceed to affect the soul; but the disease of grief, or sadness, begins with the soul, and from that is communicated to, and infects the body. To the afflicted with grief, all the visitors should act the physician, nor indeed are there any other physicians, who can afford them so much relief. The cure of the passions of the soul, do not appertain to medicine, but to ethics. Thus the discretion of a man who visits an afflicted person may afford him relief, when all the precepts of old Hippocrates can furnish him with none.

XCIV. But what most frequently happens in these cases? why, that the visits of condolence, add a new affliction to him who is already borne down by grief. It is necessary to leave a disconsolate widow, or a man who was exceedingly fond of his deceased wife, for a few days after their loss to themselves, both out of respect to the formalities of the world, and to afford them an opportunity to vent their sorrow. The natural alleviators of great grief, are abundant tears, impetuous sighs, repeated exclamations, and extravagant gestures. None of these can be indulged by any one, while he or she is receiving a visit; for people at such times, are obliged to behave with as much composure, as a person who is acting a serious part in a play; and must confine themselves to expressions of their grief, that are purely theatrical. Their words and their sighs, must issue from them, in form, in order, and according to rule. Their bosoms are oppressed with an ocean of bitterness, and they are only permitted to vent it drop by drop. The doing of which if you consider it, does not afford them the slightest relief; but on the contrary, the violence they put upon themselves to conform to these regular demonstrations of sorrow, is rather an addition to their torment.

XCV. The cruel consequences that result to afflicted people, by denying them the natural breathings of their sorrow, and restraining them from venting their grief by all ways and means, is well explained by Picineli in his simile of a River, which swells the more, the more its course is obstructed, ab obice crescit; for so it is, that grief increases by being suppressed, and that the less vent is given to it, the more apt it is to suffocate. Strangulat inclusus dolor, said Ovid, who was well versed in these matters.

XCVI. For these reasons, I am of opinion, those who have met with such misfortunes, should for a certain time, be only seen by their relations and most intimate friends, their familiar intercourse with whom, would rather facilitate, than interrupt those burstings of their souls, which relieve the oppressions of their breasts. The visits of such people, should always be accompanied with expressions of friendship, and hearty tenders of kind and generous offers, and especially, when the grief is increased by apprehensions, that the consequences of the loss they have sustained, will be a partial, or total privation of their temporal conveniences. And besides those intimate friends and relations, the visits of some spiritual man, whose character for virtue and discretion is generally acknowledged and confessed, might afford great comfort in affliction, or to speak more properly, the interposition of Divine Providence through him, might administer greater relief in such cases, than could be furnished by the nearest relations, and the most sincere friends. And the best office that could be done to those who are borne down with grief by their friends and relations, might possibly be to procure them frequent visits from men of this character.

XCVII. I would have it understood, that I mean all I have just said, as applicable only to great and real griefs; for truly appearances in these cases are very uncertain and equivocal. If a father, a mother, a husband, or a wife dies, the nearest relation to the deceased party, manifests great tokens of being deeply affected. But who will believe that a husband can be greatly concerned for the death of his wife, who was known to be much fonder of other women than of her? or who can believe that a wife can be really grieved for the death of her husband, who always played the tyrant with her, and treated her like a galley-slave of matrimony? or who that a son can be feelingly affected by the death of a father, whose estate he has long panted to be in possession of? In such instances as these, multitudes of visits of condolence may not be improper; for condolences of compliment, are well suited to mournings of ceremony.

Letter-writing.

XCVIII. The writing letters with address and propriety, is a very essential part of urbanity, and a matter upon which a great deal may be said by way of instruction; but as the want of this may be supplied, by reading approved books of letters on various subjects, I would recommend to the reader the perusal of those of many eminent men, which have been lately collected and published, by that diligent and pains-taking person Don Gregorio Mayans y Siscar, librarian to his majesty, and professor of civil law in the kingdom of Valentia; and would advise him to read them over and over again with much attention, as the best patterns of letters in our language. With respect to the writing of Latin letters, those who desire to be well instructed in that, should read attentively, those of Don Manuel Marti Dean of Alicant, which have been lately published by the before-named Don Gregorio Mayans in two volumes in octavo; and those of Mayans’s own, which he published in one volume in quarto in 1732. I consider the publication of these books, to have been of the greatest use and importance, on account of the miserable state, to which the writing the Latin language was reduced in Spain, and especially with respect to the familiar or epistolary stile. How often have I experienced, that whenever it became necessary for a religious society or community, to write a Latin letter to Rome, or some other foreign kingdom, that there were very few men to be found among them, who were capable of doing it, unless it was in Latin stuffed full of Hispanisims? And whenever it became necessary for them to converse in Latin with any stranger, they seemed as much at a loss, and as much embarrassed, as if they had been obliged to talk to him in Arabic.

XCIX. People are apt to run into the same error in writing multitudes of letters, that they are in paying too many visits; as letters may be termed a sort of visits in writing. Numbers of people are addicted to this fault, and their reason for committing it is, that they are in hopes by this means, to recommend themselves to the good graces of those they write to; but nothing can be more absurd or ridiculous, than thinking, that by being troublesome to people, you will gain their esteem and affection; whereas the commission of this fault, is most commonly attended with a quite opposite effect; and I have seen many, who by the frequency of their letters, have lost the good-will of those who had a regard for them, and whose friendship they would have continued to possess, but for their teasing them with a superfluous repetition of letters. There are not a few, who write these sort of letters, for the sake afterwards of feeding their own vanity by shewing the answers to them, in order to manifest that they are esteemed by, and honoured with the correspondence of persons of distinction. These are not only troublesome to those they write to, but to those also to whom they shew the answers to their letters; and what most commonly happens is, that instead of making themselves appear respectable by doing this, they cause themselves to be despised, and to look ridiculous; for there is scarce any one who does not regard with contempt, a man that runs about from company to company reading and shewing his letters, like a bad poet, who is always troubling his friends with a repetition of his verses.

C. But what remedy is there for these impertinences? why no other, but disregarding, and not giving answers to such letters. Oh! but this would shew want of urbanity; no it would not, for I assert, that so far from it, it would manifest much discretion; and I consider any man who maintains a contrary opinion, to be under a great mistake. There is no one who thinks it shews want of urbanity, to deny your being at home to a man who persecutes you with troublesome visits. Why then should it be thought that a man is wanting in this respect, who returns no answer to these sort of letters? It is very likely, that the writer of them will be much concerned and affected at not having answers to them; but if I can cure an indisposition I labour under, by making the person who brought it upon me, swallow the bitter draught that it may be necessary should be taken to accomplish that end, instead of my taking it myself, why should not I avail myself of such a remedy? In short, in cases of this sort, it is impossible to adopt any other method than that of giving no answer to these kind of letters; for attempting to do otherwise, would be attempting more than a man who receives great numbers of such letters could find leisure to execute; for I can safely declare with respect to myself, that if I had not taken a resolution not to answer all the letters I received, my whole time would not have been sufficient to write those answers, nor my whole fortune, to pay the postage of those that would have been addressed to me.

I. I Enter upon a serious and difficult undertaking; in the prosecution of which, it is not one ignorant vulgar person only I shall have to contend with, for setting about to defend all the women, amounts to pretty near the same thing as resolving to offend all the men, there being scarce one among them, who, in order to give precedence to his own sex, does not endeavour to bring the other into disesteem; and to such an extravagant length, has this custom of abusing and vilifying the women by common consent been carried, that in a moral sense they load them with defects, and in a physical one with imperfections, and will scarce allow them to possess a single good quality: but they lay the greatest stress on the scantiness or limitation of their understandings; for which reason, after briefly vindicating them in other respects, I shall discourse more at large on their aptitude, for attaining all sorts of science and sublime knowledge.

II. The false prophet Mahomed, denied the women entrance into that ill-laid-out and absurdly-disposed paradise, which he had devised and appropriated to be possessed by his followers, limiting the felicity of the females to beholding from without, the glory and happiness enjoyed by the men within; and it certainly must give the women great pleasure, to survey their husbands in that scene of delights, composed all of turpitudes, clasped in the arms of other consorts, which were feigned to be newly created for this particular purpose by that great artist in fabricating chimeras. Such a delirium being admitted and received by a great part of the world, sufficiently shews, to what a degree mankind are capable of running into error.

III. But it seems as if these, who deny the women almost every kind of merit in this life, do not differ much from those who deny them happiness in the next. The most vile among the vulgar, very frequently represent that sex as having a most horrible propensity to vice; and would insinuate, that the men are the sole repositories of virtue. It is certainly true, that you will find these species of sentiments loudly trumpeted forth in an infinite number of books; in some of which, the invective is carried to such a point, as scarcely to admit there is one good woman, and asserting, that their blush, which has been generally considered as an addition to their beauty, and a token of modesty, is the effect of the lewdness of their souls.

Instead of replying to such insolent malevolence, the best method is, to treat it with contempt and detestation. Not a few of those, who are most addicted to paint the sex in the blackest colouring, have been observed to be the most solicitous about obtaining their favour and good graces. Euripides, who was exceedingly satirical upon them in his tragedies, as Athenæus and Stobæus inform us, was excessively fond of them in private. He execrated them on the theatre, and idolized them in the chamber. Boccace, who was excessively addicted to women, wrote a satyr against them, entitled, The Labyrinth of Love. What was the mystery of this? Why it most probably was, that, under the disguise of having an aversion to them, he endeavoured to conceal his passion for them; or it might be, that the brutal satiety of the turpid appetite had brought on a loathing, which caused every thing appertaining to the other sex to appear hateful and disgusting. This sort of abuse, may also sometimes proceed from a refusal to lend a kind ear to entreaties and solicitations; for there are men so malevolent, as to be capable of saying a woman is not good, because she has refused to be bad. This unjust motive for complaint and resentment, has sometimes vented itself in the most cruel acts of revenge; an example of which, may be instanced in the unhappy fate of that most beautiful Irish lady madam Douglass, against whom, William Leout was blindly irritated, for having refused to comply with his lewd solicitations. To be revenged, he accused her of high treason; and procured the calumniating and false charge to be proved by suborned witnesses. She suffered capital punishment; and la Mothe de la Vayer, who (in his Opusc. Scept.) gives the relation, says, that Leout himself afterwards confessed the falsity of the accusation, and the wicked means used to prove her guilty.

To this instance, may be added that of a most virtuous and beautiful French lady, the marchioness of Gange. Her two brothers-in-law made dishonourable propositions to her, and successively tried many arts, to prevail on her to gratify their base inclinations; but, notwithstanding one of them, who was an extreme cunning man, and governed the marquis her consort entirely, threatened to instil into the mind of her husband suspicions of her fidelity, she vigorously rejected their entreaties. Finding themselves in spite of the menace, repeatedly repulsed with scorn and indignation, they resolved to carry the threat into execution; and, having prevailed on the credulous husband to entertain doubts of his wife’s honour and constancy, he consented that the two brothers should take away the life of the innocent marchioness; which they did in a barbarous and cruel manner, by first forcing her to swallow a poisonous draught, but afterwards, doubting of the efficacy of the potion, they gave her several desperate wounds. Although she survived both the wounds and the operation of the poison for the space of nineteen days, and, by means of her relation of the matter, which was corroborated by other circumstances, the officers of justice and the public were informed of the whole transaction, and measures were taken for apprehending the delinquents; yet they, finding themselves discovered, fled the kingdom, and escaped the punishment due to their crime. This tragical event happened in the year 1667, and is related by Gayot Piteval, in his fifth volume of Remarkable Cases.

IV. I don’t deny that many of them are vicious; but, alas! if we were to trace their slips and irregularities to their source, I fear we should find them originate in the obstinate and persevering impulse or solicitations of our sex. He, who would wish or endeavour to make all the women good, should begin with converting all the men. Nature implanted modesty in the sex, as a fence-wall to resist the attacks of appetite; and it very rarely happens, that a breach is made in this wall by force applied on the inside.

V. The declamations against the women, which we read in some parts of holy writ, should be understood, as pointed and levelled at the perverse ones, as there is no doubt but there are such; and, although they should be supposed to have an eye to the sex in general, nothing could be inferred from thence; because the physicians of the soul declaim against women, as the physicians of the body declaim against fruit, which, although it is good, beautiful, and useful in itself, the abuse or excess of it is pernicious: besides this, allowance should be made for the latitude permitted to oratory of magnifying the risque, when it is used to divert or turn people from dangerous courses.

VI. Let them, who suppose the female sex to be more vicious than ours, tell me, how they can reconcile this, with the church having in an especial manner, bestowed on them the epithet of devout? How with the words of many of the most grave and eminent doctors, who have declared it as their opinion, that there are more women saved than men, even having regard to the proportion, in which it is generally thought the number of females exceeds that of the males? Which opinion, they do not, nor cannot found on any other thing, than their having observed in them a greater inclination to piety.

VII. Methinks I already hear, in opposition to our undertaking, that proposition of much noise, and little or no truth, that the women are the cause of all evil; and, by way of proving it, the vulgar, down to the meanest and most contemptible of them, endeavour to inculcate at every turn, that La Caba occasioned the ruin of all Spain, and Eve that of all mankind.

VIII. But the first instance is absolutely a false one. The count Don Julian was the person who brought the Moors into Spain, but was not persuaded to it by his daughter, who did no more than make known to her father the affront and injury she had received. How unhappy is the lot of women, if, in the case of being trampled on by an insolent ravisher, they are to be deprived of the relief of unbosoming themselves to their fathers, or their husbands! The aggressors, in these cases, would gladly deprive them of this relief and benefit; though if at any time an unjust vengeance should be the consequence of the complaint, the fault would not lie at the door of the innocent offended person, but would rest with him who did the execution with the sword, and the man who committed the insult; and thus the whole blame and crime would be imputable to the men only.

IX. If the second example proves, that the women in general are worse than the men; by the same mode of reasoning it may be proved, that the angels in general are worse than the women; because, as Adam was induced to sin by a woman, the woman was seduced by an angel. It is not yet decided whose sin was the greatest, that of Adam, or that of Eve, because the fathers are divided in their opinions; and, in truth, the excuse which Cayetane makes in favour of Eve, that she was deceived by a creature of much superior intelligence and capacity to herself, is a circumstance that cannot be urged on behalf of Adam, and greatly abates her crime in comparison with his.

X. But passing from the moral to the physical, which is more applicable to our present purpose, we shall find the preference of the robust over the delicate sex is a point settled, and any claim or pretensions to equality on the part of the women is set aside, and treated with contempt; and to such a length has depreciating the women been carried by some, that they have not scrupled to call them imperfect, and even monstrous animals, asserting, that Nature, in the work of generation, never intended to produce any thing but males, and that it was only by mistake, or in consequence of some defect in the matter or faculty, that females were produced.

XI. O admirable adepts in physics! It would follow from hence, that Nature conspired to work its own destruction, because, without the concurrence of both sexes, the species cannot be preserved. It would follow also, that Nature in this her principal work, is more frequently mistaken than right; because it is allowed, that she produces more women than men. Nor when we see females the offspring of parents who are healthy, robust, and in the flower of their age, can we attribute the formation of them to debility, want of vigour, or a defect in the matter; nor is it probable, that if man had preserved his original innocence, in which case there would have been none of these defects, we should have had no women born, and that the human lineage would have been kept up or continued without propagation.

XII. I know very well there was an author, who, for the sake of indulging his malice, and supporting his envious insinuations against the other sex, swallowed so palpable an absurdity. This was Almaricus, a Parisian doctor of the twelfth century, who, among other errors, asserts, that, if the state of innocence had continued, all the individuals of our species would have been males, and that God would have created them immediately himself as he did Adam.

XIII. Almaricus was a blind follower of Aristotle, insomuch that all, or very near all his errors, were produced by conclusions, which he had drawn from the doctrines of that philosopher; and, seeing that Aristotle, in more than one part of his works, gives it to be understood, that a female is a defective animal, its generation accidental, and out of the design of nature, he concluded, that there were no women in the state of innocence; and thus it comes to pass, that an heretical theology is very frequently occasioned by a mistake in physics.

XIV. But the great and avowed adherence of Almaricus to Aristotle, was rather unfortunate to them both; because the errors of Almaricus were condemned by a council held at Paris in 1209; and, in the same council, the reading the books of Aristotle were prohibited, which prohibition was afterwards confirmed by Pope Gregory IX. Almaricus had been dead a year when his dogmas were proscribed; but his bones were afterwards dug up, and thrown into a jake.

XV. This shews, that we should not lay any great stress upon the opinion of a few doctors, who, though they were in other respects discreet men, have asserted, that the female sex is defective, for no other reason, than because Aristotle whose followers they were had declared so; but they did not however proceed so far, as to precipitate themselves into the error of Almaricus. It is certain, that Aristotle’s treatment of the women proceeded from spite; for he not only proclaimed with vehemence their physical defects, but was more vehement still in blazoning their moral ones; some instances of which, I shall point out in another place. Who would not suppose from all this, that his disposition inclined him to shun the sex? But nothing was so opposite to him, for he not only tenderly loved two wives which he married, but his affection for the first, named Pythais, who, as some say, was daughter, others niece of Hermias, tyrant of Atarneus, carried him so far beside himself, that he franticly offered incense to her as a deity. They also give us a relation of his loose amours with a little servant girl, though Plutarch does not incline to credit the tale; but in this business, the testimony of Theocritus Chio, who was contemporary with Aristotle, ought to have more weight than the opinion of Plutarch, who was much posterior to him; and Theocritus, in a lively epigram, lashed Aristotle for his obscenity. From this instance we may perceive, that men’s seeming malignity to, and inveterate abuse of women, is, as we have observed before, frequently accompanied with an inordinate inclination for them.

XVI. From the same physical error which condemned woman for an imperfect animal, there sprung another theological one, which is combated by St. Austin, in Lib. 22, de Civit. Dei cap. 17. The authors of this system say, that, at the universal resurrection, this imperfection is to be remedied, by converting all the women into men; and that then, grace is to compleat and finish the work which nature had only begun.

XVII. This error is very like that of the infatuated Alchymists, who, relying on the maxim, that nature in the formation of metals, never intended to produce any thing but gold, and that it was only from some obstruction, or from some defect of vigour and virtue, that she fabricated other imperfect metals; also pretend, that art is afterwards capable of carrying the work to perfection, and making gold of that which was originally produced iron. But, after all, this error is the most sufferable of the two, because it does not interfere with matters of faith; and because also, let the intention of nature in the formation of metals, and the imaginary capacity of art, be what they will, it is a fact, that gold is the most noble of metals, and that the others are of a much inferior quality compared to it. But, in our present question, the assertion, that Nature always intended the production of males, and that her producing females was the effect of a bastard operation, is all false and erroneous; and much more so is the affirming, that this is to be amended at the resurrection.

XVIII. I would not, however, be understood to approve of what is thrown out by Zacuto Lusitano, in the introduction to his Treatise De Morbis Mulierum, where, with frivolous reasons, he attempts to give the preference to the women, and to persuade us, that their physical perfections greatly exceed those of the men. Such an opinion, might be supported by much more plausible arguments than are used by him; but my view is not to persuade a superiority, but only an equality.

XIX. And to begin, setting aside the question of their understandings, which I mean to discuss separately and more at large in this discourse, let us consider the three endowments, in which the men seem manifestly to have the advantage of the women, to wit, robustness, constancy, and prudence; but, although this should be granted by the women, they might pretend to a competition, by pointing out other three qualities, in which they excel the male sex, to wit, beauty, gentleness, and simplicity.

XX. Robustness, which is a bodily perfection, may be considered as counterpoised by beauty, which is so likewise. Many people are disposed to give the last the preference; and they would be right, if that was to be esteemed the most valuable, which is the most flattering or pleasing to the sight: but the consideration of which is most useful to the public, should, in the eye of sound judgment, weigh most in deciding the question; and, viewing the thing in this light, robustness must be preferred to beauty. The robustness of men, furnishes the world with three most essential benefits, which may not improperly be termed the three columns which support every state, to wit, arms, agriculture, and mechanics. From the beauty of women, I do not know what important advantage can accrue, unless it comes by accident. Some will argue, that beauty, so far from producing benefits, occasions serious mischiefs, by causing unruly amours, which inflame and excite competitions and strife, and which involve those who are charged with the custody of women, in cares, uneasiness, and anxiety.

XXI. But this accusation, as it originates from a want of reflection, is ill-founded; for supposing, for argument’s sake, that all the women were ugly, in those who were blemished with the fewest deformities, we should experience the same attraction, which we do at present in the handsome ones, and they would consequently occasion the same mischief. The least ugly placed in Greece would have caused the burning of Troy, as Helen did; and placed in the palace of King Roderigo, would have been the ruin of Spain, as La Caba was. In those countries where the women are the least tempting, there are not fewer disorders than there are in those where they are more genteelly, and more admirably formed: even in Muscovy, which in number of handsome women exceeds all the other kingdoms of Europe, incontinence is not so unbridled as in other countries, and conjugal faith is observed there, with more exactness than it is in other places.

