Bayle's Dictionary: Volume 2
DRESS.
(Female tenacity, in regard to.)
Thomas Conecte, a monk of the order of the Carmelites, born in Britanny, was burnt at Rome for a Heretic, in the year 1434, after he had been followed by the people as the greatest preacher of his time. Having been much admired in his own country, he left the convent of Rennes, and went into Flanders. He acquired such a reputation there by his preaching, that one cannot sufficiently express the honour that was done him in all the places that he went through, nor the concourse of people that came to his sermons. He declaimed vehemently against the vices of the clergy, and against the luxury of women, especially against their head-dresses, which were of such a prodigious height, that the highest top-knots now are but dwarfs to them. In those days women wore a rich high ornament on the head, which they called "hennins," and the women of the Netherlands dressed themselves with it. Mr. John Juvenal des Ursins (who lived in those times) says that, notwithstanding the wars of France (he speaks of the time of Charles VI) the ladies were excessive in their dress, and wore wonderfully high and broad horns, having on each side ears so large, that it was impossible for them to come
through a door; which I believe were the hennins of Flanders; for those superfluities are quickly spread all over the world among women. They were about an ell long, and as sharp as steeples, with long crapes, set off with rich fringes, hanging down behind their backs like standards. This preacher was so angry with these head-dresses, that he used to inveigh most bitterly against them, abusing the ladies at a strange rate for wearing those hennins as he called them; and to make them more odious to the people, he gave some small presents to little children, wherever he preached, to cry out and hoot at them. The little children were so well taught, that whenever any women came to hear the sermons of brother Thomas, they cried out against their hennins as loud as ever they could, till they pulled them off, or went away ; and then, they would run after and hoot at them ; nay, some would throw stones at them, which occasioned a great deal of disorder; for some great ladies were very much abused by these children, to whom the preacher granted many pardons for their hootings, pretending to have a power to do so. This annoyance lasted so long, that the ladies durst not appear in public, and were forced to come to brother Thomas's sermons in a disguise, with a linen head dress, as ordinary women. He reformed this excess, and obliged the ladies to dress themselves modestly; but it was not so much by the force of the reasons where with he represented the evangelical duties to them, as by exhorting the boys to insult the women that would not reform themselves, and therefore, as soon as he left the country, they put on their head-dresses again, with higher toppings than ever, as it were to make themselves amends for their lost time. It may be said, that they only bowed down their heads like a bulrush, which is the emblem of a repentance that lasts no longer than a day that is designed for an ordinary fast. But Paradin made use of another comparison, that seems yet more proper to me. These are his words: "No more hennins were to be seen, wherever brother Thomas went, such was his hatred against them. This was useful for some time, till that preacher went away from the before mentioned countries. But after his departure, the ladies lifted up their horns again, and did like the snails, which when they hear any noise, pull in their horns, but when the noise is over, sud denly lift them again higher than before. So did the ladies ; for the hennins were never larger, more pompous, and magnificent, than after the departure of brother Thomas. Thus we see what it is to be obstinate against the obstinacy of some persons.Whilst this is printing,1 the gazettes inform us, that at the court of France, a little word spoken incidentally by the king, has been more effectual against the extraordinary height of head-dresses, than all the eloquence of the preachers. They have, for the space of twelve or fifteen years, cried out in vain against that part of women's luxury; they have attacked that colossus with all the figures of rhetoric, supported by the most solid arguments of religion, and instead of overthrowing it, or at least breaking some part of it, they have seen it increase monthly. They saw a new kind of amphitheatre round about their pulpits, which would have been very regular, if women of the same condition had sat down in the same ranks, and if the ranks had been less distant from the preacher, according as the top-knots exceeded each other; but, because places are not distributed according to that proportion, the amphitheatre had no symmetry. It is therefore better to compare this with a wood of lofty trees, wherein those that reach nearer the clouds are mixed with those that do not reach so high. However it be, the preachers did not fight absent enemies; they had a full sight of them, and though they approached to
the very mouth of their cannon, and in the very face of their thunder-bolts, yet they increased and multiplied. Their two-edged sword struck and cut, but the effect it produced was like the labour of a gardener that prunes a tree; his strokes made it greater and fairer; whereas the efficacy of the royal word has been so quick and powerful, that it has almost in one day levelled those proud mountains even with the ground.Duris ut ilex tonsa bipennibus
Nigræ feraci frondis in Algido,
Per damna, per caedea, ab ipso
Ducit opes animumque ferro.
Horat. Od. IV. lib. IV. ver. 57, et seq.
As soon as the women heard, I will not say a prohibition or some threatening, but only a hint of dislike, they laboured all night on that reformation, and the next day they appeared before the monarch in another dress. The reformation made a surprising progress; it passed from the court to the city; and because it would be, they say, like rusticity and meanness not to conform to it, there is good reason to believe that, in a few months, there will remain no footsteps of the fashion that has lasted so long. This shews that, if crowned heads knew their strength in that respect, or if they would make use of it, they would do more with a word, than all the preachers and confessors with a multitude of words. To return to Thomas Conecte; he burnt superfluous clothes, tables, dice, cards, &c.; and let no body see him but in the pulpit. It was a prudent thing; for he might perhaps have forgotten himself in familiar discourses, which would have lessened the great opinion people had of him. Having made a sufficient stay in the Netherlands, he went into Italy, and reformed the order of the Carmelites, at Mantua, not without meeting with some opposition. From Mantua he went to Venice, where he was very much taken notice of; for the ambassadors of the republic
at the court of Eugenius IV, whom he followed to Rome, recommended him to that pope, as a man of a holy life and full of zeal: but they verified the maxim, Pessimum inimicorum genus laudantes, although they went with a good intention about it. The pope, knowing that this great preacher of the Reformation was at Rome, ordered that he should be tried ; and he was found guilty of the most dangerous heresies that could be taught in those times — he blamed the dissolute life of the clergy, and that of the court of Rome. He said, that many abominations were committed in that court; that the church stood in need of a reformation; that the pope's excommunications ought not to be feared, when people serve God; that the monks might eat flesh; and that the clergy, who had not the gift of continency, might marry. He was burnt, and shewed a great constancy, nor did he retract. Some great persons, among the Catholics, have not scrupled to say that he was unjustly put to death. Baptista Mantuanus, who was general of the Carmelites, made a true martyr of him. The Protestants take care not to forget him, when they make a list of those who, at several times, have desired the reformation of the church. — Art. Conecte.DREAMS.
It were to be wished, for the happiness and quiet of an infinite number of persons, that dreams had never been mentioned as presages of future events ; for those who are once possessed with this notion, imagine that the greatest part of the images that pass through their minds in their sleep, are so many predictions, which very often threaten them with future evils. Hence arise a thousand uneasy thoughts ; and where there is one man who is not subject to this weakness, there are a thousand who are not able to free themselves from it. I think we may say of
dreams the same almost as of inchantments, that they are far less mysterious than people believe, and somewhat more than free-thinkers fancy. The histories of all times and places relate, both with respect to dreams and magic, so many surprising things, that those who obstinately deny them all, render themselves suspected, either of want of sincerity, or judgment to discern the force of the proofs. A violent prejudice, or a certain turn of mind, blinds their understanding, when they compare the reasons pro and con.. I have known some men of parts, who denied all presages from dreams upon this principle,— none but God, said they, know things to come, that is, such as are called contingent: but dreams are generally supposed to foretel contingent futurities; God therefore must be the author of those dreams, and then he must produce them by a miracle; and so, in all the countries of the world, he must work an infinite number of miracles, which are no wise agreeable to the character either of his infinite greatness, or sovereign wisdom. These gentlemen insist strongly upon this, that the most mystical dreams are as common among Pagans and Mahometans, as among the followers of the true religion. In effect, read Plutarch, and the other Greek and Roman historians; read the books of the Arabians and the Chinese, and you will find in them as many examples of miraculous dreams, as in the bible, or in Christian histories. It must be confessed, that this objection is of great force, and seems to lead us necessarily to another system,—that, which attributes these sort of dreams, not to God as the immediate cause, but to certain intelligences, who, under the direction of God have a great share in the government of man. It may be supposed, according to the doctrine of occasional causes, that there are general laws, which subject a great number of effects to the desires of such and such intelligences, as there are general laws, which subject to the desires of men the motion of certain bodies. This supposition is not only agreeable to ma opinion, which was very common among the Pagans, but also to the doctrine of the scripture, and to that of the ancient fathers. The Pagans acknowledged several inferior gods, who presided over particular things, and they pretended also, that each man had a genius that governed him. The Roman Catholics pretend, that the doctrine of a guardian-angel, and of an angel presiding over a whole country, a city, or a province, is founded upon the scripture. If you once lay it down for a truth, that God has thought fit to appoint certain spirits, as the occasional cause of man’s conduct, with respect to certain events, then all the difficulties that are objected against dreams vanish away. We must no more wonder that we do not: find a character of greatness or gravity in the images, which advertise us in dreams. Though they be confused or childish, and though they vary according to times and places, and according to the temperament of men’s bodies, this ought not to surprise those, who know the narrow bounds of creatures, and the obstacles which occasional causes, of different kinds, must needs reciprocally raise against one another. Do we not find by experience, every day, that our soul and our body mutually hinder each other in those operations that are peculiar to them? an intelligence, that should act both upon our body and our mind, must needs find divers obstacles in the laws, which establish these two principles, as the occasional cause of certain effects. But whence comes it, may some ask, that these invisible genii do not make use of a fitter time? Why do they not advertise men of things future, while they are awake? Why do they wait till they are asleep? “Illud etiam requiro, cur, si deus ista visa nobis providendi causa dat, non vigilantibus potius det quàm dormientibus? Sive enim externus, & adventitius pulsus animos dormientium commovet, sive per se ipsi animi moventur, sive quae causa alia est, cur secundum quietem aliquid videre, audire, agere videamur, eadem causa vigilantibus esse poterat: idque si nostra causa dii secundum quietem facerent, vigilantibus idem facerent; praesertim cum Chrysippus, Academicos refellens, permulto clariora, & certiora esse dicat, quae vigilantibus videantur quam - quae somniantibus. Fuit igitur divina beneficentia dignius, cum consuleret nobis, clariora visa dare vigilantibus, quam obscuriora, per somnium: quod quoniam non fit, somnia divina putanda non sunt. Jam vero quid opus est circuitione, & amfractu, ut sit utendum interpretibus somniorum potius quam directo? Deus, si quidem nobis consulebat, Hoc facito, Hoc ne feceris, diceret? idque visum vigilanti potius, quam dormienti daret?2 - - - I likewise ask, why, if God gives us these visions, for the sake of fore-sight, he does not rather give them us when awake, than when asleep? For, whether an external and adventitious impulse affects the minds of the sleepers, or their minds are moved of themselves, or there be any other cause, why, in our sleep, we seem to see, hear, or do any thing; the same might be affected in those that are awake: and if the gods did this for our sakes, when we are asleep, they would do the same when we are awake, especially since Chrysippus, refuting the academics, says, that our waking ideas are much more clear and certain than our sleeping ones. It were therefore more worthy of the Divine Goodness,in consulting our benefit, to give us clearer visions when awake, than more obscure in sleep; which not being done, dreams are not to be considered as divine. Besides, where is the use of the round-about way of consulting interpreters of dreams, rather than the direct? For if God considered our good, he would say.—'Do this, avoid doing that:’ and would present such a vision rather to our waking, than to our sleeping thoughts.” Why do they communicate their predictions to people of weak minds, rather than to those of stronger heads? It is easily answered, that those who are awake, are not proper to be thus advertised; for then they consider themselves as the cause of every thing that presents itself to their imagination, and clearly distinguish between what they imagine, and what they see. But when they are asleep, they do not distinguish between their imaginations and sensations; all the objects, which they imagine, appear to them to be present, and they cannot retain exactly the coherence of their images: and so they cannot persuade themselves that they have not connected them together themselves; whence they conclude that some of them proceed from other causes, and Were inspired by some spirit, that would advertise them of something. Can it be denied, that an engine is fitter to be played in a certain manner, when some of its parts are at rest, and when they are not? Let us say the same of our brain. It is more easy to direct in it certain motions for exciting presaging imaginations when the eyes, and other external senses, are locked up, than when they are in action. Do we know how far the effects of sickness or madness may assist the authors of dreams? can we doubt, but that the laws of motion, according to which our organs are moved, and which are only to a certain degree subject to the desires of created spirits, trouble and confound the images, which the author of a dream would render more distinct? Cicero seems to triumph, upon pretence that these images are obscure and intricate. “Jam vero quid opus est circuitione, & amfractu, ut sit utendum interpretibus somniorum potius, quam direoto? -- -- -- -- Venit in contentionem, sit probabilius, deosne immortales, rerum omnium præstantia excellentes, concursare omnium mortalium, qui ubique sunt, non modo lectos, verum etiam grabatos, & cùm stertentes aliquos viderent, objicere his quædam tortuosa, & obscura, quae illi exterriti somnio ad conjectorem manè deferant: an natura fieri, ut mobiliter animus agitatus, quod vigilans viderit, dormiens videre videatur.3 - - - - Besides, where is the use of such a roundabout way of consulting interpreters of dreams, rather than the direct? . . . . It is disputed whether it be more probable that the immortal gods, who excel in all perfection, run up and down, and surround not only the beds, but the very couches of all men, everywhere; and when they find any asleep, present to their imaginations some intricate and obscure ideas, which, terrified by the vision, they are to carry in the morning to an interpreter; or that it happens by a natural effect, that the mind being put into motion, seems to see in sleep what it really saw when awake.” But to this it may be answered, that every creature is limited and imperfect; there may therefore be variations, and even some oddities, according to our way of judgment in the effects, which are directed by the desires of a created spirit. This may serve us as an answer to some objections, which the Freethinkers allege to those who talk to them about the existence of magic; in fine, I affirm that the knowledge of things future is not so great as is imagined, in supposing that there are dreams of divination: for if we duly examine the common relations and popular tradition, most of these dreams inform us only of such things as happen in other countries, or such as are quickly to come to pass. A man dreams of the death of a friend or relation, and it is found, say they, that this friend or relation died fifty leagues off at the time of this dream. To reveal such a thing as this, does not imply the knowledge of things to come; others dream of I know not what, that threatens them with some misfortune as with death, for instance. The genius who is the author of this dream, may know the plots and devices which are framing against them; it may see in the state of the blood, a near disposition to an apoplexy, a pleurisy, or some other mortal disease; but this is not to know things future which are called contingent. But some may say there are private persons who have dreamed that they should reign, and they did not reign till twenty or thirty years after; I answer that their genius being of a very high order, active and wise, had a mind to raise them to a throne; he was resolved to lay hold of every opportunity, and did not doubt of success; and from these conjectures, which were almost certain, he imparted the dream. Men would do as much proportionably to their ability.I do not produce these things as proofs or strong reasons, but only as answers to the difficulties which are proposed against the common opinion; and it must also be considered that I confine myself within the bounds of natural light; for I suppose the disputants would not make use of the authority of scripture. I desire also that it may be observed, that those who maintain there are dreams of divination, need only weaken the objections of their adversaries, for they have an infinite number of facts to allege for their opinion, as have those also who maintain that there is such a thing as magic; and this being so, it is sufficient for them that they can answer objections: but it belongs to those who deny these facts, to prove that they are impossible, and without this they will never gain the cause. I ought also to put the reader in mind, that I do not pretend to excuse the ancient Pagans, either as to the care they took to relate so many dreams in their histories, or as to the proceedings that were consequent upon certain dreams. Sometimes they had no other foundation for appointing certain ceremonies, or for condemning the accused. “Quum exæde Herculis patera aurea gravis surrepta esset, in somniis vidit (Sophocles) ipsum
deum dicentem, qui id fecisset. Quod semel ille, iterumque neglexit, ubi idem sæpius ascendit in Areopagum: detulit rem. Areopagitæ comprehendi jubent eum, qui à Sophocle erat nominatus. Is, quæstione adhibita, confessus est, pateramque retulit. Quo facto, fanum illud Indicis Herculis nominatum est.4 A large golden goblet being stolen out of the temple of Hercules, Sophocles in a dream saw the god himself telling him who had done it. He disregarded the vision once and twice, but it being repeated, he went to the court of Areopagus, and gave information of the matter. The Areopagites ordered the person whom Sophocles had named, to be arrested; upon examination by torture, he confessed the fact and restored the goblet: whence that temple received the name of Hercules the discoverer.” One may justly laugh at the weakness of Augustus, and much more at die law which enjoined all private persons in certain countries, who had dreamed any thing concerning the republic, to declare it openly, either by a public advertisement or by a cryer; and excepting some particular dreams, we may say of all the rest what we read in Petronius. “Hinc scies epicurum hominem esse divinum, qui ejusmodi ludibria facetissimâ ratione condemnat.“Somnia, quæ mentes ludunt volitantibus umbris
Non delubra deum, nee ab æthere numina mittunt;
Sed aibi quisque facit. Nam cum prostrata sopore
Urget membra quies, et mens sine pondere ludit:
Quidquid luce fecit, tenebris agit. Oppida bello
Qui quatit, et flammis miserandas sævit in urbes, &c.
“Hence you may know that Epicurus was a Godlike philosopher, who very justly and pleasantly condemns these idle notions.
“Dreams which delude the mind with fleeting shades
Come not from temples or the gods above;
Each his own visions makes: for stretch’d in sleep,
When slumber looses the material chains,
The active mind in airy visions sports,
And acts in dreams the business of the day.
The soldier dreams of war and cities fired, &c.”
And I continue in the same opinion which I have declared elsewhere, that there is no employment more frivolous and ridiculous than that of the Onirocritics. If we would compare with what happens to us, an infinite number of images that arise in our minds, when being awake, we abandon ourselves to all objects that offer themselves, we might find in them as much relation to our adventures, as in any dreams which we look upon as presages. But, say they, we not only see in a dream the objects, but we hear them tell us such things as we never heard when we were awake, and consequently of which we could have no traces in our brain. We sometimes believe that we see in a dream, a new book which we have never heard of before, and we read the title, preface, and a hundred other things in it. This reason is of no force: do we not all this while we are awake? Do we not represent to ourselves such and such persons, who tell us a hundred things which we ourselves frame? Cannot we imagine, if we please, that such a one has just now published such a book which contains such and such things? Thus this pretended great reason is of no weight, but I believe at the same time, that we cannot doubt of certain dreams which are mentioned by authors, neither can we explain them by natural causes, I mean without acknowledging an inspiration or a revelation. See Valerius Maximus, lib. i. cap. 7, and the letters of Grotius, epist. cccv. part 2. As to the objections of Cicero, which are indeed very strong and almost unanswerable, they are of no strength but upon the supposition that God himself is the immediate author of our dreams. It was the supposition of the Stoics, whence it comes to pass that Cotta speaks thus:
“Quomodo iidem dicitis non omnia deos persequii iidem vultis à diis immortalibus hominibus dispartiri ac dividi somnia?5 - - - - How comes it that you say the gods do not perform all things, and at the same time affirm that all dreams proceed from them?” “Primum igitur”6 says he, “intelligendum est, nullam vim esse divinam effectricem somniorum. Atque illud quidem perspicuum est, nulla visa somniorum proficisci à numine deorum. Nostra enim causa dii id facerent, ut providere futura possemus. Quotus igitur est quisque, qui somniis pareat? qui intelligat? qui meminerit? quàm multi verb, qui contemnant; eamque superstitionem imbecilli animi, atque anilis putent? Quid est igitur, cur his hominibus consulens deus, somniis moneat eos, qui ilia non modo cura, sed ne memoria quidem digna ducant? nec enim ignorare deus potest, qua mente quisque sit: nec frustra, ac sine causa quid facere, dignum deo est: quod abhorret etiam ab hominis Constantia. Ita si pleraque somnia aut ignorantur, aut negliguntur; aut nescit hoc deus, aut frustra somniorum significatione utitur. Sed horum neutrum in deum cadit. Nihil igitur à deo somniis significari fatendum est. In the first place, we are to understand that dreams cannot be caused by any divine power, and this is very evident, that no visions of dreams proceed from the gods; for the gods would do it for our sakes, that we might foresee future events. But how few obey dreams, how few understand them, or remember them? and how many there are who despise them, and think them the superstition of a weak and doating mind? Why then should God, consulting the good of these men, admonish by dreams such as think them not only unworthy of their regard, but even of their remembrance? Nor can God be ignorant of the disposition of each man’s mind, and it is unworthy of God to do any thing in vain and without reason, which is abhorrent even from human constancy; therefore, if most dreams are either forgotten or neglected, either God knows not this, or he sends dreams to no purpose; but neither of these can be true of God: we must therefore acknowledge that nothing is signified to us in dreams from God. This is his first reason; we have already seen the second; here follows the third.7 “Jam verb quis dicere audeat, vera omnia esse somnia? Aliquot somnia vera inquit Ennius, sed omnia non est necesse. Quæ est tandem ista distinctio? quæ vera, quæ falsa habet? et si vera à deo mittuntur, falsa unde nascuntur? nam si ea quoque divina, quid inconstantius deo? quid inscitius au tern est, quam mentes mortalium falsis, et mendacibus visis concitare? sin vera visa divina sunt: falsa autem, et inania humana: quæ est ista designandi licentia, ut hoc deus, hoc natura fecerit potius, quam aut omnia deus, quod negatis, aut omnia natura? - - -And now who will venture to say that all dreams are true? Some dreams, Ennius tells us, must necessarily be true, but not all. What distinction is this? and how shall we know which are true, which are false? and if the true are sent by God, whence proceed the false? for if they likewise are divine, can any thing be more inconstant than the Deity? and what can be more ignorant than to stir up the minds of men by false and lying visions? But if true dreams are divine, and the false and empty, human, what liberty is this of distinguishing and saying, that God does this and nature that, rather than that all is done by God alone, which you deny, or by nature alone?” He proposes a fourth, founded upon the obscurity of dreams, which has been already considered, but let us consider it a little better. “There is no one,” says he, “who has sufficient capacity to expound dreams aright; if therefore, the gods speak to us in this way, it will be as if the Carthaginians should harangue the senate of Rome in their own language, and bring no interpreter with them. “Vide igitur, ne etiam si divinationem tibi esse concessero, quod nunquam faciam, neminem tamen divinum reperire possimus. Qualis autern ista mens est deorum si neque ea nobis significant in somniis, quæ ipsi per nos intelligamus: neque ea, quorum interpretes habere possimus? similes enim sunt dii, si ea nobis objiciunt, quorum nec scientiam neque explanatorem habeamus, tanquam si Pœni, aut Hispani in senatu nostro loquerentur sine interprete. Jam verò quo pertinent obscuritates, et ænigmata somniorum? intelligi enim à nobis dii velle debebant ea, quæ nostra causa nos monerent.8 - — But supposing I should grant you that there is such a thing as divination, which I never will, perhaps even this may not lead us to a Divine Being. For what kind of mind is that of the gods, if they neither signify those things to us in dreams, which we may of ourselves understand, nor those of which we can find interpreters? for if the Gods throw such things before us, as we have neither knowledge nor interpreter of, it is the same thing as if the Carthaginians or Spaniards should speak in our senate without an interpreter. Besides, to what purpose serves the obscure and enigmatical nature of dreams? for the Gods ought to desire that we should understand those things, which they admonish us of for our own sakes.” —Art. Majus.EARS.
(Men who moved them.)