XXII. Beauty therefore of itself, is not the cause of the mischiefs which are attributed to it; notwithstanding which, in the present question, I must give my vote in favour of robustness, as I esteem it a much more important quality than beauty, and therefore, in this particular, must give the preference to the men. There is, however, saved and remaining to the women, if they chuse to avail themselves of it, an objection to this decision, which may be founded on the judgment of many learned men, and which was assented to and admitted by a whole illustrious school: this judgment, recognizes the will for a more noble faculty than the understanding, which is rather favourable to their cause; for if robustness, as being of the most consequence, is, in the general opinion, most prized and valued, beauty, as the more amiable quality, has most control over the will.

XXIII. The virtue of constancy, which ennobles the men, may be contrasted with docility, which is resplendent in the women. But it will be proper here to remark, that we do not treat of these or other qualities, as formally considering them in the state of virtues, because in this sense, they are not of the lineage of nature, but only as they are grafted into, and display themselves in the temperament or habit; and, as the embryo of information is indifferent to receive good or bad impressions, it would be better to call them flexibility, or inflexibility of disposition, than constancy or docility.

XXIV. I may be told, that the docility of women degenerates many times into levity; to which I answer that the constancy of men as frequently terminates in tenaciousness. I confess, that firmness in a good cause is productive of great benefits; but it can’t be denied, that obstinacy in a bad one is also productive of great evils. If it is argued, that an invincible adherence to good or evil is a quality appertaining to angels only: I answer, that this is not so certain, for many great theologians deny it; and many properties, which in superior beings spring from their excellence, in inferior ones proceed from their imperfection. The angels, according to the doctrine of St. Thomas, are the more perfect, the fewer things they understand; in men, their knowledge being confined to a few particulars, is considered as a defect. In angels, study would be regarded as a diminution of, or a reflection upon their understandings; although it is known to be absolutely necessary, to illustrate and adorn those of men.

XXV. The prudence of the men, may be balanced by the simplicity or gentleness of the women; and I was even about to say more than balanced, for, in reality, simplicity or gentleness, is more beneficial to the human race, than the prudence of all its individuals; for nobody has ever described the golden age as composed of prudent, but of candid men.

XXVI. If it is objected, that much of that which is called simplicity in women, is thoughtlessness or inattention: I reply, that much of that which is called prudence in men, is fallacy, duplicity and treachery, which are much worse qualities. Even that very indiscreet frankness, with which they sometimes incautiously unbosom themselves, is a good token, considered as a symptom. No person is ignorant of his own vices; and whoever finds himself loaded with them to a large amount, is very careful to shut the crevices of his heart, to prevent the pryings of curiosity: whoever commits criminal disorders within his house, does not leave his doors open at all hours, and by that means expose himself to be detected. Reserve is the inseparable companion of a bad heart; and you may conclude, that those who familiarly, and with ease, unbosom themselves, have little about them they are anxious of concealing. Considered then in this light, the simplicity or candour of the women, is always a valuable quality; but, when conducted with good sense, it approaches to a perfection; and, when it is not, it may always be looked upon as a favourable symptom.

XXVII. Over and above the good qualities we have specified, the women have another, which is the most beautiful and transcendent of all, to wit, their modesty; a grace so characteristic of the sex, that is does not forsake even their dead bodies; for Pliny remarks, that when the carcasses of drowned persons float on the water, those of the men swim with the face upwards, and those of the women with the face downward.

XXVIII. A certain philosopher, being asked what tint gave the most graceful hue to a woman’s countenance, answered with much truth and perspicuity, modesty; and I am really of opinion, that it is the greatest advantage the women can claim over the men. Modesty is a screen or fence, which nature seems to have placed between virtue and vice, and is, as a discreet French author observes, the shield of fine souls, and the visible character of virtue: and St. Bernard extends the simile still farther, illustrating it with the epithets of the precious gem of manners, the torch of the chaste soul, and the sister of continence; the guardian of fame, honour and life, the foundation of virtue, the pride of nature, and the symbol of all honesty (Serm. 86, in Cant.) and Diogenes ingeniously and properly calls it the symbol of virtue. In fact, this is the great and formidable bulwark, which nature has raised, and placed in front, to oppose vice, and to serve as a shelter and covering to the whole fortress of the soul; and, as Nazianzenus said, when this is once subdued, no farther resistance can be made to every kind of vicious outrage. Protinus extincto subeunt mala cuncta pudore.

XXIX. It may be said, that modesty is a signal preservative against exterior assaults, but not against interior acquiescence; and thus a door always is left open, at which vice may make a triumphal entry, which may be effected by the means of invisible attacks, in parts, that are not sheltered or protected by the wall of modesty. But even admitting that such a thing might happen, shame would ever remain a most valuable preservative, and be the cause of preventing an infinite deal of scandal, and the fatal consequences attending it. Upon serious reflection it will be found, that, if it does not defend totally, it is in a great measure a protection even against those silent and secret assaults, which scarce ever peep out or shew themselves beyond the occult recesses of the soul: for internal consentings are very rare, when they are not excited by some sort of attempts, for these are the things which radicate criminal affections in the soul, and also those which augment and strengthen propensities to vice. It is true, that without these stimulants, we now and then see turpitude introduce itself into the spirit; but he does not seem to lodge there as if he was at home, or like the master of the house, but only as a stranger or a sojourner.

XXX. The passions, without the aliment that nourishes them, lay very languid, and act very timidly, especially in persons who are much addicted to blush; and those, in whom there is such a frank and easy commerce between the bosom and the countenance, are always under apprehensions, left the most secret operations of their breasts, should be exposed to public view on the parade of their faces. In fact, if upon every occasion, their most private or concealed affections are blazoned on their cheeks, the glow of the blush, seems the only tint, with which the images of invisible objects can be painted or described; and thus, the fear of being liable to have what is impressed in their minds read in their faces, becomes a rein, which confines and checks the dangerous sallies of desire.

XXXI. To this may be added, that the colour is so apt to rise in the countenances of some of them, that they will often blush at themselves. This heroic excellence, or type of modesty, which the ingenious father Viera celebrates in one of his sermons, is not, as some coarse spirits have termed it, purely ideal, but in persons of the most noble sentiments and dispositions, real, and natural. This was well known to Demetrius Phalereus, who, when he was instructing the youth of Athens, enjoined them, that at home they should behave with modesty to their parents, that abroad they should observe the same deportment to every one they saw, and that in private they should preserve a decency and a modest carriage even to themselves.

XXXII. I think I have pointed out as many advantages on the side of the women, as will balance, if not out-weigh, the qualities in which the men excel. Who now is to give sentence in this plea? If I had authority to do it, I might perhaps pronounce a short one, declaring, that the qualities in which the women excel, conduce to make them better in themselves; and that those in which the men excel, make them better for, or, to speak more properly, of greater use to the public; though as I am not exercising the office of a judge, but only that of an advocate, the cause must for the present remain undecided.

XXXIII. And even supposing I had the necessary authority to determine, I should be obliged to suspend giving judgment, as it might be urged on behalf of the men, that the good qualities which are attributed to the women are common to both sexes: I confess they are, but the same thing may be said with equal justice with respect to those of the men. In order not to confound the question, it will be necessary to point out the good qualities which are more frequently found in the individuals of one sex, and seldomer in those of the other. I grant then, that you meet with men who are docile, candid, and capable of blushing; and I will add, that blushing, which is a good symptom in women, is a better still in men, because it denotes a generous nature and much ingenuity; which John Barclay has more than once declared in his Satyricon; and it can’t be denied, that the opinion of a man of his subtile genius, is a vote of great consequence in such a question; and although this may not be an infallible sign, I myself have made so much observation in these matters as to be convinced, that no great expectations can be formed of a boy, who is audacious and forward.

XXXIV. I say then, that various individuals of our sex, may be observed to possess the fine qualities which enoble the other, though not with the same frequency; but this by no means inclines the balance in our favour, because, on the other hand, the perfections the men boast of, being communicated to many women, have equal weight in the opposite scale.

XXXV. There have been a thousand examples of princesses, who were expert and able politicians. No age will ever forget the first woman, whose true character history developed and rescued from the obscurity of fable: I mean Semiramis, queen of the Assyrians, who in her infancy was nursed by doves, but afterwards soared superior to the eagles: she not only knew how to make herself blindly obeyed by the subjects her husband had left her, but she also made subjects of all the neighbouring nations, and by extending her conquests, she likewise made neighbours of the most distant ones. Her empire extended on one side to Ethiopia, and on the other to India. Nor can Artemisia, queen of Caria, be forgotten, who not only maintained, during her long widowhood, the respect and adoration of that kingdom; but, being invaded by the Rhodians, she, in her own territories, by two singular stratagems, with two attacks only destroyed the troops of her enemies; and, passing suddenly from the defensive to the offensive, she invaded them in her turn, and conquered and triumphed over the island of Rhodes. The two Aspasias also will be ever remembered, to whose admirable management, Pericles the husband of one of them, and Cyrus the son of Darius Notho, gallant of the other, happily and successfully, confided the government of their states; as will likewise the most prudent Phile, daughter of Antipater, whom, while she was a child, her father advised with concerning the government of the kingdom of Macedonia, and who afterwards, by her wise stratagems and great address, extricated her husband, the precipitate and flighty Demetrius, from a thousand difficulties. Livia, of fertile invention, whose subtile cunning seems to have been too deep for the penetration of Augustus, is another instance of female ability, for she could never have had such dominion over his mind, if he had known her. The sagacious Agrippina is likewise another, although her arts, as she unhappily employed them in promoting her son Nero to the throne, were fatal to herself and the world. Amalethunsa also, is well deserving of being reckoned among the women of great talents, in whom, her understanding all the languages of every nation subject to the Roman empire, was esteemed an inferior accomplishment, compared to the great skill and address, which she displayed in governing the state during the minority of her son Athalaricus.

XXXVI. Nor, passing over many others, and approaching nearer to our own times, should we ever forget Elizabeth of England, in whose composition, the influx of the three Graces concurred equally with that of the three Furies. Her conduct as a sovereign, would ever remain the admiration of Europe, if her vices were not so interwoven with her maxims of government, as to make it impossible to separate them; and her political image, will ever present itself to posterity, coloured, or, to speak more properly, stained and blemished with the blood of the innocent Mary Stewart, queen of Scots. Neither should we forget Catharine of Medicis, queen of France, whose sagacity in negotiating and maintaining a balance between the opposite parties of Calvinists and Catholics, in order to save the crown from a precipice, resembled the dexterity of a rope-dancer, who, mounted on a cord, by his ready art and address at poising himself with the weights at the ends of his poles, secures himself from falling, and delights and amuses the spectators, by displaying the risque, at the same time that he dextrously avoids the danger. Our own queen Isabella, would not have been inferior to any of them in the business of administration and government, if, instead of a queen consort, she had been a queen-regent. Under all this disadvantage, when proper occasions presented themselves, she manifested by her actions, that she was a woman of consummate prudence and ability; and Lawrance Beyerlink in his eulogium of her, says, that no great thing was done in her time, in which she did not assist, or was wholly the author of. Quid magni in regno, sine illa, imo nisi per illam ferè gestum est? At least the discovery of the new world, which was an event the most glorious for Spain that had fallen out in the course of many ages, would certainly never have been effected or accomplished, but for the magnanimity of Isabella, who dispelled the fears, and vanquished the sloth of Ferdinand.

XXXVII. In fine, and what seems to have more weight than all the rest, it appears to me, although I am not very certain of the computation, that among the queens who have reigned for any length of time as absolute sovereigns, the greatest part of them, have been celebrated in history for excellent governors. But the poor women, are still so unhappy, as always to have trumped up against this train of illustrious examples, a Brunequilda, a Fredegunda, the two Joans of Naples, and a few others; but, by the way, the two first, although they abounded in mischief, did not want understanding.

XXXVIII. Nor is the world so universally persuaded as some may think, that a crown does not sit well on the head of a woman, because in an island or peninsula, which is formed by the Nile in Ethiopia, called Meroe, women, according to the testimony of Pliny, reigned for many successive ages. Father Cornelius Alapide, speaking of Saba, who was one of their queens, supposes, that her empire extended much beyond the limits of Meroe, and that it might possibly comprehend the greatest part of Ethiopia, grounding his opinion, upon an expression of our Saviour, who called her Queen of the South, which words seemed to imply, that she possessed vast dominions in that quarter. Thomas Cornelius also tells us, that authors were not wanting, who asserted, that Meroe was bigger than the island of Great Britain, and, if so, the territories of those queens were not very confined, though they did not extend beyond the limits of Meroe. Aristotle (Lib. 2. Polit. Cap. 7.) says, that among the Lacedemonians, the women had a great share in the political government; and that their being allowed it, is agreeable to the laws given them by Licurgus.

XXXIX. In Borneo also, according to the relation of Mandeslo, which may be seen in the second volume of Olearius, the women reign, and their husbands enjoy no other privilege, than that of being their most dignified subjects. In the island of Formosa, situated in the southern part of the Chinese sea, those idolaters who inhabit it, have such confidence in the prudent conduct of the women, that the Sacerdotal function, together with every thing which relates to religious matters, is confided wholly to them; and that, with regard to politics, they enjoy a power superior to that of the senators, they being considered as the interpreters of the will of their deities.

XL. Notwithstanding all this, the ordinary practice of nations is most conformable to reason, as it corresponds best with the divine decree notified to our first mother in Paradise, and to all her daughters in her name, which enjoins a subjection to the men; and we should only correct the impatience, which many people shew at submitting to female government, when according to the laws of the land they should obey; and we should also bridle that extravagant estimation for our own sex, which carries us such lengths, as to prefer the government of a weak child, to that of an able and experienced woman. The antient Persians were drawn by this prepossession to such a ridiculous extreme, that the widow of one of their princes happening to be left with child at the death of her husband, and being advised by their magi, that she had conceived a male, they crowned the belly of the queen, and before it was born, proclaimed the fœtus king by the name of Sapor.

XLI. We have hitherto treated of political prudence only, in the discussion of which point, we have contented ourselves with a few examples, and have omitted the many. It is needless to insist on the ability of women in point of œconomical prudence, as every day’s experience exhibits to us, houses and families extremely well governed by women, and very badly governed by men.

XLII. We shall next proceed to consider resolution as a property, which the men look upon as peculiarly annexed to, or inseparable from, their own sex. I admit that heaven has endowed them in comparison to the women, with a quadruple portion of this ingredient; but not that it was given them as an exempt property, peculiarly annexed to, and belonging to their sex only, and that the other was to be excluded from the least participation of it.

XLIII. Not an age has passed, which has not been ennobled and graced by women of eminence and worth; and without dwelling on the heroines of Scripture, and the martyrs to the law of grace, because actions, which are aided by the especial intervention of a supernatural hand, should be attributed to the divine power, and not to any natural virtue, or faculty of a sex: I say, without having recourse to these sort of examples, women of heroic valour, present themselves to the memory in crouds; and after the Semiramis’s, the Artamissas, the Thomyris, the Zenobias, there appears an Aretaphila, the wife of Nicrotatus, the sovereign of Cyrene in Libya, in whose incomparably generous nature, the greatest fortitude of mind, the most tender love of her country, and the most subtile and discerning understanding, contended for the pre-eminence; because, to deliver her country from the violent tyranny of her husband, and to revenge the murder, which, for the sake of possessing her he had perpetrated on her first consort, she made herself the leader of a conspiracy, and deprived Nicrotatus of the kingdom and his life. Leander, who inherited all his brother’s cruelty, having succeeded to the crown, she had the valour and address to rid the world of this second tyrant also; crowning in the end, all her heroic actions, by declining to accept the diadem, which from a grateful sense of the many benefits she had conferred on them, was offered to her by the Cyreneans. Denepetina, the daughter of the great Mithridates, and the inseparable companion and partner of her father, in all his dangerous undertakings and projects, in the execution of which she manifested upon every occasion, that strength of mind and body, which the singular circumstance of her coming into the world with double rows of teeth, seems to have foretold at her birth; after her father was defeated by the great Pompey, she was shut up and besieged in a castle by Manlius Priscus, where, finding it impossible to defend herself, she deprived herself of life, to avoid suffering the ignominy of being made a slave. An Arria, the wife of Cecinus Peto, whose husband having been concerned in the conspiracy of Camilus against the emperor Claudius, was for this crime condemned to death; and she, determined not to outlive her consort, having several times tried in vain to beat her head to pieces against a wall, procured at last to be introduced to her husband in prison, where she extorted from him a promise, to anticipate with his own hands the work of the executioner, and, by way of encouraging him to do it, immediately transfixed her own breast with a dagger. An Epponina, upon her husband Julius Sabinus having in Gaul arrogated to himself the title of Cæsar, endured, with rare constancy and fortitude, unspeakable toils; and being at last condemned to death by Vespasian, she frankly and openly told him, she should die contented, as death would deprive her of the disgust of seeing so bad an emperor as him on the throne.

XLIV. And, that it should not be thought the latter ages are inferior to the antient ones in resolute and courageous women, see the maid of Orleans present herself, and stand forth compleatly armed, as the pillar, which, in its greatest distress, supported the tottering monarchy of France; which she did so amazingly, that the English and French, who were as opposite in sentiments as in arms, imputed her extraordinary feats, the one to a diabolical compact, and the other to divine assistance. The English perhaps feigned the first, for the purpose of throwing an odium on their enemies; and those who had the management of affairs in France, suggested the other politically; for it was of vast importance, when the people and soldiers were so greatly dismayed, to raise their dejected spirits, by persuading them, that heaven had declared itself their ally, and introduced on the theatre of the world, a damsel of perspicuity and magnanimity, as an inspired instrument, which was equal to, and capable of effecting the miraculous succour. A Margaret of Denmark, in the fourteenth century, in her own person, headed an army, and conquered the kingdom of Sweden, taking king Albertus prisoner. The authors of those times, call her the second Semiramis. One Marulla, a native of Lemnos, an island in the Archipelago, when the fortress of Cochin was besieged, upon seeing her father slain, snatched up his sword and shield; and having prevailed on the whole garrison to follow her, she put herself at their head, and, encouraging them by her example, charged the enemy with such ardour, that she drove them from their trenches, and obliged the Basha Soliman to raise the siege: which action, the Venetian general Loredano, who was proprietor of the place, rewarded, by permitting her to chuse for a husband, whichever of the most illustrious captains of his army she liked best, promising at the same time, to settle on her and her consort, a fortune suitable to their rank, which he did in the name of the republic. One Blanca de Rossi, the wife of Baptista Porta, a Paduan captain, who, after defending valorously a post on the walls of Bassano, a fortress in the march of Tresvina, finding the place suddenly taken by treachery, and her husband made prisoner and put to death by the tyrant Ezelinus, and perceiving she had no means left to escape falling a victim to the brutal passion of that ravisher, who was furiously enamoured with her beauty; she threw herself out of the window of an upper room; but being afterwards, against her inclination, cured of the bruises she received, and enduring with anguish and regret under that oppressive barbarian, the shame of having been forced, she, to relieve the bitterness of her grief, and to extricate herself from continuing in a state of violation to her conjugal faith, deprived herself of life in the sepulchre of her husband, which for the purpose of doing it there she had caused to be opened. We could instance many other women of heroic courage, and particularize the occasions on which they exerted it; but, to avoid the recital appearing prolix or tedious, we shall omit the relation of them.

XLV. The reason of my not having yet mentioned the Amazons, which is a case so applicable to this matter, is, because I think it will be better to treat of them separately. Some authors, in opposition to many others who affirm it, deny their existence; but without engaging in this dispute, we must allow, that much fable has been mixed with the history of the Amazons; such as that they destroyed all their male children; that they lived in a total state of separation from the other sex, and only consorted with them once a year for the sake of becoming pregnant. Of a piece with these, are the tales of their encounters with Hercules and Theseus, and the succour given to afflicted Troy by the fierce Penthesilea, and perhaps that also, of the visit of queen Talestris to Alexander. But with all this, against the testimony and credit of so many antient authors, it would be rash to deny, that there was a formidable body of warlike women in Asia, who went by the name of Amazons.

XLVI. But in case this should be denied, in lieu of the Asiatic Amazonians they deprive us of, we should be supplied with another set, drawn from the other three parts of the globe, ready to stand forth and take their places. The Spaniards discovered American ones, navigating armed, on the river Maranon, which is the largest in the world, and to which, for this reason, they gave the name of the river of the Amazons. There are some of them in Africa, in a province of the empire of Monomotapa: and, it is said, they are the best soldiers in all that territory; there are not wanting geographers, who made Monomotapa a distinct state from the country these warlike women inhabit.

XLVII. In Europe, although in no part of it the women are military people by profession, we may venture to give the name of Amazons to those who upon different occasions, have fought in such battalions or squadrons, as have defeated and triumphed over the enemies of their country. Such were the French women of Beauvais, who, when that city, in the year 1742, was besieged by the Burgundians, on the day of the assault, united themselves together under the conduct or command of Joan Hacheta, and vigorously repulsed the enemy; their captain Hacheta, having with her own hands, tumbled the person headlong from the walls, who attempted to erect the enemies’ standard there. To commemorate this transaction, they keep an annual festival in that city, and the women on the feast-day, have the singular privilege of walking in procession before the men. Such also, were the inhabitants of the islands Echinadas, called at present Bur-Solares, celebrated for the victory of Lepanto, which was gained in the sea of these islands. The year antecedent to this famous battle, the Turks having attacked the principal island, the Venetian governor Antonio Balbo, and all the men, were so terrified, that they betook themselves to flight in the night, leaving the women behind them, who, at the instance of a priest named Antonio Rosoneo, resolved to defend the place; and, much to the honour of their own sex, and the disgrace of ours, they really did defend it.