It is pretended that Hercules could move his ears, which phenomenon is very rare. The journal of the Academiœ Naturae curiosorum speaks of a maid who
moved her ears. The author of the News from the Republic of Letters, giving an extract of this journal, observed that there was not reason to doubt of this particular, after what the abbot de Marolles attests of the philosopher Crassot, in the thirty-second page of his Memoirs. “He had a great resemblance,” says he, “to those pictures of the Cynic philosophers, which are to be found in the cabinets of the curious, being slovenly like them, with a long and bushy beard, and hair ill combed. He had one thing very particular, and which I never observed in any one else, which was, that he could move his ears backwards and forwards when he would, without touching them.” Peter Messie relates, in the twenty-fourth chapter of his first part, that St Austin saw a man, who not only moved his ears as he pleased, but also his hair, without any motion of his hands or head. Give me leave to add some other passages relating to this. I begin with a pretty long one of Casaubon. “This is quite contrary to the common nature of men, to whom alone of all animals (unless we should except apes) God has given ears which have no self motion. (For what Martial writes of the son of one Cinna, who had long ears, which moved like those of asses, is undoubtedly rather a poetical invention than a true story). However Eustathius tells us of a certain priest who moved his ears. I have been informed likewise by men worthy of credit, that the ears of a certain learned man were plainly seen to move, when, passing through the confines of Savoy, he understood that he was in hazard of being burnt alive by the magistrates, upon a report that he was then flying from Toulouse into Italy, on account of his having been guilty of a heinous sin.” Since Casaubon doth not doubt of the truth of Eustathius’s report, nor of what was told him of the learned man that escaped from Toulouse, why doth he doubt of the story of Cinna’s child, in the thirty-ninth epigram of the sixth book of Martial? He would have less doubted of it, if he had taken notice of what St. Austin says in the twenty-fourth chapter of the fourteenth book, De Civitate Dei: “sunt qui et aures moveant vel singulas vel ambas simul.—There are some people who move their ears, either singly, or both together but also of what Vesalius attests. That great anatomist affirms that he saw at Padua, two men whose ears moved. He elsewhere explains the cause of this motion. “Interdum,” says he, “quibusdam raris fibris carnalis membrana quam carnosam vocamus super aures augetur, et modice auri proximam cutem et ipsam quoque aurem motu agit arbitrario.— Sometimes, by means of certain delicate fibres, the fleshy membrane, which we call the carnosa, is enlarged above the ears, and gives a gentle arbitrary motion to the skin next to the ear, and even to the ear itself.” Du Laurent affirms that he has seen people that caused their ears to move. Valverdus saw the same thing in a Spaniard at Rome. Procopius compares Justinian to an ass, not only because of his dullness and stupidity, but also with respect to bis moveable ears, which occasioned his being called in a full theatre γαύδανε, (which is to say, word for word, Mr Ass) by those of the green faction, or the Prasini, which he was an enemy to. I have read these words in La Mothe le Vayer, who cites the 36th page of Procopius’s Secret History.—Art. Hercules.ELIJAH.
Elijah, one of the greatest prophets of the Old Testament, lived under the reign of Ahab. His true history is to be found in scripture: to which I refer my readers, and shall content myself with relating some apocryphal stories of him. There was a common tradition among the Jews, that he was the same with Phineas, the son of Eleazar the high-priest, and that the prophet, who lived among men sometimes under the name of Phineas, sometimes under the
name of Elias, was not a man but an angel. St Epiphanius relates one thing which is as incredible as these, I mean the vision of Sobac, the father of Elias. As soon as his wife was delivered, he thought he saw men clothed in white, who saluted the new born child, covered him over with fire, and made him swallow the flame. These are the swaddling clothes in which they wrapped the little Elijah. This is the milk with which they nourished him. Sobac went up to Jerusalem to consult the oracle, and was told what the vision signified. They assured him that bis son should inhabit in light, and that he should judge Israel with fire and sword. This agrees pretty well with that revengeful spirit, which animated Elijah on some occasions, as when he destroyed the priests of Baal, and called for fire from Heaven upon the king’s soldiers. The enemies of toleration do not love to be told that Jesus Christ has abolished this spirit: such an information is an uneasy lesson to them, and they would willingly say to whomsoever puts them in mind of it, as Felix said to Paul,—“go thy way for the present, when a convenient time comes, we will call for thee again.” I do not wonder that they cannot endure to be deprived of the authority of such an example as this; for what can be more strongly urged in favour of massacres out of zeal for religion, than the conduct of Elijah. A man, who had no character in the state, no political authority, no right to make use of the sword, a man, whose office was only to prophecy, assembles all the prophets of Baal, who were 450, and the prophets of the groves to the number of 400, who had the honour to eat at the queen’s table; he convinces them by a miracle, that they worshipped a false God, and immediately orders them to be seized, and care to be taken that none escaped. He commands them all to be killed, without condescending so much as to ask king Ahab, who was present, if it were his will to have it so, and without exhorting them to repentance and conversion. It cannot be said that they acted against their conscience; for if they had believed that Baal was a false God, they would not have submitted to an examination, and by the credit they had with the queen, they might easily have evaded the challenge of the prophet Elijah. Besides, we see they invoked their Deity with the utmost ardour, and cut themselves with knives in honour of him; therefore they were in hope of being heard. In order to excuse Elijah, divines are forced to acknowledge that he had received invisibly, from God, an extraordinary and special mission to put these prophets to death, and that God had revealed to him, that they were reprobates not to be wrought upon by any admonitions to repentance. Peter Martyr indeed alleges the law of Moses against idolaters, the law of retaliation, &c; but after all he confines himself to a particular inspiration, which is a thing not to be disputed among Christians. “Omnia hæc private instinctu Dei agebantur contra legem in communi propositam. Ipse legislator cum aliquid contra suas leges jubet mandatum ejus pro lege habendum est.—All these things were done by a particular inspiration from God, contrary to the law established in common. When the legislator commands any thing repugnant to the laws he has before ordained, his command ought to pass for law.”It is a pretty common opinion, for many ages received among Christians, that Elijah is not dead, and that God preserves him alive either in the terrestrial paradise, or in the heavens, or elsewhere, to employ him at the end of the world against antichrist. There are some who assure us, that then he is to suffer martyrdom, and that he and Enoch are the two witnesses mentioned in the eleventh chapter of the Apocalypse. They also ascribe to him a very exact continence, and conclude that he will be honoured with
three crowns, the crown of doctor, the crown of virginity, and the crown of martyrdom. They pretend that his chastity has far exceeded that of all the other prophets who lived in celibacy; for he was not contented to live chaste, but also ordered his disciples to abstain from women; and it is he that is looked upon as the first founder of the monastic life. The Carmelites boast that he is the founder of their order, and tell a thousand stories which are ridiculed by the other monks. The Apocalypse of Elias has commonly passed among the fathers for a supposititious book; but Origen seems to mention a book of that prophet as a genuine production. There is an old tradition, which they falsely impute to Elijah, that the world shall continue but six thousand years, whereof two thousand were to be before the law, two thousand under the law, and two thousand under the Messiah. The Jews say, that, seven years after he was translated, Elijah wrote a letter from heaven to king Joram, and that he composed in paradise the annals of all ages. Observe that the extraction of this prophet, who is almost equal to Moses, is so little known, that it is yet disputed what country, and also what tribe, he was of. I have cited a Minim, who designed to have written upon the actions of Elijah. This work would have been very long; for what the friends of the author published of it after his death, is one volume of four hundred pages in 4to, which contains only the Prolegomena.You will find in Baronius, that Basilius, the Macedonian, emperor of Constantinople, erected temples to the honour, and under the name of the prophet Elijah, in his capital city. This was one of the proofs that a Carmelite friar advanced to prove, that father Papebroch had rashly denied mount Carmel to be reckoned among the holy places which were visited by the first Christian pilgrims. Every body may see the impertinence of this proof. It appears
by the book I have cited, that a divine of the order of St Francis confounded the Carmelites in a public dispute in the year 1594. He attacked a thesis, in which it is assured, that Elijah bound himself up by a vow to celibacy. He cited a Jewish doctor, named Rabbenu Haccados, that is, our holy master, and who lived before Jesus Christ. This Rabbi says, the Elijah had a brother, whose wife was barren to the death of Elijah, and consequently the prophet could not devote himself to continency, for the law commanded him to marry his sister-in-law if she became a widow.—Art. Elijah.ELIZABETH.
(Queen of England).
(Some characteristic peculiarities of.)
A young man, who followed the ambassadors from Holland, expressed in a gross manner, the sentiments with which the sight of so charming a queen inspired him. I shall use Du Maurier’s own expressions: “Prince Maurice, (says he,) being one day in a good humour, told my father that Queen Elizabeth of England, through the common weakness of her sex, was so desirous of being thought handsome, that the states having sent a splendid embassy of the chief men of the country, and attended by a great many young gentlemen of the united provinces, a Hollander in the ambassador’s retinue, at their first audience, after having earnestly viewed the queen, told an English gentleman he had known in Holland, that he did not know why they should speak so indifferently of the queen’s beauty: that they did her the greatest injury; that he thought she was very charming, and if she were his wife, he would convince her she had beauty enough to fire a gentleman’s heart; adding other juvenile discourse fitter to be imagined than expressed. As he said this, he often looked towards the queen, and then turned to the English
gentleman. The queen who had her eyes fixed upon these gentlemen, much more than upon the ambassadors, when the audience was over, sent for the English gentleman, and commanded him, upon pain of her displeasure, to tell her what the Dutchman had said to him; being assured by their motions and behaviour; that they spoke of her. The gentleman excused himself a long time, pretending they were trifles not worthy to be told her majesty; but at length the queen pressing him exceedingly, he was forced to tell her ingenuously the whole truth, and to confess the violent passion the Hollander had expressed for her royal person. The conclusion of the matter was, that the ambassadors were presented each with a chain of gold of 800 crowns, and their chief attendants with one of 100 crowns each; but the Hollander, who found the queen so handsome, had a chain of 1600 crowns, that is, double to what the ambassadors had, and he wore it about his neck all his life after.” Mr. Fontenelle has inserted this artfully, according to his custom, in his Dialogues of the Dead.It is impossible to say what vile calumnies were spread abroad concerning this queen; which were not to be avoided considering the severity she was forced, by reasons of state, to use towards Papists. Some lost their lives, a great number of others either suffered the rigours of imprisonment, or the inconveniences of exile; and those were the men who chiefly composed injurious libels against the reputation of Elizabeth. The Protestants of England confess it; they do not deny the fact; but they maintain, that the wicked attempts of the Papists against the government, and against the queen, deserved such a punishment. You will be sure not to find this observation in the libels of the English Roman Catholics. You will indeed find the punishments, with all the rhetorical flourishes that can amplify them, but not a
word of the seditious enterprizes which preceded, and were the cause of them. There are few relations in which the order of the events is not confounded. This confusion is not always produced by fraud: a too turbulent zeal is sometimes the cause of it; nature does the rest without designed malice. The constitution of man is such, that he imagines the evils he suffers to be great, and those he indicts to be small. He perceives not the former, but is sensible of the latter; and even when he knows he has been the aggressor, he pretends to have cause of complaint; making no account of what he has done, but only of what he suffers. All ill-conducted zeal fixes the mind upon the hardships of persecuted virtue, and causes the provocations of the persecutors to be forgotten. If these two causes are not sufficient, dishonesty, which alone would disorder the events, completes the confusion. However it be, I have observed, that the principal difference between the accounts of Catholics and Protestants consists in the order of the fact3: each party endeavours to give the first place to the injuries they have endured; making a long detail of these, and passing over slightly what they have done by way of reprisals, or what they have suffered as a just punishment. There is nothing in party recrimination that perplexes the heads of the unprejudiced readers more than this; for in order to know exactly what is blamable and what is excusable in each party, it is absolutely necessary to consider the facts in their true situation. If the Catholics had not laid violent hands on the Protestants till after they had seen them overturn temples, altars, images, and crosses, &c. their cruelties would not have been so criminal; for which reasons it is necessary to give an adversary the precedence in such cases. A modern author has declared that he would not examine whose relations had transposed the events. This discussion in certain cases may not be altogether so laborious, but sometimes it would be found so embarrassing, that unless we were assisted by some revelation of a clearer nature than that of the apocalypse, we should never arrive at the truth.The passionate desire of Elizabeth to be thought handsome, the care she took to shew her beauty, and the complaisance she expressed to those who were sensibly touched with her charms, are undeniably a female foible, which destroys her claim to the praise bestowed by the Roman historian, on Agrippina: “sed Agrippina æqui impatiens, dominandi avida virilibus curis feminarum vitia exuerat. Agrippina freed herself from the tendernesses of her own sex by application to manly business.” Let us produce an author who relates what he saw and heard himself. He says, the ceremony of creating the Lord Robert, Earl of Leicester and Baron of Denbigh, was performed at Westminster, with a great deal of solemnity, the queen herself assisting on the occasion. “He was upon his knees before her, with the greatest gravity, whilst the queen could not forbear to make him a hundred caresses; sometimes pinching him softly, sometimes laying her hand upon his head and shoulders, though the ambassador of France and myself were present.”9 He that speaks in this manner was the envoy of Mary Stuart Queen of Scotland, at the court of Queen Elizabeth. “The queen, my mistress,” says he, “knowing Queen Elizabeth's humour, commanded me not to be too much upon the reserve with her, and, that my conversation might not be tiresome to her, to be sometimes upon the diverting strain; wherefore, one time giving her an account of the different modes and customs of foreign countries, I even mentioned the women’s buskins. Upon which she told me she had the dress of every country
and every fashion by her, and indeed she took after that every day a different dress, sometimes after the English, sometimes after the French, and sometimes after the Italian mode, continuing these changes all the time I staid at London. At last she would know of me which dress became her best; I answered, in my opinion, the Italian, which answer did not seem to be displeasing to her, for she loved exceedingly to show her fair hair; so that a little Italian bonnet was what pleased her best. Her hair was rather of a yellowish colour than white, but with a beautiful curl, which in appearance was natural. She asked me what coloured hair was reckoned the handsomest, hers or my queen’s? and seeing that I hesitated, she pressed me to declare upon this point. I told her she was the finest queen in England, and mine in Scotland. But this not satisfying her, I told het they were both the most charming in their country; that her majesty was indeed the fairest, but that my queen was also very lovely. She would still know which of the two was the tallest; to which I answered, my queen. ‘ Then,’ says she, ‘ she must be too tall, for I am neither too tall nor too short.’ ” You see here a queen of England busying herself with fashions and dresses. It does not look like a mere amusement: one would think she had made it her principal business, if her application to the royal functions were not well known. But it must be said that she found time for every thing: she applied herself to the cares of government with as much diligence as if she thought of nothing else; and she was as exact in her dress and ornaments as if that had been the utmost of her concern. On the other hand, if her conversations with the envoy of Scotland are considered, her design was not so much to interrogate him, as to make him confess that she was handsomer than Mary Stuart. We may discern by this, that she looked upon her as a rival in point of beauty, and that by the turn she gave her discourse, she would induce people to give her the preference over this rival. This is very consistent with a feminine spirit and temper. Every body knows with what address women seek for applause, sometimes despising themselves in order to be contradicted; sometimes by inquiring if it be true that such and such have beauty, splendor, an incomparable shape, &c.Pope Sixtus had a particular esteem for Elizabeth. He reckoned her one of the three persons, who, in his opinion, were alone worthy of a crown: the two others were himself and Henry IV. “Your queen,” said he one day to an English gentleman, “is born happy; she governs her kingdom with a great deal of success; she wants only me for her husband to give the world another Alexander.” Mr. Jurieu has expressed this a little more cavalierly. “This good pope said, that he would willingly lie only one night with Elizabeth, Queen of England, being assured they should get another Alexander the Great. This was worthy the gravity and chastity of a pope..... It was this same good pope that said Elizabeth was happy in striking off a crowned head, and that he envied her felicity.” Balzac, by I know not what affectation, has given the pope’s expressions another dress, which takes away their natural air. I shall go a little farther back, that it may be seen what praises that French writer bestows upon this queen. In a letter he wrote to a certain lord, “My intention,” says he to him, “was never to touch the true glory of your heroine; I have always thought she ought rather to be considered for the magnanimity of her soul, the benefits of which will be enjoyed by your latest posterity, than by a frail beauty of body, which is not only destroyed by death, but flies away at the approaches of old age. I must have come from another world to be ignorant of the praises she has received
from the general voice of this. I know she has been stiled the Northern Star, the Goddess of the Sea, the true Thetis. I have read these words— 'I will be, madam, your captain-general,’ in a letter written to her by Henry the Great, at the height of his difficulties, and under the violent proceedings of the League; even he, who had excommunicated her, spoke of her with esteem, and you know he was a prince of a very great understanding, and well skilled in the art of government. He took a pleasure to talk of her with the ambassadors resident at his court, and sometimes would pleasantly say, that if he had been married to her, authority and grandeur would have proceeded from such an illustrious marriage. But though she had not arrived to this high degree of reputation, and though they had deprived her of all these glorious marks of esteem, yet two considerations, less specious indeed in the eyes of the world, but more sensible to my mind, would have obliged me to revere her memory, which are, my lord, that she did not despise our muses, and that she loved your family. I am informed by Camden, that she was so well acquainted with good learning, that she made a good Latin translation of some tragedies of Sophocles, and of the orations of Isocrates. The same author tells me what share your ancestors had in her confidence, &c.”What Mr. Leti says concerning pope Sixtus the Fifth’s keeping a correspondence with Elizabeth is not very unlikely. He both hated and dreaded the king of Spain: therefore he must naturally wish him ill success, and rather desire to see heresy maintained in England than to see Philip II become master of so fine a country. The popes, as sovereign princes, follow the principles of the religion of sovereigns, and consequently sacrifice the Catholic interest to the interest of their particular power. What service would it be to them, for example, that a king of Spain should subdue the Protestants, if by
that means he would become so formidable to the court of Rome, that they would not dare to refuse any thing to the Spaniards for fear of seeing the year 1527 return again, and the imprisonment of Clement VII? It is a less damage to the pope not to be acknowledged either by Holland or by England, than to be owned by them, and thereby some Catholic prince to be in a condition of obtaining from Rome, by favour or force, all his demands. If this principle of speculation be not sufficient to convince us that Sixtus V did all he could to make the king of Spain’s designs against Elizabeth miscarry, we shall see presently a practical reason which will make it evident. When Louis XIV made such great and rapid conquests upon the United Provinces, in the year 1672, cardinal Altieri, who was pope in effect, although another was called Clement X, received the news with a mortal concern because he did not love France; and the duke d’Estrée, ambassador from the crown, took all opportunities to mortify him. Of a later date we have seen Innocent XI deaf to whatever could favour the interest of king James, and ardently promoting every thing that was contrary to France; because he feared more the increase of Lewis the Fourteenth’s influence than he desired the progress of the Catholic religion. He was afraid of being crushed under the too great power of that prince, and therefore he was very glad the Protestants were in a condition to bridle and reduce it. Hence we may better know the happy situation of the affairs of the Protestants, since not only the eternal jealousy between France and the House of Austria will always procure them allies, and protectors in the states of the contrary religion, but even the court of Rome, according to the exigency of occasion, will do what Sixtus V did to the prejudice of the king of Spain, and what Innocent XI did to the prejudice of Lewis XIV. This court is no less concerned than others to preserve the balance of power.But to what purpose is it to look for instances? We need only consider Sixtus himself with respect to Henry the Great. It is certain, that having observed how much the league augmented the strength of the Spaniards, he shifted sides, and favoured in France the Protestant party, and if he had not died, he would have done his utmost to have deprived the king of Spain of the kingdom of Naples. He traversed the league so visibly, that the Spaniards threatened to protest against him, and to provide otherwise for the preservation of the church, which he abandoned. His death filled the leaguers with joy; one of their preachers, giving the Parisians notice of it made use of these words. “God has delivered us from a wicked and politic pope: if he had lived longer people would have been astonished to have heard the pope preached against in Paris, but it must have been done.” It was not because he was sensible of the great merit of Henry IV, and the knaveries of the league, that this pope took measures contrary to the Catholic religion; but because the heretics' success was injurious to the king of Spain, whom he hated.—Art. Elizabeth.
EPICURUS.
(His opinion of the Gods.)
It would be too great a neglect of the sacred laws of equity, to charge Epicurus with believing that the Gods do not deserve our worship, respects, and adorations: for he openly professed the contrary, and published excellent books touching the duties that men owe to the gods. “De sanctitate, de pietate adversus Deos libros scripsit Epicurus. At quo modo in his loquitur? Ut Coruncanum aut Scævolam
Pontifices maximos te audire dicas.10—Epicurus wrote of sanctity, and of the duty which we owe to the Gods. But how does he treat them? In such manner, that you would say you heard Coruncanus or Scævola, the high priests.” I own that it was objected to him, that if he acted according to his principles, he must have no religion; but this consequence did not destroy the matter of fact; for his outward religion was never questioned. We cannot produce a more creditable witness than Seneca, who speaks thus about it. “Tu denique, Epicure, Deum inermem facis: omnia illi tela, omnem detraxisti potentiam.... hunc non habes quare verearis, nulla illi nec tribuendi nec nocendi materia est. . . . Atqui hunc vis videri colere, non aliter quam parentem: grato, ut opinor, animo: aut si non vis videri gratus, quia nullum habes illius beneficium, sed te atomi et istæ micæ tuæ forte ac temere conglobaverunt, cur colis? Propter majestatem, inquis, ejus eximiam, singularemque naturam. Ut concedam tibi: nempe hoc facis nulla spe, nullo precio inductus. Est ergo aliquid per se expetendum, cujus te ipsa dignitas ducit: id est honestum.11 —In short, Epicurus, you disarm God, you divest him of his thunder and his power. You have no reason to fear him, since he is incapable of doing either good or hurt; and yet you would revere him as a parent, from a principle of gratitude. If you do it not from this principle, as being formed by a fortuitous concourse of atoms, and consequently lying under no obligation to him, why do you worship him? You answer, for the majesty and the excellence of his nature; Be it granted that neither interest nor expectations are your motives. There is, therefore, something in itself desirable, by the dignity of which you are influenced: It is generous.” We see here, in few words, what religion Epicurus professed: he reverenced the Gods, because of the excellence of their nature, though he neither expected any good, nor feared any ill from them. He paid them a free, unmercenary worship, wherein he in no manner regarded his own interest, but purely the notions of reason, which require that we should respect and honour all that is great and perfect. Probably those were not mistaken, who accused him of doing this out of policy only, and to avoid the punishment he would infallibly have incurred, had he overthrown the worship of the Gods: but this accusation would have been rash, though perhaps not without ground; for we ought in equity to judge of our neighbour by his words and actions, and not by the secret intentions we fancy he may possess. We must leave to God, the only searcher of hearts, to judge of what passes in every man’s conscience. After all, why should we rob Epicurus of the notion of a worship which our most orthodox divines recommend as most lawful, rational, and perfect? They tell us daily, that though we should neither hope a paradise nor fear a hell, yet we ought to reverence God, and to do all things that we think will please him. I might also cite the testimony which Diogenes Laertius has given of Epicurus’s piety.Therefore, the only proof of the text of this remark is, that Epicurus confined the divine nature to a state of inactivity; that he took from it the government of the world, and did not acknowledge it as the cause of this universe. Authors disagree about the question whether he taught that the gods were composed of atoms? If he had taught such. a thing, he had robbed the divine nature of its eternity and indestructibility, a monstrous and most blasphemous doctrine, but which, I think, cannot be charged upon him; for one of his first principles was, that God being happy and immortal, hurts nobody nor concerns himself in any thing. The first thing he proposed as a subject of meditation to his disciples was, the immortality and felicity of God.—“Look upon
God in the first place, as a being happy and incorruptible, such as the general idea represents him; ascribe nothing to him repugnant to bliss, or incomppatible with immortality.”12 He did not believe, therefore, that the gods were made like the world, by the fortuitous concourse of atoms. He was sensible enough that he would have thereby manifestly subjected them to death.His notion of happiness.