N. B. With respect to the women who laid violent hands on themselves, we do not mean to propose their resolution as examples of virtue, but only to exhibit it, as a vicious excess of fierce courage, which is sufficient to answer the purpose intended.

XLVIII. After all this recital of magnanimous women, there still remains something to be said on a particular, which the men point out as their weak side, and with respect to which, they charge them with the greatest want of constancy; that is, their not being firm in keeping a secret. Cato the Censor in this instance, would not admit of any exception whatever with regard to them, and condemned the trusting a secret to any woman, be she who she would, as one of the greatest errors a man could run into; but Cato’s own great niece Porcia, daughter of Cato the younger, and wife of Marcus Brutus, gave the lie to this assertion, she having obliged her husband, to confide to her the grand secret of the conspiracy against Cæsar, by the extraordinary proof she exhibited to him of her valour and constancy, in the great wound she voluntarily gave herself with a knife in the thigh.

XLIX. Pliny, quoting the Magi as his authors, tells us, that the heart of a certain bird, applied to the breast of a woman when she is asleep, will make her reveal all her secrets. And in another place, he says, the tongue of a certain snake will have the same effect. The magicians being obliged to search among the hidden secrets of Nature, for keys to unlock the doors of their hearts, is no proof, of the women’s being so easily brought to reveal what has been confided to them. But let us laugh with Pliny at these inventions; and let us grant, if you please, that there are very few women strict observers of a secret; but, in return to this, it is confessed on the other hand by the most experienced politicians, that there are very few men also, to whom you can confide secrets of importance; and truly, if such men were not very scarce commodities, princes would not hold them in such high estimation, as to think scarce any of their richest moveables equal to them in value.

L. Nor are there examples wanting, of women of invincible constancy in the article of keeping a secret. Pythagoras, when he found himself near dying, delivered all his writings, in which were contained the most hidden mysteries of his philosophy, into the custody of his prudent and dutiful daughter Damo; directing her at the same time, never to permit them to be published, which injunction she so punctually obeyed, that, even when she found herself reduced to extreme poverty, and could have sold those books for a large sum of money, she chose rather to endure the anguish and pinchings of want, than be deficient in point of the confidence reposed in her by her father.

LI. The magnanimous Aretaphila, whom we have already mentioned, having attempted to take away the life of her husband by a poisonous draught before she entered into a conspiracy against him, which was to be carried into execution by force of arms, was surprized and detected in the fact, and being put to the torture to discover who were her comforters and abettors, the force of the torment was so far from extorting the secret, or depriving her of the possession of herself, or the use of her reason, that, after owning she intended to give him the poison, she had the address to persuade the tyrant it was a love-philter, and contrived for the purpose of increasing his passion for her. In fact, this ingenious fiction had the effect of a philter, for Nicotratus’s love of her was afterwards greatly increased from this persuasion, that she, who was solicitous to excite in him an arduous and excessive desire for her, could not do otherwise than entertain a sincere tenderness and affection for him.

LII. In the conspiracy set on foot by Aristogiton, and which was begun to be executed, by putting to death Hipparchus, the brother of Hippias, a courtesan woman, who had been trusted with the secret, and knew all the accomplices, was put to the torture; but she, to convince the tyrant of the impossibility of extorting the secret from her, cut her tongue asunder with her teeth, and let the end drop before his face.

LIII. When the first indications of the conspiracy of Pison against Nero, began to shew themselves, many of the most illustrious men of Rome shrunk under, and gave way to the rigour of the torture. Lucan, for example, discovered his own mother as an accomplice, and many others their most intimate friends; and there was only one Epicharis, an ordinary and obscure woman, who was acquainted with the whole transaction, on whom neither whips nor fire, nor all the martyrdoms they could invent, had power to tear from her breast the least information.

LIV. I knew a certain one myself, who, being examined by the torture, touching an atrocious crime which had been committed by her master and mistress, resisted the force of that rigorous test, not to save herself, but only to skreen them; for so small a portion of the fault could be imputed to her, either on account of her ignorance of the magnitude of the crime, or from her having acted by the command of others, and from various circumstances of mitigation, that the law would not have condemned her to a punishment, any thing comparable to the severity of that she underwent.

LV. But of women, from whom the power of torture could not tear the secrets of their breasts, the examples are infinite. I heard a person who had been used to assist upon such occasions declare, that, although he had known many of them confess, rather than be stripped naked to prepare them for the execution of the punishment of the rack, the instances of their having confessed after undergoing this martyrdom of their modesty, were very rare. A truly great and shining excellence in the sex this, that the regard for their modesty, should have more weight with them than all the terrors of an executioner.

LVI. I do not doubt, but this parallel I have drawn of the sexes, may appear to many somewhat flattering to the women; but I shall reply to these, that Seneca, whose rigid Stoicism removes all doubts of his impartiality, and whose severity sets him at a great distance from all suspicion of flattery, has made a comparison not a jot less favourable to the side of the women, for he absolutely asserts them to be equal to the men, in all the valuable natural faculties and dispositions. These are his words: Quis autem dicat, naturam malignè cum muliebribus ingeniis egisse, & virtutes illarum in arctum retraxisse? Par illis mihi crede, vigor, par ad honesta (libeat) facultas est. Laborem, doloremque ex æquo si consuevere patiuntur. (in Consol. ad Marciam.)

LVII. We are come now to defend the great article of all, which is the question of the understanding; and, I must confess, if my reason does not assist me in arguing this point, that I expect but little help or resource from authorities; because all the authors who have touched upon the matter, with the exception of one or two particular ones only, have wrote so much on the side of the vulgar opinion, that they almost uniformly speak of the understandings of the women with contempt.

LVIII. And truly, I might reply to the authority of the greatest part of these books, with the fable of the lion and the man, inserted by Carducius in one of his dialogues, which is to this effect. A man and a lion travelling together, fell to dispute whether lions or men were the bravest animals: and as they proceeded on their road, they came to a fountain, at the top of which, there was exhibited carved in marble, a man tearing a lion in pieces; upon seeing this, the man turned short on the lion, and in the tone of a conqueror, asked, if he could make any reply to so convincing an argument; to which the lion answered with a smile, this is very pretty reasoning of yours, the carving was designed and executed by a man; we lions are none of us sculptors; if we had, and were capable of doing this sort of work, I will venture to assure you, the representation would have been made quite the reverse to what you there see it.

LIX. The case is, they were men who wrote those books, in which the understandings of the women are held so cheap; had they been written by women, the men would have been placed in the inferior class: and there has not been wanting a woman, who has done something of this sort; for Lucretia Marinella, a learned Venetian lady, among other works composed a book with this title, The Excellences of Women, compared with the Defects and Vices of Men; the sole object of which, was to prove a preference of her own sex to ours. The learned jesuit John of Carthagena says, that he saw and read this book with great pleasure at Rome, and that he saw it also in the royal library at Madrid; but the truth is, that neither she nor we can be judges in this plea, because we are parties to the suit; and therefore the sentence and decision must be confided to the angels, who being of no sex, are impartial.

LX. And in the first place, those who hold the understanding of women in such contempt, as hardly to allow they are endued with more than pure instinct, are unworthy to be admitted as parties in the controversy; neither are those, who maintain, that the greatest reach of a woman’s capacity, does not extend farther than to qualify her for managing a hen-roost.

LXI. Some prelate, who is quoted by Don Francisco Manuel in his Guide to Married People, said, that the understanding of the most knowing woman did not exceed the bounds of ordering how a chest of clean linen should be packed. Let those who adhere to such opinions, be as respectable as they will in other points of view, they do themselves no sort of credit by such declarations; for the most favourable interpretation they admit of, is, that they were intended as hyperbolic jokes. It is a fact of public notoriety, that there have been women, who well understood the ordering and governing religious communities, and also women, who are equal to the government and direction of whole states.

LXII. These discourses against the women, are the works of superficial men; who, seeing they in general understand nothing but household business, which is commonly the only thing they are instructed in, or employed about, are apt to infer from thence, without being aware that they draw the inference from that circumstance, that they are unfit for, or incapable of any other matter. The most shallow logician knows, that it is not a valid conclusion, to suppose that because a person forbears to do an act, that he is unable to do it, and therefore, from the women in general knowing no more, it cannot be inferred, that they have not talents to comprehend more.

LXIII. Nobody understands radically and well, more than the subject he has studied; but you cannot deduce from hence, without incurring the note of barbarism, that his ability extends no farther. Sir Thomas More, in his Utopia, states the following question: suppose all men were to dedicate themselves to agriculture, in so close and strict a manner, as to occasion their understanding nothing else; would this be a foundation whereon to argue and insist, that they were incapable of understanding any other thing? With the Druses, a people of Palastine, the women are the only repositories of the little learning that subsists among them, for almost all of these can read and write; in consequence of which, the little literature they can boast of, is treasured up in the heads of the women, and totally hidden from the men, who devote themselves solely to agriculture, war, and handy-craft business. If the same custom prevailed all the world over, the women would undoubtedly consider the men as unfit for, or incapable of literature, in which light, the men at present consider the women; and as such a judgment would certainly be erroneous, in the same manner is that mistaken, which we at present make, because it proceeds upon the same principle.

LXIV. And perhaps father Malebranche adopts the same mode of reasoning; for, although he was much more benign towards the women, and in his art of investigating truth acknowledges, that in the faculty of discerning sensible things, they are known to have the advantage of the men; still he insists, they are much inferior to them in the comprehension of abstract ideas; and assigns as the reason of it, the softness of their brains. It is very well known, that people search for these physical causes, and after some experience, when they are, or fancy they are sure of their effects, apply them in their own manner, to suit their own doctrines. This being the case, the consequence which results from hence is, that the author himself falls into the same intellectual disease, of which he had intended to cure all mankind. This error, is produced by common pre-occupations, and principles ill considered and digested. He without doubt made this judgment, either to avoid being led away by the common opinion, or from having observed, that women of ability, or those who are reputed such, reason with more facility, and talk more pertinently than the men, on such subjects as appertain to sensible things, and with no less precision than them (if in such cases they do not observe a total silence) on abstracted matters; but this proceeds, not from an inequality of talents, but from a difference of application and practice. Women employ themselves, and think much more than the men, about dainty eatables, setting out a table, ornaments of dress, and other things of this kind; from whence it happens, that they discourse and talk of them more pertinently, and with greater facility than those of the other sex. On the contrary, it is very rare, that any woman attends to questions of theory, or bestows the least thought on the subject of abstract ideas, and therefore it is no wonder they seem dull, when the conversation turns on such matters. If you observe them, you will find, that women who are informed, and are of a gay cast, and who sometimes take pleasure in discoursing on the delicacies of platonic love, whenever it happens that they argue with the men on this point, they greatly out-do even the most discreet ones, who have not applied themselves to explore these bagatels of fancy: this in a great measure confirms the remarks we have made above.

LXV. In general, any person whatever, be his capacity ever so great, will appear more rude than a man of little penetration, if he talks with him of such matters as the other has had experience in and he has never applied himself to understand. A labourer in husbandry, whom God has endowed with a most penetrating genius, which is no uncommon case, if it happens that his attention has never been fixed on any other thing but his work, would appear greatly inferior to the most heavy politician, if he should ever chance to converse with him about reasons of state; and the most wise politician, if he is merely a politician, who should set himself to talk about the disposition of troops, and the fighting of battles, would utter a thousand absurdities; insomuch, that if a man skilled in military affairs was to hear him, he would be apt to conclude he was mad, as Hannibal thought the great Asiatic orator was, who, in the presence of king Antiochus and him, undertook to argue about the art and conduct of war.

LXVI. It happens exactly the same in the business we are now treating of. A woman of excellent understanding, whose thoughts are constantly occupied on domestic management and the care of her house, without scarce ever hearing matters of a superior nature talked of, or, if it does happen that she hears any such thing, she rarely pays much attention to it: her husband, though much inferior to her in talents, converses frequently abroad with able men of various professions, by communicating with whom, he acquires variety of knowledge, or he enters into public business, and receives important information. Instructed in this manner, if it happens at any time that in the company of his wife, these matters are talked of, she, who by the means and in the way we have just mentioned, can gain but little aid or assistance, if she happens to speak just what occurs to her on the subject, from the want of instruction, must appear a little defective in point of knowledge, let her be ever so acute and penetrating. Her husband, and the others who hear her, conclude from thence, that she is a fool; and he in particular, plumes himself on his superior talents and abilities.

LXVII. As it fared with this woman, so it fares with an infinity of others, who, though they may have much more sense than the men they happen to be in company with, are condemned by them as unfit to reason on any kind of subject: but the truth is, that their not being able to reason at all, or their reasoning ill on such matters, does not proceed from a want of talents, but from a want of being properly informed; and without this assistance, a person, endued with even an angelic understanding, could not discourse pertinently on any subject whatever. The men at the same time, although inferior to them in understanding, shine and triumph over them with an air of importance, because they happen to be better provided with information.

LXVIII. Over and above this advantage of being better informed, the men have another, which is of great moment, to wit, that they are much accustomed to meditate, discourse, and reason upon such matters, it being in a manner their daily practice; while the women hardly ever bestow a thought on them: on which account, whenever these things are started in conversation, the men are prepared to talk upon them, and the women are taken by surprize.

LXIX. Finally, men, by their reciprocal communication with each other upon such subjects, gain mutual instruction, each individual, receiving lights and information from the observations and experience of those we converse with; and therefore, when they argue upon these matters, they not only make use of their own understandings and improvements, but they likewise avail themselves of what they have acquired from their neighbours; so that many times, what is expressed and explained by the mouth of one man, is not the produce of one understanding only, but of many. The women, who in their ordinary conversations, don’t discourse on these sublime questions, but rather of their domestic amusements and employments, furnish to each other no reciprocal lights or assistance, with respect to these great points; in consequence of which, whenever they happen to be present when such subjects are agitated, you should add to their talking unprepared, the disadvantage, of each of them being confined to the use of no more than their own proper lights and ideas.

LXX. These advantages, by means of which, a man of very short penetration, may say much more, and much more to the purpose, upon noble subjects, than a woman of great perspicuity, are of such moment, that one who has not attended to the above reflections, if he should happen to be present at a conversation of this sort, between a very keen woman and a very heavy man, might be apt to conclude, that he was a discreet person, and she a fool.

LXXI. In fact, the want of these reflections, has engendered in many men, and some of them in other respects wise and prudent ones, this great contempt for the understanding of women; but what is most laughable and ridiculous, they have exclaimed so much and so loudly against them, and have asserted with such confidence the poverty and scantiness of their understandings, that many, if not the bulk of the world, have been idle enough to believe them.

LXXII. And it seems to me, that not even those, who approaching nearer to reason, admit, that though the men in general excel the women in understanding, still own there are women of solid and perspicuous parts; I say, not even these have, to my satisfaction, established the inequality in point of understanding between the two sexes. If they had attended to the circumstances I have before-mentioned, and which frequently occur, they would have perceived, that, in the cases specified, women, of much better understandings than the men they conversed with, would appear greatly inferior to them.

LXXIII. Nor do I conceive, what other foundation this pretended inequality can be built on, than that I have mentioned, the equivocation and fallibility of which, I have just pointed out. For if I am told, the thing has been demonstrated by experience, I am prepared with a reply, and shall answer, that the experience they alledge is deceitful, and that I have exposed its fallacy in many instances; besides this, with regard to the matter of experience, I shall cite two witnesses of great credit in favour of the women. The first is, the sagacious and discreet Portugueze Don Francisco Manuel, who wrote a little treatise, called, A Guide to Married People.

LXXIV. In this Cavalier, all the circumstances that can be desired concur, to make his vote of singular weight in the question we are treating of; because, in addition to his being a man of remarkable knowledge and information, he had travelled through many countries, where he was generally charged with and negotiated important concerns; in consequence of which, and by means of his elevated genius and courteous deportment, he had opportunities of being introduced to, and conversing with, ladies of rank and fashion in all places, as may be seen by his writings.

LXXV. It appears by this author, that, not satisfied with considering the women as equal to the men in their intellectual capacities, he inclines to allow them some advantage over the other sex in this particular. In the book before quoted, fol. 73, after reciting, that the general opinion with respect to the women is otherwise; he says, I am of a different sentiment, and am certain, that many women are exceedingly judicious and sensible, I having seen and conversed with abundance of such, both in Spain and other countries; and it appears to me, that, on account of their having the advantage of us in quickness of perception, and readiness of repartee, it is necessary to use great caution in talking with them: and a little lower he speaks thus; although it would be unjust to dispute the purity of the metal with which Nature formed their understandings, we may nevertheless take precaution to save and guard them, in situations where they may be led into danger, and ourselves may be injured. The testimony of this author, as I have before said, is of great weight, because to his great experience and discretion, we may add, that in the treatise we have quoted, he is not very favourable to the women; and even at the end of it, he does not scruple, nor is he ashamed to accuse himself of being too severe upon them.

LXXVI. The second evidence, is that most learned Frenchman, the Abbé Bellegarde, a man who was also used to courts, and learned his knowledge of the world in the great theatre of Paris. This author, in a book he published, intitled, Curious Observations on Literature and Morality, affirms, that the minds of women, for the purpose of obtaining a knowledge of all sorts of sciences and arts, and also every kind of business, are in no manner inferior to those of men. I have not seen this author, but the editors of the Memoirs of Trevoux, in the month of April, 1702, quote him on the subject. The author of the Journies in the Coaches of Madrid and Alcala, who, let him be who he would, was a man of note, maintains the same sentiment (pag. 45); and father Buffier, a celebrated French writer, in a book intitled, An Examination of vulgar Prejudices, which he wrote expressly for the purpose of doing it, proves the same thing.

LXXVII. Having then answered the arguments alledged to be built upon experience, there only remains, that they prove to us the pretended inequality by some physical reason. But I affirm no such can be assigned, because recourse can only be had in this matter, either to an entative inequality of souls, to a distinct organization, or to a different temperament of the bodies of both sexes.

LXXVIII. From the entative inequality of souls, nothing can be deduced, for it is a generally received opinion among philosophers, that all rational souls, in point of physical perfection, are equal. I well know, that some quote St. Austin as entertaining an opposite sentiment, in his 15th book, chap. 13, on the Trinity; but I can’t find, that St. Austin in that chapter, does even so much as touch upon the matter. I know likewise, that the faculty of Paris condemned a proposition, which affirmed the soul of our Lord Christ was not more perfect than the soul of the treacherous Judas. To this the great Scottish master answered, that, as the condemnation was not confirmed by the holy see, we are not bound to observe it. In strictness this is so; but I think it would be right that such a proposition should be blotted out of every book in which it is found, as dissonant, harsh, and offensive to weak people, who in souls, can’t distinguish the physical from the moral; but this does not in any manner affect the truth of the general opinion, which assents to a total physical equality of souls.

LXXIX. But if we were to admit of an entative inequality of souls, how would they prove to us, or make us believe, that God chose the best for the men, and left the least-perfect for the women? We ought rather to believe in this matter, that the soul of holy Mary was the best which could be possessed by a pure creature; and, in fact, the famous Saurez affirms, that, physically speaking, it was most perfect; so that the women may be firm in asserting, that the soul is neither masculine nor feminine, because such an assertion is well founded.

LXXX. With regard to organization, I am inclined to think, that the variation of it, may greatly vary the operations of the soul; though we don’t to this day know, which organization is best suited to, or conduces most to, distinguishing and reasoning well. Aristotle pretends, that those with small heads are the best reasoners, a conjecture, which before he committed it to writing, he took care should correspond with the measure of his own head. Others give their vote in favour of large heads; these we may conclude, are not of the little-headed race, if they had, we might suppose they would have been on the side of Aristotle. Cardinal S’frondati, in his Curso Philosophico, says, that the reasoning organs of Cardinal Richelieu were double, to which he attributes the signal perspicuity, and intellectual agility of that minister. I apprehend, that he must mean double in magnitude, and not in number, for that would be monstrous; and this corresponds with what many others say, that the larger the brain is in quantity, the better people reason, which they collect from having observed, that the human brain is bigger in proportion than that of any other animal. Martinez and others, in their books of anatomy, excluding the great heads and the little ones, maintain, that those of the middle size are the best adapted for the operations of the understanding. Those who go about taking measure of the members of the body, in order to compute the value of the soul, may say what they please; but experience shews, that among men with large heads, you will find some stupid, and others ingenious, and that the same thing is to be observed among those with small ones. If a difference in the magnitude of the head or the brain, was to induce an inequality in the operations of the understanding, we should find a great difference in point of comprehension, among men of unequal stature, because in proportion as they were larger or smaller, so would their sculls and brains be; but this is contrary to observation.