Most of the ancient philosophers who have treated of the happiness of man, have confined themselves to an external notion, and this has occasioned great variety of opinions amongst them. Some placed the happiness of man in riches, others in sciences, others in honours, others in fame, others in virtue, &c. It is plain that they fixed the idea of happiness, not to its formal but to its efficient cause; that is, they called that our happiness which they thought capable to produce in us a state of blessedness, and that they did not define what is the state of our soul when she is happy. It is as to this state which I call the formal cause of happiness. Epicurus was not mistaken; he considered happiness in itself and in its formal state, and not according to the relation it has with beings or objects altogether external, such as are efficient causes. This way of considering happiness, is undoubtedly the most exact, and the most worthy a philosopher: Epicurus has therefore done well to choose it, and he has made so good use of it, that it has brought him precisely whither he ought to go. The only assertion that could reasonably be established by that method was, that the happiness of man consists in being at his ease and in having a sense of pleasure, or in general, satisfaction of the mind. This does not prove that the Epicureans place happiness in good cheer, and in the impure intercourse which different
sexes may have with one another; for at most these can be no more than efficient causes which are not here in question. When there is occasion to speak of the efficient causes of content and pleasure, they will mark out the best—on the one side they will direct you to those objects which are most capable to preserve the health of your bodies; and on the other they will tell you what occupations are the most proper to prevent the uneasiness of your mind. Therefore they will prescribe you sobriety, temperance, and the checking of tumultuous and disorderly passions, which deprive the soul of its state of felicity: that is, of the soft and quiet acquiescence in its condition; for these were the pleasures or delights wherein Epicurus placed man’s happiness. People exclaimed against the word pleasure; those who were already loose and debauched, made an ill use of it; the enemies of the sect took advantage from it, and so the name of Epicurean became odious. All this is accidental to the fundamental opinion of Epicurus, which is grounded only on solid philosophy; though it must be owned he committed a great fault, in not acknowledging that God alone can produce in our soul that state which makes it happy.Self-existence of Matter.
Some of Epicurus’s apologists should have endeavoured to shew that his impiety was a natural consequence of his doctrine of the eternal existence of matter. There was among the natural philosophers of the heathens, a great variety of opinions about the origin of the world, and the nature of the element, or elements, of which they pretended particular bodies to have been formed. Some maintained that water was the principle of all things, others gave that quality to the air, others to the fire, others to homogenial parts, &c. but they all agreed in this point, that the matter of the world was unproduced. They never
disputed among themselves upon the question whether anything was made out of nothing. They all agreed that this was impossible; and consequently, the independent eternity which Epicurus attributed to atoms, was not an opinion which other sects might condemn with respect to that necessary and uncreated existence; for every one of them ascribed the same nature to the principles they admitted. Now I say, this impiety being once supposed, to wit, that God is not the creator of matter, it is less absurd to maintain, as the Epicureans did, that God was not the author of the world, and did not concern himself with the government of it, than to maintain, as many other philosophers did, that he had formed it, and did both preserve and direct it. What they said was true indeed, but not consistent with their principles. It was an intruding truth which had got into their system, not through the door, but through the window; and if they found themselves in the right way, it was because they went astray from the road they had first entered upon. If they had known how to follow it, they would not have proved orthodox; and therefore that orthodoxy was a bastard and monstrous production, which by chance resulted from their ignorance, and for which they were indebted to their incapacity of reasoning well.If I should say no more, most of my readers would imagine that I advance as impious a paradox as the doctrine of Epicurus itself. I must therefore explain myself as clearly as possible. According to the system of all the heathen philosophers who believed a God, there was an eternal, uncreated being distinct from God; to wit, matter, which owed its existence to its own nature only, and had no dependance upon any other thing, either as to its essence, existence, attributes, or properties. Therefore it could not be affirmed, without contradicting the laws and notions of order, which are the standing rules of our
judgments and reasonings, that another being has exercised such a great power over matter, as to have made an absolute change in it; consequently those who have advanced, that matter, having eternally existed by itself, without being a world, began to be a world when God was pleased to move it in a thousand different ways; condensing it in one place, ratifying it in another, &c. have advanced a doctrine that shocks the most precise notions, to which those who philosophize are bound to conform themselves. If Epicurus had thus interrogated a Platonic philosopher, pray tell me by what right God has deprived matter of that state wherein it had eternally subsisted? What is his title? Whence has he his commission to make this reform? What could the Platonist have answered? Could he have founded God’s title upon the superior force with which he was endowed? In this case, would he not have made God act according to the law of the strongest, and after the manner of those conquering usurpers, whose conduct is manifestly opposite to right, and which reason and the notions of order represent, to us as unjustifiable? Would he have said, that God being much more perfect than matter, it was just he should subject it to his dominion? but even this clashes with the notions of reason. The most excellent man of a city has no right to make himself master of it, and cannot lawfully govern there, unless that authority be conferred upon him. In short, we know no other lawful title of dominion than that which either the quality of cause, or the quality of benefactor, or that of purchaser, or a voluntary submission, &c, can give. Now nothing of all this can have place between an uncreated matter and the divine nature: therefore we must conclude, that without violating the laws of order, God could not make himself master of that matter, to dispose of it at his will. If you allege what passes between man and other animals, and the dominion he exercises over beasts he has neither produced nor fed, I will answer, that either his wants or his passions, being the basis of that dominion, that cannot serve to make us apprehend how God could assume the command over matter; he who wants nothing, and who finds in himself the whole stock of his infinite felicity; and who is capable of no passion, and cannot do any action that is not perfectly conformable to the strictest justice. A Platonist thus pressed, would be obliged to say, that God exercised his power over matter merely from a principle of goodness. God, would he say, knew perfectly these two things: the one, that he would do nothing against the inclination of matter, by subjecting it to his dominion; for being insensible, it could not be capable of being grieved at the loss of its independency: the other, that it was in a state of confusion and imperfection; a disorderly heap of materials, of which an excellent edifice might be made, and some of which might be converted into living bodies and thinking substances; wherefore he was pleased to communicate to matter a more beautiful and more noble state than that which it was first in. Is’there any thing in this unworthy of a Being sovereignly just and sovereignly good? This, methinks, is the most rational answer a Platonist could make; but I think, at the same time, that Epicurus would desire no better than to see the controversy brought to that issue, which still leave him a great many difficulties to insist upon.He would ask, in the first place, whether a thing can be capable of a more convenient state than that it has ever been in, and in which it has eternally been placed by its own nature, and the necessity of its existence. Is not such a condition the most natural that can be imagined? Can that want any reformation which has been regulated and determined by the nature of things, and by that necessity to which all that exists by itself owes its existence? Is it not
necessarily to last a whole eternity? And is not this a proof that any reformation would come too late, and consequently would be incompatible with the wisdom of the reformer?But let us supposé the maxim, “Better late than never; Præstat sero quàm nunquam How will that reformer do to change the state and condition of matter? Must he not produce motion in it? And, in order to that, must he not touch and impel it? If he can touch and impel it, he is not distinct from matter; and if he be not distinct from matter, it is without reason you admit two uncreated beings; the one which you call matter, the other which you call God: for since there is in effect nothing but matter in the universe, our dispute is at an end; the author of the world, the director, the Divine Providence in question, vanishes into smoke. If he be distinct from matter, he has no extension: tell me then how he can apply himself to bodies to drive them out of their places. The Platonist would answer,—that matter was ever in motion, and therefore it was only necessary to direct that motion. But it will be replied, that in order to direct the motion of certain bodies, it is necessary to move others. This appears in the working of a ship, and in all machines: wherefore the divine nature, unless it were material, could with no more ease give a new determination to à motion already existing, than produce motion originally. Aristotle, indeed, has acknowledged the supposition of the eternal motion of matter to be absurd, and solidly confutes Plato, who advanced, that before the formation of the world there was a disorderly agitation in the elements. He convinces him of contradicting himself; and observes in general against those who taught, that the motion that preceded the existence of the world was irregular; that they advanced an absurdity, since the motion which agrees to most things, and for a longer time, ought to be accounted natural; whence it follows, that the
production of the world would rather be an overthrow of the state of nature, than an introduction of the true natural state. But setting aside all these reasons à priori, Epicurus would say in the third place to the Platonist:—I give up the objection, that goodness is not to be commended, unless it be accompanied with judgment.” We might presuppose upon the notion of wisdom, that God could not undertake to remedy the imperfections of matter. He was not answerable for them, since he had no share in the production of bodies, which was the work of nature, and therefore she ought to dispose of it. I give up this argument, would Epicurus say; and I give you leave to make use of the example of those heroes, who have been ranked among the Gods for the great services they have done human kind. Let us however consider in another sense, if the motives of goodness you mention ought not to have been overruled by reasons of wisdom. A wise agent never undertakes to employ a great heap of materials, without having first well examined their qualities, and being assured that they are susceptible of the form he designs to give them; and if, upon examining their qualities, he finds that they have incorrigible faults, which would render their new condition worse than the former, he will not meddle with them, but abandon them to themselves; and judges, that he will act with more wisdom and goodness in leaving things as he finds them, than in giving them another form which would become pernicious. Now you Platonists agree, that there has been in matter a real defect, which was an obstacle to God’s project; an obstacle, I say, which has not permitted God to make a world free from those disorders we perceive in it: and it is certain, on the other side, that those disorders render the condition of matter infinitely more unhappy than that eternal, necessary, and independent state in which it had been before the generation of the world. All was insensible in that state: grief, pain, crime, all physical and moral evils, were then unknown. It is true, there was no pleasure felt; but that privation of good was not an evil; since it cannot be so, but as it is felt and lamented. You see therefore that it did not become a wise and good being to change the condition of matter, to transform it into such a world as this is. It contained in its bosom the seeds of all the crimes and miseries we now behold; but those were unfruitful seeds, and in that state they did no more harm than if they had not existed; nor were they pernicious and fatal, till after the animals were hatched out of them by the formation of the world. Thus, matter was a Camarina13 which should not have been stirred; it should have been left in its eternal rest; well remembering, that the more one stirs a noxious matter, the more it spreads its infection round. We must not doubt that the divine nature has acted by this notion; and therefore it is not die divine nature which has made the world.It could not be answered to this reasoning of Epicurus, that God did not foresee the malignity of the souls that should be hatched out of those seeds of matter: for he would presently reply, that thereby we should ascribe to God such an ignorance as would have had ill consequences; that at least God would have restored things to their former state, after he had seen the ill effects of his work; and so the world would not have lasted till the time when he, Epicurus, disputed with a Platonist about the doctrine of Providence.
His last objection would be the strongest: he would shew to his adversary, that the most intimate, general, and infallible notion we have of God is, that God enjoys perfect felicity. Now this is incompatible with the supposition of Providence: for if he
govern the world, he created it; if he created it, he has either foreseen all the disorders that are in it, or he has not foreseen them. If he have foreseen them, it cannot be said that he made the world out of a principle of goodness; which destroys the best answer of the Platonist. If he have not foreseen them, it is impossible that, seeing the ill success of his work, he should not have been extremely grieved at it: he would have been convinced that he had not known the quality of the materials, or had wanted power to overcome their resistance, as without doubt he hoped to have done. There is no workman that can see without grief his hopes baffled, that he has missed his aim, and that having designed to work for the public good, he had made a pernicious machine, &c. We have indeed some ideas, whereby we know that this can never be God’s case; but we have none whereby to know, that, if by an impossibility it was his case, he were not to be pitied, and most unhappy.If we suppose afterwards, that instead of destroying such a work, he obstinately resolves to preserve it, and continually to be employed either in mending its faults, or preventing their increase; we require an idea of the most unhappy nature that can be conceived. He designed to build a magnificent palace for the accommodation of animated creatures, which were to come out of the shapeless bosom of matter, and there to bestow felicity upon them; but it happens that those creatures devour one another, being incapable to continue alive, if the flesh of some did not serve as food to others. It happens that the most perfect of those animals do not spare even the flesh of those of his kind; there happen to be cannibals among them; and those who abstain from that brutality, do not forbear persecuting one another, and are a prey to envy, jealousy, fraud, avarice, cruelty, diseases, cold, heat, hunger, &c.
Their author struggling continually with the malignity of the matter productive of those disorders, and obliged to have always the thunderbolt in his hand, and to pour down upon the earth pestilence, war, and famine; which, with the wheels and gibbets with which highways abound, do not hinder evil from maintaining itself. Can the author of all this be looked upon as a happy being? Can he be happy, when at the end of four thousand years’ labour he has made no farther progress in his work than the first day he undertook it, although he passionately desires to finish it? Is not this image of infelicity as lively as Ixion’s wheel, the stone of Sisyphus, and the tub of the Danaides?I say nothing but what is very likely, when I suppose that Epicurus persuaded himself that the gods would soon have repented the having made the world; and that the trouble of governing so indocile and refractory an animal as man, would disturb their felicity. Do we not see in the Scripture, that the true God, accommodating himself to our capacity, has revealed himself as a Being, who, having known the malice of man, repented and was sorry he had created him, and as a Being who is provoked, and complaining of the ill success of his labour? He says to Israel, “All the day long I have stretched forth my bands unto a disobedient and gainsaying people.” I know well enough that the same book which teaches us all these things teaches us likewise how to rectify the idea they present to us at first sight; but Epicurus, destitute as he was of the light of revelation, could not rectify philosophy, and must of necessity follow the path which such a guide shewed him. Now, faithfully pursuing this track, and supported by these two principles; one, that matter was self-existent, and suffered not itself to be managed according to God’s desire; the other, that the felicity of God cannot admit the least disturbance; he must have rested in this
conclusion, that there is no Divine Providence. We shall thence draw some consequences advantageous to the truth of the Christian religion. Epicurus’s objections, which have been set forth in the preceding remark, and which were sufficient to nonplus the heathen philosophers, disappear and vanish away like smoke, with respect to those whom revelation has taught, “that God is the Creator of the World, both as to its matter and to its form.” From God’s being the creator of matter, it results, that with the most lawful authority that can be, he disposes of the universe as he thinks fit; that he needs only a single act of his will to do whatever he pleases; that nothing happens but what he has placed in the plan of his work. It follows also, that the conduct of the world is not an employment that can either fatigue or trouble God, and that no events whatsoever can disturb his felicity. If some things happen which he has forbidden, and which he punishes, they do not however happen contrary to his decrees, and they are subservient to the ends he has proposed to himself from all eternity, and which are the greatest mysteries of the gospel.. But the better to know the importance of the doctrine of the creation, we must also cast our eyes upon the inextricable difficulties in which they involve themselves who deny it. Consider therefore what Epicurus might have objected to the Platonist, as we have seen before, and what may be said nowadays against the Socinians. They have rejected the Evangelical mysteries, because they could not reconcile them with the light of reason. They would have contradicted themselves, if they had agreed that God created matter: for this philosophical axiom, “Ex nihilo nihil fit—nothing is made out of nothing,” is as evident as the principles by virtue of which they have denied the Trinity and the Hypostatic union. They have therefore denied the creation; but what have they got by it? Why, the falling into one abyss by avoiding another; having been obliged to acknowledge the independent existence of matter, and at the same time to submit it to the authority of another being. They have been forced to own, that necessary existence may belong to a substance which is besides full of defects and imperfections; and this destroys a most evident notion, to wit, that what is eternally and independently self-existent, ought to be infinitely perfect; for what could have set bounds to the power and attributes of such a being? In short, they must answer most of the difficulties, which I have supposed Epicurus might have proposed to the philosophers who admitted the eternity of matter. Hence we may infer, that it is very advantageous to the Christian religion, to shew that the eternity of matter draws after it the destruction of Divine Providence. By this means we imply the necessity, truth, and certainty of the creation.I am sure that one of the greatest philosophers of this age, and at the same time one of the most zealous writers for the doctrines of the gospel, will agree, that by making an apology for Epicurus, such as we have seen it ex hypothesi in the preceding remark, we do the true faith no small service. He teaches not only that there would be no providence, if God had not created matter, but even that God would not know that there is matter, if it were uncreated. I shall cite his words at large, wherein the Socinians will find their condemnation: “How stupid and ridiculous philosophers are! They imagine the creation to be impossible, because they do not perceive the power of God to be so great as to make something out of nothing. But can they conceive how God’s power is able to move a straw? If they consider it well, they conceive not the one more clearly than the other, since they have no clear idea of efficacy or power; insomuch that if they followed their false principle, they ought to affirm, that God wants even the power to give
motion to matter. But this false conclusion would engage them in such impertinent and impious opinions, that they would soon become the objects of the contempt and indignation even of the least understanding persona; for they would soon be reduced to maintain, that there is no motion or change in the world; or else, that all those changes are not produced by any cause, or regulated by wisdom.... If matter were uncreated, God could neither move it, nor form any thing out of it; for God can neither move matter, nor wisely dispose of it, without knowing it. Now God cannot know it, unless He give existence to it: for God can have no knowledge of any thing but from Himself. Nothing can act in Him, or enlighten Him. Therefore, if God did not see in Himself and by the knowledge He has of His will, the existence of matter, it would have been eternally unknown to Him. He could not therefore dispose it into order, or form any work out of it. Now philosophers agree, as well as you, that God Can move bodies; and hence, though they have no clear idea of power or efficacy; though they see no connexion between the will of God and the productions of creatures, they ought to acknowledge that God has created matter, unless they mean to make Him impotent and ignorant; which is corrupting the idea we have of Him, and denying his existence.”14Before I end, I will make another observation. I have made Epicurus speak against a Platonic philosopher, which was not making the most of his advantages; for he would have confuted all the other sects much more easily than that of Plato. His greatest advantage would have been to dispute with a priest. Let us give a specimen of it. Let us suppose that Epicurus exclaims, “You call me impious, because I teach that the gods do not meddle with the government of the world; and I charge you with not
knowing how to reason, and, besides, with doing the. gods a great injury. Is it consonant with the light of reason, to believe that Jupiter has an absolute power over the universe; he who is son of Saturn, and grandson to heaven? Is it for an upstart deity, as he was, to govern matter, which is an eternal and independent being? Know, that whatever has a beginning, is as new as what was done yesterday and to-day, in comparison of eternity. Do not therefore subvert all order, by subjecting the matter of the universe to so young a god. Let us come to the other point: answer me, pray; are the gods pleased with their administration, or not? Mind well my dilemma: If they be pleased with what happens under their providence, then they delight in evil; if they be displeased with it, then they are unhappy. Now it clashes with common notions, that they should love what is evil, and that they should not be happy. They do not like evil, would the priest answer; nay, they look upon it as a great offence, which they punish severely; and hence proceed plagues, wars, famines, shipwrecks, inundations, &c. I conclude from your answer, would Epicurus reply, that they are unhappy; for nothing can make one’s life more unhappy than to be continually exposed to injuries, and continually obliged to revenge them. Sin never ceases among men; therefore there is not one moment in the day wherein the gods have not some affronts put upon them. The plague, war, and the other evils you have mentioned, never cease upon earth; for if they end from time to time in one country, they never cease with respect to all nations; and so the gods have no sooner taken revenge of one nation, but they must begin to punish another: their work is never at an end. What a life is this! could one wish a greater torment to a mortal enemy? I had much rather attribute to them a quiet condition, void of care. But suppose the priest should say that they see the disorders of mankind unconcerned, and without endeavouring to redress them—does this indifference do them much credit? Are they not younger than the heaven? would Epicurus reply; do not you say that the most ancient of the gods, who reigns at present, accounts the heaven his grandfather? They did not then make the world; and therefore it is not for them to concern themselves with what passes upon earth, or elsewhere. They know that matter exists from all eternity, and that the fatal necessity of self-existing beings cannot be changed: they therefore let the stream run on, and do not undertake to reform an immutable order. Neither ought we to wonder that their perfections are limited, since you confess that those of matter, which exists eternally, are very small. Your Jupiter, and his assistants in the celestial council, have little reason to pretend to punish lewdness; since they themselves are so unfaithful to their wives, and have deflowered so many virgins. You cannot deny, however, (would the priest answer) but the doctrine of providence is of great force to keep the people in their duty. That is not the point in question now, would Epicurus reply: do not change the state of our dispute. We seek not what may have been established as a useful invention, but that which truly flows from the light of reason. Art. Epicurus.EVE.
(Extraordinary traditions, concerning.)
I should never have done, if I were to relate all the Actions that are to be found in books concerning Eve and the serpent. Some have said that it was a true serpent which tempted Eve, and they suppose that, at that time, the serpent conversed familiarly with man, and that he lost the use of his speech as a punishment for his malice, in abusing the simplicity of the woman; but this opinion is so absurd, that it is surprising such an author as Josephus should not be ashamed to
advance it. Some Rabbins agree with Josephus that the tempter of Eve was a true serpent; but instead of saying, as that Historian does, that the serpent tempted the good woman, pushed on by a spirit of envy, by considering the happiness promised to man in case of obedience to God, they say he was urged to it by a spirit of lust. He wished to be in Adam’s place, and hoped he should enjoy that happiness, if she should become a widow; now he believed that his ambush would be fatal only to the husband, because the husband would be the first to eat the apple; therefore he resolved to lay this snare for them. Is it possible to vent more inconsistent impertinence than this? If we believe Abrabanel, the serpent became a tempter only by the ill consequences that were drawn from his own conduct. He had no design to do barm; he did not say a word to Eve; he only had the faculty, which other beasts had not, of climbing up the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and eating the fruit. Eve, seeing that he was not the worse for it, concluded there was nothing to apprehend from that tree, and eat of it without the fear of death. Is not this to despise holy scripture more than Eve contemned the command, to explain in this manner an account, in which so particular a mention is made of a dialogue between the woman and the serpent? Some ancient Heretics have dreamed that the tempting serpent was a virtue, produced by Jaldabaoth under the form of a serpent. This Jaldabaoth was vexed that a Deity greater than himself had made man walk upright, who before was but a worm, and had also given him the knowledge of the superior Deities; for Jaldabaoth would willingly have passed for the only true God. Therefore, out of spite, he produced the serpent of Paradise, to whose word Eve gave credit, as if it had been the word of the son of God. These Heretics had a great veneration for the serpent; “for it is he,” say they, “who having taken the fruit of the tree, communicated the knowledge of good and evil to mankind." They were called Ophites. If we believe St Augustin, they carried their stupid reveries a great deal further; for they pretended that the tempting serpent was Jesus Christ; and for that reason they fed a serpent which, at a word from their priests, would creep upon the altars, and twist about the oblations and lick them, and then return into his hole again; and then they believed that Jesus Christ was come to sanctify their symbols, and they celebrated their communion. The opinion that Eve was seduced by the Devil, concealed under the body of a serpent, has had a thousand suppositions added to it, by the liberties which human invention has taken. There are rabbins who say that Sammael, the prince of the devils, got upon the back of a serpent of the bigness of a camel, and with this equipage he came to Eve to tempt her. Some say the tempter took an advantage from Eve’s not declaring the prohibition in the same terms that God had delivered it to them. God had forbidden them to eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil; but Eve told the serpent God had forbidden them to eat of that tree or to touch it. Now, as she passed near the tree, the serpent took hold of her and pushed her against it, and made her observe that she did not die, and thence inferred, that neither would she die if she eat of it. Several fathers and some modern divines condemn Eve, for not exactly reporting what she had heard from God, and it may be said it was an ill omen of the memory of mankind. This probably was the first time that what had been heard said was told again to another; great alterations were made in it, though they were yet in the happy state of innocence. Is it then to be wondered at, that every day, fallen man gives unfaithful accounts of things, and that a matter of fact cannot pass from hand to hand for a few hours without being disguised? This, by the way, as also what I am going to add, which is, that some authors pretend, that Eve knew the prohibition only from what Adam told her, and that Adam made her believe, out of his own head, that they were not allowed so much as to touch the tree; that he made her believe this, that she might be the more circumspect. Useless precaution! Some deny that the serpent spoke at all to Eve. “He made himself understood,” they say, “either by his hissing or by signs; for, at that time, man understood the voice of all the beasts.” Cajetan will not acknowledge in the tempting of Eve, the intervention of a voice; he pretends the serpent made use of nothing but internal suggestions. A rabbin named Lanjado has so subtilized the expression, “you shall surely die,” that he imagined the serpent presupposed a double death was contained in the threatening of one, which was to depend upon the quality of the forbidden fruit, and the other upon the command not to eat, or that one should be caused by the wood of the tree, the other by the fruit: whereupon the serpent, by a true sophistical turn, and as if he would have shunned a lie, by an equivocal expression, denied that the threatening would have its effect with respect to the wood of the tree: therefore he persuaded Eve to taste of the wood, and as she found it of an agreeable taste, she concluded that the fruit would be still more so: so that she eat of it. Ye distillers of the sacred letters, you would be much less to blame if you threw away your time in the chemical distillations, or in seeking for that phantom the philosopher’s stone! It has been feigned that the serpent assumed the face of a beautiful maid, when he would tempt Eve. Nicholas de Lyra makes mention of this idle conceit, and in the German Bibles printed before Luther, among other figures may be seen that of a serpent with the face of a very handsome maid.The Syrens were also a monstrous composition, with their upper part resembling a virgin. Their
treacherous and deluding voice may well be compared to that of the serpent; but would to God Eve had done as Ulysses did. She listened too much to the discourse of this seducer: not that we are to believe all the fine compliments that Alcimus Avitus reports to have passed on both sides; for, according to the narrative of Moses, this great affair was ended in a very few words. Never was an enterprise of such importance. It concerned the fate of mankind, for all future ages; the eternal felicity, or eternal damnation, of all men depended upon it, without reckoning all the follies and vanities of the present life; and nevertheless, never was any affair so speedily dispatched, never, perhaps, had die devil so cheap a bargain of man as this was. In all probability, the criminal thoughts of particular persons, which are of no comparative consequence, cost him more than a deed, which was decisive for the whole world; and, it must be confessed that the two heads with whom God deposited the salvation of the human race kept it so ill, that nothing could be worse: they delivered up the place to the enemy, almost without a blow; and instead of fighting for so precious a trust, at least as much as sinful man will fight for his religion or his country, “pro aris et focis,” they made less resistance than a child will make for a toy that is taken from him. They acted as if a pin had only been at stake: “sic erat in fatis.” Nevertheless, we must be far from thinking, either that Moses has too much abridged that narrative, or that, according to the oriental taste, he conceals the fatal event under the veil of fable. This would be too much exposing the interests of our fundamental truths; and after all, the great innocence of Eve, and her want of experience in all things, ought to lessen our wonder at her short and feeble resistance. There is nothing like being excessively wicked and deceitful, to prevent being imposed upon. Men of probity are those that fall easiest into the snare. Incapable of fraud, they hardly escape the artful designs of others. An open heart cannot suspect in another the malice and collusion which he is not conscious of in his own breast. Therefore it was a conquest infinitely more profitable than glorious, which the devil made over the first of all women, and one might almost, in this manner, expostulate both with him and the serpent who was his second:Egregiam vero laudem et spolia ampla refertis
Tuque puerque tuus, magnum et memorabile nomen,
Una dolo divum si fœmina victor duorum est.
Virg. Æn. lib. iv, ver. 93.
High praises, endless honours, you have won,
And mighty trophies with your worthy son,
Two Gods one silly woman have outdone. Dryden.
Art. Eve.
EVIL.
(Origin of).
The fathers of the church, who have so well refuted the Marcionites, the Manichees, and in general all those who admitted two principles, have not well answered the objections which relate to the origin of evil. They should have abandoned all the reasons à priori, as outworks, which may be insulted, and, cannot be maintained; they should have contented themselves with reasons à posteriori, and placed all their forces behind this intrenchment. The Old and New Testament are two parts of revelation, which mutually confirm one another; since therefore these Heretics acknowledged the divine authority of the New, it was no difficult matter to prove to them the Divine authority of the Old, after which it was easy to destroy their objections by shewing that they are contrary to experience. According to scripture, there is but one good principle, and yet moral and physical evil have been introduced
among mankind. It is not therefore contrary to the nature of a good principle, to permit the introduction of moral evil, and to punish crimes; for it is not more evident, that four and four are eight, than it is evident that if a thing come to pass, it is possible. “Ab actu ad potentiam valet consequentia. - - - From fact to possibility the consequence is good,” is one of the clearest and most incontestable axioms in metaphysics. This is an impregnable rampart, and this is sufficient to render the cause of the orthodox victorious, although their reasons à priori may be refuted. But can they be refuted, will some say? I will answer, yes; the manner of introducing evil, under the empire of a sovereign being, infinitely good, infinitely holy, and infinitely powerful, is not only inexplicable but incomprehensible; and all that is objected against the reasons why this being has permitted evil, is more agreeable to natural light, and the ideas we have of order, than these reasons are. Let us consider well this passage of Lactantius, which contains an answer to an objection of Epicurus.15“God, says Epicurus, is either willing to remove evil, and is not able: or he is able, and not willing: or he is neither willing, nor able: or else he is both willing and able. If he be willing and not able, he must then be weak, which cannot be affirmed of God. If he be able and not willing, he must be envious, which is likewise contrary to the nature of God. If he be neither willing nor able, he must be both envious and weak, and consequently not God. If he be both willing and able, which only can agree with the notion of God, whence then proceeds evil? Or, why does he not remove it? I know, that the greatest part of philosophers, who assert a providence, are commonly embarrassed with this argument, and almost forced against their will to acknowledge that
God does not concern himself with the administration of the world, which is the very thing that Epicurus drives at. But we easily overthrow this formidable argument by clear reason. For God can do whatever he pleases, and there is no weakness or envy in him; consequently, he is able to remove evil but is not willing, and yet for all that, is not envious. He does not remove evil for this reason, because (as I have shewn) he bestows wisdom, and there is more good and satisfaction in wisdom, than there is painfulness in evil. By wisdom likewise we come to know God, and by that knowledge attain to immortality, which is the chief good. And therefore unless we first know evil, we shall not be able to know good. But neither Epicurus nor any other has observed this: if evil be removed, wisdom must also be removed; no trace of virtue will remain; because virtue consists in bearing with and overcoming the sharpness of evil. And so, for the small advantage of the removal of evil, we should be deprived of the greatest, the most real, and proper good. It is evident therefore, that all things, evil as well as good, were intended for the benefit of mankind.”The whole strength of the objection could not be more sincerely represented: Epicurus himself could not have proposed it with greater clearness and strength. But the answer of Lactantius is pitiful, and it is not only weak, but full of errors, and perhaps of heresies. It supposes that God must produce evil, because otherwise he would not be able to communicate to us either wisdom or virtue, or the knowledge of what is good. Can any thing be shown more monstrous than this doctrine? Does it not overthrow all that Divines tell us about the happiness of Paradise, and the state of innocence? They tell us that Adam and Eve in this happy state felt, without any mixture of uneasiness, all the pleasures,
which that delicious and charming place, the garden of Eden, where God placed them, could afford them. They add, that if they had not sinned, they and all their posterity should have enjoyed this happiness, without being subject either to diseases or sorrows, and that neither the elements nor animals, had ever done them any harm. It was their sin that exposed them to cold and heat, to hunger and thirst, to pain and sorrow, and to the mischiefs which certain beasts do us. So far is it from being true, that virtue and wisdom cannot subsist in a man without physical evil, as Lactantius affirms, while on the contrary, it must be maintained, that man has been subject to this evil, only because he renounced virtue and wisdom. If the doctrine of Lactantius were good, we must necessarily suppose that the good angels are subject to a thousand inconveniences, and that the souls of the blessed do alternately pass from joy to sorrow; so that in the mansions of glory, and in the bosom of the beatific vision, none are secured from adversity. Nothing is more contrary to the unanimous sentiment of divines, and to right reason, than this doctrine. It is even true in sound philosophy, that it is no wise necessary that our soul should feel evil, to the end that it may relish what is good, and that it should pass successively from pleasure to pain, and from pain to pleasure, that it may be able to discern that pain is an evil, and that pleasure is a good thing. And thus Lactantius does not less oppose the light of nature, than the opinions of divines. We know by experience, that our soul cannot feel at one and the same time both pleasure and pain; it must therefore at first either have felt pain before pleasure, or pleasure before pain. If its first sensation were that of pleasure, it found that state to be agreeable, though it was ignorant of pain; and if its first sensation were that of pain, it found that state to be uneasy, although it was ignorant of pleasure. Suppose then that its first sensation lasted several years without interruption, you may conceive that during that time it was in an easy condition, or in one that was uneasy. And do not allege to me experience; do not tell me, that a pleasure which lasts long becomes insipid, and that pain in time becomes supportable; for I will answer you that this proceeds from a change in the organ, which makes that sensation which continues the same, as to kind, to be different as to degree. If you had at first a sensation of six degrees, it will not continue of six to the end of two hours, or to the end of a year but only of one degree, or of one fourth part of a degree. Thus custom blunts the edge of our sensations; their degrees correspond to the concussions of the parts of the brain, and this concussion is weakened by frequent repetitions, whence it comes to pass that the degrees of sensation are diminished. But if pain or joy were communicated to us in the same degree successively for a hundred years, we should be as unhappy or as happy the hundredth year as the first day; which plainly proves that a creature may be happy with a continued good, or unhappy with a continued evil; and that the alternative, which Lactantius speaks of, is a bad solution of the difficulty. It is not founded upon the nature of good and evil, nor upon the nature of the subject which receives them, nor upon the nature of the cause which produces them. Pleasure and pain are no less proper to be communicated the second moment than the first, and the third moment than the second, and so of all the rest. Our soul is also as susceptible of them after it has felt them one moment, as it was before it felt them, and God who gives them is no less capable of producing them the second time than the first. This is what we learn from the natural ideas we have of these objects. Christian theology confirms this invincibly, since is teaches us, that the torments of the damned shall be eternal and continued, and as sharp at the end of an hundred thousand years as the first day; and that on the contrary the pleasures of Paradise shall last eternally and continually, without ever abating. I would gladly know whether, supposing a thing which is very easy, that there were two suns in the world, whereof one should rise when the other sets, we must not conclude that darkness would be unknown to mankind. According to this fine philosophy of Lactantius, we must also conclude, that a man could not know the light, that he would not know it is day, or that he sees the objects before him.What I have just now said, proves invincibly, I think, that there is no advantage to be gained, by representing that God has mingled good and evil, only because he foresaw that a pure and unmixed good would seem to us insipid in a little time. The opponent will answer, that this property is not contained in the idea we have of a good thing, and that it is directly contrary to the common doctrine about the happiness of Paradise. As to the experience which teaches us but too much; that the joys of this life are not felt, but in proportion as they deliver us from a troublesome state, and that they draw after them disgust, when they have continued a little while: they will maintain that this phœnomenon is inexplicable, unless we have recourse to the hypothesis of two principles. If we depend, will they say, only upon one cause, Almighty, infinitely good, and infinitely free, and which disposes universally of all beings, according to the good pleasure of his own will, we ought not to feel any evil, all our good ought to be pure, and we ought never to have the least disgust. The author of our being, if he be infinitely beneficent, ought to take a continual pleasure in making us happy, and preventing every thing that may disturb or diminish our joy; for it is a
character essentially contained in the idea of supreme goodness. The fibres of our brain cannot be the cause that God weakens our pleasures; for according to you, he is the only author of matter; he is Almighty, and nothing can hinder him from acting according to the full extent of his infinite goodness; he needs only will, that our pleasures should not depend upon the fibres of our brain; and if he wills that they should depend upon them, he can preserve these fibres eternally in the same state; he need only to will either that they should not wear out at all, or that the damage they suffer should be quickly repaired. You cannot therefore explain what we experience, but by the hypothesis of two principles. If we feel pleasure, it is the good principle that gives it to us; but if we do not feel it perfectly pure, and if we are quickly disgusted with it, it is because there is an ill principle that thwarts the good. The latter, to be just to him, makes our pains less grievous by custom, and gives us always some hopes in the greatest evils. This, and the good use that is often made of adversity, and the bad use that is often made of prosperity, are phœnomena which are admirably explained, according to the Manichean hypothesis. These are things which lead us to suppose, that the two principles made an agreement which reciprocally limits their operations. The good principle cannot do us all the good he desires: it was necessary that in order to do us a great deal of good, he should consent, that his adversary should do us as much evil; for without this consent the chaos would still have remained a chaos, and no creature would ever have felt what is good. Thus, supreme goodness finding it a better way for its own satisfaction, to see the world sometimes happy, and sometimes miserable, than never to see it happy, made an agreement which produced the mixture of good and evil we now see in mankind. By ascribing to your principle an almighty power, and the glory of enjoying eternity alone, you have deprived him, say the Manichees, of an attribute which goes before all the rest; for optimus, the best precedes always maximus the greatest, in the stile of the most learned nations, when they speak of God. You suppose, that having nothing to hinder him from loading his creatures with good things, he oppresses them with evils; and if any of them be advanced, it is that their fall may be the greater. We clear him from any guilt in all this matter, we explain without impeaching his goodness, all that can be said of the inconstancy of fortune, the jealousy of Nemesis, and the continual sport which Æsop makes the employment of God, who exalts things, says Æsop, that are low, and abases things that are high. He could obtain no more, say we, from his adversary: his goodness extended as far as it could; if he do us no more good, it is because he cannot; we have no reason therefore to complain.Who will not admire and deplore the fate of our reason? Behold the Manichees, with an hypothesis altogether absurd and contradictory, explain what we experience, a hundred times better than the Orthodox do, with a supposition so just, so necessary, and so singularly true of one first principle, which is infinitely good and almighty.
Let us show, by another example, the little success of the fathers in the disputes against these Heretics, with respect to the origin of evil. Here follows a passage of St Basil: - - - “But to say that evil proceeded not from God, is a pious assertion; for nothing can arise from its contrary. But if evil be not innate, nor proceed from God, whence has it its origin? for that evil does exist, no man living will deny. I answer, that evil is not a living essence, and endued with soul; but a quality of the soul, contrary to virtue; planted in the slothful and lazy, because they
have fallen from good. Do not therefore look about, and inquire for evil, nor imagine a first principle of malignity, but let every one acknowledge himself the author of his own wickedness; for those things that happen to us, partly proceed from nature, as old age, and infirmity; partly come of themselves, as sudden accidents from external causes.... but partly we are within our own power, as to mortify our desires, to moderate our pleasures, to govern passion, or to lay hands on him that has done us an injury; to speak truth or untruth, to be of a meek and even temper, or to be puffed up with pride and arrogance. Do not therefore seek any where else for the principles of those things, which you are master of yourself; but know that what is properly evil, takes its rise from free will and choice.”The German divine who relates this passage had reason to say, that this father granted to the Marcionites more than he ought; for he will not so much as acknowledge that God is the author of natural evil, such as sickness, and old age, and of a hundred things which proceed from external causes, and happen suddenly. Thus, to disentangle himself from a difficulty, he adopts errors, and perhaps even heresies. But there is another fault in his answer; he fancies he can extricate himself from this difficulty, by clearing providence; provided, he affirms, that vices have their original in the soul of man. How came he not to perceive that he shuns the difficulty? or that he gives for a solution of it the very thing wherein the principal difficulty consists? The pretence of Zoroaster, Plato, Plutarch, the Marcionites, and Manichees, and, in general, of all those who admit one principle naturally good, and another principle naturally evil, both eternal and independant, is, that without this supposition, no account can be given how evil came into the world. You answer, that it came into the world by man: but how can that be, since, according to you,
man is the workmanship of a being infinitely holy, and infinitely powerful? Ought not the work of such a cause to be good? Can it be any thing else but good? Is it not more impossible that darkness should proceed from light, than that the product of such a principle should be bad? There lies the difficulty. St Basil could not be ignorant of it. Why then does he say so coldly, that we must not search for evil but in die soul of man? But who put it there? The man himself, by abusing the grace of his Creator, who, being sovereign goodness itself, produced him in a state of innocence. If you answer thus, you fall into a petitio principii, begging the question. You dispute with a Manichee, who maintains that two contrary Creators concurred to the production of man, it and that man received from the good principle whatever good he has, and, from the bad principle, whatever he has of evil; and you answer his objections, by supposing that the Creator of man is one only, and infinitely good being. Is not this to give your own thesis for an answer? It is plain that St Basil disputes ill; but, as this is a thing that nonplusses all philosophy, he should have retired into his strong hold, that is, he should have proved, by the word of God, that the author of all things is but one, and that he is infinite in goodness and all sorts of perfections; and that man, coming out of his hands innocent and good, has lost his innocence and his goodness by his own fault. This is the origin of moral and physical evil. Let Marcion and all the Manichees reason as much as they please to show that, under a Providence infinitely good and holy, this fall of an innocent man could not happen, they argue against matter of fact, and consequently they make themselves ridiculous. I suppose always, that they are such people as may be reduced by arguments ad hominem, to acknowledge the divine authority of the Old Testament. For if one had to do with Zoroaster, or Plutarch, it would be another thing.That you may see it is not without reason I urge, that we must only oppose to these sectaries this maxim, “Ab actu ad potentiam valet consequentia; - - - From matter of fact to possibility, the consequence is good and this short enthymem, “This has come to pass, therefore it is not repugnant to the holiness and ' goodness of God I observe that we cannot join issue in this dispute, upon any other foot, without some disadvantage. The reasons for the permission of sin, which are not taken from the mysteries revealed in scripture, have this defect, how good soever they be, that they may be opposed by other reasons more specious, and more agreeably to the ideas we have of order. For instance, if you say that God permitted sin to manifest his wisdom, which shines the more brightly by the disorders which the wickedness of men produces every day, than it would have done in a state of innocence; it may be answered, that this is to compare the Deity to a father who should suffer his children to break their legs, on purpose to show to all the city bis great art in setting their broken bones; or to a king who should suffer seditions and factions to increase through all his kingdom, that he might purchase the glory of quelling them. The conduct of this father and this monarch is so contrary to the clear and distinct ideas, according to which we judge of goodness and wisdom, and in general of the whole duty of a father and a king, that our reason cannot conceive how God can make use of the same. But, you will say, the ways of God are not our ways. Keep to that then, this is a text of scripture, and do not reason any more. Do not any more tell us that, without the fall of the first man, the justice and mercy of God would have remained unknown; for you will be answered, that there was nothing more easy
than to make man know these two attributes. The sole idea of a being infinitely perfect, clearly informs sinful man, that God possesses all the virtues that are worthy of a nature infinite in all respects. How much more would it have informed an innocent man, that God is infinitely just? But he had never punished any body; by this very thing his justice would have been known, this had been a continued act, a perpetual exercise of that virtue. None had deserved to be punished, and consequently the forbearing of all punishment would have been an exercise of justice. I desire you to answer me:—there are two princes, whereof one suffers his subjects to fall into misery, that he may deliver them, when they have sufficiently languished under it; and the other preserves them always in a prosperous state. Is not the latter much better, and more merciful, than the other? Those who teach the immaculate conception of the Virgin, prove demonstratively that God poured upon her his mercy, and the benefits of redemption, more than upon other people. We need not be metaphysicians to know this: a ploughman clearly perceives that it is a much greater goodness to hinder a man from falling into a ditch, than to let him fall in, and then take him out an hour after; and that it is much better to hinder an assassin from killing a man, than to break him on the wheel after he has been permitted to commit the murder.Those who say that God permitted sin, because he could not hinder it without destroying free-will, which he had given to man, and which was the best present he had made him, venture very far. The reason they give is specious; there is in it something that appears great; but nevertheless it may be opposed by such reasons as are more suited to the capacity of all men, and more founded upon good sense and the ideas of order. Without having read the fine treatise of Seneca concerning benefits, any one knows
by the light of nature, that it is essential to a benefactor not to bestow favours which he knows will be abused in such a manner, that they will serve only to the ruin of him on whom they are bestowed. There is no enemy so inveterate, who would not upon these terms, load his enemy with favours. It is essential to a benefactor to spare nothing to make the person happy with his benefits, whom he honours with them. If he could confer on him the knowledge of making good use of them, and should refuse it him, he would very ill sustain the character of a benefactor; neither would he better sustain it, if being able to keep his client from abusing benefits, he should not hinder him by curing his bad inclinations; these are ideas which are known as well to the common people as to the philosophers. I confess that if we could not prevent the ill use of a favour, but by breaking the arms and legs of our clients, or by shackling their feet with irons in a dungeon, we might not be obliged to prevent it, it were better to refuse them the benefit; but if one can prevent it by changing the heart, and by giving a man a relish of good things, we ought to do it; and this is what God might easily do if he would. Observe well what Cicero says, in opposition to those who allege that it is not the fault of God, if men do not use aright his favours. “Huie loco sic soletis occurrere, non idcirco non optimè à nobis à diis esse provisum, quod multi eorum beneficio perversè uterentur: etiam patrimoniis multos malè uti: nec ob earn causam eos beneficium à patribus nullum habere. Quis istus negat? aut quae est in collatione ista similitudo? nec enim Herculi nocere Deianira voluit, cum ei tunicam, sanguine Centauri tinctam, dédit nec prodesse Phæreo Jasoni, is qui gladio vomicam ejus aperuit, quam sanare medici non potuerant. Multi enim, etiam cum obesse veilent, profuerunt et cum prodesse, obfuerunt. Ita non fit ex eo, quod datur, ut voluntas ejus; qui dederit, appareat: nec, si is, qui accepit, bene utitur idcirco is, qui dédit amice dedit16 - - - To this you commonly answer, it does not follow that we are not very well taken care of by the Gods, because many abuse their benefits; for many people make a bad use of their patrimonies, and yet for all that, they are not deprived of their father’s kindness. Who denies that? or what resemblance is there in that comparison? For neither did Dejanira intend to hurt Hercules, when she gave him the coat dipped in the centaur’s blood; nor did that man design to do good to Jason, who opened his imposthume with a sword, which the physicians were not able to cure; for many people even when they intended to hurt, have done good; and when they intended to do good, have done hurt: and therefore the design of him who gives, does not appear by that which is given; and though he who receives it makes a right use of it, yet it does not follow that he who gave it, gave it as a friend.” There is no good mother, who having given her daughters leave to go to a ball, but would revoke that leave if she were sure that they would yield to enticements, and leave their virginity behind them; and every mother, who knowing that this would certainly come to pass, should nevertheless suffer them to go to a ball, being contented with exhorting them to virtue, and threatening them with her disgrace if they should not return maids, would at least, justly bring upon herself the blame of neither loving her daughters nor chastity. It would be in vain for her to say in her own justification, that she had no mind to restrain the liberty of her daughters, nor to show any distrust of them: she would be answered that this management was very preposterous, and savoured more of a provoked step-mother than of a mother; and that it had been better to keep her daughters in her sight, than to give them the privilege of liberty to such bad purposes, and to grant them such marks of her confidence. This discovers the rashness of those who assign for a reason, the regard which they say God showed to the free will of the first man. They had better believe and be silent, than allege such reasons as may be refuted by the examples I have just now made use of. Cotta in Cicero brings so many arguments against those who say, reason is a gift which the Gods bestowed upon man, that Cicero found himself unable to answer those difficulties; for if he had been able, he would have refuted them; his academic spirit was in its element when he could make it appear, that one may . dispute pro and con, in infinitum. Since therefore he has given no answer to the reasons of Cotta, we must believe that he could not do it: yet Cicero was one of the greatest geniuses that ever lived. Cotta having shown that reason is an accomplice in all crimes, and therefore the gods should have given it us, if they intended to do us a mischief, proposes to himself the common solution, which is, that men abuse die favours of heaven. “Sed urgetis identidem hominum esse istam culpam, non deorum . . . in hominum vitiis ais esse culpam.” Cicero replies, that the abuse should have been prevented, and that men should have had such a reason, as should have driven away whatever is evil; and that those cannot be excused who give what they know will prove pernicious.The free-will of the first man, which was preserved to him sound and entire, in the circumstances wherein he was to make use of it to his own loss, to the ruin of mankind, to the eternal damnation of the greatest part of his posterity, and to the introduction of a terrible deluge of evils, of guilt, and punishment, was not a good gift. We shall never understand that this privilege could be preserved to him by an effect of goodness, and out of love for holiness. Those who say that it was necessary there should be free beings,
to the end that God might be loved with a love of choice, are conscious to themselves, that this hypothesis does not satisfy reason; for when it is foreseen that those free beings will choose not the love of God, but sin, we may plainly perceive, that the intended end is defeated, and that therefore it is no wise necessary that free-will should be preserved.If the Manichees should go no further, they would renounce their principal advantages; for their most terrible objections are the following:—It cannot be conceived that the first man could receive from a good principle the faculty of doing ill. This faculty is vicious, and every thing that can produce evil is bad, since evil cannot proceed but from a bad cause; and therefore the free will of Adam proceeded from two contrary principles: inasmuch as he could take the right way, he depended upon a good principle; but inasmuch as he could embrace evil, he depended upon an ill principle. It is impossible to comprehend, that God did only permit sin; for a bare permission of sin added nothing to free-will, and was not a means to foresee, whether Adam would persevere in his innocence or fall from it. Besides, according to the idea we have of a created being, we cannot comprehend that it can be a principle of action, that it can move itself, and that receiving, in every moment of its duration, its existence and the existence of its faculties wholly from another cause, it should create in itself any modalities by a power peculiar to itself. These modalities must be either not distinct from the substance of the soul, as the new philosophers will have it, or distinct from the substance of the soul, as the Peripatetics affirm. If they be not distinct, they cannot be produced but by the cause which can produce the very substance of the soul; but it is manifest that man himself is not this cause, neither can he be. If they are distinct, then they are created beings, produced out of nothing, since they are not composed of the