LXXXI. But with all this, and even admitting what Pliny says to be true, that the material substance of the brain, is larger in men than it is in women, touching which matter, I beg leave to suspend my judgment, till the assertion is affirmed by some able anatomists; but I say, admitting the thing to be true, it proves nothing; for if the comprehending better, was to be governed by this material exceeding in the substance of the brain, it would follow, that an ingenious man, should have forty or fifty times more brain than an ideot, and that men of large bulk should be people of much more perspicuity than those of small stature, as we must suppose their brains to be in proportion to their size; but those, he who writes this can persuade to believe it, should return him thanks, for broaching a doctrine so well suited to their capacities.

LXXXII. I agree however, that the greater or less degree of clearness, or facility of understanding, depends in a great measure upon the difference of organization; though not upon a sensible different organization of the larger parts, but upon the insensible different one of the most minute parts, such as the different texture or firmness of the most subtile fibres, or the freeness from obstruction, or clearness of the delicate passages through which the animal spirits circulate, and also upon the tension and elasticity of the membranes which form those passages; although, we can know nothing about whether these are different in men and women, nor can even the anatomical spectacles, pry into the secret, or assist us with such a discernment or discovery; neither can the Cartesians, with all the microscopes they are capable of inventing, explore, whether the pineal gland, which they assign as the seat of the soul, is of a different texture in women, from what it is in men.

LXXXIII. That a different sensible organization, does not produce a variety in the rational operations, is manifest, at least, if this difference is not very enormous; there being men differently organized, who are of equal abilities; and men organized as nearly alike as possible, who, with respect to the faculties of the soul, are very dissimilar. The frigid Æsop, was in every part of his body, so deformed and ill-shaped, that he scarce appeared a human creature; on which account, his name in succeeding ages, was used to express an extreme degree of deformity; with all this, it is well known, that he was of a delicate and penetrating mind. Socrates, did not differ much from Æsop in the irregularity of his make; notwithstanding which, antiquity knew no man of a clearer or better understanding. But supposing we were to admit, that a distinct sensible organization produced a distinct intellectual ability, what could you in this case infer from it? Why nothing, because women are not formed differently from men in the organs which administer to, or assist the faculty of reasoning, but are distinctly formed in those only, which Nature has appropriated for the propagation of the species.

LXXXIV. Neither in the difference of temperament, can be founded the imagined inferiority of feminine understanding; but I don’t deny, that the temperament has much influence, and conduces greatly to the just or disorderly exercise of the faculties of the soul; so far from it, I am rather persuaded, that a distinct temperature, occasions more variety in the operations of those faculties, than a different organization: for there is no man, who must not have experienced in himself, that, according as his mind is variously disposed, or he is in good or bad spirits, without finding the least bodily alteration, he is more or less fit for all sorts of operations; with all this, there is scarce an intemperance that offends the body, which does not at the same time, more or less disturb the functions of the soul; but what species of temperament or disposition, conduces most to understanding or reasoning well, it is not easy to ascertain.

LXXXV. If this point is to be settled by the doctrine of Aristotle, we might conclude, the feminine temperament is best adapted for the purpose. This philosopher, who subjects all the effects which appear in the extensive field of Nature, to the dominion of his four first qualities, says, in the 24th Sect. of his Problems, quæst. 15, that men of a cold temperament have better intellects, and reason better, than men of a hot temperament; notwithstanding which, he enters upon the same question, with supposing, that in hot climates the men are more ingenious than in cold ones, which I can hardly believe, because it would follow from thence, that the Africans are more ingenious than the English or the Dutch: but pursuing the thread of his discourse, and explaining the efficacy of the qualities by the power of the antiperastis, he affirms, that in the coldest countries the men are most ardent, and in the hot ones most cold. Etenim, qui sedes frigidas habent, frigore loci obsistente, longe calidiores, quam sua sint natura, redduntur. He thinks people of warm constitutions, so much inferior to those of cool ones with respect to their reasoning powers, that he makes no scruple to declare, the last compared to the first, are like men whose heads are turned by drinking too much wine. He proceeds immediately after the words before-cited, thus: Itaque vinolentis admodum similes esse videntur, nec ingenio valent quo prospiciant, rerumque rationes inquirant. This philosopher, when he classed the hot and stupid together, had quite forgot his disciple Alexander, though he not only forgot, but bore him in mind at the same time: for it is very certain, that he wrote the greatest part of his works, after Alexander, on account of the doubts he entertained of his fidelity, had discarded him; and after he had retired to Athens, where he experienced a fresh disgust, to wit, being witness to Alexander’s sending without taking the least notice of him, thirty talents of gold to his school-fellow Xenocrates as a gratuity; but it is doubtful, whether his resentment carried him so far, as to conspire with Antipater against Alexander’s life, and to consult with him about the best method of carrying their purpose into execution by poison. But let us return to our subject.

LXXXVI. The same Aristotle teaches, and in this, all the naturalists and medical people agree with him, that the dissimilarity of temperament in the two sexes, consists, in the men being hot and dry, and in the women being cold and moist: Est autem vir calidus, & siccus, mulier frigida, humidaque. Sect. 5. Quest. 26. The cold temperament, in the opinion of Aristotle, being then the best adapted for reasoning, and the hot the opposite, the women being cold, and the men hot, it follows, that the feminine temperament is better suited to comprehend and reason well, than the masculine.

LXXXVII. This proof is conclusive, to those who believe every thing Aristotle has said; but I protest for myself, that it has not the least weight with me; for I neither believe that the geniuses are better in hot countries than in cold ones, nor that men of cold temperaments are more ingenious than those of hot ones; and much less do I believe, that those of fiery dispositions are in a manner insensible; and as to the pretended power of the antiperastis, let it for the present remain in the state of doubt, which is annexed to, and inseparable from it.

LXXXVIII. Moisture and dryness, are the other two distinct qualities of the two compositions or temperaments; and by attending to them, it may also be inferred from the doctrine of Aristotle, that the women are more perspicuous than the men. Those who maintain, that the larger the quantity of the brain, the better the faculty of the understanding, found their opinion, upon having been taught, that a man has a larger brain in proportion than any other animal: and they argue thus, Aristotle says, that man is of a more humid temperament than any other animal. Homo omnium animantium maxime humidus natura est. Sect. 5, Quæst. 7. From hence, if it may be inferred, that from a man’s having a larger brain than brutes, is to be imputed his having more understanding; in the same manner it may be inferred, from his being more moist than them, as humidity is productive of knowledge, that he knows more. A woman then is of a more humid composition than a man, and consequently must be more intelligent than him.

LXXXIX. Although this argument proves nothing, and ought only to be used by way of retortion on those who maintain opposite opinions; for the principles on which such conclusions are founded, to speak liberally, are uncertain and doubtful. Who told Pliny, that the brain of a man was larger than that of any other animal? Has any one, think you, undertaken the prolix labour of breaking the skulls of the whole sensitive species, in order afterwards to weigh their brains? Or who told Aristotle, that man is more humid than any of the brute creation? Can it be supposed, that this philosopher had squeezed them all in a press, in order to ascertain the quantity of moisture contained in each? There seems more probability in supposing, that certain domestic brutes, the greatest part of insects, and almost every species of fish, are more humid than men. Nor even admitting it to be true, that the human brain is larger in proportion than that of any other animal, could it be inferred from thence, that a great share of understanding in the human species is the effect of a larger portion of brain. A man in many other parts of the body, differs greatly in the proportion of his make from brutes, but an excess of those parts in some individuals, does not argue a greater degree of excellence. It would be necessary, in order to make this inference, to have observed, that, among the brutes themselves, those which had the largest brains, had the strongest or best instinct; but I believe this is not the case, for if it was, a total want of perception would be the consequence of a total lack of brain, which is not so; for, according to Pliny, there are many sensitive beings, without blood and without brains, notwithstanding which, they preserve their instinct.

XC. But waiving these proofs, which proceed upon Aristotelic doctrines, which are either false or uncertain, and which on this account, can only be serviceable to the cause of the women, by way of retorting upon those rigid partizans of Aristotle, who approve of all their master has said: I say, waiving these proofs, let us proceed to enquire, if, from the cause of the humidity in which a woman exceeds a man, there can be deduced any objection to her intellectual aptitude. On this ground, those commonly take their stand, who are desirous of proving by physical arguments, the inferiority of feminine understanding; and their reasoning seems to have an air of probability, because an excess of humour, either of itself, or by means of the vapour it attracts, is apt to retard the course of the animal spirits, by occupying in part, the narrow passages through which these exceeding fine substances flow.

XCI. But with all this, the argument is evidently fallacious; for if it was not, it would prove, not that the minds of women were less discerning than those of men, but that they were more slow and dull of comprehension than them, which is false; for most men allow, that in point of quickness they have the advantage.

XCII. Further; many men, who are keen, ready, and profound, abound with habitual defluxions and catarrhs, which are caused by a quantity of excrementitious moisture collected in the most remote recesses of the head, and within the very substance of the brain, as may be seen in Riberius, where he treats of catarrhs. The excessive humidity of the brain then, does not obstruct the ready or right use of the understanding; and if an excrementitious moisture does not obstruct it, much less can a natural one have that effect.

XCIII. And as a reason why a natural one does not hinder it, we may add, that, according to the doctrine of Pliny, the brain of a man is more humid than that of every other living creature: Sed homo portione maximum & humidissimum. Lib. 11, Cap. 37. Nor is it credible, that Nature should place in an organ destined for our most perfect knowledge, a temperament, capable of obstructing, or making the operations of our reason slow and defective. If I should be told, that, notwithstanding this native humidity, in which the brain of man exceeds that of a brute, it remains tempered in the exact proportion which is best suited to the operations of reason, and that the humidity of the brain of a woman exceeds that proportion; I answer, even supposing that humidity, by means of its natural quality, does not obstruct, nobody knows in what proportion, or to what degree, the brain, for the best exercising its functions should be moist; and therefore it is vague to say, there is a greater proportion of it in women than in men, or in men than in women.

XCIV. There may be opposed however, to this doctrine of humidity, the opinion of many, who affirm, that the humid and cloudy countries produce heavy dull spirits; and, on the contrary, that in the bright and clear countries, are born ingenious and sprightly ones. But be those few or many who say this, they say it without more foundation, than having imagined, the clouds of the horizon are translated to the sphere of the brain; as if in rainy countries, the opacity of the atmosphere was a dark shade, which obscured the soul, and that in countries which are blessed with a serene sky, the greater splendor of the day, would communicate greater clearness to the understanding. They might, with more aptness and propriety, say, that in the regions which are most bright and clear, the objects being more visible, they, through the windows of the eyes, enter in such numbers, that they distract the soul, and render it less fit for reflection and reasoning; and hence it is, that, in the obscurity of the night, we find the thread of our reason the least interrupted, and that we deduce our conclusions with more firmness than in clear day-light.

XCV. Let those, who maintain humid regions to be ill-suited to the production of subtile men, cast their eyes on the Venetians and the Hollanders, who are some of the most able men in Europe: the first of these, stole part of their territories from the fish; and the last may be said to live in lakes and bogs. Even here in Spain, we have an example of this sort in the Asturians, who, notwithstanding they inhabit a province, the most beset with clouds, and the most subject to rain, of any in the whole peninsula, are generally reputed for subtile, ready, and expert people. But our wonder at this will lessen, if we consider the beavers, who live almost continually in the water, notwithstanding which, Nature has produced no brutes of so noble an instinct, nor who approach so near to men, both in their love for them, and in the imitation of their customs: for you may read in Conradus Gesnero, that they take particular care of their aged parents, and they have been seen to direct men in their navigation, and to assist them in fishing; and there has such an attention been observed in them to the dead, that they withdraw and conceal the carcasses of their defunct species, at the hazard of their being devoured by other aquatic beasts.

XCVI. On the contrary, those birds, who the greatest part of their time, breathe the most subtile pure air, and the most divested of vapours, one while fleeting on the winds, and at other times placing themselves on the tops of mountains, ought to be more sagacious than terrestrial brutes; which is not the case.

XCVII. By the same mode of reasoning, the Egyptians should be the keenest people in the world, because they dwell under the brightest and most serene sky that is to be found in all the globe. There is scarce a cloud passes over Egypt in the course of a year, and the land would be totally barren, if it was not refreshed and fertilized by the waters of the Nile; and although for some ages, antiquity venerated that region as the seat of the sciences, which is manifest from Pythagoras, Homer, Plato, and other Greek philosophers, having traveled thither to improve themselves in philosophy and the mathematics; this does not prove, that they were more subtile and ingenious than other mortals, but rather, that the sciences had gone wandering about the earth, and that sometimes they took their stations in one country, and at others in another. The same thing may be said of the valley of Lima, the inhabitants of which country do not know what rain is, the land being fertilized by a light dew, assisted by a happy temperament of air, which is neither hot nor cold; notwithstanding which, the natives are not people of a delicate ingenuity, but rather the contrary, for the Pizarras found them more easy to be subdued by a few stratagems, than Cortez found the Mexicans, with all the arts he could employ, assisted by the whole power of his arms.

XCVIII. I am not ignorant, that the inhabitants of Bœotia were antiently looked upon, as a most rude, dull people, and that Bœoticum Ingenium and Bœtica Sus, were proverbial terms of contempt, and used to express or denote, a heavy stupid person; and also, that this stupidity was attributed to the gross atmosphere, loaded with vapour, which prevails in that country; hence the expression of Horace in one of his epistles: Bœoticum in crasso jurares aëre natum. But I believe, and with some foundation, that the antients quoted did not do that country justice; imputing the ignorance which proceeded from want of application, to the want of capacity; and Bœotia’s lying on the confines of Attica, where learning flourished, seems to strengthen this opinion; for it is hardly probable, that within sight of a province, which is the theatre of wisdom, you should view another, which is a colony of ignorance and stupidity. On the other hand, it is certain, that Bœotia has produced some geniuses of the first rate; such as Pindar, the prince of Lyric Poets, and the great Plutarch, who, in the opinion of lord Bacon, was full equal to the first men of antiquity; and I suspect, that by looking back to the more early times of antiquity, we shall find a period, in which the Bœotians, in their culture of the arts and sciences, excelled, not only their neighbours, but all the other nations of Europe; because Cadmus, when he came from Phœnicia, was the first who introduced the letters of the alphabet into Greece, and was the first person in Europe, who invented the art of writing; and we learn from history, that he settled in Bœotia, where he founded the city of Thebes. To this may be added, that in Bœotia is found Mount Helicon, dedicated to the Muses, and from which they derive their name of Heliconides; and that from this mountain, descends the famous Aganippe fountain, consecrated to the same fictitious deities, the water of which, they feign to have been the wine of the poets, which enraptured and inspired them, and lighted up the fire of enthusiasm in their brains. It seems as if all these fictions could have no other origin, than poetry having in some former time flourished in that region.

XCIX. But admitting the Bœotians by nature to be rude and stupid, how can it be proved, that this is derived from the humidity of the country, and not from some other hidden cause; especially, when we see moist or damp countries, on which this stigma is not fixed? Let humidity then, be acquitted of the false accusation which has been raised against it, to wit, of being at war with, and an enemy to ingenuity; and let it be settled, that from this principle, no proof can be deduced to ascertain, that the women in point of understanding, are inferior to the men.

C. Father Malebranche, reasons in another way, and denies the women have equal understanding with the men, on account of their brains being more soft and tender than those of the other sex. I really don’t know whether what he supposes about this greater degree of softness be true or not, but I have read two treatises on anatomy, and did not find the least mention of it in either of them. Perhaps, from having taken it for granted, that the brains of women were more humid, he concluded they were more soft; but this is not always a certain consequence, for ice is humid and not soft, and melted metal is soft, but not humid; or perhaps, from having observed the women were of a more soft and docile disposition than men, he inferred, that in their material composition they were the same; for there have been people so superficial, as to form ideas upon these sort of analogies, which afterwards, for want of due reflection, have been adopted by persons of great perspicuity.

CI. But taking all this for granted, I would be glad to know, how a greater degree of softness in the brain, produces or occasions, an imperfection in the understanding? I should rather think, that on account of its being more pliable to the impression of the spirits, it would be an instrument or organ, better suited or adapted to mental operations. This argument, is strengthened by the doctrine of the author, because he says in another place, the vestiges or traces, which the impression of the animal spirits leaves on the brain, are the lines, with which the faculty of the imagination, forms on it the effigies of objects; and the larger or more distinct these vestiges or impressions are, the greater will be the force and clearness, with which the understanding must perceive the objects. Cur igitur imaginatio consistat in sola virtute, qua mens sibi imagines objectorum efformare potest, eas imprimendo, ut ita loquar, fibris cerebri, certe quo vestigia, spirituum animalium, quæ sunt veluti imaginum illarum lineamenta erunt distinctiora, & grandiora, eo fortius, & distinctius mens objecta illa imaginabitur. (Lib. 2. de Inquirenda Veritate, part 1, cap. 1.)

CII. Now then, it being admitted, the softer the brain is, with greater ease will the animal spirits make impressions on it, and that, for the same reason, the vestiges or traces will be larger and more distinct; they will make them with greater ease, and bigger, because the matter resists less; more distinct because the fibres being somewhat rigid, they would, by means of their elasticity, make efforts to restore themselves to their former shape and position; and thus, the path on traces made by the course of the animal spirits, would be very faint, if not quite effaced. The fibres of the brain of a woman, being then more flexible than those of the brain of a man, they are capable of having larger and more distinct images impressed on them, and they must consequently, according to this doctrine, perceive objects better than men.

CIII. But I would not be understood to admit, that the women have more understanding than the men; I only mean to retort on father Malebranche, the doctrine, from which he pretends to infer the advantage to be on the side of the men, in contradiction to what in another place, he himself has asserted. My own opinion of the matter is, that, by such sort of philosophical reasoning, you may prove every thing, when in reality you prove nothing. Every one philosophizes in his own mode, and if I was to write with a view of flattering, or from caprice or ostentation, or with a design of making parade of my ingenuity, I could easily, by deducing consequences from admitted principles, elevate the understandings of the women, superior to those of the men, by many degrees; but this is not my nature, or disposition; on the contrary, I had much rather propound my sentiments with sincerity; and therefore I say, that neither father Malebranche, nor any other person, even to this day, has known the punctual actings, or specific manœuvres, by which the organs of the head, administer to the faculties of the soul. We don’t know as yet, how fire burns, or how snow occasions cold, although they are things which are manifest to our sight and our touch; and would father Malebranche, and the other Cartesians, persuade us, that they have registered and examined all that passes in the most hidden and remote corners of the cabinet of the rational soul? Neither do these maxims appear to me well founded, which, by reducing every thing to mechanical principles, figure to us the spirit, stamping materially the images of objects on the brain, in the same manner, that impressions are made on copper with a chissel. I am also aware of the serious difficulties, that are attendant on, and annexed to, the intentional species of Aristotle. But what is the result of all this? Why, that none of us have done more, than just touch the outside covering of Nature. We all walk blindfold, and he is the most blind, who fancies he perceives things with the greatest clearness, and may be compared to a servant of Seneca, named Harpacta, who was so infatuated, after having lost all his visual faculties, and having become stone-blind, as to fancy he could see. It is certain, that those who live in a confidence, that they can penetrate and look into Nature, are the most exposed to dangerous errors; because he who walks on with much boldness, having but a dim light to guide him, runs the most hazard of falling; on the contrary, he is the furthest from this danger, who knowing the way is dark, proceeds with caution.

CIV. But granting to father Malebranche, and the rest of the Cartesians, that the representation of objects to the mind, is made by means of these material traces, which, in their course, the spirits impress on the brain; what follows from it is, that the brains of women being softer than those of men, the marks, on account of the pliability of the matter, will be larger and more distinct in the first, than in the last; and what can be inferred from this? Why, by the doctrine of father Malebranche, you may make whichever of the two following inferences you like best, either that the women comprehend better than the men, or that they do not comprehend so well. The first, may be inferred from the place we a little before cited; and the second, because where he explains himself with regard to what he has said against the women, he maintains, that the excessive lively imaginations, which result from these large images or impressions, are unfavourable to the right comprehension of objects. Cum enim tenuiora objecta ingentes in delicatis cerebri fibris excitent motus, in mente protinus etiam excitant sensationes ita vividas, ut ijs tota occupetur. Lib. 2. part ii. cap. 1.

CV. But this second is contrary to all reason, for it does not follow from this doctrine of large images, that small ones do not represent objects well, for in some cases they rather conduce to represent them best; atoms, for example, being better seen through a microscope than larger bodies; and liveliness of imagination, if it does not extend to madness, contributes much to a perspicuous understanding of things.

CVI. But, in reality, from this greater softness of the brain, it cannot be deduced, that the understandings of women are either larger or smaller, because you cannot infer from it, that the impressions made by the spirits on the organ, are bigger or less; which is the principle, from whence you must conclude both the one and the other; the reason is, because it seems most probable, that the impulse of the spirits is proportioned to the docility of the matter, and thus, that spirits feebly impelled, do not make a larger impression on a soft brain, than that which is made on a more firm and tense one, by spirits which move with greater force and impetuosity; in the same manner, that by regulating the force of your hand, you may make as superficial a mark with a tool on wax, as you may on lead. My opinion of the matter is, that from this system of the brains of women, all you can infer is, that the corporeal movements in them, are less vigorous than they are in men; on which account, the nerves which have their origin in the fibres of the brain, and the spinal marrow, have less power in women, or move with more feeble impulses in them than they do in men; but not that their mental operations are more or less perfect.