soul, nor of any other pre-existent nature; they cannot therefore be produced, but by a cause that can create. Now all the sects of philosophy agree, that man is not, nor can be such a cause. Some think that the motion which excites him proceeds from some other cause, and that nevertheless he can stop it, and fix it upon a certain object. This is contradictory; since there is no less power required to stop that which is in motion, than to move that which is at rest. Seeing therefore a creature cannot be moved by a bare permission of acting, and has not in itself a principle of motion, it is absolutely necessary that God should move it; he must therefore do something else than barely permit man to sin. This may be proved by a new reason: namely, that it cannot be comprehended, that a bare permission should bring contingent events out of the class of things merely possible, nor that it should put the Deity in a capacity of being certainly sure that the creature will sin. A mere permission cannot be the foundation of the Divine prescience. This is what obliges the greatest part of divines to suppose that God has made a decree, which imports that the creature will sin, and which according to them is the foundation of prescience. Others think that the decree imports, that the creature shall be placed in such circumstances, wherein God has foreseen that it will sin. Thus some think that God foresaw the sin by reason of his decree; others, that he made the decree because he foresaw the sin. Howsoever this be explained, it follows clearly that God was willing that man should sin, and that he preferred this to the perpetual duration of innocence, which it was so easy for him to procure and ordain. Reconcile this if you can with the goodness he ought to have for his creatures, and the infinite love he ought to have for holiness.Again, if you say with those that come nearer to a method that would justify providence, that God did
not foresee the fall of Adam, you will gain but little by it; for at least he knew, very certainly, that the first man run the hazard of losing his innocence, and introducing into the world all the evils of punishment and guilt, which followed his apostacy. Neither his goodness, nor his holiness, nor his wisdom could permit that he should run the hazard of these events; for our reason convinces us very evidently, that a mother who should suffer her daughters to go to a ball, when she knew most certainly that they would run a great hazard with respect to their honour, would show thereby, that she neither loved her daughters nor chastity; and if it be supposed that she has an infallible preservative against all temptations, and that she gives it not to her daughters when she sends them to a ball, it is most evident that she is guilty, and that she takes but little care that her daughters should preserve their virginity. Let us carry on the comparison a little further; if that mother should go to this ball, and through a window should see and hear, that one of her daughters defends herself but weakly in the corner of a closet against the solicitations of a young gallant; if even when she sees that her daughter is but one step from yielding to the desires of the tempter, she should not go then to assist her, and deliver her from the snare, would not every one have reason so say that she acts like a cruel step-mother, and that she would not scruple to sell the honour of her own daughter. This is a representation of the conduct which the Socinians attribute to God. They cannot say, that he knew the sin of the first man, but as a possible event; he knew all the particulars of the temptation, and he must needs have known a moment before Eve yielded, that she was going to ruin herself; he must, I say, have known it with such a certainty, as renders him inexcusable if he does not prevent the evil, and allows him not to say, “I had reason to believe that this would not happen; I had still great hopes.” There are no people of so little experience, but without seeing what passes in the heart, and knowing the matter any otherwise than by signs, may be sure that a woman is ready to yield, if they see through a window how she defends herself, when her fall is near. Before the moment of her consent, there are certain indications, wherein they are not deceived. How much greater reason have we to think that God, who knew all the thoughts of Eve as they came into her mind (this knowledge the Socinians do not deny him) could not doubt but she was just ready to yield. He would therefore let her sin, and this even at the time when he foresaw she would certainly sin. The sin of Adam was yet more certainly foreseen; for the example of Eve gave some light the better to foresee the fall of her husband. If God had purposed to preserve man and his innocence, and to prevent all the miseries which were to be the infallible consequence of sin, would he not at least have fortified the husband, after the wife had fallen? Would he not have given him another wife, sound and perfect, instead of that which had suffered herself to be seduced? Let us say, therefore, that the Socinian system, by depriving God of prescience, reduces him to slavery, and to a pitiful form of government, and does not remove the grand difficulty which it should remove, and which forces these heretics to deny the foreknowledge of contingent events.”I refer you to a professor of Divinity yet living,17 who has proved, as clear as the day, that neither the method of the Scotists, nor that of the Molinists, nor that of the Remonstrants, nor that of the Universalists, nor that of the Pajonists, nor that of father Mallebranche, nor that of the Lutherans, nor that of the Socinians, can solve the objections of those who impute to God the introduction of
sin, or who pretend, that it is consistent with his goodness, with his holiness, or his justice; insomuch that this professor finding nothing better elsewhere, continues in the hypothesis of St Augustin, which is the same with that of Luther and Calvin, and of the Thomists and Jansenists; I say he continues there, being embarrassed with the astonishing difficulties he has set forth, and oppressed with their weight. Since Luther and Calvin appeared, I do not think that a year has passed wherein they have not been accused of making God the author of all sin. The professor of whom I speak, confesses, that with respect to Luther, the accusation is just; the Lutherans at this day pretend the same thing as to Calvin. The Roman Catholics pretend the same thing as to both. The Jesuits pretend it as to Jansenius. Those who are a little equitable and moderate, do not take it to be an act of insincerity in their adversary, when he protests, that he does not at all impute to God, the sin of man, that he does not at all make him the author of it; they are willing to grant that he does not expressly teach it, and that all the consequences of his doctrine are not perceived by him; but they add, that "protestatio facto contraria nihil valet, - - - a protestation contrary to fact signifies nothing,” and that if he will take the pains to determine precisely, what was necessary for God to have done that he might be the author of the sin of Adam, he will find that according to his doctrine, God has done all that was necessary in order to that end. You therefore, add they, act quite contrary to Epicurus; he denied in effect that there were any gods, and yet he said that there were gods. You, on the contrary, deny in your words that God is the author of sin, but in effect you teach it.Let us come at last to the text of this remark. The disputes which have arisen in the west among
Christians since the reformation, have so clearly shown that a man does not know which side to take, when he would solve the difficulties about the origin of evil, that a Manichee at this day would be more terrible than in former times, because he would refute every party by each other. You have exhausted, would he say, all the forces of your wit; you have invented the “scientia media,” which like a “Deus è Machina” (a machine-deity) is brought in to clear your chaos. This invention is chimerical; it cannot be conceived, that God should foresee things future otherwise than in his decrees, or in the necessity of causes. It is no less inconceivable in metaphysics, than it is inconceivable in ethics, that he who is goodness and holiness itself should be the author of sin. I refer you to the Jansenists: see how they run down your scientia media, both by direct proofs, and by retorting your arguments; for it does not hinder that all the sins and all the miseries of man proceed from the free choice of God; it does not take off the force of the parallel in comparing God, (absit verbo blasphemia, - - - with reverence be it spoken), to a mother who knowing certainly that her daughter would yield up her honour, if in such a place and at such a time she were solicited by such a man should manage the interview herself, carry her daughter to it, and leave her there to her own conduct. The Socinians overwhelmed with the objection, endeavour to extricate themselves by denying prescience, but they have the mortification to see that their hypothesis vilifies the government of God, without clearing him of the guilt, and that it does not avoid the comparison of this mother, more or less. I refer them to the Protestants, who overthrow and utterly confound them. As to absolute decrees, the certain cause of prescience, see, I pray you, after what manner the Molinists and the Remonstrants oppose them. There is a divine, as resolute as Bartolus, who confesses almost with tears in his eyes, that there is no body more perplexed than he with the difficulties of these decrees, and that he continues in this condition, only because when he had a mind to go over to qualified methods, he found himself still oppressed with objections.18 He enlarges with great strength upon all this in another work, and you cannot deny but he refutes invincibly all those methods; and consequently you have no resource left, unless you will adopt my system of the two principles. By this means you will extricate yourself from this trouble, all the difficulties will vanish away; you will fully justify the good principle, and you only pass from one Manicheism less reasonable to another more reasonable; for if you examine your system carefully, you will acknowledge, that you as well as I admit two principles, the one of good, and the other of evil; but instead of placing them as I do, in two subjects, you join them together in one and the same substance, which is monstrous and impossible. The one only principle which you admit, determined from all eternity, according to you, that man should sin, and that the first sin should be infectious; that it should produce without end and without intermission all imaginable crimes over the face of the whole earth. In consequence he prepared for mankind in this life all the miseries that can be conceived, such as pestilence, war, famine, pain, vexation, and after this life a Hell, wherein all men almost shall be eternally tormented, after such a manner as makes our hair stand on end, when we read the descriptions of it. If such a principle is besides perfectly good, and loves holiness infinitely, must we not acknowledge, that the same God is at one and the same time, perfectly good and perfectly bad, and that he loves vice no less than he does virtue? Now is it not more reasonable to divide these two opposite qualities, and to give all that is good to one principle, and all that is bad to another principle? Human history will prove nothing to the disadvantage of the good principle. I do not say, as you do, that of his own will, and only because it was his good pleasure, he subjected mankind to sin and misery, when nothing hindered him from making them holy and happy; I suppose he did not consent to this but to shun a greater evil, and that he did it as it were in his own defence. This clears him of guilt. He saw that the evil principle would destroy all; he opposed him as much as he could, and by agreement, he obtained the state to which things are now reduced. He acted like a monarch, who to avoid the ruin of all his dominions, is obliged to sacrifice one part of them to the good of the other: this is a grand inconvenience, and which at first frightens human reason, to talk of a first principle, and a necessary being, as of a thing that does not all it has a mind to, and which is forced for want of power to submit to conjunctures; but it is yet a greater imperfection to resolve voluntarily to do evil, when one can do good.—This is what might be said by this Manichee, and a good use may be made of these remarks, to humble the reason of man, by shewing him with what force the most foolish heresies may confound it, and embroil the most fundamental truths.And after all the Orthodox seem to admit of the two principles. It has been a constant opinion amongst Christians from the beginning, that the devil is the author of all false religions; that he moves the Heretics to dogmatise, and inspires men with errors, superstitions, schisms, lewdness, avarice, intemperance; in a word, with all the crimes that are committed among men: that he deprived Adam and Eve of their innocence; whence it follows that he is the
cause of moral evil, and of all the miseries of man. He is therefore the first principle of evil; but because he is not eternal or uncreated, he is not the first ill principle in the sense of the Manichees, which afforded those Heretics I know not what matter of boasting and insulting over the Orthodox. They might have told them, your doctrine is much more injurious to the good God than ours, for you make him the cause of the ill principle; you assert that he produced him, and that though he could have stopped him at the first step he made, yet he permitted him to usurp so great a power in this world, that mankind having been divided into two cities, that of God and that of the devil, the first was always very small, and even so small for many ages, that it had not two inhabitants, when the other had two millions. We are not obliged to inquire into the cause of the wickedness of our evil principle; for when an uncreated being is so or so, one cannot say why it is so; it is its nature; one must necessarily stop there; but as for the qualities of a creature, one ought to inquire into the reason of them, and it cannot be found but in its cause. You must therefore say that God is the author of the devil’s malice, that he himself produced it such as it is, or sowed the seeds of it in the soil that he created; which is a thousand times more dishonorable to God, than to say that he is not the only necessary and independent being. This brings in again the above-mentioned objections concerning the fall of the first man; it is not therefore necessary to insist any longer upon it. We must humbly acknowledge that philosophy is here at a stand, and that its weakness ought to lead us to the light of revelation, where we shall find a sure and stedfast anchor. I may remark here that these Heretics made an ill use of some passages of the holy Scripture, wherein the devil is called the prince, and the god of this world.The more we reflect, the more we find that the
natural light ties and entangles this gordian knot. I found it so by experience as I was reading this article again to make it ready for a second edition. Some new thoughts came into my mind, which convinced me anew, and more strongly than ever, that the best answer that can be naturally returned to the question, “Why did God permit that man should sin?” is this, “I do not know, I only believe that he had some reasons for it very worthy of his infinite wisdom, but they are incomprehensible to me.” You will stop with such an answer the most obstinate disputers; for if they will go on they must talk alone, and so they will soon hold their tongues. If you should enter the lists with them, and undertake to maintain that the inviolable privileges of free-will have been the true reason which moved God to permit men to sin, you would be forced to answer their objections to their satisfaction; and I do not know how you could Well do it, for they might object two things which seem most evident to reason:—They might say,— first, that God having caused his creatures to exist by an effect of his goodness, he gave them also, under the character of a bountiful cause, all the perfections which are proper for every kind. We must therefore say that he expressed a greater love for those which received very, excellent qualities from him, than for those who received less excellent qualities. He has therefore out of a particular goodness bestowed freewill upon men, since that quality raises them above all the beings that are upon earth. But we cannot conceive, how a gracious and beneficent being can make a considerable present, without designing to increase thereby the happiness of those who receive it, and consequently that bountiful being ought to put them in a condition of getting such an advantage by it, and keep them, if it be possible, from being utterly ruined and destroyed by it. But if there be no ether way of preventing that, than by revoking the gift, that gift ought to be revoked; whereby the character of patron and benefactor may be much better preserved than by any other means. This is not changing our mind with respect to the donor, but retaining without any shadow of variation, the goodwill wherewith that present was made him. The same goodness which moves a deity to give a thing which he thinks will make happy those that shall enjoy it, moves him likewise to take it away as soon as he observes that it makes them unhappy; and if he have time enough, and a sufficient power, he will not put off the withdrawing of his gift till it proves the cause of misery, but he will take it away before it has done any harm. What has been said follows from the ideas of order, and the notions whereby we may judge of the essence and characters of goodness, in whatever subject it is to be found, whether in the creator or in a creature, a father, master, or king: thence comes this dilemma; either God has given free-will to men by an effect of his goodness, or without any goodness. You cannot say he did it without any goodness; you therefore say that he has done it with great goodness; but it necessarily results that he should have deprived them of it at any rate, rather than stay till it should prove their eternal damnation by the production of sin, which is a monster he essentially abhors; and if he have been so patient as to leave so dismal a present in their hands, till the evil happened, it is a sign either that his goodness was altered, even before they left the right way, which you dare not say; or that free-will was not given them out of goodness, which is against the supposition granted in the above-mentioned dilemma.Regard ought to be had to a strong obligation; it should never be dispensed with but in cases of necessity; but men in such cases ought to have no such regard. If a son should see his father ready to throw himself out at the window either in a fit of frenzy, or
because he is troubled in his mind, he would do well to chain him if he could not restrain him otherwise. If a queen should fall into the water, any footman that should get her out of it, either by embracing her, or taking her by the hair, though he should pluck off above one half of it, would do a very good action; she would not certainly complain of his want of respect to her. If any one should suffer a lady finely dressed to fall down a precipice, would it. not be a very foolish excuse to say, that it was impossible to stop her without spoiling her ribbons and headdress? Upon such an occasion as that, restraint and violence are an effect of goodness, and if a man were to be snatched even against his will out of the jaws of death, it would be a piece of charity to do it, though you should run the hazard of putting one of his limbs out of joint, if he could not be saved any other way; and that man, when his passion is over, will not fail to thank you for it. The maxim, that to save a man against his will, who would destroy himself, is the same thing as to kill him, is of no use in this case; and the greatest favourers of toleration, will tell you that the pretended command, “Compel them to come in,” should be executed in a literal sense, if the only safe and infallible way of saving heretics, were to make them go to the Protestant church, or to mass, with a cudgel in our hands.It clearly appears from all these things, that they who would submit to the judgment of reason the conduct of the divine providence, with respect to the permission of the first sin, would infallibly lose their cause, if they had nothing to say but that the privileges of free-will ought not to be violated. They would be answered, how can you conceive that God is the father of men, and yet say that he had rather save them the short and inconsiderable trouble of forcing them to renounce an agreeable conversation, wherein they were ready to make an ill use of their liberty, than prevent their eternal damnation,
which they incur by the ill use of their free-will? Where do you find such ideas of paternal goodness? To have a regard to the free-will of a man, and carefully to abstain from laying any restraint upon his inclination, when he is going to lose his innocence for ever, and to be eternally damned,—do you call that a lawful observation of the privileges of liberty? You would be less unreasonable, if you should say to a man who gets a fall near you and breaks his leg, “that which hindered us from preventing your fell, is that we were afraid to undo some folds of your gown; we had so great a respect for its symmetry, that we would not attempt to discompose it, and we thought it was much better to let you run the hazard of breaking your bones. ”The second thing which I have to propose will give more trouble to the defendants than the other. I have argued hitherto upon this principle; when those whom we love cannot be preserved from death, or infamy, or some other great evil, unless we Make them feel a lesser pain, we are obliged to make them feel it. To indulge them in their capricious or bad inclinations, would be rather an act of cruelty than of goodness; and as they would infallibly be angry, as soon as they come to know the consequences of it, so they would be ready to thank those who did hurt them so much for their good. The evidence of these propositions is obvious to every body, and it cannot be doubted that Adam and Eve would have looked upon God’s restraint to keep them from falling, as a new favour as great as the precedent.
This is what the principles of my first observation run upon; but now I take another way: I grant to the adversaries all their demands; let them say that seeing man had received the privilege of liberty, he was to have the entire possession and use of it, and no manner of restraint was to be put upon him. Let them say it was not a proper time to save a man by
pulling him by the arm, or by the hair, by throwing him upon the ground, and saying to him, “it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.” Let them assert that the free will of man was a barrier altogether inviolable, and a privilege which it was not lawful to strike at. I will grant it. But was there no other means of preventing the fall of man? God was not to oppose a corporal motion; which is a troublesome opposition; a mere act of the will was the thing in question. But all the philosophers say that the will cannot be forced, “Voluntas non potest cogi,” and it it a contradiction to say that a volition is forced, for every act of the will is essentially voluntary. Now it is infinitely more easy for God to imprint in the souls of men such an act of the will as he thinks fit, than it is for us to fold a napkin, therefore, &c. here is another observation more forcible still: All divines own that God can infallibly produce a good act of the will in a human soul without depriving it of the use of liberty. A preventing delectation, the suggestion of an idea which weakens the impression of the tempting object, and a thousand other preliminary means of acting upon the mind and the sensitive soul, move infallibly the rational soul to make a good use of its liberty, and to follow the right way without being invincibly forced to it. Calvin would not deny it with respect to the soul of Adam, during the time of innocency, and all the divines of the Church of Rome, without excepting the Jansenists, own it with respect to man considered as a sinner. They acknowledge that his actions may be meritorious, though he acts only by a grace that is either efficacious by itself, or sufficient in such a degree that it never fails to produce its effect. They must therefore acknowledge that a divine help so seasonably bestowed upon Adam, and so tempered as to have infallibly prevented his fall, would have been very consistent with the use of his liberty, and without proving any restraint upon, or being disagreeable to him, would have left sufficient room for merit.Thus the defendants are driven from all their entrenchments. Perhaps their last answer will be, that God owes nothing to his creatures, and that he was not bound to bestow a necessitating or infallible grace upon them. But why then did they say before, that he was to have a regard to human liberty? If he were obliged to preserve that prerogative of men, he must needs owe something to his own work. But not to insist upon that argument ad hominem; one may answer them, that if he owe nothing to his creatures, he is altogether bound to himself, and can do nothing against his essence. But it is essential to the holiness of God, and to his infinite and almighty goodness, not to suffer the introduction of moral and physical evil.
Well, will they reply at last,"but shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, why hast thou made me thus?” This is well said: we should have stopped there. We are come again to the beginning of the lists; we had better have remained there, for it is needless to engage in a dispute, if after having run for some time, we must at last shut up ourselves in our own thesis. The doctrine which the Manichees oppose, ought to be looked upon by the orthodox as a truth, clearly revealed; and since it must at last be confessed, that the causes and reasons of it cannot be apprehended, it is better to own it from the very beginning, and stopping there, look upon the objections of philosophers as vain wrangling, to which nothing is to be opposed to them but silence, and the shield of faith.—Art. Paulicians.
EXCOMMUNICATION.
Uriel Acosta, a Portuguese gentleman, was born at Oporto, about the end of the sixteenth century. He was educated in the Romish religion, which his
father sincerely professed, though descended from one of those Jewish families, which were constrained to receive baptism. He was educated like a person of quality, and after several studies, applied himself at last to civil law. Nature had endowed him with good inclinations, and religion had made so deep an impression upon him, that he ardently desired to fulfil all the precepts of the church, in order to avoid eternal death, which he very much dreaded. Therefore he diligently applied himself to the reading of the Gospel, and other spiritual and godly books; and often consulted the decisions of Casuists about the heads of confession; but the more inquiries he made, the more he found his scruples and difficulties increase, till at last they entangled him to such a degree, that being unable to get out of the labyrinth, he fell into most terrible agonies of mind. He did not think it possible for him punctually to discharge the duty and conditions, which absolution requires according to sound Casuists, and thus he despaired of salvation, in case it could not be obtained in any other way. But, because it was difficult for him to abandon a religion to which he had been accustomed from his infancy, and which had taken deep root in his mind, through the force of persuasion, all he could do in his condition, was to examine whether all the notions he had imbibed of a future state were not mere fiction, and whether they were agreeable to reason. He fancied that reason incessantly suggested to him arguments against them: and being then twenty-two years of age, he first turned Sceptic, and afterwards concluded, that the road into which education had led him; would never carry him to salvation. In the mean time he studied the law, and obtained a preferment at twenty-five years of age, and being unwilling to be without religion, and the Roman Catholic religion affording him no rest, he applied himself to the reading of Moses and the prophets, and having found them more satisfactory than the gospel, he was at last persuaded that Judaism was the true religion; but not being permitted to profess it in Portugal, he resolved to leave his native country, and accordingly resigning his place, he embarked for Amsterdam with his mother and brothers, whom he had the courage to catechise, and whom he effectually brought over to his opinions.He does not forget in his work entitled “Exemplar, vitæ Humanæ,” the circumstances which were proper to heighten the sacrifice he made to his religion. He observes that he relinquished a profitable and honourable post, and a fine house, which his father had built in the best part of the city. He adds the dangers of embarking; for the descendants of the Jews cannot go out of the kingdom, without the king’s particular leave. Lastly he says, that if it had been known that he entertained his mother and brothers with his thoughts about the Jewish religion, it would have been his utter ruin; but his charity made him overlook the danger.
As soon as the family arrived at Amsterdam, they were admitted into the synagogue, and were circumcised according to custom, upon which he changed his name of Gabriel into that of Uriel. It was not many days before he found that the manners and customs of the Jews were not conformable to the laws of Moses, and he could not forbear censuring this nonconformity; but the chief of the synagogue gave him to understand, that he must follow their tenets and customs in all points, and that if he receded from them never so little, they would excommunicate him. These threats did not discourage him; he thought it would not become a man, who had abandoned the conveniences of his native land for liberty of conscience, to yield to rabbies who had no authority; and that it would argue want of spirit and piety, if he should betray his sentiments upon this
occasion, and accordingly persisted. There was however a great difference between the tribunal which Acosta stood in fear of in his own country, and of the synagogue of Amsterdam. The latter can only inflict canonical punishments, whereas the Christian inquisition can put a man to death, for it delivers over to the secular sword all those it condemns. Therefore I do not wonder that Acosta was less afraid of the Jewish inquisition, than of that of Portugal. He knew that the synagogue had no tribunals, which intermeddled with any process, civil or criminal, and therefore looked upon their excommunications as a mere “brutum fulmen;” he did not find this canonical sentence attended either with death, whipping, prison, or a pecuniary mulct. He therefore thought that, since he had courage enough not to betray his religion in Portugal, he ought, with much more reason, have the boldness to speak according to his conscience, among the Jews, even at the peril of excommunication from them; which was all he had to fear from men who had no magistrates of their own. But it fared with him as with most people, who judge of complicated evils. They imagine is in the union of two or three punishments that a misfortune consists; and that a man would deserve but little pity, should he suffer only one of them; but they experience the contrary when providence exposes them to any one of these two or three disgraces. They feel it much heavier than they imagined it would prove. The inquisition of Portugal seemed dreadful to the Jew Acosta. Why so? Because he beheld it joined with the power, either mediately or immediately of imprisoning, torturing, and burning criminals. If he had considered it only with relation to its excommunication, he would not have been much afraid of it. This was the reason of his contemning the menaces of the synagogue of Amsterdam; but he was sensible, by experience, that the bare power of excommunication is very terrible, though altogether unaided by the secular sword. Every body looked upon him as a monster, after his excommunication; his very brothers avoided meeting him, and durst not take notice of him. The boys hooted at him in the streets, and loaded him with curses; they gathered in crowds about his house and threw stones at his windows; he could not be quiet either at home or abroad. The evils to which his excommunication subjected him were bo violent, that at last he found himself unable to support them; for, as great an aversion as he had to the synagogue, he chose rather to return to it by a seeming reconciliation, than to be openly separated from it. For this reason, he said to certain Christians, who had a mind to turn Jews, that they did not know what yoke they were going to submit their necks to. But how great was his perplexity when, having refused to undergo the ignominious penance imposed on him by the synagogue, he saw himself still detained by the bonds of excommunication? Those who met him in the streets, spat at him, and children were taught to do the same. His relations persecuted him, and no one would attend him when he lay sick.Under these circumstances he composed a book in justification of himself; wherein he shewed that the rites and traditions of the pharisees were contrary to Moses’s writings. He had scarcely begun this book, when he embraced the opinion of the Sadducees; for he was fully pursuaded, that the punishments and rewards of the old law respected this life only; grounding his opinion principally upon this, that Moses makes no mention either of the joys of Heaven, or of the torments of Hell. When his adversaries were informed, that he had embraced this opinion, they were extremely pleased, because they foresaw it would be a good plea in justifying to the Christians the proceedings of the Synagogue against him. This was the reason, why, even
before his book went to the press, they published a treatise concerning the immortality of the soul, composed by a physician, who forgot nothing, that might contribute to brand Acosta for an Atheist. Nevertheless he published a book against the physician, wherein he strenuously opposed the immortality of the soul. The Jews had recourse to the tribunals of Amsterdam, and impeached him, as a person who overthrew the principles both of Judaism and Christianity. He was imprisoned, and admitted to bail in eight or ten days. The impression of his book was confiscated, and the author fined three hundred gilders. All this did not stop him: time and experience pushed him on much farther. He examined whether the law of Moses came from God, and fancied he had found sufficient reasons to be convinced, that it was a mere contrivance of human wit; but instead of concluding, therefore I ought not to return to the Jewish communion, he drew this consequence, why should I obstinately remain separated from it all my life-time, exposed to so many inconveniences, and a stranger as I am, in a country, the language whereof I cannot speak? Having considered all these things he returned to the pale of Judaism fifteen years after his excommunication, recanted what he had said, and subscribed whatever they pleased.Some days after, a nephew of his, who lodged in his house, informed against him. This youth had taken notice that his uncle did not observe the laws of the synagogue, either in point of diet, or otherwise. The accusation was attended with strange consequences: for one of Acosta’s relations, who had reconciled him to the Jews, thought himself obliged, in honour, to prosecute him with the utmost severity. The rabbies and all the people under them, were actuated by the same spirit, especially when they heard that he had dissuaded two Christians, who were come from
London to Amsterdam from turning Jews. He was summoned before the grand council of the synagogue, who declared to him they would excommunicate him a second time, if he did not give them the satisfaction they should require of him. He found the terms of it so very hard, that be answered, he could not submit to them; whereupon they resolved to drive him from their communion; and it is impossible to relate the many insults offered him from that time, and how much he was persecuted by his relations. Having past seven years in this sad condition, he resolved to declare that he was ready to submit to the sentence of the synagogue; for they had given him to understand that, by means of this declaration, he would easily come off, because the judges, being satisfied with his submission, would mitigate the severity of the discipline. But he was deceived, and made to undergo, with the utmost rigour, the penance which they had at first imposed upon him.A great crowd of men and women being assembled in the synagogue to see this spectacle, he entered the place, and, at the time appointed, went up into the pulpit, and read with a loud voice a paper, wherein he acknowledged that he had deserved death a thousand times, for not keeping either the Sabbath day, or his promised faith, and for having dissuaded the conversion of certain Christians, who were inclined to embrace Judaism: that, in atonement for these crimes, he Was ready to suffer whatever they should decree, and that he promised never to relapse into the same faults. Being come down from the pulpit, he was ordered to retire to one of the corners of the synagogue, where he stripped himself naked, from the waste upwards, and pulled off his shoes; then the door-keeper tied one of his hands to one of the pillars; after which the master-chanter gave him thirty-nine stripes with a whip, neither more nor less; for in these ceremonies they take care not to exceed the number which the law prescribes. Next came the preacher,
who ordered him to sit on the ground, and declared him absolved from his excommunication, and that the doors of paradise were not shut against him as before. “Et ita jam porta cœli mihi erat aperta, quae an tea fortissimis ceris clausa me à limine et ingressu excludebant. Acosta put on his clothes again, and went and laid himself down flat on his belly at the door of the synagogue, and all that went out trod over him. Such is what I have extracted, without any disguise or alteration, out of a small piece composed by Acosta, and published and confuted by Mr. Limborch. It is thought he wrote it some few days before his death, having first resolved to lay violent hands upon himself. He executed this strange resolution a little after he had failed in his attempt of shooting his principal antagonist as he passed by his door; for, his pistol missing fire, he locked himself up, and with another pistol shot himself. This happened at Amsterdam, though in what year is not certainly known. Thus Acosta sadly experienced how terrible even those people are, who without any legal jurisdiction, inflict laws of discipline, which are sometimes more ignominious and defaming than a branding iron; and expose a man to more temporal misfortunes, than the afflictive pains which the civil magistrate imposes. The sentence of the judge does not set aside the acts and offices of humanity, much less the duties of consanguinity; but excommunication often arms fathers against their children, and children against their fathers; stifles all the sentiments of nature; breaks the bonds of friendship and hospitality; and reduces people to the condition of such as are infected with the plague, nay sometimes to a worse and more abandoned state.—Art. Acosta.EXTACIES.
(Spiritual.)
Philip Rovenius, a titular archbishop of Philippi,
and apostolical vicar of the United Provinces, was born at Deventer. He published several books, and one amongst others, “De Republics Christiana,” printed in the year 1648. I shall quote a passage out of it to show the strange jargon of some devout women, which he severely condemns.19“Non raro etiam superbiam aliquam conjunctam habent, ut ambulent in magnis, et mirabilibus super se, ut vilescant illis ordinaria pietatis exercitia approbata ab Ecclesia, vel à Patribus commendata: nihil crepent nisi uniones cum Deo. cum uniantur proprio (si non pejori) spiritui: jactent transubstantiationes mysticas, cordis concentrationes: potentiarum, imo omnis sui esse, annihilationem, connubium essentiæ creatæ et Divinitatis: spirituale Sacramentum inseparabilitatis, somnium omnium affectionum, absorptionem et liquefactionem in amplexu sponsi, triplicem animæ hierarchiam, orationem in quiete passiva, ebrietatem spiritualem, cordis silentium, meditationes negativas, uniones superessentiales, puteum et gurgitem annihilationis, amorem Deificum, transformantem, unientem, stringentem, amplexantem, suavitatem cor auferentem, sugentem sponsi ubera, ruminantem collum, absorbentem enthusiasmum, insensibilitatem et oblivionem omnium inducentem abyssalem cum Deo identificationem, confricationem Deificam, incendentem et consumentem cor: elevationem ad suavitatem cœlestem, ex infernali languore, introversionem super cœlestem, caliginem et umbram Dei, allocutiones internas, elevationes incognitas, extentiones et applicationes amorosas, animæ suspensiones, deliquium, suspiria, mortem sensuum et omnium affectuum, ecstasim continuam, justitium ratiocinii, cordis contactum et patefactionem, liquefactionem, influxum, inflammationem, assultus qui ferri nequeant, penetrationes ad intima, vulnerationes, constrictiones,
alligationes inseparabiles, aspectus penetrantes et obtenantes, voces tremulas, murmura columbina, gustus suavissimos,odores gratissimos, auditus melodiæ cœlestis, hypermysticas Dei et animœ perichoreses, impudentiam, spiritualem, aspirationes Mysanthropicas, ignem sine carbone, flammam aine corpore, holocaustum meridianum in viscerali et medullari penetrabilitate, conlactum mirabilem et suavissimum, obscuræ noctis gaudia et caliginem. Hæc et similia sesquipedalia verba in nova pietatis schola inter sponte electos magistral et discipulas curiosas, adeo frequenter tenero proferuntur palato, ut intimis in visceribus sentiantur. - - - - They often also take a sort of pride in pretending to the performance of things great and wonderful, beyond their ability, so as to despise the Usual exercises of piety approved by the church, dr recommended by the fathers: they talk of nothing less than their union with God, which is only with their own spirit, if not with a worse. They boast of mystical transubstantiations; concentrations of heart; annihilation of powers, yea, of all their being; marriage of the created essence with the Deity; the spiritual sacrament of inseparability; the dream of all the affections; absorption, and dissolution in the embrace of the spouse; a triple hierarchy of the soul; prayer in passive quietude; spiritual intoxications; silence of heart; negative meditations; superessential unions; the pit and gulf of annihilation; deifying love; transforming; uniting; pressing; embracing; a sweetness ravishing the soul; sucking the breasts of the spouse; a ruminating neck; an absorbent enthusiasm; insensibility and oblivion of all things, inducing an abyssal identification with God; deific confrication; inflaming and consuming the heart; an elevation to a celestial sweetness from an infernal languishing; supercelestial introversion; darkness and shade of God; inward allocutions; unknown elevations; amorous extensions and applications; suspensions of the soul; swooning; groans; death of all the senses and affections; perpetual extasy; cessation of reasoning; contact and opening of heart; liquefaction; influx; inflammation; insupportable assaults; thorough penetrations; woundings; up-bindings; inseparable allegations; penetrating and delighting looks; warbling sounds; dove-like murmurs; sweetest tastes; most pleasant odours; heavenly melodious sounds; supermystical walks of God and the soul; spiritual impudence; mysanthropical aspirations; fire without coal; flame without a body; meridian holocaust in a visceral, and medullar penetrability; admirable and most delightful contact; joys and darkness of obscure night. These and the like enormous words, and this unintelligible jargon, is frequently repeated in the new school of piety by their own chosen masters and inquisitive she-disciples with faint and trembling voices.”—Art. Rovenius.Floral Games.
According to Lactantius, Flora was a courtezan, who, having got large sums of money by prostituting herself, made the Roman people her heirs, and ordered that the income of a certain fund, which she specified, should be employed in celebrating her birthday. She would have that day remarkable by the games that were to be exhibited to the people, and named after her, Floral. They were celebrated in a very scandalous manner, and were in some sort the courtezans’ feast. Lactantius adds, that the senate found a way to hide from the public the original of so infamous an institution; but, taking the advantage of the courtezan’s name, they made them believe that Flora was the goddess presiding over flowers; and that, in order to have a good harvest, it was necessary to honour that goddess every year, and render her propitious to them.
“These games, therefore,” adds Lactantius, “are
celebrated with all the lewdness imaginable, and in a manner that perfectly answers the memory of a prostitute. For, besides the extravagant license whereby obscene talking is encouraged, the courtezans, at the instance of the people, are stripped naked, and play their monkey gambols in their sight, till the eyes of the most abandoned spectators are tired with their abominable behaviour."St Augustin thunders, as he ought to do, in divers places, against this impudence. I shall only relate the following passage:—“Of these flowers neither is the earth productive, nor any fertile virtue; but Flora, the goddess Flora, must be made the worthy parent of them, whose games are celebrated with such profligate license and obscenity, that any one may understand what daemon it is that cannot be otherwise appeased. There, no birds, no beasts, nor even human blood, but human modesty is butchered, and most impiously sacrificed."
Pagan authors do not deny that naked women appeared before the people at the Floral games, and relate that Cato, once assisting at them, on perceiving that his presence hindered the people from demanding the naked spectacles as usual, he retired that he might not interrupt the feast. At the sight of this condescension the people followed him with repeated acclamations, and afterwards acted according to custom.
Martial justly laughs at this behaviour of Cato. Why did he go to the games, since he knew what was practised there? Did he go there only to go out again? This is what the poet reproaches him with; but he forgot the most material part, which is, that Cato ought not to have withdrawn, since he observed that his presence was so necessary to correct an ill custom.
Nosses jocosæ dulce cum sacrum Floræ
Festosque lusus et licentiam vulgi,
Cur in theatrum Cato severe venisti?
An ideo tantum vénéras ut exires?
Mart. Epigr. III. lib. i.
Why cam'st thou, Cato, midst that gamesome crowd,
No stranger to the revels there allow’d?
Thou knew’st 'twas Flora's feast; why cam'st thou then?
Was it for this—say—to go out again?
Juvenal, in a few words, gives a frightful idea of the lewdness of the Floral games,
- - - - - dignissima prorsus
Florali matrona tuba.
Juven. Sat. vi. ver. 349.
For Flora's scenes a dame exactly form'd.
Though it is clear enough from the passages I have cited in the preceding remark, that this was the courtesan’s feast, yet I shall add the following verses out of Ovid:—
Turba quidem cur hos celebrent meretricia ludos,
Non ex difficili caussa petenda subest.
Non est de tetricis, non est de magna professis,
Vult sua plebeio sacra patere chore.
Et monet ætatis specie, dum floreat, uti,
Contemni spinam cum cecidere rosæ.
Ovid. Fastor. lib. v. v. 349.
But why should Flora chuse that motley train
Her sacred scenes to tread? the reason's plain.
No stiffness she, no rigid rules admires,
But calls her vot’ries to plebeian choirs.
Their charms she bids them use, ere they decay;
The rose once fall'n, the stalk is cast away.
Fine morality this! The goddess Flora would have courtezans celebrate her festival, because it is fit to let women know they are to make the most of their beauty while it is in the bloom; for if they suffer their prime to slip away, they will be despised like a rose which has nothing left but its thorns; but how abominable soever this morality is, it is publicly taught among Christians in assemblies that are honoured with the protection of the supreme power. Comedies and operas are full of such doctrine.
In the year of Rome 580, a decree was made for
celebrating these games annually. Ovid proves this; for he introduces the goddess Flora, who relates, that having suffered the blossoms of the trees and vines to perish, to be revenged on the Romans for not celebrating the Floral games every year, she had forced the senate to make a decree concerning that anniversary, if there were a good harvest. It proved good, and thus the decree began to be put into execution under the consulship of Posthumius and Lænas.Convenere Patres, et si bene floreat annus,
Numinibus nostris annua festa vovent.
Annuimus voto. Consul cum consule ludos
Posthumio Lænas persoluëre mihi.
Ovid. Fast. lib. v. v. 327.
To me the fathers annual feasts decreed,
If the year flourish, and the crops succeed.
Their vows I heard; thanks for the friendly aid,
The consuls, Lænas and Posthumius, paid.
Art.Flora.
FORTUNE.
(Opinion of the Ancients concerning.)
If I were to collect all that they have said on this subject, I should be obliged to write a whole book on that head. I only propose to glean a few ears in this spacious field. It may be affirmed that no hypothesis is better established in the writings of the ancients, than that human industry and prudence have a much less share in events than our good or ill fortune; or in other words, an unforeseen concourse or disposition of circumstances not in the least depending upon us. “Sunt in his quidem virtutis opera magna, sed majora Fortunæ. - - - Among these, indeed, the actions of virtue are great, but those of fortune yet greater?’ Pliny speaks thus, after having related several events; but who doubts that he might have said the same of an infinite number of other particular occurrences? He lays down a little farther the same maxim, though somewhat more obscurely.
“Plurimum refert in quæ cujusque virtus tempora incident. - - - The times in which each person’s virtue happens to appear are of very great importance.” Though Quintus Curtius should not expressly tell us that Alexander’s conquests were less owing to valour than to fortune; his history alone would have sufficiently declared it. Cornelius Nepos affirms that in the division of military glory, fortune lias always the greatest share:—“Jure suo nonnulla ab Imperatore miles, plurima vero Fortuna vindicat, seque his plus valuisse quam ducis prudentiam verè potest prædicare. - - - The soldier justly claims some share with the general, but fortune much more than either, since her assistance may truly be said to be of greater consequence than his conduct.”You may see in Mr Spanheim20 what Livy, Diodorus Siculus, and others, have acknowledged concerning this empire, either in express words, or by declaring that we ought not to judge of personal merit by the success of actions, which is entirely subject to fortune, but by the means that are used. Scarcely any one of the poets has expressed himself so nervously on this subject as Juvenal.
Si fortuna volet, fies de rhetore consul;
Si volet hæc eadem, fies de consule rhetor.
Vintidius quid enim? quid Tullius? anne aliud quam
Sidus et occulti miranda potentia fati?
Juven. Sat. VII. ver. 197.
'Tis fate that flings the dice; and as she flings,
Of kings makes pedants, and of pedants kings.
What made Ventidius rise, and Tullius great,
But their kind stars, and hidden power of fate?
Juvenal also says,
Plus etenim fati valet hora benigni
Quam si nos Veneris commendet epistola Marti,
Et Samia genitrix quæ delectatur arena.
Juven. Sat. XVI. ver. 4.
For one lucky hour is of more consequence to a soldier, than a recommendation to Mars, either from his mistress or his mother.
The sentiment of princes being here of greater force than that of a poet; I shall cite the answer of Dionysius the younger, when he was asked this question by Philip king of Macedon: “Wherefore did you not maintain yourself in the kingdom which your father left you?” “Do not be surprised at that,” replied he, “for my father, who left me all his other effects, did not leave me the fortune by which he acquired them.”21
I might subjoin to these quotations the thoughts of several modern authors; but shall content myself with a passage in Montaigne. “It is commonly observable in human actions, that Fortune, in order to convince us of the great power she bears over all things, and of the pleasure she takes in checking our presumption, not being able to make fools wise, makes them fortunate in spite of virtue. And she is most inclined to favour those executions, where the design is more especially her own. Hence we daily see the most simple among us defeat the greatest enterprizes, both public and private. And as Sirannez the Persian answered those, who were very much surprised at the ill success of his affairs, considering that his designs were so well laid; that he alone was master of his designs, but as to the success that was in the breast of fortune; so these may answer in the same manner, but in a different sense, that the greatest part of the affairs of the world are done of themselves. “Fata viam inveniunt. Fate finds the way.”
The event frequently authorizes a very foolish conduct. Our interposition is only a thing of course, and more commonly in consideration of custom and
example than reason. When I have been astonished at the greatness of an action, and upon enquiry of those who have accomplished it, have been let into the motives and management; I have found their counsels very common, and the most vulgar and customary are perhaps also the most secure and best adapted to practice, if not for shew. — Good luck and ill luck are in my opinion two sovereign powers. It is ridiculous to think that human prudence is able to act the same part as fortune will do. And his enterprize is very vain, who presumes to secure both the causes and consequences, and lead as it were by the hand the progress of his undertaking. Vain more particularly in martial councils.22”Notwithstanding all the authorities just now cited, it is certain that several good writers have maintained that every one is the author of his own fortune, and is either miserable or happy as he acts imprudently. Plautus has laid down this maxim.
Ly. Ne opprobre, pater. Mui ta eveniunt homini quæ volt quæ nevolt.
Ph. Mentire edepol, gnate: atque id nunc facis haud consuetudine,
Nam sapiens quidem pol ipse fingit fortunam sibi.
Eo ne multa quæ nevolt eveneunt nisi sictor malu’st.
Plautus, in Trinummo, Act. ii. Sc. ii. ver. 80.
Ly. Sir, blame me not. We cannot command events.
Ph. Son, you’re mistaken: that’s a vulgar error.
A wise man always cuts out his own fortune.
Nothing proves cross but from an ill contriver.
It is also to be found as cited from an ancient poet, in a discourse attributed to Sallust; and Cornelius Nepos, alleges it twice in his life of Pomponius Atticus. Those who have exclaimed so much
against Theophrastus23 for praising the maxim, that fortune and not wisdom is the directress of life, have come very near to Plautus’s assertion. And what shall we say of Juvenal, who after having, in his 7th satire, preached up the omnipotence of fate tells us in his tenth satire that all depends on prudence?Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia: sed te
Nos facimus, fortuna, deam cæloque locamus.
Fortune was never worshipp’d by the wise:
But, set aloft by fools, usurps the skies. Dryden.
Some moderns have approved Plautus’s opinion. Galeotto de gli Oddi pronounced an oration on this subject in the academy of the Insensati at Perugia. Regnier declares for the same opinion in one of his satires:
Nous sommes du bonheur de nous mesme artisans,
Et fabriquons nos jours ou fascheux ou plaisans.
La fortune est à nous, et n'est mauvaise ou bonne,
Que selon qu'on la forme ou bien qu'on se la donne.24
Prosperity’s the work of our own hand,
And life is white, or black, as we command.
Fortune is but the creature of our will,
As we are pleas’d to form her, good, or ill.