CVII. I think it is now time to depart from the labyrinths of physics, and to enter on the open and pleasing plains of history, and to persuade by examples, that the understandings of the women, are not inferior to those of the men, even for the attainment of the most difficult sciences. This is the best method, which can be fallen upon to convince the vulgar, who are generally more influenced by examples, than arguments. To recite all that occur, would be tiresome, and therefore, I shall only mention some of those women, who, in these latter ages, have been the most eminently distinguished for their learning, and who have flourished in our own country Spain, and in the neighbouring kingdoms.

CVIII. Spain, which strangers hold cheap in this particular, has, to the honour of literature, produced many women, remarkably eminent for all sorts of learning. The principal ones are the following.

CIX. Donna Anna de Cervaton, lady of honour to the Germanic Queen de Fox, second wife of Don Ferdinand the Catholic; she was a most celebrated woman, but more so on account of her learning and rare talents, than for her uncommon beauty, which was so striking, that she was generally allowed to be the finest woman about the court. In Lucio Marino Siculo, may be seen the Latin letters which that author wrote her, and the lady’s answers in the same idiom.

CX. Donna Isabel de Joya, in the sixteenth century, was esteemed a woman of great learning. It is told of her, that she preached in the church of Barcelona, to the amazement of a great concourse of auditors. I suppose the prelates who permitted it, judged that the injunction of the Apostle, which in the First Epistle to the Corinthians, prohibits women to speak in the church, admitted of some exceptions, in the same manner the injunction did, which prohibits them to teach in the Epistle to Timothy; for it is a fact, that Priscilla, who was the companion of this same apostle, taught and instructed Apollo Pontonicusin the evangelic doctrine, as appears from the Acts of the Apostles; and that afterwards passing to Rome in the pontificate of Paul III. she, in the presence of the cardinals, much to their satisfaction, explained many of the difficult passages in the books of the subtile Scotus; but what redounded most of all to her honour, was her having converted in that capital of the world, a great number of Jews to the catholic faith.

CXI. Luisa Sigea, a native of Toledo, but of French extraction, besides being skilled in philosophy, and sound literature, was ornamented in a singular manner, with a knowledge of languages, for she understood Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, and Syriac; and it is said, she wrote a letter to pope Paul III. in each of these languages. Her father, Diego Sigea, being afterwards called to the court of Lisbon, as preceptor to Theodosius of Portugal duke of Braganza; the infanta Donna Maria of Portugal, daughter of the king Don Manuel, and of his third wife, Donna Leonora of Austria, who was a great lover of letters, took much pleasure in the company of the learned Sigea; who afterwards married with Francisco de Cuevas, the Lord of Villanasur, and a cavalier of Burgos, from which marriage, as Don Luis Salazar informs us in his history of the house of Farnese, there descended a fine progeny, which are now living in Castile.

CXII. Donna Oliva Sabuco de Nantes, a native of Alcaraz, was a woman of sublime penetration, and of an elevated genius, eminent for her knowledge of physical, medicinal, moral, and political matters, as may be seen by her writings; but the thing which most illustrated and distinguished her, was her new phisiological system, where, in opposition to all the antients, she maintained, that it is not the blood which invigorates the body, but a white fluid issuing from the brain, which pervades the whole nervous system; and she attributes almost all disorders to this vital dew being vitiated. This system, which the incuriosity of Spain neglected, the curiosity of England embraced with eagerness, and now we receive from the hands of strangers as their invention, that, which in reality was originally our own. Fatal genius of Spaniards, who, in order that what is produced in their own country should seem pleasing to them, must have it first monopolized by strangers, and afterwards by those strangers sold to them again. It seems also, that this great woman was beforehand with Renard Descartes, in broaching the opinion, that the brain was the seat of the rational soul, though she did not, like Descartes, confine its habitation to the pineal gland only, but supposed it to occupy the whole substance. The confidence which Donna Oliva had in her own abilities to defend her singular opinions, was such; that in an epistle-dedicatory addressed to count Barajas, president of Castile, she intreats him to use his authority, to convene together the most learned natural philosophers, and doctors of medicine in Spain, and that she would undertake to convince them, that the physics, and medicinal doctrines, which were taught in the schools, went all on erroneous principles. She flourished in the reign of Philip II.

CXIII. Donna Bernarda Ferreyra, a Portuguese lady, the daughter of Don Ignatio Ferreyra, a knight of the order of St. Jago, besides knowing and speaking with ease various languages, understood poetry, rhetoric, philosophy, and the mathematics. She left many poetical writings; and our famous Lopez de Vega, had such a veneration for the extraordinary merit of this lady, that he dedicated to her his elegy, intituled La Philis.

CXIV. Donna Juana Morella, a native of Barcelona, was a woman of wonderful learning. Her father having killed a man, was obliged to fly, and carried her with him into Lyons in France, where this extraordinary child, betaking herself to study, made so rapid a progress, that at twelve years of age (which was in the year 1607) she defended conclusions in philosophy publicly, which she afterwards committed to writing, and dedicated to Margaret of Austria, queen of Spain. At the age of seventeen, according to the relation of Guidon Patin, who lived at that time, she entered upon public disputations in the jesuits college at Lyons. She understood philosophy, music, and jurisprudence, and it is said, that she spoke fourteen languages. She took the veil, in the Dominican convent of saint Præxedis at Avignon.

CXV. The celebrated nun of Mexico, Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, is so well known to every body by her learned and ingenious poetical works, that it is needless to say any thing in her eulogium. I shall only mention, that the least of her accomplishments was her talent for poetry, although that was the thing, for which she was most celebrated. Many Spanish poets have been superior to her in point of poetical genius, but perhaps no one has equalled her, with regard to her universal knowledge, in all kinds of faculties. Her poetry was natural, but she wanted energy. In the critical part of the sermon of father Viera, he gives her credit for her ingenuity; but to speak the truth, she was not equal in that respect, to that learned jesuit himself, of whom she was the opponent: nor is there any thing extraordinary, in a woman’s being found inferior to a man, who, for elevation of thought, reasoning with perspicuity, and explaining himself with clearness, has not yet been equalled by any preacher whatever.

CXVI. The panegyric of the late duchess of Aveiro, is also needless, as her memory is still recent at court, and all over Spain.

CXVII. The learned ladies of France, are very numerous, because there, they in general have more opportunities of studying, and more time allowed them for doing it, than they have in most other countries; I shall therefore, only recite such of them as were most famous.

CXVIII. Susana de Hubert, wife of Charles Jardin, an attendant of Henry III. understood philosophy and theology, and was well versed in the writings of the fathers. She had learned the Spanish, Italian, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages; but her christian piety, which was exceedingly exemplary, contributed more to the advancement of her true glory, than her vast erudition.

CXIX. Maria de Guernay, a Parisian of illustrious family, to whom the learned Dominic Baudio gave the name of the Syren of France, arrived to such a pitch of glory and fame, for genius and literature, that there was scarce a learned man of her time, who did not esteem it a great honour to keep-up a literary correspondence with her; and hence it was, that there were found in her cabinet when she died, letters, from the cardinals Richelieu, Bentivolio, and Perron; from San Francisco de Sales, and other enlightened prelates; from Charles the First, duke of Mantua, from the Count de Ales, from Erycio Puteano, Justus Lipsius, Messrs. Balzac, Maynard, Heinsius, Cæsar Capacio, Carlos Pinto, and many other men, of the most shining parts and learning in that age.

CXX. Madalena Scuderi, who was called with great reason the Sappho of her age, as she equaled that most celebrated Greek lady, in the elegance of her compositions, and excelled her much, in the purity of her manners. She was eminent for her learning, but incomparable for her judgment and discretion, as her many and excellent works testify. Her Artamenes, or Cyrus the Great, and her Clelia, in which tracts, in imitation of Barclay’s Argenis, under the figure of novels, much true history is contained, are pieces of consummate value, and in my judgment, are preferable to any thing of the kind that has been written in France, or any other country, the Argenis only excepted. The nobleness of the thoughts, the harmonious combination of the narrative, the pathetic efficacy of the persuasion, the liveliness of the descriptions, and the native purity, majesty, and force of the style, make a composition, which all together, is admirable and enchanting; to this we may add, by way of enhancing the value of the performance, that the amorous passages, are described with all the delicacy and decency possible, the moral virtues, represented in the most engaging and attractive light, and the heroic ones, with the most brilliant splendor. As a proof of the prodigious talents of this woman, the honour of having her entered as a member of their societies, was industriously sought after, by all those academies, whose institutions, allowed of admitting among them persons of her sex. She in the year 1671, gained the prize of eloquence in the French academy, which amounted to the same thing, as that truly-noble body, having pronounced her the most eloquent person in all France. The most Christian king, Lewis XIV. whose attention, no elevated merit escaped, settled on her a pension of twelve hundred livres a year, and cardinal Mazarine had long before, by his will, bequeathed her a legacy of the same value, and she received another donation to about the same amount, from the learned chancellor of France, Louis de Boucherat; by the help of which, she was enabled to pass through a regular, glorious, and long life, which terminated in the year 1701.

CXXI. Antonieta de la Guardia, beautiful both in shape and features, with which bodily perfections, the sweetness of her disposition, and the charms of her soul corresponded; so that it seemed as if nature had taken pride, with respect to her, of uniting in one woman, all the graces of person, and attractions of mind. She was so eminent for poetry, that, at a time in which this art was much cultivated, and in high estimation in France, there was not any man whatever in that extensive kingdom, who excelled her in it. Her works were collected in two volumes, which I have not seen. She died in 1694, leaving a daughter, the heir of her genius and accomplishments, who won the prize for poetry in the French academy.

CXXII. Lady Maria Madalena Gabriela de Montemar, daughter of the duke de Montemar, and a Benedictine nun, who was born with all the natural qualifications or dispositions, necessary for attaining the most abstracted, and difficult sciences, for she was endowed with a happy memory, a subtile ingenuity, and a right judgment. In her early time of life, she learned the Spanish, Italian, Latin, and Greek languages; and at fifteen years old, being presented to Maria Teresa of Austria, queen of France, just at her first arrival in that kingdom, she amazed all the court, to hear her speak the Spanish language with elegance and propriety. She acquired a knowledge of all that is now understood, both of the antient, and new philosophy, and was consummately versed in scholastic, dogmatic, expositive, and mystic theology. She made some translations, the most admired of which, were the first books of the Iliad. She wrote upon various subjects, and discussed points of morality, criticism, and such as related to academic matters. Her letters were held in the highest esteem, and Louis XIV. received and read them with great pleasure. She composed admirable verses, though they were but few in number, and those, after once reading them, she used to throw into the fire; which was a sacrifice, her humility induced her to make of many other of her works; and she would have made it of all of them, if by friendly interposition, she had not been prevented from following the dictates of her own inclination. Her piety, and talent for governing, shone forth in equal proportion to her learning; and in consideration of these eminent qualities, she was elected abbess of the congregation of Fontevrauld, of the order of St. Benedict, which has this peculiarity belonging to it, that although it is composed of a great number of monasteries of both sexes, which are scattered about in four provinces, that they all acknowledge as their universal prelate, the abbess of Fontevrauld, a distinguished monastery, which is no less famous for being the theatre of nobility, than of virtue; for they reckon among their prelates, fourteen princesses, five of whom were of the royal house of Bourbon. Lady Montemar filled this high employment, much to the satisfaction, and edification of the world, and also to the benefit and increase of her congregation, exhibiting a woman, commanding the men with dignity, and who in the opinion of those who were under her direction, if she was not superior, was at least equal in point of understanding to the wisest man living. She died in 1704, full of merit and much esteemed.

CXXIII. Maria Jacquelina de Blemur, a Benedictine nun, who the most learned Mabillon, in Estud. Monostic. Bibliot. Ecclesiast. Sect. 12, tells us, composed a work, called the Benedictine Year, of seven volumes in quarto; and another, intitled Eulogiums on many illustrious Persons of the Order of Saint Benedict, of two volumes in quarto.

CXXIV. Anna la Fevre, commonly known by the name Madam Dacier, daughter of the most learned Tanaquildo le Fevre, proved equal to her father in erudition, and superior to him in eloquence; and also in the faculty of writing with elegance and delicacy, her own language. She was a critic of the first rate, so that in this particular, at least with respect to profane authors, there was not a man of her time, neither in France nor out of it, who excelled her. She made many translations from Greek authors, which she illustrated with a variety of comments. Her passion for Homer, excited her to write many dissertations, the object of which was maintaining the superiority of the Greek poet Homer, over the Latin one Virgil, in which, the vivacity of her genius, and the rectitude of her judgment, shone forth with equal splendor; she was chiefly stimulated to do this, from a desire of replying to, and confronting Mons. La Mote, who was a member of the French Academy, and of a contrary opinion; this she did so well, that some partizans of the Latin poet, who had sided with Mons. la Mote, could not deny, that his judgment in comparison of her’s, had but little weight, for want of his having a competent knowledge of Greek, the language Homer wrote in, which his opponent understood to perfection. With regard to the merits of the case, it should be observed, that there are only some Latin authors who give the preference to Virgil, but that there is not a single Greek one, who will allow him to be superior, or even equal to Homer. The circumstance of this last, having in his favour all the Greeks, and many Latins, among whom, one of the most conspicuous is the celebrated historian Velleius Paterculus, who bestows on him the high eulogium, that there never yet was any one who could imitate him; and declares further, that, in his opinion, there never will be any one capable of doing it in time to come: I say, when all this is considered, it should have great weight in determining the question in Homer’s favour. Anna le Fevre, I think, has been dead but a few years.

CXXV. Italy is little inferior to France, in numbers of learned women; but, for the same reason for which we curtailed the recital of the French ladies, we shall do so by the Italian ones.

CXXVI. Dorothea Bucca, a native of Bologna, having from her infancy been destined to the study of letters, advanced in the profession with such giant strides, that the famous university of that city, made in her favour, the singular, and till then unheard-of precedent, of conferring on her the degree of a doctor; and she continued in the university as a professor of divinity, for a long time. She flourished in the fifteenth century.

CXXVII. Isota Nogarola, born at Verona, was the oracle of her age; for, over and above being very learned in philosophy, and theology, she added to it, the accomplishment of understanding various languages, and being deeply read in the Fathers; and in point of eloquence, it is asserted, that she was not inferior to the greatest orators of that age. The proofs of her ability in this science, are not vulgar, for she spoke many times before the popes Nicholas V. and Pius II. in the council of Mantua, which was convened, for the purpose of uniting the Christian princes against the Turk. That illustrious protector of letters, cardinal Bessarion, having seen some of the works of Isota, was so charmed with the spirit of them, that he took a journey from Rome to Verona on purpose to see her. This lady, died at the age of thirty-eight, in the year 1466.

CXXVIII. Laura Ceretti, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, at the age of eighteen, taught philosophy publickly, with great applause.

CXXIX. Cassandra Fidele, a Venetian lady, was so celebrated for her knowledge of the Greek language, and likewise for understanding philosophy, theology, and being deeply read in history, that there was scarce an illustrious prince of that time, who did not give her testimonies of his esteem; and they reckon among the admirers of Cassandra, the popes Julian II., Leo X., Louis XI., king of France, and our Catholic king Ferdinand, and his queen Isabel. She wrote several works, and died at the age of a hundred and two, in the year 1567.

CXX. Cathalina de Cibo, dutchess of Camerine, in the March of Ancona, understood Latin, Greek, Hebrew, philosophy, and theology. Her virtue gave splendor to her learning; she built the first convent the Capuchins possessed, and died in the year 1557.

CXXXI. Martha Marchina, a Neapolitan of low birth, but elevated genius, who, surmounting the impediments annexed to her humble fortune, managed so as to get herself instructed in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, which she attained a competent knowledge of, with wonderful velocity, and was no vulgar poetess; but her excellent talents were not capable of raising her above the sphere of life in which she was born, the influence of her adverse stars, obstructing the advancement of her fortune. She removed to Rome, where she supported herself and family by making wash-balls: but it is probable, if she had had the same opportunities of studying which have fallen to the lot of other women, that she would have been a prodigy among the females; and even among the men also. She died at the age of forty-six, in the year 1646.

CXXXII. Lucretia Helena Cornaro, of the illustrious family of the Cornaro’s of Venice, who, though in the series of this memorial, is the last of the learned Italian women, on account of her being the most modern, we may truly say, without doing injustice to any one, that she in dignity is the first. This woman, who was an honour to her sex, was born in 1646. From her tender infancy, she manifested a violent inclination for letters, with which inclination, the wonderful rapidity of her progress corresponded; for she not only instructed herself with uncommon facility, in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, but she learned also, almost all the living languages of Europe. She distinguished herself so conspicuously in mathematics, philosophy, and sacred theology, that the university of Padua, had resolved to confer on her the degree of a doctor of divinity, which would have been done, if cardinal Barbarigo, the bishop of that city, had not opposed carrying the resolve into execution, on account of some scruples he entertained of the propriety of the thing, it being contrary to the maxim of St. Paul, which prohibits women from administering, or teaching in the church; and thus, to prevent violating this canonical rule, and at the same time, not to be wanting in the proper regard due to the deserving merit of Helena, they fell upon the expedient of making her a doctor of philosophy; the ceremony of conferring which degree on her, was graced and honoured, with the attendance of many princes and princesses, from various parts of Italy. Her eminence in scientific knowledge, could only be exceeded, which in reality it was, by her exemplary piety. At twelve years of age, she took the vow of virginity. And although afterwards, a German prince, solicited with ardour, the hand of Helena, and offered to obtain from the pope a dispensation of her vow, and was likewise assisted in his suit with the intreaties of all her relations, it was impossible to subdue her constancy. In order to cut off at a stroke, the hopes of many other importunate admirers, she was desirous of immediately entering herself a Benedictine nun; but being prevented by her father, she did all she could, which was, to renew by a written instrument, her promise of virginity, together with the addition of the other religious vows, usually taken by nuns; which, after having executed, she delivered into the hands of the abbot of the monastery of St. George, as an oblation to the Benedictine religion. This sacrifice of her liberty, was followed by her leading so exemplary a life within the walls of her father’s house, as might excite the envy of the most austere nun. Her love of retirement was so great, and such was her shame of appearing in public, that, although in obedience to her father’s commands, she suffered herself sometimes to be seen; her conforming to do it gave her such pain, that she was used to say, that obedience would cost her her life. In effect, this was but short, for she passed from it to another, at the age of thirty-eight years, with equal rejoicings of the angels, and lamentations of mankind, leaving many works, which are sufficient to eternize her fame. A number of authors were the panegyrists of this extraordinary woman, among whom, was Gregory Leti, who, in his select extracts from history, gives her the epithets of the heroine of letters, and a monster of science; calling her at the same time, an angel of beauty and candour.

CXXXIII. Germany, in whose frozen region, Apollo has more power to inspire the mind, than to thaw the limbs, presents us with a spark from the sun, in the person of a woman of that country.

CXXXIV. This was the famous Anna Maria Surman, the glory of both Upper and Lower Germany; for although she was born at Cologne, her parents and ancestors were from the Low Countries. There never had appeared, till her time, a person of either sex, of more universal capacity. All the arts, and all the sciences, recognized, and submitted with equal obedience to the empire of her genius, and none of them ever made the least resistance, when this heroine undertook their conquest. At six years of age, she, without any instruction, cut, with scissars in paper, estimable and delicate figures. At eight, she learned in a few days to paint flowers, and did actually, at the end of that time, paint some, which were much prized. At ten, it did not cost her more than three hours labour, to acquire the art of embroidering with elegance, but her talents for more exalted exercises continued hid, till at twelve years of age, they were discovered in the following manner. She had two brothers, who studied at home, and it was remarked, that at various times, upon their repeating their lessons, when the memory of the boys failed them, the girl would set them right, which she was able to do without any studying, having retained the lessons, from only casually hearing her brothers repeat the words of them, while they were getting them by heart. This mark, joined to the others she had shewn, of being endowed with a capacity that was quite extraordinary, determined her father to permit his daughter to pursue her career in study, which was so correspondent with the bent of her inclination; but the swift motion, with which she passed over the extensive plains of sacred and profane erudition, ought more properly to be called a flight, than a career; and the short time in which she possessed herself of almost all the human sciences, together with sacred theology, and a great knowledge of the scripture, is as astonishing. She understood perfectly, the German, Dutch, English, French, Italian, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldee, and Arabic languages. She was also endued with the gift of poetry, and composed many very sensible works in verse. In the liberal arts, she acquired applause equal to that which she had obtained in sciences and languages. She understood music scientifically, and played many instruments with dexterity. As a painter, and a statuary, she was excellent; as likewise in the art of engraving. It is related of her, that, having made her own effigy in wax, some artificial pearls, which she had introduced as ornaments to the figure, appeared so natural, that nobody would believe they were wax, till after having made the experiment of pricking them with a pin. Her letters were esteemed, and sought after, not only for the beauty of the stile, but for the elegance of the hand-writing also, insomuch, that all who saw them thought they were inimitable; hence, almost every trace of her pen, was industriously collected, as furniture worthy to adorn a cabinet. There was scarce a great man of her time, who did not give her testimonies of his esteem, and who did not solicit a literary correspondence with her. The illustrious queen of Poland, Louisa Maria Gonzaga, after being married at Paris by proxy to king Stanislaus, in her passage to that kingdom through Germany, condescended to visit Surman at her own house. She would never marry, although a matrimonial connection with her, was arduously solicited by many men of rank and fortune; particularly by Mons. Catec, pensionary of Holland, and a famous poet, who had made some verses in her eulogium, when Anna Maria was but fourteen years old. At length, this woman, who was worthy of being immortal, died in 1678, at seventy-one years of age.

CXXXV. I shall omit mentioning many more learned women, which ennobled Germany and other countries, to conclude with a recent example from Asia, as a proof, that female literature is not confined and shut up within the limits of Europe.

CXXXVI. This shall be the charming, discreet, and generous Sitti Maani, wife of the famous traveller, Pedro de la Valle, a Roman knight. Maani was born in Mesopotamia, in order that that country, within whose bounds, some expositors believe the garden of Paradise was planted, might be the happy spot which had produced two eminent Rachaels; for it is certain, that Haran, where the beloved wife of Jacob was born, was a place of Mesopotamia. The fame of the nobleness of her genius, the vivacity of her understanding, and the beauty of her person, had been blazoned abroad when she was very young; this excited the curiosity of Pedro de la Valle, and he was desirous of seeing a lady, of whom he had heard so many encomiums. His experience, upon the interview which was permitted him, confirmed the truth of all he had heard, inflamed in his bosom the passion of love, and caused him anxiously to solicit obtaining her for a wife, which purpose he effected; and Maani, after marrying him, not only forsook the Chaldean rites in which she had been bred up, and turned catholic herself, but persuaded her parents to do the same. It is almost incredible, what this amiable Asian acquired in a few years, and indeed the years of her life were but few; for she not only attained a knowledge of all the learning, which those countries, still strangers to the sciences, could afford, but she arrived at understanding twelve different idioms. But the bulk, as well as perfection, of her moral virtues, exceeded that of her acquisitions; among which, though not common to her sex, her courage shone the most brilliant, for she fought armed in three encounters, and with great bravery, in defence of her husband. This woman, in many ways extraordinary, eminent for her talents, and famous for her travels and voyages, in one of them, near Ormuz, became the victim of a fever, which was truly malignant, having deprived her of life at the age of twenty-one. Thus died, to the great grief of all who had known her, this new Rachael, who was so like the antient one, that it seems, as if Nature and Fortune had studiously formed the parallel; both natives of Mesopotamia; both beautiful in extreme; both married to very deserving men, who were strangers to them, and came from other countries; both alike, with respect to their determination, of forsaking the rites of their country, and following the religion of their husbands; both equally conforming, to lead a wandering life, and follow the steps of their consorts; and, in the end, both dying in the flower of their age, and on the road. But the behaviour of the two husbands, at the time of the fatal crisis, seems to have been very different; Pedro de la Valle at that period, appearing to have conducted himself with much more delicacy, than the patriarch Jacob. The last, buried his Rachael on the road, at the place where she died; though it would have corresponded better with the merit of his wife, if he had paid the same care and attention, and had taken the same precaution about her dead carcase, that he did with regard to his own, when he strictly enjoined his son Joseph, to convey it to the sepulchre of his ancestors, which was in Hebron. The tender care and regard for his wife in this last office, which seems to have been little attended to by that fond patriarch, though we should suppose it happened from some powerful reason, either mysterious or natural, which he had for omitting it, shone forth with respect to Pedro de la Valle, in acts of the most punctual and precise reality; and which, in the most refined and nice manner, expressed the affection he bore his departed consort: for after having embalmed the dead body of his adored Maani, he carried it about with him inclosed in a costly urn, four whole years, all which time, he continued to travel through, and explore various parts of Asia; with his eyes ever attentive to her ashes, and his heart and memory to her virtues: till upon returning to Rome, he deposited the remains of his beloved object, in the sepulchre of the noble family of the Valles his ancestors, which they have belonging to them, in the chapel of St. Paul, appertaining to the church of Santa Maria de Ara Cœli: this was done with such funeral pomp, that a more magnificent shew of this sort had scarce ever been seen, Pedro de la Valle himself, pronouncing the funeral oration; in doing which, his eyes expressed much more than his lips, as in a short time his lips ceased to move, and left the eyes to speak the rest; for it so happened, that his throat through excessive grief, was obstructed, and he was near being choaked; so that he was unavoidably obliged to leave the oration unfinished; but such of the eloquent clauses as were congealed and obstructed in the passage, melted down, and flowed in tender tears, mixed with sighs, the true and proper accents of grief, which were resounded and echoed back, by a numerous concourse of sympathetic auditors.

N.B. Sitti is a title of honour among the Persians, and equivalent to lady with us.

CXXXVII. That the relation should not appear tedious, we have omitted many modern learned women in this catalogue, and have designedly forbore to mention the antient ones, as an account of them, may be found in an infinite number of books; but we have said enough to evince, what seems of most importance in this argument, which is, that almost all the women, who have dedicated themselves to study, have become eminent, and made considerable figures in the literary world; whereas, there are scarce three in a hundred, among the men devoted to literature, who have been remarkable for their advances in the science, or who could truly and properly, be stiled people of learning and ability.

CXXXVIII. But because this reflection may occasion the women to fancy themselves persons of much superior capacity to the men, it is but just and necessary, by way of checking such presumption, to observe, that this inequality of improvement by study, proceeds, from none of their sex being devoted to it, except those, in whom the people who have had the care of their education have remarked peculiar talents for such pursuits, or those, who have found in themselves a great propensity for literature, and a particular disposition for attaining a knowledge of the sciences; on the other hand, the men are not left to their choice in these matters; the parents, with a view of advancing their fortune, without attending to their capacities, or considering whether they are dull boys, or lads of genius, destine them to the career of letters; and the bulk of mankind being people of scanty abilities, it must unavoidably follow, that a few only can make a figure in the learned world.

CXXXIX. My opinion of the matter however is, that there is no inequality, in the capacities of the one and the other sex. But if the women, to repress the vain contemners of their aptitude for the arts and sciences, should be disposed to pass from the defensive to the offensive, and by way of playing at disputation, to contend for a superiority over the men, they may make use of the arguments I have mentioned above, by which, from the same physical maxims, wherewith the men pretend to bear down, and depreciate the capacities of the women, we have shewn, that it may with more probability be inferred, the talents and aptitude of the tender sex, excel those of the robust.

CXL. To this, we shall add the authority of Aristotle, who in various places teaches, that in all the animal species, expressly including the human, the females are more penetrating and ingenious than the males; particularly in his ninth book, de Histor. Animal. cap. 1, where he expresses himself in these words: In omnibus verò, quorum procreatio est, fæminam, & marem simili ferè modo Natura distinxit moribus, quibus mas differt à fœmina: quod præcipuè tum in homine, tum etiam in iis, quæ magnitudine præstent, & quadrupedes viviparæ sint, percipitur: sunt enim fœminæ moribus mollioribus, mitescunt celerius, & malum facilius patiuntur; discunt etiam, imitanturque ingeniosius.

CXLI. This authority of Aristotle, which gives the advantage to the women, not only in docility, and softness of disposition, but allows also, that they exceed the men in ingenuity; ought to have great weight with those, who are such admirers of Aristotle, as to call him the penetrating genius of Nature, and the sum and perfection of human intelligence. But I must caution the women, not to put too much confidence in Aristotle: because, although in the place we have just cited, he ennobles them with a superiority in point of perspicuity; a little lower down, he is very liberal in his abuse of them, and says, they are greatly addicted to mischief: Verum malitiosiores, astutiores, insidiores fœminæ sunt; and although just afterwards, he concedes them the preference to the men, in the noble attribute of tenderness or compassion, he instantly stigmatizes and marks them, with the blemishes of envy, evil-speaking, inveteracy, and other such bad qualities: Ita quod mulier, misericors magis, & ad lacrymas propensior, quam vir est: invida item magis, & querela & maledicentior, & mordacior. Upon the whole, I am not clear, whether the ladies will accept the advantage of ingenuity which this philosopher has thought fit to confer on them, loaded with the charges he has been pleased to annex to it; we may however conclude from the premises, that when such a man, who was so ill disposed towards them, admits as a fundamental, that they are more ingenious than men, the evidence of their abilities does not rest on slight ground.

CXLII. It occurs to me here, that it is necessary to say something of the aptitude of women for those arts, which are more elevated than those they commonly exercise themselves in; such as painting, and sculpture. Very few women have dedicated themselves to these applications, but of those few, some have turned out excellent artists. We have already said of the admirable Maria Surman, that she was eminent in painting, sculpture, and engraving.

CXLIII. In Italy, the three sisters, Sophonisba, Lucia, and Europa Angosciola, were celebrated painters; the first of which, Isabella, queen of Spain, the wife of Philip the Second, took into her service, and she was in such high repute, that pope Pius IV. solicited a portrait of that queen, done by the hand of Sophonisba.

CXLIV. Irene de Spilimberg was so excellent in the same art, that her paintings were often taken for those of Titian, who was her contemporary. Fate snatched her away at the age of twenty-six, which event caused universal grief, and drew tears from the eyes of her competitor.

CXLV. Teresa de Po was held in great estimation at Naples as a painter; and precious traits of her pencil, may be seen in the cabinet of the most excellent marquis of Villena, who employed her when she was vice-queen of Naples.

CXLVI. And even in statuary, Italy has produced famous women. Propercia de Rossi was generally applauded for her beautiful designs, and well-wrought statues in marble; but the distinguished Labinia Fontana, acquired greater applause than her, or indeed than any one else. I have had information of but one female painter in France, though she was of the first rate. This was Isabela Sophia de Cheron, known by the name of Madame le Hai; who, over and above possessing talents beyond the degree of mediocrity, for music and poetry, was a most finished painter; and became so celebrated for her skill in this art, that the dauphin, who was son to Louis XIV. employed her to paint him and all his children: and Casimir, king of Poland, who, after his voluntary abdication of that crown, resided in Paris, caused her to do the same for him, and many people of the first rank and quality in France followed their example; and even deigned to go and sit at the house of Isabela, which the prince of Condé did several times. The emperor Joseph, endeavoured to draw her to Vienna, by the offer of a large pension; but not being able to prevail on her, he sent her the drawings of his own likeness, and those of all the imperial family, that from them she might paint their portraits. Her designs and colouring, were exquisite, and her facility of execution, wonderful, for she would continue to bear a part in whatever conversation occurred, without giving the least relaxation to the operations of the pencil; but her christian and generous actions, added to the piety of her spirit, made her more esteemed, than the traits of her hand; and she died as she lived, in the year 1711.

CXLVII. But where the equal degree of aptitude in the women for the noble arts, compared to that of the men, is most conspicuous, is in the instance of music, which is a faculty suited indifferently to either sex; as the females who apply themselves to it, in proportion to the time they study, generally make as great progress as the men do; nor does a master of this art, find more difficulty in teaching girls than boys. I knew one girl of this profession, who, before she arrived at the age of fifteen, was a composer. I have purposely, in the mention of so many illustrious women, avoided touching on the exquisite endowments of our most enlightened queen, Donna Isabel of Farnese, because it would have been presumption in so gross a pen as mine, to undertake the discussion of so sublime a subject; and because another, much better cut, and superiorly qualified for the task, has, between the escutcheons of her royal house, drawn some traces of the excellencies and splendor of her person.

CXLVIII. I am aware now, that against all I have said, it may be replied to me to this effect: If women are equal to men, in their aptitude for arts, sciences, political œconomy, and government, why has God established the mastery, and superiority in the men, by the sentence in the third chapter of Genesis, which says, Sub viri potestate eris? Because it is probable, he gave the government to that sex, which he knew to be most capable of executing it.

CXLIX. I answer first, that the specific meaning of the text is not certainly known, on account of the variation in the versions. The reading in the Septuagint is: Ad virum conversio tua. In the Aquilean: Ad virum societas tua. In the Samaritan: Ad virum appetitus, vel impetus tuus. And the learned Benedict Perceyra says, that by translating the Hebrew literally, the sentence will run thus: Ad virum desiderium, vel concupiscentia tua.

CL. I answer secondly, that it might be insisted, the political subjection of the woman was absolutely a punishment for her sin, and therefore, that in the state of innocence there was no such thing. The text at least does not contradict such an opinion; for it rather seems, that if it had been intended the woman should obey the man in the state of innocence, God would have intimated this subjection, at the time he formed her; and from these premises, it cannot so properly be inferred, that God gave the man the preference, on account of his possessing an understanding superior to the woman’s, as that it was done, because she gave the first occasion to sin.

CLI. I say thirdly, that admitting, God from the beginning gave the rule over the woman to the man, it does not follow from thence, that he endued him with an understanding superior to her’s; but it rather seems likely, this was done for the sake of maintaining family order and decorum, for allowing them to be equal in point of talents, unless the government and direction was vested in one, all would be anarchy and confusion. Among the probable species of governments, the moral philosophers, copying after Aristotle, have held or considered, that which is called the Timocracian, to be the worst and most exceptionable: for by this, all the individuals of the republic have equal authority, and an equal voice; but in the case of a man and his wife, this mode of directing, with respect to œconomical government, would not only be imperfect, but impossible; for among a multitude of people, where there is a variety of opinions, the dispute may be decided by a plurality of votes; which cannot be done between a man and his wife, for they are one, to one; and thus if they should happen to be of different sentiments, unless one of them had the superiority, the point could never be settled; but it may be said, why, if their capacities were equal, should God think fit to give the superiority to the men? Various reasons and motives may be assigned for this, such as his excelling the women in many other useful qualities, for example, constancy and courage; which virtues, are necessary for making proper determinations, and for supporting them after they are made, by subduing and bearing down all the obstacles, produced by vain and light fears; but we should do better, instead of reasoning in this way, to confess, we for the most part are ignorant of the motives of divine resolutions.

CLII. I shall conclude this discourse, by endeavouring to set aside an exception that may be made to the undertaking; which is, that persuading mankind of the intellectual equality of both sexes, does not seem to be productive of any utility to the public, but is rather likely to occasion mischief, as it tends to foment in the women, presumption and pride.

CLIII. I might reply to this scruple, by only saying, that, in whatever matter that may present itself to our reflection, knowing the truth, and setting aside error, is an utility which is apparent, and of itself sufficient to justify our enquiry. The right understanding of things, is of itself estimable, without regard to any other end or object in the creation. Truths have their intrinsic value: and the stock, or riches of the understanding, does not consist of any other money. Some pieces are more valuable than others, but none are useless. Nor can the truth we have proved, of itself, induce in the women vanity or presumption. If they, in the perfections of the soul, are truly equal to us, there can be no harm in their knowing, or being sensible of it. St. Thomas, speaking of vain-glory, says, this sin is not incurred by a man’s knowing, or being convinced of the perfection he possesses, and which is contained in him: Quod autem aliquis bonum suum cognoscat, & approbet, non est peccatum (2 Quæst. 132. Art. 1.) and in another place, speaking of presumption, he says, this vice is always founded in some error or mistake of the understanding: Præsumptio autem est motus appetitivus, quia importat quondam spem inordinatam, habet autem se conformiter intellectui falso (Quæst. 22. Art. 2.) The women then, by knowing what they are, if they don’t estimate their qualifications above their real value, can never become vain-glorious, or presumptuous; but by attending to the thing, it will be found, the deception this chapter is calculated to remove, will rather have a different effect; and instead of adding presumption to the women, will take it away from the men.

CLIV. Though I go further, and maintain, the maxim we have established, is not only incapable of occasioning any moral evil, but that it may be productive of much good. Consider, how many men the imagined superiority of talents, has emboldened to attempt criminal conquests over the other sex. In every encounter, the confidence, or diffidence of a person’s own strength or power, goes a great way towards determining the event of the conflict. The man, presuming on the advantage of his superior understanding, proposes boldly; the woman, judging herself inferior, listens with respect. Who can deny, that such circumstances promote a great tendency and disposition, to his becoming a conqueror, and her falling a victim?

CLV. Let the women then know, that, in point of understanding, they are not inferior to the men. They will then determine with confidence, on repelling and refuting those sophisms, by which, under the colour and pretence of reason and arguments, the men attempt injustice and injuries. If a woman can be persuaded, that a man compared to her, is an oracle, she will lend an attentive ear to the most indignant proposition, and will reverence as an infallible truth, the most notorious falsehood. It is very well known, into what acts of turpitude many women have been drawn, by the sect called Molinists, who, before their practices upon them, were esteemed very virtuous persons. This perversion, proceeded from no other cause, than their having considered these Molinists, as men of superior lights and talents, and their having entertained an extreme distrust of their own understandings, when they represented to them clearly, the falsity of those venomous dogmas.

CLVI. There is another consideration to be attended to, which is of great importance in this matter. It is certain, that every one submits easily, and without reluctance, to a person, who he is sensible has some notable advantage over him. A man serves another man without regret, who is more noble than himself, but he does it with great repugnance, if they happen to be equal in birth. The same thing is observable, or may be applied to the case we are treating of. If a woman is under the mistake, that a man is of a much more noble sex than herself, and that she, from a defect in her’s, in comparison to him, is a poor contemptible animal of little value, she will think it no shame to submit to him; and by these pre-disposing circumstances, being aided with the flattery of obsequiousness, she may be betrayed into esteeming that as an honour, which in reality is ignominious. To use the words of St. Leon’s exclamation to the men, let the women then know their dignity, and let them be sensible, that, in point of intellectual capacity, our sex has no advantage over them, and that it will ever be opprobrious and vile in them, to allow a man the dominion of their bodies, save when he is empowered to claim it, by the authority, and under the sanction, of holy matrimony.

CLVII. I have not yet told all the utility, which, in a moral sense, will result to both the men and the women, by extricating them from the error they lay under, with respect to the inequality of the sexes. I firmly believe, this error is the cause, of many marriage-beds having been dishonoured and contaminated with adulteries. It may seem that I am entangling myself in a strange paradox, but this is not the case; I having done no more, than assert an established truth. Attend.

CLVIII. A few months after the souls of two consorts, are united together by the matrimonial bond, a woman begins to lose that estimation, which she at first obtained, as a delectable object newly acquired, and recently possessed. The man, passes from tenderness to lukewarmness, which lukewarmness many times, comes to end in contempt, and positive disestimation. When the husband arrives at this vicious extreme, he, presuming on the advantages which he supposes to be annexed to the superiority of his sex, begins to triumph over, and insult his wife; instructed by, and versed in those sentences, which pronounce, that the most which a woman can attain, may be attained by a boy of fourteen years old, and that it is in vain, to seek for either sense or prudence in them, together with other ridiculous, and injurious reflections of the same kind; treating every thing he observes in his wife, with the utmost contempt. In this situation, if the poor woman attempts to remonstrate, she is accused of raving; all she says, is impertinent, and foreign to the purpose; all she does is wrong. If she is handsome, the attraction of her beauty stands her in little stead, for its charm is dissolved, and the security of possessing it, has made it of no value. The husband only recollects, that his wife is an imperfect animal; and if he neglects her, will upbraid the most spotless woman with being a vase of impurities.

CLIX. When the unhappy woman is in this humiliating and dejected state, a gallant casts fond, or, as we commonly say in Spain, good eyes on her. To her, who at all times is condemned to see nothing but a frowning brow, it is natural to suppose, a pleasant countenance appears very delightsome: and such a leading circumstance conduces much to bring on, and facilitates a conversation between the parties; in which, the woman hears nothing but what is flattering and pleasing to her. Before this, she used to be accosted in nought but terms of reproach and contempt, and now, she is addressed in expressions of tenderness and adoration. She lately was treated as something beneath a woman; and now, she is elevated to the sphere of a divinity. She was accustomed lately to be called nothing but fool; and now, she is told that she possesses a sublime understanding. In the language of her husband, she was all imperfections; in that of her gallant, she is all charms and graces. The partner of her bed, lorded it over her like a tyrant master; the other, throws himself at her feet as an humble slave; and although the lover, if he had been her husband, would have acted just as the husband did: this reflection escapes the miserable wife, and she only sees that sort of difference between them, which there is between an angel and a brute. She views in her husband, a heart full of thorns; and in her gallant, one crowned with flowers. There a chain of iron presents itself to her sight; here a golden one. There slavery; here dominion. There a dungeon; here a throne.

CLX. In this situation, what can the most resolute woman do? How can she resist two impulses, directed to the same point, one that impels, and the other which attracts her? If heaven does not stretch forth a powerful and a friendly hand to support her, her fall is inevitable. And if she does fall, who can deny that her own husband forced her over the precipice? If he had not treated her with indignity and abusive railing, the flattery of the lover would have been of no avail. It was his ill-treatment which occasioned her downfall. All this mischief, most frequently proceeds from the mean opinion, which married men are apt to entertain of the other sex. Let them renounce these erroneous maxims, and the consequence will be, that their wives will become more faithful and constant. Let them cherish and esteem them, for God has commanded they should love them; and I can’t understand, how love and contempt, with respect to the same object, can be entertained, and accommodate themselves together in one and the same heart.