Mr de Cailliere, in his book of the fortune of persons of quality maintains: that our good or ill fortune depends on our conduct, and although Mr de Silhon says, that fortune is a phantom which religion hath abolished, and whose invention was not useless since the unhappy and imprudent attribute to her the causes of their misery, and the effects of their ill conduct, yet I do not reckon him to be one of the
favourers of Plautus’s maxim; for he did not pretend, that, in order to succeed in our undertakings, it is sufficient to comport ourselves in them according to the rules of prudence, and to have a good cause. He owns a prosperity and adversity, dispensed by the providence of God, without any necessary regard to our intentions and measures. There appeared some time ago a very good book, intituled, “Reflections on what is called good or ill luck in lotteries.”25 The author is undoubtedly of Plautus’s opinion; or, to speak more plainly, he does not believe that the fortunate lots run for or against certain persons with any sort of distinction. It is not therefore a general opinion that there is some unknown cause, which favours or crosses certain persons without any regard to their good or ill qualities, or the measures they take to attain their ends. But we must own, that the greatest number of suffrages is for the affirmative; however as that is no manner of proof of the truth of an opinion, I wish that some able pen would examine this subject to the bottom, and discuss what could be said on each side. In the mean time, I will here offer a few reflections.I observe, first of all, that we ought not to imagine that the Pagans represented fortune as a being which blindly distributed good and evil, without knowing what she did. They called her blind, I own; but that was not in order to deprive her absolutely of all knowledge; it was only to signify that she did not act with a just discernment. So we say a prince is blind in the distribution of his favours, when he bestows and takes them away by caprice, and without any respect to the merits of his subjects. We do not pretend to say, that he does good or ill to such and such, without knowing that he gives or takes away the respective place from the respective person. We only mean,
that he doth not govern himself according to the rules of reason and justice, and that he is determined rashly by the instigation of his inconstant passions. This is the idea which the Heathens formed of fortune. They were all persuaded, except a few philosophers, that the Divine Nature was a sort of being divided into several individuals. They attributed to every god a large share of power; but did not exempt them from the imperfections of our nature; they believed them susceptible of anger and jealousy, literally speaking; they made no scruple to affirm, in their most serious writings, that a malignant and secret envy of the gods opposed their prosperity. They more particularly attributed to the goddess which they called Fortune, a conduct which was inconstant, rash, and capricious to the last degree. It was for this reason that an infinite number of temples were built to her, and that she was worshipped in a particular manner, in order to prevent the ill effects of her caprices. They did not therefore believe that she wanted either eyes, or ears, or thought. Those philosophers who acknowledged the unity of the deity, called that divine being Fortune, when they considered it only as a distributer of good and evil things, which did not conform itself in the least to what we call merit, constancy, or reason. But the wisest of them always owned that she never acted contrary to absolute justice, or without good reasons, which she understood very well. After all, God himself says, “That his ways are not our ways, and his thoughts are not our thoughts.”My second reflexion is that, under the gospel dispensation, we attribute, to earthly benefits, all the defects which the pagans ascribed to the goddess Fortune. We say, that the possession of them is no sign of merit, that they are very fleeting and perishable, and that they miserably deceive those who rely on them, &c. It is easy to observe the reason for this diversity of language. The Christians acknowledge only one God,
and by that word they understand a nature infinitely perfect, which governs all things, and dispenses all events; but the Pagans lavished the name of God into an infinity of limited beings, imperfect, full of faults, and vicious passions. For this reason they made no scruple to charge on them the irregularities of human life, when they could not discover the cause of them amongst the free actions of men. The Christians, on the contrary, impute to the creature whatever infirmity they meet with in the universe, and ascribe to the nature of the benefit what the Pagans placed to the account of the benefactor.In the third place, I contend that it can scarcely be denied that there are fortunate and unfortunate people; that is, according to. the Pagan language, that there are some people who are made the sport of fortune in the whole course of their affairs, whilst there are others, whose way she smooths, and takes care to show them numberless instances of her favour. Merchandise, gaming, and the court, have always furnished examples of these two things; but nothing so manifestly confirms this as the military life. It is there Fortune rules more than any where else; our Timoleon, Alexander, Sylla, Cæsar, and several other ancient warriors, have acknowledged it in the most authentic manner, and the moderns confess it also both in their memoirs and conversations. I have been told by a person of quality that the constable Wrangel assured him that nothing was more rash than to hazard a battle, which was liable to be lost by a thousand unforeseen accidents; though at the same time the most exact measures have been taken, which the most consummate military prudence can suggest. Girard, secretary to the duke of Epernon has shown, in the long life he has written of that famous favourite, so many happy events independent of precaution, that it is hardly possible to deny the truth of the popular opinion, concerning the fortune of some people. " After 5 3
this,” says the historian, “we ought not to wonder if the duke never complained of fortune in the adversity of his old age. On the contrary, some of his friends once talking on that subject, he told them that he should be very ungrateful for the benefits with which fortune had constantly favoured him for above sixty years, if he should be disgusted at her leaving him for the small time he had then to live; that he had scarcely ever observed an entire life fortunate, even when much shorter than his; and that, in the inconstant state of human affairs, it was no small advantage, that his disgraces were reserved to a time, when he was hardly any longer capable of relishing prosperity.”My fourth reflection is, that it is very false, that what we call good fortune depends only on prudence; and that what we name ill fortune is only the result of imprudence. I freely own that the assertion of the author above cited, does not appear to me well grounded. It is not true that the winning gamester always plays better than the loser. It is not true that the merchant who grows rich always surpasses in the knowledge of trade, or industry, and circumspection, those who do not grow rich. No person is ignorant that, in those games which depend on chance, there is somewhat which contributes more to losing or winning, than whatever depends on the skill of the gamesters. There are days when a man wins large sums; this is not owing to his playing with greater application, or with a more ignorant gamester; but he has a good game; the very cards are dealt him which he wants, or the dice turn up according to his wishes. On other days he experiences quite the contrary. In the very same sitting, he finds sometimes the turn of Fortune; he is lucky in the beginning, and unlucky at the end; he loses in the last hour more than he won in all the foregoing. There are men who, immediately after they begin to play, perceive their good or
ill luck, and finding that the day does not favour them, they are so wise as not to push any farther, and give out in good time. Not that they distrust their address and capacity, but they distrust what doth not depend on their skill. This somewhat is not so apparent in trade; it is nevertheless certain, that persons of mean capacity and of very little judgment, sometimes gain immense sums by such sort of dealings, as those of better understanding and greater experience would not run the hazard of engaging in. It may be affirmed in general, that those who acquire the most riches by trade, are neither more intelligent, nor more industrious than several others, whose gain is less considerable. The latter, therefore, are not so much the favourites of Fortune as the former. Consequently, there is a good or ill fortune in human life, independent on prudence or imprudence. I do not believe the author I am at present examining, will deny this, so far as relates to play and commerce; he only had in view the fortune which people of quality may make in the service of their prince. If he only intended to advise a gentleman to choose the prudent part, I have nothing to say against his opinion; but he goes much farther; he would persuade us, that those who succeed, owe their advancement to their wise conduct only, and those who do not make their fortune, ought to impute it to their imprudence. This is what I cannot believe. I will allow him to call it wise conduct, whatever a man does to conform himself to the present circumstances, as to be a braggadocio, a debauchee, a wag, a buffoon, &c. whenever it is the certain way to please; or to pretend to be mad, when without it he cannot escape imminent dangers. David, and Brutus, and several others, have been the better for such a conduct: see Cornelius à Lepide, in lib. i, Regum, cap. xxi. I allow every thing to be called imprudence, which is contrary to the humour of the present times; as to be a very honest man in a depraved court, where there is nothing to be got by any but rascals. Notwithstanding all this, I cannot help maintaining my assertion, that the rise and fall of great men are not commonly the mere effects of prudence or imprudence. Chance, precarious accidents, and fortune, justly claim a large share. Some occurrences, which we neither contrived nor foresaw, discover the way, and make us hasten our pace. A caprice, a jealousy, which it was impossible to foresee, stops us short all of a sudden, and throws us entirely out of the way.The better to refute M. de Cailliere, I must add here a fifth reflexion. We must not affirm that all events, being connected with a determinate cause, fortune is a chimerical being, and so that we are no otherwise fortunate or unfortunate, but as we foresee, or do not foresee, the chain of natural causes and effects. To show the nullity of this objection, I will suppose a fact not only very possible, but which may also be proved by some examples. A prince causes a town to be besieged in the middle of winter: if rain, snow, or ice, come upon him, he is not likely to take it; but if the weather be dry, and the cold moderate, he will take it. There follow several successive weeks of fine weather; no rain, no snow: the siege advances daily, and the town capitulates before the frost comes. Another prince besieges a place in the middle of summer, and is likely to take it, if the season keep its ordinary course; but it rains hard for several days; if the nights be cold, if this occasion several distempers in the camp, he will not be able to take it. There happens a reverse of seasons, the summer is cold and rainy, the trenches advance but slowly, the army grows weaker daily by the diseases which this unseasonable weather produces, he finds himself forced to raise the siege. Can you possibly ascribe the happy success of the first siege to prudence, or the ill success of the second to imprudence? This would be asserting
two absurdities: for, in the first case, there was no foreseeing the fine weather, nor the ill weather in the latter; and consequently there was no prudence in attempting the first siege, nor imprudence in undertaking the latter. It is, therefore, purely owing to good fortune that the first succeeded, as it is to be ascribed to ill luck that the latter miscarried. I know very well, that if men could foresee rain and fair weather, it would have been an act of imprudence to have formed the latter siege. The ill success, in that case, would have been a great fault, and not a misfortune; but human foresight does not extend so far, and if we be ignorant that the summer will prove rainy, it is not owing to imprudence. There are a hundred fortuitous accidents, which we can no more foresee than these, that are equally capable of disappointing the best concerted military enterprises. Now as some generals are much more frequently perplexed with these cross occurrences than others, we may reasonably acquiesce in the popular opinion, that there are fortunate and unfortunate generals. But we must not hence infer, that the fortunate are always, or almost always, as prudent as the unfortunate. On the contrary, we must believe that the latter sometimes surpass the former, both in prudence and valour.26 Consult Forstnerus in his notes on a passage of Tacitus, wherein that historian assures us, that all human affairs are a continual sport. This commentator will give several illustrious examples, which prove that the best concerted designs in this world are confounded by an invisible force, which human prudence cannot guard against: this is particularly observable in the conclaves. And as for those who pretend that every person is the author of his own fortune, you may find them solidly and amply confuted, in a book of Don Lancelotti.27Observe carefully what I am going to say. Princes commonly judge of things by the success. A general stands very well in their favour who succeeds in a military enterprise; but, if the contrary happen, he forfeits their esteem and friendship. Even when they are sensible that the victory was barely a piece of good fortune, and the defeat was not in the least owing to any fault of the general, they are always more disposed to prefer the victor than the vanquished; for with them, to be fortunate, is a recommendatory character; as on the other side, an unfortunate, though shining merit, is but a disagreeable quality. Since, therefore, battles are lost and won by unforeseen accidents, it is clear that misfortunes happen independently on imprudence, and that some make their fortune independently on prudence. A lucky rashness, you will tell me, doth not deserve the name of temerity; for since it has succeeded, it is a sign that it was proper to produce its wished effect. Now wherein does prudence consist? Is it not in making use of proper means to accomplish our designs? My answer is, that to act prudently, we ought to know that the means we use are proportioned to the end. A rash fortunate man is unacquainted with this proportion; he is hurried on by an impetuous fury; there appears nothing in his conduct but what is to be met with in that of the rash unfortunate; and therefore the success of the enterprize ought not to be ascribed to prudence but to fortune. Observe also another thing; it is no manner of imprudence not to be precautioned against those things which human capacity
cannot discover, and consequently if a person do not succeed at court, or if he lose the fortune he has already made, it is not always to be attributed to imprudence. Is it possible for him to discover all the caprices, disgusts and jealousies that arise in the mind either of a monarch, or of his mistresses or favourites? Can he discover all the grimaces of false friends, obviate their calumnies, and prevent their lies and false reports which wound without threatening. This was the confession of a great minister, whose genius was not less than his authority. “In the post which you are in,” said Cardinal Richelieu to Mr de Fabert, who was Marshal of France, “it is easy for you to know your friends and your enemies. No disguise can conceal them from your discernment; but with respect to mine, in the post which I hold, I cannot penetrate into their sentiments, they all speak to me in the same language. They all make the same earnest court to me, and those who would ruin me, give me as great marks of amity, as those who are sincerely attached to my interests;”28 Reignier, in the satire already cited, tells us:La faveur est bizarre, à traicter indocile,
Sans arrest, inconstante et d’humeur difficile,
Avecq' discrétion il la faut caresser,
L’un la perd bien souvent pour la trop embrasser,
Ou pour s’y fier trop, l’autre par insolence,
Ou pour avoir trop peu ou trop de violence,
Ou pour se la promettre ou se la denier,
Enfin c’est un caprice étrange à manier,
Son amour est fragile, et se rompt comme verre,
Et fait aux plus matois donner du nez en terre.
Regnier, Satire XIV.
Most fickle is the favour of the great,
Unsteady, whimsical, and strange to treat.
Men ne’er can be enough upon their guard,
Some lose her by caressing her too hard;
Some by dependence; some by insolence;
Some by too much, or little violence;
Some by presumption, some by self-denial;
In short, she’ll baulk your skill on ev’ry trial.
Brittle as glass itself, she's quickly broke;
Nor can the wisest ward the fatal stroke.
Let us then take it for granted, that the prudence of a man is not the sole nor even the principal cause of his fortune. There are some fortunate people, whose conduct is very imprudent: and others unfortunate, though their conduct is prudent. The difficulty is to know what this fortune is, which favours some people and persecutes others, without regard to their merit or the measures they take. To recur to God, is not to remove the difficulty; for acknowledging him the general cause of all things, it will be asked whether he directs immediately, and by particular acts of his will, all those unforeseen occurrences which cause the designs of one man to succeed, and confound the enterprizes of another. If you answer in the affirmative you will bring all the philosophers, especially the Cartesians on your back, who will maintain that you attribute a conduct to the Supreme Being, which is inconsistent with an infinite agent. He ought, they will tell you, to establish a few general laws, and by this means produce an infinite variety of events, without recurring every moment to exceptions, or particular acts, which must needs be miracles, though we should not call them so, because they would be so frequent. You may indeed reply to them, that the occurrences favourable to the fortunate, and contrary to the unfortunate, are a natural consequence of general laws; but they will not easily believe you. You will never be able to persuade me, that chance can produce what I am about to say. Let a hundred tickets well sealed be ranged in order on a table; let ten of them be blanks, and ten of them marked with the letter A, and write
a sentence on all the rest; then let ten men be called in, and one of them directed to take up the 1, the 15, the 21, the 37, the 44, the 68, the 80, the 83, the 90, and the 99. Let another be ordered to take the 3, the 6, the 13, the 25, the 50, the 73, the 88, the 89, the 95, and the 100. Tell me, I pray, if the first of these men draw the ten blank tickets, and the other the ten marked A, can you ever hope to persuade me that this was the result of the general laws of the communication of motion? Do you not yourself perceive that these twenty tickets were placed in such an order, that one half of them by a premeditated design, should fall entirely into the hands of the first of these ten men, and the other into the hands of the second? I say also, that supposing certain gamesters had always, or almost always the best cards, or in general, that certain persons almost always favoured by accidental occurrences; this would require something besides the natural result of the communication of motion, it must proceed from a particular direction and determination; and I should rather choose with several learned men to deny the distinction of good or ill fortune, than to explain it only by the general laws of nature. But we argue here on the hypothesis, that there are fortunate and unfortunate people.Cannot we recur to occasional causes, I mean, to the desires of some created spirits? Platonism might easily be brought to favour such an explication; but it is opposed by strong arguments, according to the idea which theology gives us of the angelical nature. This teaches us that the angels are some of them perfectly good, and others extremely wicked, and both endowed with an almost unlimited knowledge, under the general direction of God. This idea cannot easily be reconciled to the particular train of fortunate or unfortunate occurrences. But confining ourselves to hypotheses purely philosophical,
we shall be better able to answer these objections, if we suppose for example, that the invisible spirits are more different from one another, than men are amongst themselves; that there is a great subordination amongst these spirits; and that there are some who are sometimes good and sometimes evil, sometimes in a good humour, and sometimes in an ill one; that they are fantastical, inconstant, jealous, envious, that they thwart one another, that their power is very much limited in certain respects, and that if they can perform a thing which is very difficult, it does not hence follow that they can accomplish a thing which is much easier. Do not we see countrywomen ignorant of the alphabet, who know a thousand excellent secrets to cure diseases? Archimedes who invented such admirable engines, could he sow? could he spin? However it be, there is no fortune without the direction of an intelligent cause, but even if there were no Providence, but only a fortuitous effusion of good and evil throughout the universe, it must happen that some men would find themselves in happy circumstances, arid others the contrary.My last reflection is, that men usually are excessive in their murmurs against fortune; for very often they impute to her what they ought to charge on their own imprudence. Homer was not ignorant of this fault, for he introduces the gods complaining of this injustice of men:—
Perverse mankind! whose wills, created free,
Charge all their woes on absolute decree;
All to the dooming gods their guilt translate,
And follies are miscall’d the crimes of fate.29
Pope.
La Fontaine hath ingeniously described the same injustice, but may it not be pretended, that on several occasions the person who is unhappy by his own fault, has not a less right to complain of fortune, than the
unfortunate who has punctually discharged his duty? May we not say that this power, which we call fortune, occasions misery two ways? She sometimes permits a man to use all the means which prudence can suggest, and yet deprives him of the success he ought to expect; she pleases herself with this, in order to shew her superiority, and the insufficiency of our reason and of human wisdom. Sometimes also she plunges men into misery, by obstructing their use of the means which might have preserved them from it: she confounds their judgment, and hurries them on to irreparable mistakes. It was probably thus that she irretrievably ruined the affair of Pompey. She had declared for Julius Cæsar, and procured for him the triumph, by allowing him to act agreeably to all the qualifications of a great commander, and by eclipsing in Pompey’s soul those eminent qualities which he possessed. They did not appear at the battle of Pharsalia; Pompey there shewed himself a weak man, and an unskilful general. Was not this eclipse supernatural? Was it not the influence of some superior force, which had designed to raise Cæsar on the ruins of his competitor? Velleius Paterculus declares that when the destinies are resolved to ruin a man, they deprive him of prudence:30 “Sed profecto ineluctabilis fatorum vis cujuscunque fortunam mutare constituit, consilia corrumpit . . . 31 sed prævalebant jam fata consiliis omnemque animi ejus aciem præstrinxerant. Quippe ita se res habet, ut plerumque fortunam mutaturus deus, consilia corrumpat, efficiatque, quod miserrimum est, ut quod accidit, id etiam merito accidisse videatur, & casus in culpam transeant.—But indeed the irresistible power of fate designs a reverse of fortune, and corrupts their counsels: . . . . But now fate over-ruled their counsels, and clouded their understandings; for so it is, that when God intends a reverse of fortune, he generally corrupts human counsels, and so orders it, which is the most miserable circumstance, that what happens shall seem to have happened deservedly, and that the accident shall be construed into a fault.” The sentiment of this grave historian was very common amongst the Pagans; and every day we use this saying as a proverb, “quos Jupiter vult perdere prius dementat. Those whom Jupiter marks out for destruction, he first deprives of their understanding” A certain writer having to prove that it is possible for two authors to express the same thought without borrowing from one another, cites Philip de Commines, who without ever hearing of Paterculus’s name, yet said, as well as he, that when God begins to chastise princes, he first lessens their sense, and makes them avoid the counsels and company of the wise. I shall cite an excellent passage 'of Ammianus Marcellinus: “Ut soient manum injectantibus fatis hebetari sensus hominum & obtundi, his illecebris ad meliorum exspectationem erectus, egressusque Antiochiâ numine lævo ductante, prorsus ire tendebat de fumo, ut proverbium loquitur vetus, ad flammam.32 ---- As men’s senses use to be clouded and stupified by the controuling power of fate, being encouraged by these inducements to hope for better things, and going out of Antioch under the conduct of his evil genius, he went as the proverb says, out of the smoke into the fire.” A little after speaking of Nemesis, he tells us that she turns men out of their way, and perverts the ends and designs of men: “Hæc ut regina causarum & arbitra rerum ac disceptatrix, urnam fortium temperat, accidentium vices alternans: voluntatumque nostrarum exorsa interdum alio, quàm quo contendebant, exitu terminans, multiplices actus permutando convolvit.33— She, as queen, arbiter and disposer of causes and things presides over the turn of lots, varying accidents at her pleasure: and terminating very often what our wills had begun, with a conclusion quite different from that to which they were directed, makes a strange jumble and confusion in things.” She does not always effect this by error, she sometimes makes use of mere ignorance. What I call error is that false judgment which our mind makes of things, in comparing them together, and choosing the worst; and I call that ignorance, when a man is in such a state, that the necessary ideas do not offer themselves to his imagination. Now when he takes the wrong side, either by rejecting the proper means actually present to his mind, or by reason of the absence of those ideas, which ought to have presented those means to him, he passes for imprudent; but it is certain, that in the first case imprudence is more voluntary than in the second, and consequently more to be condemned. Several philosophers assert, that what is called pure omission is never free. Who would venture to maintain that we are masters of our memory, and that it is a moral fault not to remember certain things upon any occasion when we ought to remember them to conduct us in our deliberations? Those who acknowledge the empire of Fortune, would, I think, be unreasonable, if they supposed that she doth not influence our forgetfulness or omissions: for, on the contrary, it is by them that she frequently occasions our ill success. She removes those ideas which would naturally occur to us, and hinder our committing faults. How often has it happened that a man of judgment has very much prejudiced himself by the answers he has made to several questions proposed to him? All those to whom he relates the questions, ask why he did not make such an answer? He is immediately convinced that he should have done it. He owns it; he is surprised that he did not think of it; he protests that on all other occasions this idea must necessarily have occurred to him, so natural does he find it, so easy, and exactly conformable to common sense. Nevertheless, he is convinced that he did not in the least think of it, and that even the most confused notion of it never reached his thoughts. Why will you not allow him to believe that his ill fortune presided over this forgetfulness, and purposely directed it? Our divines do not deny that providence sometimes blinds men with respect to omissions, as well as with regard to actual judgment. Plutarch would never allow this doctrine, for he very strongly recommends to those who read the poets, the rectifying of all those passages which represent the gods deceiving us, and instigating us to evil. He particularly warns us of the verses in Euripides thus translated:—The gods, whose nature pow’r superior knows,
By various frauds on man's weak mind impose.
He is so far from owning that a divine power influences us to choose the wrong way, while at the same time we know the right way, that he would have us ascribe it to a brutal passion.
Alas! from heaven to man all ill ensues,
We see the good, but want the pow’r to choose.