I. In ancient times, if we believe Plutarch, music was used only in temples, and that afterwards it passed to theatres. Formerly, it served as an ornament to divine worship; afterwards, it was used to stimulate vice. Heretofore, the melody of sacred hymns only were heard; afterwards, we began to listen to profane songs. Music originally, was used as an obsequies to the Deities, it was afterwards applied to inflame the passions. In old times, it was dedicated to Apollo, but it seems as if afterwards, Apollo had divided the protection of this art with Venus; and as if to poison the soul, and paint on the theatres the charms of vice, the finest colourings of rhetoric, joined to the harmony of poetic numbers, were not sufficient, they, to render these charms more attracting, and make the venom more active, confectioned and compounded rhetoric, poetry, and music together.

II. This diversity of uses to which music was appropriated, induced a difference in the composition of it: and as it was necessary in the temple, and in the theatre, to excite distinct affections, they contrived distinct modes of melody, to correspond, as their echoes, with the different affections of the soul. The Dorian mode, as grave, majestic, and devout, was reserved for the temple; and in the theatres, they adopted different modes, suited to the diversity of the matters. In the amorous representations, they used the Lydian mode, which was soft and tender; and when they had a mind to give the movement a stronger effect and expression, they applied the mixed Lydian, which was more pathetic and striking than the Lydian by itself. In warlike representations, they used the Phrygian mode, which is terrible and furious; and in affairs of mirth and jollity, or favouring of the Bacchanalian, they adopted the Æolian, which was sprightly and comic. The Subphrygian mode, was appropriated to calm the transports, raised by the Phrygian; and thus, to produce other effects, they had other modes of melody.

III. Whether these modes of the antients, corresponded with the different tones used by the moderns, is not clearly ascertained. Some authors affirm they do, others doubt it. I myself, am inclined to think they do not, because the diversity of our tones, have not that influence to vary the passions, which was experienced in the different modes of the antients.

IV. Thus music, in those remote ages, was divided between the temple and the theatre, and was applied promiscuously, to worship at the altar, and to the corruption of manners. But although this was a lamentable falling-off, it was not the greatest abuse which has been practised on this noble art, the accomplishment of its perversion being reserved for our times. When the alteration in the application of music, which was employed heretofore only in divine worship, took place, the Greeks made a very judicious division and distribution of it; reserving to the temple, that which was proper for the temple; and giving to the theatre, that which was suitable to the theatre; but what has been done in these latter times? Not content with keeping theatrical music for the use of the theatre, they have translated it to the church.

V. The church chants of these times, with respect to their form and manner, sound like the songs of a jovial company sitting round a table. They are all composed of minuets, recitatives, light airs, and allegros; at the end of which, they substitute something which is called grave; but this is done very sparingly, lest it should seem tiresome and disgusting. What can this mean? Should not all the music in a church be grave? Ought not the whole composition to be calculated to impress gravity, devotion, and decency? The instrumental music is the same; but what effect can these Canary-birds airs, so predominant in the taste of the moderns, produce in the soul? This music, so replete with jigs, that you can scarce find a piece without one, can raise no other emotions in the imagination, than those of frolic and levity. He who hears on the organ, the same minuet which he heard at the ball, what effect will it have on him? No other, than reminding him of the lady with whom he danced the preceding night. Thus the music, which ought to translate the spirit of him who listens to it, from the terrestrial to the celestial temple, conveys it from the church to the banquet; and the ideas raised in the imagination of the person who hears this, if either from constitution, or vicious habits, he is ill disposed, will not forsake him at the church door.

VI. O good God! is this the sort of music, which expressed from the breast of the great Austin, while he was still wavering between God and the world, sighs of compunction, and tears of piety? Oh how I wept, said the saint, addressing himself to God in his confessions, moved and excited, by the salutary hymns and canticles of thy church! Those words and sounds, made a lively impression on my ears, and through them, thy truths penetrated my mind. My heart burned with affection, and my eyes melted in tears. This was the effect of the church music of those times; which, like the lyre of David, expelled the evil spirit, that had not quite forsaken the possession of St. Austin, and invoked the good one; the music of these times expels the good one, if such resides, and invites the evil one. The ecclesiastical chant of those days, was like the sound of the trumpets of Joshua, which threw down the walls of Jericho, that is, the passions which fortify the strong town of Vice. The chant of the present times, resembles the songs of the Syrens, which lead navigators on rocks and shoals.

VII. How much better was the church with the plain chant, the only one known in it for many ages, and which, for the most part, was composed by the monks of St. Benedict, who were the greatest masters in the world at that time, among whom, should be first reckoned Gregory the Great, and the celebrated Guido Aretinus; after them came John Murs, a doctor of the Sorbonne, who invented the notes, which mark the various duration of the points; and truly, the simplicity of that chant, was not deficient in melodies, capable of moving the passions, and sweetly suspending the hearers. The compositions of Guido Aretinus were reckoned so pathetic, that cardinal Baronius tells us, that, in the year 1022, pope Gregory VIII. sent for him from his convent of Arezzo, and would not let him depart his presence, till he had taught him to sing a short verse of his Antiphonario. This was the person who invented the modern system of music, or artificial progression, which is now used, and called the scale of Guido Aretinus. He also contrived the harmonious combination of voices, in different tones; which art, was in all probability known to the antients, but all traces of it were then lost.

VIII. The plain chant, executed with proper pauses, has a peculiar excellence for the use of churches, which is, that being incapable of exciting such affections as are raised by theatrical music, it necessarily follows, that it must be the best adapted to induce such as are proper for the church. Who, by the sonorous majesty of the hymn Vexilla Regis, by the festive gravity of the Pange Lingua, by the mournful tenderness of the Invitatorio de Difuntos, would not feel himself excited to veneration, devotion, and contrition? We hear these chants every day, notwithstanding which, they always seem pleasing; when at the same time, after half a dozen repetitions, modern compositions grow tiresome and unsavoury to us.

IX. I would not however, on this account, quarrel with the figured, or, as it is commonly called, the organ chant; as I am sensible, it has great advantages over the plain; because it preserves and marks the accents on the words, which in the plain chant is impossible; and because the different duration of the points, produce to the ear that agreeable effect, which is caused to the sight, by a well-proportioned inequality of colours. It is only the abuse that has been introduced in the organ chant, which makes me prefer the plain one; and am in this respect, like a man who anxiously covets plain food, and avoids the more delicate, when he knows it is corrupted.

X. What good-disposed ears can, in sacred chants, endure those enormous breaks, and lascivious inflections, which offend against the rules of decency, and are contrary to those of music? I speak of those flights and wanderings, which seem as if they had been studied, and which the voice takes by straying from the subject of the melody; of those languishing falls from one point to another, that run not only through the semi-tone, but also through all the intermediate comas, and are transitions, which are not contained in art, nor does Nature allow them.

XI. Experience shews, that the changes which the voice makes in the chant, by running through small intervals (such passages containing in themselves a degree of effeminate softness, if not a lascivious tendency), are apt to produce in the minds of hearers, an effect, correspondent to such sort of ideas, and impress on the fancy certain confused images, which represent nothing good. On this account, many of the antients, and particularly the Lacedæmonians, reprobated as pernicious to youth, the sort of music called Chromatic, which by the introduction of B-flatts, and sostenutos, divides the octave into smaller intervals than the natural ones. Hear what Cicero says of this: Chromaticum creditur repudiatum pridem fuisse genus, quod adolescentum remolesccrent eo genere animi; Lacedæmones improbasse ferentur. (Lib. 1. Tuscul. Quæst.) It may be supposed, they would have found more reason for prohibiting the Enharmonic also; which, by the addition of more flats and sostenutos, and by being joined to the two other sorts, the Diatonic and Chromatic, which must necessarily precede it, and by making the interval less still, divides the octave into a greater number of points: in consequence of which combination (the voice, by sometimes deviating from the natural point, through spaces which are yet shorter, that is to say, the minor semi-tones) there results a music, more soft and effeminate than the Chromatic.

XII. Is it not much to be lamented, that the Christians don’t use the same precaution the antients did, to prevent music from perverting the manners of youth? But we are so far from doing this, that already no music is allowed to be good, in which there is not introduced at every turn, both in the human voice, and in the instruments, points, which they call foreign, and which pass through all parts of the diapason, from the natural point to the accidental one; and this is the mode. There is no doubt but these transitions, managed with moderation, art and genius, produce an admirable effect; because they mark the expression of the words with more vivacity and spirit, than the pure diatonic progressions; and there results from so contriving things, a more delicate and expressive music. But the composers who are capable of doing this, are very few, and those few are the occasion of an infinite number of others losing and exposing themselves; who, by endeavouring to imitate them, for want of talents and address to manage the business, fail in the attempt, and form with their foreign introductions, a ridiculous music, which sometimes is insipid, and at others harsh; and when they mistake the least, there results from their labours, an unmeaning softness, and lascivious delicacy, which has no good effect on the mind, because there is no expression in it, capable of exciting any noble emotion. If, notwithstanding all that is objected to it, composers are desirous such music should go down, because it is the fashion, let them apply it to the use of the theatres and concert rooms; but don’t let them introduce it into the churches, as fashions were never contrived or calculated for them; and if the divine offices do not admit of change of modes, either in vestments or rites, why should they be admitted in musical compositions?

XIII. The case is, that this change of modes, contains at the bottom a certain venom, which Cicero gives an admirable description of; for he remarks, that in Greece, with the same pace manners declined towards corruption, music declined from its antient majesty, towards an affected softness; either because an effeminate music corrupted the integrity of men’s minds, or because a vitiated and depraved music debauches their taste, and inclines them to relish those bastard melodies, which, as symbols of, are best suited to their perverted manners: Civitatumque hoc multarum in Græcia interfuit, antiquum vocum servare modum: quarum mores lapsi, ad mollitiem pariter sunt immutati in cantibus; aut hac dulcedine, corruptelaque depraviti, ut quidam putant: aut cum severitas morum ob olia vitia cecidisset, tum fuit in auribus, animisque mutatis etiam huic mutationi locus. (Lib. 2. de Legibus.) So that the taste for this effeminate music, is the effect or cause of some relaxation in the mind. I would not however be understood to say, that all those who have a taste for such music, are tainted with this defect. Many of strict and incorruptible virtue, whom no vitiated music can warp, seem to approve it; but they in general do this, because they hear it is the fashion: and even many, though in reality they do not relish it, are led to say they do, only because they would not be looked upon as people wedded to, and prejudiced in favour of antiquated customs, and as persons, who are not possessed of faculties, capable of relishing the fine taste of the moderns.

XIV. I am ready however to confess, that there have lately been published some excellent compositions, both with respect to the pleasing elegance of their taste, and the subtilty of the art displayed in them; but by way of contrast to these, which are very rare, an innumerable quantity of others have been produced, that to the ears are insufferable. This arises, partly from people undertaking to compose, who are not capable of doing it; and partly from ordinary composers pretending to take licences, which should only be attempted by great masters.

XV. It fares with music at this time, as it fares with surgery. In the same manner, that every blood letter of middling ability, takes upon him the name and occupation of a surgeon, every organist and violin player, of reasonable dexterity, sets himself up for a composer. This they can do, with little difficulty or labour, for they have only to get by heart, the general rules of consonance and dissonance; and then, from the numberless manuscripts, or printed violin sonatas with which the world abounds, take the first light air which occurs, or seems pleasing to them, and apply the tone of that air to the words; and as the voice proceeds, they, by those general rules, go on covering it with a dry accompanyment, which contains neither imitation nor excellence; and between the pauses of the voice, they may introduce a burst of violins for ten or a dozen bars, more or less, provided that is the stile of the sonata from whence they made the theft. If they would content themselves with doing no more than this, we might be brought to endure their productions: but the worst of the evil is, that from an affectation of being thought superior to trivial composition, they introduce false concords, without preparing, or being able to resolve them, and by that means, make terrible blemishes, and commit faults, that are inexcusable; and because also, they see some illustrious composers, dispense with the common rules, and take liberties, such as writing two-fifths, or two octaves immediately following each other, which they do only for the sake of introducing a good passage, or to attain some excellence of harmony, and which, without taking such a liberty, they could not have effected: and although these never take such a latitude, but under particular circumstances, and subject to certain limitations; the others have the audacity to attempt it, out of time, and when it can answer no purpose whatever; by which means, they are thrown to the ground with such violence, that the stroke of their fall is shocking to the ear.

XVI. Middling composers, although, by endeavouring to tread in the steps of the excellent ones, they do not fall into such gross errors, generally form a music, which at some times is lifeless, and at others turgid. This is occasioned by their introducing accidentals, and changing the keys in the same piece; which method, if practised by great masters, who used it seasonably and opportunely, not only gives a greater sweetness to the music, but communicates to the words, a more striking impression, than they of themselves, without this assistance, could convey or produce. Some strangers had a happy talent at doing this; but no one understood it better, than our Don Antonio de Literes, a composer of the first rate, and who is perhaps the only one, who knows how to unite all the majesty and sweetness of the antient music, with the bustle and hurry of the modern; but in the management of the accidental points, he has a singular address, for almost every time he introduces them, they give an energy to the music, which is correspondent to, and strengthens the signification of the words they fall on. To do this, requires both genius and science, but much more genius than science. From this deficiency in point of genius, we find masters in Spain, of great knowledge and comprehension, who were not so happy as to succeed in this way; so that, although in their compositions we admire the subtilty of their art, their works do not obtain the approbation of our ears.

XVII. Those who are unassisted by genius, and who, on the other hand, do not possess more than a moderate knowledge of music, make false concordances, introduce accidentals, and change the keys, because doing so is the fashion; and because they are fond of having it thought, they know how to manufacture these sort of airs; although, in reality, they seldom produce any air at all; and notwithstanding their compositions are conformable to the common rules, still they are unsavoury, and disagreeable; and when they are performed in the church, instead of producing that sweet calm, and inward composure which are requisite to devotion, they excite perturbations in the hearts of the hearers.

XVIII. Between the first and second of these, there comes in another sort of composers, who, though in point of abilities, are above mediocrity, they for sacred compositions are the worst of all. These are they, who sport with, and run the changes, upon all the delicacies music is capable of; but dispose them in such a manner, that the melody produced, has the sound of pantomime airs. All the irregularities they practise, either in false concordances, or accidentals, are introduced as graces, but graces very different from those recommended by St. Paul in his Epistle to the Colossians: Ingratia cantantes in cordibus vestris Deo: instead of such; they are graces of banter, and harmonies of indecency; and are a sort of passages, the best of which, the musicians themselves call childish and apish. Are such proper for the church? Let them, in God’s name, be sent to the courts of the comedies, and the halls of the dance. But is it not an impious abuse, to introduce into the house of God, things which are trifling, apish and indecent? And is not the blending them with divine worship, an abominable error?

XIX. Is not this attempting to banish from music, all enlivening chearfulness, except that which savours of the puerile and buffoon? Music may be exceedingly chearful, and at the same time, impregnated with a majestic gravity, capable of exciting in the hearers, affections of respect and devotion: or, to speak more properly, the most chearful and delectable music of all, is that which induces a sweet tranquillity in the soul; collecting it within itself, and let us say, elevating it with a kind of extatic rapture, superior to the body it is attached to; that the mind may take a flight, towards the mansions of bliss, and contemplate divine things in a nearer point of view. This is the sort of chearful music, which St. Austin approved as useful in churches, and which he treated St. Athanasius with excessive severity for having objected to; because its proper effect, is elevating those hearts to noble affections, which are oppressed and weighed down with earthly inclinations: Ut per hæc oblectamenta aurium infirmior animus in affectum pietatis assurgat. (Lib. 10. Confess. cap. 32.)

XX. It is true, that the masters capable of forming this noble kind of melody, are very few; but those who can’t attain this degree of perfection, should content themselves with doing something less; taking care however, that their compositions should tend to excite such dispositions, as are suitable to divine offices; or at least being careful, that they should not conduce to promote inclinations of an opposite nature; and at all events, although it should be at the hazard of disobliging the multitude, to shun those skittish sort of airs, which have a certain occult relation to forbidden affections; but of the two evils into which church music is in danger of falling, that of its being offensive to the ears, is a less mischief, than that of its being an incentive to vice.

XXI. The power of music to stir the passions, and raise in the minds of men, dispositions to virtue or vice, is very well known. It is related of Pythagoras, that, having by music adapted to produce such an effect, inflamed the heart of a certain youth to a dishonourable amour, he afterwards, by changing the tone, reduced him to the dominion of continence. It is also related of Timotheus, a musician of Alexander the Great, that he could irritate the martial fury of that prince to such a degree, that he would seize on his arms, and put himself in an attitude, as if his enemies were in front, and he on the point of charging them. This effect, however, was the less surprising, because the natural disposition of the prince, conspired to assist the skill of the artist. Some add, that after having enraged, he calmed him; and caused Alexander, who never turned his back on any danger, to become a fugitive from his own rage. But what is told of the power of another musician, which was exercised on Henry II. King of Denmark, called the Good, is more extraordinary than all this; for it is said, that by a movement and touch, calculated to excite choler, he inflamed the rage of that prince to such a degree, that he fell upon, and put to death, three or four of his domestics, and would have carried the havoc and devastation still further, if he had not been restrained by violence. This was the more wonderful, because the king’s natural disposition, was gentle and peaceable.

XXII. I don’t imagine the musicians of these times can perform such miracles, neither perhaps did the antient ones; for these histories are not extracted from Holy Writ. It is however certain, that music, according as the melody is varied, induces in the mind a variety of dispositions, some good, others bad. With one we find ourselves moved to sorrow, with another to mirth; with one to clemency, with another to blood; with one to fortitude, with another to pusillanimity; and so on with respect to other inclinations.

XXIII. There is no doubt of the justness of this remark; neither is there any, that a master, who composes for the church, should dispose the music in such a way, and write it in such a stile, as is best calculated to promote the spiritual welfare of souls; and to sustain the majesty, decorum, and solemnity of divine worship. St. Thomas, touching upon this point, says, the chant was a salutary institution in the church, because it excited sickly souls, that is, such as were weak in spirit, to devotion. But, alas! what would the saint say, if he was to hear in the church some of the airs of these times, which, so far from fortifying the sick, enfeeble the healthy; which, instead of promoting devotion in the breast, banish it from the soul; and instead of elevating the mind to pious reflections, bring to the memory forbidden things? I repeat it again, that it is an obligation on musicians, and a very serious one, to correct this abuse.

XXIV. Truly, when I reflect on the serious turn of mind for which Spaniards heretofore were remarkable, I can’t help being struck with amazement, to find at present, that we can relish no other but puppet-shew music. This looks as if the celebrated Spanish gravity, was reduced to nothing more, than stalking stiff and erect up and down the street. The Italians, by means of the false flattering insinuation, that music has been improved of late days, have made us the slaves of their taste. I, for my own part, believe what they call improvement, to be ruin and destruction, or something very near it. All intellectual arts, of whose excellencies, the understanding and the taste, cloathed with an equal degree of authority are judges, have their points, or zenith of perfection, which when they are once arrived at, he who attempts to advance them, commonly occasions their decline, and puts them in a train, which leads to their destruction.

XXV. It will perhaps, with respect to the science of music, happen to Italy very soon, if it has not happened there already, just as it happened to it with regard to the Latin language, oratory, and poetry. These faculties, in the age of Augustus, arrived to that state of propriety, beauty, elegance, and natural energy, in which their true perfection consisted. Those who succeeded to that age, pretended, by the violent introduction of improper ornaments, to refine them; by doing which, they precipitated them from Nature to affectation, and from thence they afterwards fell into barbarism. The poets who succeeded Virgil, and the orators who succeeded Cicero, were thoroughly persuaded in themselves, that they had given new graces, and new excellencies to the two arts; but the keen Petronius Arbiter, after upbraiding them with their ridiculous and pompous affectation, told them very plainly, what in reality they had done: Vos primi omnium eloquentiam perdidistis.

XXVI. To see whether the music of these times suffers the same shipwreck, which the before-named sciences underwent; let us examine, in what the music, which is now practised, differs from that of the antecedent age. The first and most remarkable distinction which occurs, is the diminution of the figures. The shortest points which were formerly known, were demi-semi quavers; and with them, it was imagined, they had given to the execution of the chant, and the instruments, as great a degree of velocity, as without doing violence to both, they were capable of attaining. This did not seem sufficient, and a little while afterwards, they invented dividing the demi-semi quavers into thirds, by which means, the movement became one part in three quicker than it was before. The extravagance of composers did not stop here, for they doubled the demi-semi quavers, and made a movement, that, for its rapidity, seems to have gone beyond the reach of imagination, which can scarce conceive, how it is possible, in the compass of a bar, to articulate or express sixty-four points. I don’t know whether before this age, any double demi-semi quavers ever appeared figured in any composition; except it was in the song of the Risuenor, which father Kircher, in the middle of the last century, caused to be printed, in the first book of his Musurgia Universalis; and I am even inclined to think, that solfa savours of the hyperbolic; for it is not easy to persuade me, that that bird, with all his agility and flexibility of throat, could articulate sixty-four points, in the space of raising and falling the hand, within the compass of regular time.

XXVII. I now say, this diminution of figures, instead of perfectioning music, entirely spoils and ruins it; for two reasons: the first is, that it will be very difficult to find a person, who either with the voice, or an instrument, is capable of executing points of such velocity. The before-cited father Kircher, says, that having made some compositions which were out of the common track, and of difficult execution, (though I believe they were not so difficult as those which are now the fashion) he could not find in all Rome, a singer capable of performing them. How then can you expect to find in every province, and in every cathedral, instrumental performers and singers, who, in exact time, and with the due intonation, are capable of executing these exceeding minute figures; and to this difficulty, we may likewise add, that of the many extravagant flights and jumps, which at present are the fashion also. To articulate such a solfa, requires a throat of prodigious volubility; and to express such music on an instrument, demands admirable agility, and dexterity of hand; and, therefore, such compositions are only fit for one or two very singular executionists, which may be found in this or that particular court; but they should not be printed for the use of the world at large; for the same singer, who, with a natural and easy solfa, would give pleasure to the hearers, would, by attempting these difficult passages, distract them; and from the same hand, by which a sonata, of easy execution, would sound delightsome and sweet, one of arduous difficulty would sound like the talking of gibberish.

XXIV. The second reason why this diminution of figures destroys music, is because it does not give space for the ear to perceive melody. As the delight the eye receives by a well-disposed variety of colours, could not be attained, if each was to pass the sight with so quick a motion, that it could scarce make a distinct impression on the organ, and it is the same with all sorts of visible objects; just so, if the points into which music is divided are of so short a duration, as to be incapable of acting distinctly on the ear, this organ, would not perceive harmony but confusion. Further, this second inconvenience, like the rest, is increased by the abuse, which, in their practice is committed by instrumental performers; who, although they are but slow or indifferent hands, generally make ostentation of playing with great velocity; and commonly strive to execute the sonata, with more rapidity than the composer intended, or than the character of the music requires. From whence it follows, that by a defect in the most essential part of the execution, which is precision and exactness, the music loses its true and proper genius; and the by-standers hear nothing but a confused clatter. Let every one then pursue the mode, which is suitable to his talents and abilities; for if he, who is heavy and slow of foot, endeavours to run as fast as him who is light and nimble, his whole career will be nothing but stumbles: and if he, who can only run, attempts to fly, he will soon fall, and dash himself to pieces.

XXIX. The second distinction between antient and modern music, consists in the frequency and excess of transitions in this last, from the diatonic to the chromatic and enharmonic stile; and in often changing the tones, by the introduction of sostenutos and B flats. This, as I observed before, has a good effect, if it is done with moderation and opportunely. But the Italians of this day, run to such an extravagant excess with these transitions, that they force harmony off its hinges. Whoever has any difficulty of believing this, let him, free from prejudice or partiality, consult his own ears, whenever he hears any of those sonatas or chants performed which abound much in accidentals.

XXX. The third distinction consists in the liberty which composers at present take, of mixing in their music, all sorts of modulations that occur to them; without confining themselves, either to imitation or theme. The pleasure perceived by this music, which I will take the liberty of calling loose and dishevelled, is vastly inferior to the enjoyment afforded by that beautiful regularity and contrivance, with which the masters of the last age, introduced a pleasing variety into a passage; and especially, when the music was calculated for four voices. Strangers are sensible of the high value of such compositions; nor are excellent ones of this species wanting in other countries; but composers in general, avoid writing in this stile, because the doing it well, demands more labour and study, than they are commonly disposed to take; so that if now and then they introduce, and begin pursuing a passage, they quickly leave it, and give a loose to their fancy, letting it run where it lifts. Strangers, who come to Spain, are for the most part mere executionists, and therefore not capable of forming this kind of music; because it requires more scientific knowledge, than they are generally masters of; and therefore, to conceal that they are deficient in point of ability, they endeavour to persuade people, the method of pursuing passages is out of fashion.

XXXI. This is the species of music, with which the Italians, by the hand of their beloved master Duron, have regaled us; for he was the man, who first introduced foreign modes into the music of Spain. It is true, that since his time, these modes have been so refined, that if Duron could now rise from his grave, he would not know them; but still, the blame of all these novelties is imputable to him, for he was the first who opened the door for their introduction. Virgil’s description of the winds, may be applied to the airs of the Italian music.

With regard to the science of music, we see verified in the Spaniards, with respect to the Italians, that easy condescension in admitting novelties, which Pliny lamented in the Italians themselves, with respect to the Greeks: Mutatur quotidie ars interpolis, & ingeniorum Græciæ flatu impellimur.

XXXII. With all this, we are not without able composers in Spain, who have not totally fallen in with the fashion, or who jointly, with conforming to it, and judiciously combining the antient and modern together, have wrote some valuable and delectable pieces of grammatical music; in which, the sweetness and majesty of the old compositions has been preserved. Speaking of this, brings afresh to my memory, the savoury and luxuriant Literes; and I can’t help mentioning him a second time, for he is a composer truly original. A character of elevated sweetness, which is proper and natural to him, is resplendent in all his works, and which never forsakes him, even when he sets words to music, on amorous or profane subjects: so that even in songs of love, or comic gallantry, he preserves a kind of sublimity, which can only touch, or be felt by the superior part of the soul; this he manages with such address, that he awakes tenderness, and at the same time lulls lust to sleep. I would have this composer always employed in writing for sacred subjects: because the genius of his compositions, is better calculated to inspire celestial affections, than to foment earthly amours. If some of his music, is less impregnated with that tumultuous air and clatter, for which the works of many other authors are admired: it, for that very reason, is, in my opinion, better calculated for the use of churches; because music in them, demands a serious gravity, which should sweetly calm the mind; and not a puerile flightiness, which would excite to dance with castanets. Compositions of the last kind are very easy, and are therefore made by many; those of the first sort are difficult, and therefore but few attempt them.

XXXIII. What we have hitherto said of the irregularity and disorders of church music, does not extend to chants in the vulgar tongue only, but to psalms, masses, lamentations, and other parts of divine service, because the modes in fashion, have been introduced into them all. I have, in printed lamentations, seen the changes of the airs characterised in the same terms, which are used to describe them in comic music. Here you read grave, there ayroso, and in another place andante. What, can’t we admit of all the music being grave, even in a lamentation? And is it necessary to introduce light comedy airs into the representation of the most afflicting mysteries? If grief could find a place in heaven, Jeremiah would lament afresh, at seeing such music applied to his songs of mourning. Is it impossible, that in those complainings, where every letter is a sigh, corresponding with, and expressive of the various sensations, arising from the subjects of his lamentation; either the ruin of Jerusalem by the Chaldeans, the destruction of the world for sin, the affliction of the church militant for the persecution of its martyrs; and, to sum up the whole, the anguish and sufferings of our Redeemer, for the salvation of mankind. I say, can the feelings produced by such sad and distressing calamities, be expressed with airy tunes and recitatives? In the mournful songs of Jeremiah, which some expositors call the Alphabet of the Penitents, should we hear the sound of festive airs and serenades? With how much more reason than him, ought we to exclaim here in the language of Seneca, when he censured Ovid, for having introduced into the description of so tragical an event as that of Deucalion’s flood, a verse which savoured of gallantry: Non est res satis sobria lascivire devorato orbe terrarum. The Cythara of Nero, while Rome was burning, had not so harsh a sound, as the harmony of dances in the representation of such affecting mysteries.

XXXIV. And besides offending in this particular against the rules of reason, they sin also against the laws of music, which prescribe, that the tone of the chant, should be suited to the meaning of the words; and therefore, when the language is solemn and expressive of sorrow, the tone of the music should be grave and affecting.

XXXV. It is true, that against this rule, which is one of the most cardinal, musicians very frequently sin in all sorts of compositions, some from being deficient, and others by exceeding. Those fall into the error of deficiency, who form music without any attention to the spirit or meaning of the words to which they apply it; but hardly any fall into those gross mistakes, except such as scarce deserve the name of composers, and who are capable of doing nothing more, than racking or weaving together, shreds and strips, of the compositions of other musicians.

XXXVI. Those err by exceeding or doing too much, who regulate their music with a puerile nicety, to correspond with the distinct or separate signification of each word, taken or standing by itself, without having regard to the meaning of the whole context. An example produced by father Kircher to illustrate this abuse, will explain what I mean. He instanced the manner, in which a composer had set to music the following verse: Mors festinat luctuosa; to the words mors and luctuosa, he applied a mournful solfa; but to the word festinat, which stood in the middle between them, as it seemed to him, to signify vivacity or quickness, he appropriated a career of allegros, that would have caused the most sluggish nag who heard them, to bound about and give cabriols.

XXXVII. I saw something as bad, or indeed even worse than this, in one of the lamentations I cited before; where to the music adapted to express the following sentence: Deposita est vehementer non habens consolatorem, was marked ayroso. How ill-suited is an airy movement, to express the lamentable fall of Jerusalem, and also that of all mankind bowed down and crippled with the weight of their sins; which misfortune, was aggravated with the additional and distressing circumstance, of their being destitute of comfort under the calamity? But the blame of all this, was imputable to the adverb vehementer, because to express vehemence, appeared to the composer to require a lively movement; and thus, when he came to that word in the sentence, he quickened his pace, and upon the adverb vehementer, expended in rapid notes, music to the amount of forty crotchets; but the word, in the sense it was there used, was intended to signify the same as gravissime, and to express with energy, the degree of grief and sadness, occasioned by the fall of Jerusalem, which, crippled and bore down with the crushing weight of its sins, came to the ground, temple, walls, and houses, all together.

XXXVIII. Nobody was more guilty of this fault, than the celebrated Duron, and he committed it to such a degree, that sometimes in the same couplet, just as the signification of the words of the verse varied, taken separately or by themselves, he would vary the affectations of the chant, six or eight times; and although it required great address and ability to do this, which he in reality was possessed of; such an exertion of his talents was ill applied.

XXXIX. Some (for we would not omit to mention this) judge, that the composing music adapted to different subjects, consists much, in a right choice of the keys; and they assign one for grave subjects, another for chearful ones, and another for mournful ones, and so on; but I believe, this contributes little or nothing to the business; for there is no key whatever, in which there have not been written, very expressive and pathetic compositions, suited to excite all kinds of affections. The different place which the two semi-tones occupy in the diapason, and which is what the distinction of keys consists in, is insufficient to induce this diversity; because in whatever place an accidental is introduced, and they introduce them at every turn, this order is changed; and because various, or the most parts of the composition, by varying their terminations, fall upon, or catch the semi-tones, in a different position, from that in which they stand or are placed, with respect to the diapason. For example; although the first key-tone, which begins D solre, proceeds in this order, first a tone, then a semi-tone, after that three tones, to which there follows another semi-tone, and at last there comes a whole tone. The different traces, or minute passages of the composition, taken each by itself, do not follow this order; because one begins in the first, another in the tone which is next after it, and so on with respect to all the other parts of the diapason, and they terminate wherever the composer likes best; by which means, in every trace or minute passage of the composition, the position of the semi-tones is varied, as much, as in the different diapasons, which constitute the diversity of the keys.

XL. What confirms me in this sentiment, that the suiting music to produce a grave or a sprightly effect, does not depend upon the choice of the key it is wrote in, is, that the greatest musicians, are much divided in their opinions upon this point. What one considers as a lively key, another thinks a mournful one; what one esteems a devout key, another calls a flighty one. The two great jesuits, father Kircher, and father Dechales, are so opposite in their sentiments upon this head, that the same key, which father Kircher characterizes in this manner, Harmoniosus, magnificus, & regia majestate plenus, father Dechales speaks thus of: Ac tripudia, & choreas est comparatus, diciturque propterea lascivus; and they differ little less, in their assignation of the characters of many other keys, if not of all.

XLI. The foregoing, should be understood to relate and apply to the essential difference of keys, which consists, in the diversity of position of the semi-tones in the diapason; but not to their accidental difference; which, consists, in their being taken higher or lower. This may conduce something to create effect; because the same music, set in low notes, which is religious and grave, transposed to high ones, loses of its majesty, and acquires a degree of vivacity, that is ill suited to a solemn subject: and for this reason, I am of opinion, that the movements of church music should not be very quick: because, by hurrying the voices in the chant, they occasion them to sound harsh; and besides this, prevent that easy play and flexibility of throat, which is necessary to produce the effect the music requires; and which many times consists, or is contained in the intonations; I say further, that over and above these inconveniences, music composed of quick movements, and set in high notes, is not so well calculated to move the affections of respect, devotion, and piety, as that which is written in lower tones, and marked to be performed in slower time.

XLII. For the same reason, I am against the introduction of violins into churches. St. Thomas, in the place I before cited, objects to the admitting any kind of instruments in the church; and the reason he gives for the objection is, that the sensible delight which the instrumental music occasions, hinders devotion. But it is not easy to reconcile this reasoning, with what the saint says in another place, to wit, that the delight perceived by the air, excites weak spirits to devotion; and he, in the same place, approves of the use of musical instruments in synagogues, because the Jews being a hard and carnal people, there is a necessity for having recourse to such means, to provoke and stir them to piety. At least then for people of this stamp, musical instruments in churches would be very serviceable; and there being a great many of that disposition who frequent churches; consequently, the instruments would be found exceedingly useful. Besides, I can’t comprehend, how the sensible delight which instrumental music occasions, should induce to devotion those who on account of their hardness are little disposed to it, and obstruct it in those whose hearts are more inclined to divine worship.

XLIII. I acknowledge and confess, that it is much more easy for me to misunderstand St. Thomas, than for St. Thomas to advance any thing that is wrong: but after all, the universal practice of the whole church authorizes the use of instruments; and the only difficulty or disagreement, seems to rest in the choice of them. I for my own part think, that violins are improper in that sacred theatre; their shrill notes, although harmonious, are still shrill, and excite a puerile vivacity in our spirits, very different from that decent attention, which is due to the majesty of mysteries; and especially in these times, when those who compose for violins, studiously write their music so high, that he who is to execute it, can scarce forbear striking the bridge of the instrument with his fingers.

XLIV. There are many other instruments much fitter to be used in churches than violins, their tones being much more respectful and grave; such as the harp, the violincello, and the harpsichord; neither would the inconvenience of the want of trebles in the instruments be felt, by leaving out the violins, but rather, the music by the omission would appear more majestic, which is what is most required in churches. The organ is an admirable instrument; or, to speak more properly, many instruments comprized in one. It is true, that the organists, when they are so disposed, can make a sort of pipe and tabor of it; and it is also true, that this disposition seems to come upon them pretty frequently.

XLV. It would not be foreign, but rather very consonant to the object of our present criticism, to say something in this place of the poetry, to which they give the epithet of divine, and which is composed to be sung in churches, I may without temerity, venture to pronounce, that poetry in Spain, is in a worse state of perdition than music. The number of those who write couplets is infinite, but none of them are poets. If I was to be asked, which are the most difficult of all arts, I should answer, medicine, poetry, and oratory: and if I was also to be asked, which are the most easy; I should answer, oratory, poetry, and medicine. There is no student, who, if he takes a fancy to it, does not write verses. All the religious who mount the pulpit, and all the doctors who have studied and practised physic, find their partizans: but where will you meet with the truly able physician, the compleat poet, or the perfect orator?

XLVI. Our most learned monk Don John de Mabillon, in his Treatise on Monastic Studies, says, that an excellent poet is a very rare treasure, and I agree with him in sentiment; for upon strict examination, where, among the numbers of poetical essays that are published, will you meet with any one, which (omitting many other requisite qualities) is natural, sublime, sweet and pointed; and at the same time, ingenious, and clear; brilliant without affectation, sonorous without turgidity, and harmonious without impropriety; that runs without hobbling, is delicate without affectation, forcible without harshness, beautiful without paint or strained colouring, noble without presumption, and copious and comprehensive without obscurity? I will almost venture to pronounce, that he who would find a poet capable of writing verses in this stile, should seek for him in the regions inhabited by the Phœnix.

XLVII. In Spain however, poetry is in so deplorable a state, that according to all appearances, it would be needless to search for such a one there. He who errs the least, with the exception of here and there a particular one, seems as if he studied how he should commit faults. All his care appears to be placed, in swelling the verse with irrational hyperboles, and pompous words; by which means, he produces a bloated, and confirmed dropsical poem, the sight of which turns your stomach, and the perusal fills you with melancholy. Those essential qualities, propriety and nature, without which, neither poetry or prose can ever be good, seem to have abandoned, and become fugitives from our compositions. Our authors don’t in their productions, appear to have hit upon that native splendor, which gives a brilliancy to their ideas, but rather, to have disfigured their best thoughts, with affected and bombast expressions; so that their original conceptions, may be compared to a fine woman that falls into indiscreet hands to be dressed and ornamented.

XLVIII. Thus much in general for modern Spanish poetry; but the worst is, that you hear these sort of compositions in the sacred canticles; which are often so bad, that it would be better, instead of them, to sing the couplets of blind men; because these seem to have a tendency to promote devout affections, and their rustic simplicity is in some degree the symptom of a good intention. All the gracefulness, or rather the attempt at displaying it, in the church canticles of these times, consists in low equivocations, trivial metaphors, and puerile changes and rechanges. The worst is, that they are entirely void of spirit, and not at all calculated to excite religious emotions, which are the principal, if not the only qualities required, and which ought to be sought after in such compositions. Don Antonio de Solis was without doubt a person of sublime genius, and one who well understood the excellencies of poetry. He exceeded all others, and even sometimes himself also, in painting the passions with such apt, close, and subtile expressions, that the descriptions of his pen seem to give you a clearer idea of, and make you better acquainted with them, than the knowledge which is gained by experience. But with all this, we in his small sacred tracts, perceive a strange falling-off; because in them, we don’t meet with that nobleness of thought, that delicacy of expression, and that stirring of the passions, which is frequent and common in his other Lyric Poems. This did not happen because he wanted genius or talents to write sacred compositions; for his dirges upon the conversion of St. Francisco de Borja, are some of the best things he ever exhibited, and perhaps the most sublime, which to this day have been composed in the Spanish language.

XLIX. I believe the badness of the composition of these couplets, called Letrillas, which are generally written for festivals, has proceeded from Solis, and other poets of ability, having looked upon them as trifles; though in reality, no other compositions require so much study or serious attention. What subjects can be more noble than those, where the eulogium of the saints and martyrs is sung, and the excellency of the divine attributes and mysteries, is represented and celebrated? These are the things, on which men of abilities, should exert the whole power of their genius and talents. What employment can be more worthy a man of shining parts, than that of painting the beauty of virtue in such amiable colours, as to make mankind in love with it; and representing the deformity of vice, in so striking a point of view, as to make the world abhor and detest it; and to contrive to praise God and his angels in such a way, as would stimulate people to a desire of imitation, and light up in their minds, the flame of adoration and worship? The grandeur of poetry, consists in that active persuasion, which the poet instills into the soul, and with which he moves the heart, to follow the course he would wish it should pursue. To write in this stile, says our Mabillon, speaking of poetry, is not children’s play; much less then, should sacred poetry be only fit to amuse infants; but after all, that which is sung in our churches is nothing better.

L. Even those, whose compositions are held in estimation, do no more, than provide and prepare the first light conceits that occur to them on the subject they are about to write upon; and although they have not in themselves, union with respect to time, or tendency to any design whatever, they distribute them in couplets, and notwithstanding one leads to Flanders, and another to Morocco, they introduce them into the context; and provided each couplet says something, for this is their explanation, although it is without life, spirit, or force; nay more, although it is without order, or direction to any determinate point or purpose, they say it is good composition; when, in truth, it no more deserves the name of a composition, than a heap of stones that of an edifice, or the throwing or huddling together a number of colours, that of a picture.

LI. Keen sentences, wit, airy pleasantry, and lively conceits, are the precise ornaments of poetry; but they should not be introduced into a poem, as if they had been studiously sought after; on the contrary, they should seem as if they were always in waiting, and ready either for the poet to lay his hand on them, or to obey his command; who should pursue the rout he has chalked out for himself, and as he proceeds on, gather such flowers as he meets on his way, and which grow naturally in the road through which he travels. This was the practice of Virgil, Ovid, Horace, and all the illustrious poets of antiquity. To make couplets, which are no more than an unformed mass of little conceits, is a thing very easy, and at the same time very useless; because there is not in them, nor are they capable of containing, any of the sublime excellences of poetry. Why do I say sublime excellences? Not even the lowest requisites which are of its essence.

LII. But I have not even yet mentioned the worst part belonging to the divine canticles; which is, that if not all, a great many of them are composed in a burlesque stile. This is certainly done with great discretion; because by this practice, the things appertaining to God, are converted to things of interlude. What idea can a thousand extravagances, put in the mouths of Gill and Pasquil, give of the ineffable mystery of the incarnation? I shall leave it here, for the thoughts of such an absurdity put me out of all patience; and he to whom such an indignant abuse, does not of itself appear disgusting, I shall never be able to persuade or convince, by any arguments whatever.