“So far is this from being true,” says Plutarch, “that evil is beastly, brutish, and wretched, instead of heavenly; and it is our intemperance and folly that hurry us away to ill, while the good is full in our view.” But how solid soever these reflections of Plutarch may be in some respects, we ought always to remember that our theology, and the universal language of all Christians, founded on all passages of holy writ, lay it down as a certain truth, that the blindness of man, his rashness, folly, and cowardice, are frequently
the effect of a particular providence, which inflicts them on him as a punishment; and that his prudence, his wise answers to questions, his resolution, and his understanding, are favours inspired by providence, in order to his preservation and prosperity. The heathens were not ignorant of this doctrine; for we find that Manlius declared to the Roman citizens that, if if the gods prevented his ruin, it would not be by descending on earth, but by inspiring the Romans with a wise resolution, as they had inspired him with that valour and courage which saved the republic: “Benè facitis quôd abominamini; dii prohibebunt hæc: zed nunquam propter me de cœlo descendent: vobis dent mentem oportet, ut prohibeatis: sicut mihi dederunt armato togatoque, ut vos à barbaris hostibus, à superbis defenderem civibus.34 - - -You do well in declaring your abhorrence: the gods will prevent these measures; but they will never descend from heaven for my sake: let them give you the courage to prevent them, as they did me, both armed and unarmed, to preserve you from barbarian enemies, and haughty fellow-citizens.”Let me farther observe that, if on the one side, we call that ill fortune, which is sometimes the natural consequence of imprudence, on the other side, we name that good fortune, which is sometimes the result of prudence. We have seen some men so rash in their conduct, that there was no room to doubt but that it would end in some cruel mortification; they attacked and fell foul of all the world, and if the first engagement discovered them to be wrong-headed, the following were only a long train of rash, irregular and violent sallies. According to all rules, these men ought to have been shamefully crushed, and nevertheless we have seen them triumph, or at least retire from the battle without any mark of dishonour. This is a great piece of good fortune, say some. But it is
certain that some stratagem, some refined stroke of policy, had a greater share in this good success than fortune. These pretended rash men had taken their measures long before hand, with a great deal of prudence; they had rendered themselves necessary to those who were capable of extricating them out of every embarrassment. They had found the secret of being subservient either to their private pleasures or ambition. The circumstances of the times favoured them; the trade of directing spies, or some other secret service, was of extraordinary use. They were sure of succeeding in their unreasonable quarrels; they did not therefore act rashly.To conclude, Cardinal Richelieu would not allow any other cause of unhappiness than imprudence. Mr Auberi informs us of this particular. He says that Cardinal Richelieu and the Duke d’Olivarez, two prime ministers, the one of France, the other of Spain, were rivals and antagonists; that their power was much of an equal duration; that they were compared to two stars of the first, or at least of the second, magnitude, which drew on them the eyes, the esteem, and admiration, of all Christendom. That the cardinal was first eclipsed by a natural death, the 4th of December, 1642; and that the other enjoyed the advantage of shining alone, not above five or six weeks, being disgraced the 17th of January, 1643. The motive or pretext of his disgrace was the ill success which accompanied all his enterprizes. This was in effect accusing him of imprudence. In Cardinal Richelieu’s opinion, imprudent and unfortunate are but two words to express the same thing. Thus he willingly put in practice one of his most constant maxims, which was, to give it you in his own terms; “That in state-affairs it is impossible to be over-cautious, to look out for too great security. That a statesman, if he can, ought always to have two strings to his bow; that to succeed he ought not to take too
exact measures, but that in order to do much, he ought to exert himself, and make preparation for doing yet more: that, in a word, in all important affairs, if he did not take those measures which seemed too extensive in theory, he would always find them too short in practice.” It is hard to believe that the cardinal, on occasion of the failure of success in some of his enterprizes, never acknowledged that he had, notwithstanding, taken all those measures which prudence could suggest. If, therefore, on such occasions he thought himself guilty of some imprudence, he extended the idea of prudence beyond its true bounds; for if he believed that those who trust a man who deceives them are imprudent, he supposed prudence to comprehend the certainty of events which depend on free-will; but that is a palpable error. There are persons who have given so many successive proofs of their fidelity, and in so signal a manner, that one may trust them in an important affair without the least shadow of imprudence, and yet they may discharge their duty very ill; begin their treachery on this occasion, and betray their trust. It would be requiring a more than human knowledge from a prime minister, to pretend that he has rashly and imprudently relied on this man; that it is not his misfortune, but his fault, if the affair miscarry, since he ought to have been aware of the inward change of this person. You see, then, that this question is liable to several equivocations or disputes about words. The ill fortune of an enterprise is always attended with some want of knowledge. If, indeed, you call this imprudence, and will argue in consequence of this definition, you may fully and without reserve maintain Cardinal Richelieu’s position; but your definition will be false, and, at the bottom, you will agree with your adversary.—Art. Timoleon.FRANCE.
(Dedication of to the Virgin Mary?)
The declaration of Louis XIII. concerning this act of devotion to the holy Virgin is dated the tenth of February, 1638. It will be found entire in the French Mercury;35 I will only take this part of it:— “For these causes we have declared, and do declare, that taking the most holy and glorious virgin for the special protectress of our kingdom, we particularly consecrate to her our person, our state, our crown, and our subjects, beseeching her to inspire us with a holy conduct, and to defend this kingdom so carefully against the efforts of all its enemies, that whether it suffer the scourge of war, or enjoy the calm of peace, which we beg of God with all our heart, it may never depart out of the ways of grace, which lead to those of glory. And that posterity may never fail to pursue our desires upon this subject, for the immortal remembrance, and in testimony of the present consecration which we make, we will cause the great altar of the cathedral church of Paris to be built anew, with an image of the Virgin embracing her precious son in her arms, descended from the cross; we will be represented at the feet of the son and of the mother, offering them our crown and sceptre. We admonish the archbishop of Paris, and enjoin him, that he annually, on the day and feast of the Assumption, make a commemoration of our present declaration in the high mass, which shall be said in his cathedral church, and after the vespers of the same day, that a procession be made in the said church, at which all the sovereign companies shall assist, and the body of the city, with equal ceremony, as is observed at the most solemn general processions; which we will also have done in all churches, both parochial and monasterial, of the said city and suburbs; and in all towns,
boroughs, and villages, of the said diocese of Paris. We in like manner exhort all archbishops and bishops of our kingdom, and at the same time enjoin them to cause the same solemnity to be celebrated in the episcopal churches, and other churches of their dioceses.” —Art. Lewis XIII.FRENCH ROMANCES AND SCARCE HISTORIES.
Mary Catherine des Jardins, famous for her romances, flourished in the XVIIth century. She was born at Alençon, a little town, whereof her father was provost. When she came to be about nineteen or twenty years old, she began to consider her small estate; and being poor, and having as much wit as ambition, she came to Paris with a design to make herself known, and to change her fortune. She was not altogether mistaken in this: having a great genius, she was quickly talked of, and people were ambitious to be acquainted with her. M. de Ville-Dieu, a gentleman well made, and in pretty good circumstances, was one of the first that knew this lady; he esteemed and loved her, and though she was not handsome, he married her. But by ill fortune he died some time after, and his widow retired for grief into a nunnery; but when she had a little recovered from her affliction, she left it, and married Mr de la Châte for her second husband, whom she buried also. Being sensibly touched with this new misfortune, she utterly renounced marriage, and resolved to spend the rest of her days in gallantry. She began to hearken to the love-discourses of the sparks, and answered them in verses and letters, which have a fine and delicate turn.
The first, or one of the first of her romances was intituled Alcidiane, or Alcidamie; it was to contain several volumes in 8vo. according to the custom of
that time. But she did not carry it on so far as she designed; and I have heard the reason of it was, because it was known, that she intended to represent under fictitious names, and with some disguises, the adventures of a great lady, who had under-matched herself. She was threatened with the resentment of those concerned, if she carried on the intrigue to the end of the work; whereupon she went no farther. But she did not bury her talent; on the contrary, having found out a new way of writing romances, she published a great many with very good success. She brought into fashion those little gallant novels, which quickly shew the good or ill success of a soft passion, and she put out of request those tedious and vast relations of heroical, warlike, and amorous adventures, which had brought so much profit to the printers of Cassandra, Cleopatra, Cyrus, Clelia, &c. The new taste she created still prevails; and though such books quickly lose the grace of novelty, yet the first romances that she composed upon this new model, are still read with pleasure; as her “Journal amoureux,” her “Annales Galantes,” her “Galanteries Grenadines,” and many others. She published in 1672, “Les Exilez de la Cour d’Auguste;” a romance which Madame de Sevigné thought very pretty. That which is intituled “Les Desordres de 1’Amour,” and another intituled “Portrait des Faiblesses humaines,” are not inferior to the former. It is an unhappy thing that Mdme des Jardins should have opened a way to a liberty, that is daily more and more abused; which is, to father our inventions and love-intrigues upon the greatest men of the later ages, and to mix them with matters of fact, that have some foundation in history. This mixture of truth and fiction which is spread in abundance of new books, spoils the taste of young people, and makes them unwilling to believe what is really credible. It is an inconvenience which daily gains ground by the liberty that is taken to publish the secret amours, the secret history, &c. of such and such lords famous in history. Booksellers and authors do all they can to make it believed that these secret histories have been taken from private manuscripts: they very well know, that love-intrigues, and such like adventures, please more when they are believed to be real, than when they are thought to be mere fables. Hence it is, that the new romances keep as far on as possible from the romantic way; but by this means true history is made extremely obscure; and I believe the civil powers will at last be forced to give these new romancers their option; either to write pure history, or pure romance; or at least to use crotchets to separate the one from the other, truth from fiction.36 —Art. Des Jardins.GALLANTRY OF THE ANCIENTS.
Longus, a Greek sophist, author of a book intituled Ποιμενικὰ, that is to say. Pastorals, which is a romance upon the amours of Daphnis and Chloe. Mr Huet,37 bishop of Avranches, who was a great judge in most things, has spoken well enough of this book; but he observes several faults in it, the greatest of which doubtless consists, in its licentiousness. This is still more remote from the politeness of our romances, than the conduct of Longus’s shepherdess, who loves too hastily, and grants her kisses too soon. You do not read above five or six pages, before you
find Daphnis ravished with the pleasure of a kiss from his shepherdess. A chasm, in the same page, does not hinder our understanding the circumstances of this kiss. A little after, we find him handling his shepherdess’s bosom, without any coyness on her side. This poor girl, seeing him stark naked melts with love: and is so little startled, that she boldly approached, and having kissed her shepherd, helped him on with his clothes. These things would be monstrous in the romances of our times. People would not forgive the Marquis d’Urfe, the little favours he makes Celadon obtain. The pleasure he procures him of seeing Astrea naked, is charged on him as an unpardonable crime. Here are the words of the accusation, in which Astrea speaks. “It is you,” says she,38 casting her eyes upon d’Urfe; “it is you that are the author of the injury I complain of; your rash pen has made blots in my story, which wound me in the tenderest part. I do not pretend to be more nice than others,” continues she; “I excuse amorous transports, when proceeding from a pure passion; a kiss genteelly snatched, never shocked my modesty, and I know there are little privacies, which love inspires, and reason does not condemn. But when I consider, that I am one of the three shépherdesses, which you present naked before Celadon, with what face can I behold an adventure so injurious to my honour? And ought I not to believe, that you have an ill opinion of my virtue, or else took me for a slave, which you meant to sell to this shepherd? I believe, without flattery to my beauty, that my face alone was sufficient to make a conquest: there was fire enough in my eyes to melt a stubborn heart, and I can without vanity say, that my nakedness was not essentially necessary to my victory.”This is too common a fault in the Greek romances.
The women make the first advances, and the men are too reserved. Mr Huet acknowledges, that this conduct of the men is commendable, according to the rules of morality; but justly maintains, that it is absurd according to the law of romance. “Prior amat Hysmina,” says he, speaking of Eustathius's book, where the hero answers nothing to a declaration of love made by his heroine: “Prior amorem et fatetur et offert fine modestiâ, sine pudore, sine arte: atque his blanditiis neque monetur Hysminias, neque responded. Laudabile id quidem est, si ad leges moralis philosophise; ineptum si ad Romanensia præcepta exigatur.” See also. Theagenes rallied for giving Chariclea a box on the ear, because she would kiss him. We may say, that Madame de Scuderi is the first, who delivered romance from an economy, injurious to her sex, and to decorum in general. She feared she might be taxed for innovation, in giving her heroines a deal of modesty, and her heroes the softest passions; and therefore thought herself obliged to give the reasons of her conduct in the preface to her Ibrahim, which is the first of her romances; these are her words. “You will see here, reader, if I mistake not, the decorum of things and conditions exactly enough observed; for I have put nothing in my book, but what the ladies may read, without looking down and blushing. If you do not find my hero persecuted by women, distractedly in love with him, it is not that he is less amiable or unworthy of their love, but it is that I might not trespass against decency in the character of the ladies, and against probability in that of the gentlemen, who rarely act the cruel part, and cannot act it with a good grace. In fine, whether things ought to be thus, or whether I have judged of my hero by my own weakness; I was not willing to put his fidelity to that dangerous trial, and have contented myself not to make him a Hylas, without making him an Hippolytus.” Longus is thought to have introduced that silly idea of gallantry, which we meet with in some romances: the shepherdess fills out drink, drinks a little first, and afterwards presents the glass to the shepherd, in such a manner, that he must apply his lips precisely to the part, where she had applied her’s. Mr Huet’s translator explains this after the following manner: “Ab hoc (Longo). Eustathius sumsisse videtur hoc elegans urbanitatis genus, qua Hysminam pocula ministrantem induxit, et qua parte poculi labra delibans labris suis ipsa tetigerat, eadem Hysminiæ bibituro tangendà leniter offerentem.—Eustathius seems to have taken from this Longus that politeness, with which he introduces Hysmina serving the cup, and offering Hysminias, who is about to drink, that side of the cup, which she had just touched with her own lips.” Eustathius might have traced this fine gallantry higher; for we find it in Lucian. This scoffer introduces Juno, reproaching Jupiter with drinking Ganymede’s leavings, and applying his mouth precisely to that part, which Ganymede touched with his own.In Ovid’s time, the ladies did not present the glass out of which they had drank, but the gallant endeavoured to take it from them, and applied his lips to the same place where they had applied theirs. It is a precept of Ovid.
Fac primus rapias illus tacta labellis
Pocula quaque bibet parte puella bibas.
Ovid, de Arte Amat. lib. i. ver. 575.
Be first to snatch the goblet from her lip,
And drink yourself, where you beheld her sip.
I believe this is still the fashion in some countries. Moliere introduces the practice of it in one of the scenes of his Etourdi.
St Jerome, describing the impertinencies of lovers, says nothing of this; but he comes pretty near it;
for he speaks of eatables, which were presented after they had been tasted;39 “Creba munuscula, et fudariola, et fasciolas, et vestes ori applicitas, et oblatos ot degustates cibos, blandasque el dulces literulas sanctus amor non habet. Mel meum, lumen meum, meum desiderium, omnes delicias, et lepores, et risu dignas urbanitates, et cæteras ineptias amatorum in comœdiis erubscimus.—Divine love has nothing to do with frequent presents, handkerchiefs, garters, and garments kissed by the lover; with food offered, and first tasted; or with billet-doux. We are ashamed of my honey, my light, my desire, and all the delicacies, the repartees, and ridiculous politeness, and other fooleries of lovers in comedies.” He says in another place,40 “spectabis aliena oscula et Prægustatos civos,—You will see another’s kisses, and food first tasted.” Here is the precept of Ovid.Et quodcunque cibi digitis libaverit ilia,
Tu pete: dumque petes, sit tibi tacta mantis.
Ovidius, ubi supra, ver. 577.
Whate’er she touches with her fingers, eat:
And brush her hand in reaching to the meat.
—Art. Longus.
GLEICHEN.
A very singular adventure is related concerning a German count of this name. He was taken in a fight against the Turks, and carried into Turkey, where he suffered a hard and long captivity, being put upon ploughing the ground, &c. Upon a certain day, the daughter of the king, his master, came up to him, and asked him several questions, whilst she was walking. His good mien and dexterity so pleased the princess, that she promised to set him free, and to follow him, provided he would marry her. He answered, “I have
a wife and children?” “That is no argument,” replied she, “the custom of the Turks allows one man several wives.” The count was not stubborn, but acquiesced to these reasons, and gave his word. The princess employed herself so industriously to get him out of bondage, that they were soon in readiness to go on board a vessel, and they arrived happily at Venice. The count found there one of his men, who had travelled every where to hear of him. He told him that bis wife and children were in good health; whereupon he presently went to Rome; and, after be had ingenuously related what he had done, the pope granted him a solemn dispensation to keep his two wives.41 If the court of Rome showed itself so easy on this occasion, the count’s wife was not less so; for she received very kindly the Turkish lady, by whose means she recovered her dear husband, and had for this concubine a particular kindness. The Turkish princess answered very handsomely those civilities; and, though she proved barren, yet she loved tenderly the children, which the other wife bore in abundance. There is still at Erford a monument of this story to be seen.A very worthy gentleman, who told me this story in the year 1697, seemed very much surprised that the Protestant writers, when they are obliged to answer the reproaches touching the permission the reformers gave to a landgrave of Hesse, do not instance the dispensation granted by the pope to Count de Gleichen, and desired to know my thoughts thereupon. If my memory fail me not, my answer amounted to this: first, that this passage was somewhat obscure and uncertain; and secondly, that it would signify nothing to allege it, unless either the pope’s brief, or the testimony of some contemporary author, or the consent of the Romish writers, could be produced. Hondorf is almost the only author that vouches for
this story: now he quoting nobody, and being but a compiler, whom the learned never much esteemed, and also a Protestant, the Roman Catholics would not fail to reject his testimony. They would ask, out of what records or annals he has taken that passage; and, since he quotes nothing, they would pretend that he has no other ground for it than a hearsay, or uncertain, and even fabulous traditions; such as many illustrious families industriously propagate, concerning the manner in which their ancestors were freed from bondage in the times of the crusades. In short, if they denied the fact, what could one answer to them? the monument at Erford can prove nothing: for after all, does the figure of a man between two figures of women clearly signify polygamy? May it not as well signify, among other things, two successive marriages, or two marriages contracted between a husband and two living wives, but the latter of which marriages was declared void? Are there not abundance of ridiculous stories which people endeavour to prove by monuments of stone? Thus some pretend to prove that a certain countess of Holland was delivered of 365 children at once; a thing which all good historians make a jest of, and evince to be a falsity. This gentleman, however, told me that Du Val has mentioned this adventure in his description of Germany. “In the year 1227,” says Du Val, “a count of Gleichen obtained leave from the pope to have two wives at once.” If this story be true, we have in it a great instance of the triumph and power of love. The daughter of a king is ready not only to renounce the lofty advantages of her condition, to follow a slave to the world’s end, but actually becomes a fugitive; after having overlooked dangers, to which her design exposed both her own life, and that of the prisoner with whom she was in love. She did not engage herself by degrees in a flight so surrounded with dangers, so disadvantageous, so scandalous: no; she fully resolves upon it the very first time she sees the slave. Ut vidi ut perii, ut me malus abstulit error,42 might she have said, like many others. I know not whether the lady de Ville-Dieu has romanced the story of our Count de Gleichen. This has been a fine subject for her pen; and, as dry as Hondorf’s narrative may seem to be, she would have made something very pretty of it. -An abbot, who had heard something of this story, but was ignorant of the true state of the case, wrote thus43 to the Count de Bussy Rabutin, the 12th of June, 1674. “I was the other day with Madame de , and as they talked of Mr de ------, who presented a petition to the pope, praying he might be allowed to marry another wife; they said that the holy see had once done that favour to a German count, who, not having enough of one wife, was permitted, for the salvation of his soul, to marry a second. Madame de -----, who was before nodding and felling asleep, awaked at the hearing of this, and said, sighing, “that there were no such husbands now-a-days.” It manifestly appears that he confounds things, and that, of two adventures, he makes but one. He blends together what concerns the Count of Gleichen, and what regards a landgrave of Hesse, and knows not the circumstances of either. The permission, which he pretends was granted by the holy see to a German count, was not grounded on the insufficiency of the wife; nor was that, granted to a landgrave of Hesse, founded on the same reason, though Thuanus says so. I would not warrant that the abbot has better observed the rules of history, as to the jest and sighing of Madame de -----, than the rest. He invented, perhaps, that reflection himself, and wrote it, nevertheless, historically, to Count Rabutin, to end
his letter with a diverting anecdote. However it be, I happened the other day to be in company with a gentleman who has been married these five or six years, and I took notice that, after he had been told that part of the abbot’s letter, he said, almost sighing, “that if there were no such husbands now-a-days, there were yet fewer wives like that of the count.” I wish he had made another reflection,—that the lady supposed, without reason, that our age falls short of the former times; which is false. Husbands of that stamp were always very scarce, and as scarce in preceding ages as in the present.The journal of Hamburgh will furnish me with .a good supplement to this article. Mr Dartis, speaking of a novel of Mr le Noble, intituled “Zulima, or Pure Love,” observes, that the first notion of this romance was taken from a memoir among the archives of the house of Gleichen, which descends from a prince of Westphalia, the chief hero of this historical novel. He was called Eberard, and, having been taken in the battle of Joppa, which the Sultan Noradin gained over the Christians of the crusade, he was so happy as to inspire with love the daughter of that sultan. She helped him to break the chains of his slavery, went with him into Europe, and was his second wife after the death of her, whom he had married some time before the crusade. Mr le Noble cites, as an indisputable witness of the truth of the story, the tomb, where lie the ashes of this prince and his two wives. “It is still to be seen,” says he, “at Hervorde, in Westphalia, where he resided. On this foundation it is that he has built a pious love-intrigue, which aimed first at the conversion of a sultaness, and afterwards ended in her marriage with the Westphalian prince.” He says in another place, that the writers of romances are obliged to follow history, when they tell in a preface the foundation of their fictions. “Yet this,” adds he, “is what Mr le Noble has not done in
the advertisement which he has prefixed to his Zulima, as will appear by the extract of a letter which I have received from a good hand on this subject. It is as follows: “It appears evidently from what you have said of Mr le Noble's little book, that he has confounded all. Eberard, Duke of Westphalia, is a personage absolutely unknown to history; and, if he lived in the time of Noradin, a Saracen prince of the twelfth century, how could he be author of the Counts of Gleichen, who pretend to have received their earldom from Charlemagne, and who at least are older than the wars beyond sea? The family of the counts of Gleichen is extinct, and I believe what they pretend to fetch from their archives is as fabulous as the rest of the little romance. It is true, however, there is a tradition, confirmed by some modern chronicles, which imports that a count of Gleichen, bringing with him from beyond sea the lady that freed him, and meeting again his first wife, found the means of keeping them both in good understanding with each other, and with the consent (they say) of the church; which is not very probable. We may hold it for certain that there is no monument of a duke Eberhard, of Westphalia, neither at Erford, nor at Hervorde. The counts of Gleichen were neighbours of Erford, in Thuringia, and had nothing common with Hervorde, in Westphalia.—Art. Gleichen.GODS.
(Origin of the Pagan Gods.)
What the Heathens have said of Jupiter's original, seemed to me for a long time so unaccountable, that the more I thought on it, the more monstrous it appeared to me, and such, in a word, as I could not apprehend how the philosophers could maintain it; but I have at last discovered that they might be led into that error by a sort of reasoning, the weakness where
of it was no easy thing for them to find out Let us see, first of all, what Hesiod says of the genealogy of the gods.44 He begins with the Chaos; this is the first being he lays down; afterwards he brings in the Earth and Love. He adds, that Erebus and the Night were begotten by the Chaos, and that Æther and the Day proceeded from the marriage of Erebus and Night, and that the Earth, without any marriage begot Heaven and the Sea; and afterwards, being married to Heaven, she produced Oceanus, Rhea, Themis, Thetys, Saturn, &c. This extraordinary, fruitful marriage gave but little comfort to the Earth; for Heaven, her husband, shut up all her children as soon as they were born. She encouraged them to revenge, and they did it so effectually that Saturn, with a stroke of a scythe, cut off his father’s organs of generation, and cast them into the Sea. They produced a froth, from which sprang the Goddess Venus. The children of Saturn and Rhea, were Vesta, Ceres, Juno, Pluto, Neptune, Jupiter. This is what I take from Hesiod’s poem. Some other genealogists45 have said, that Æther and the Day, children of Erebus and the Night, were the father and mother of Heaven, and had for their brothers and sisters, Love, Fraud, Fear, Labour, Envy, Destiny, Old Age, Death, Darkness, Misery, Dreams, &c. We have seen, in another place, how Carneades made use of this genealogy to confute the theology of the Stoics. I shall only say now that, according to this tree of consanguinity, there must have been necessarily some god, whose father was not a god; for if, on one hand, it had been granted to Carneades that Heaven, Æther, the Day, Erebus, the Night, were Gods, they would have denied on the other, that the Chaos, which was antecedent to all these divine beings was a God; and consequently they were forced to say, that the Gods had been made of a matter which was not a God, and without an efficient cause which had the nature of a God. -This is certainly a thought which contradicts the most solid and the most evident notions of natural reason; nevertheless, some great philosophers have supposed the generations of the gods, and have assigned them a cause of their being, which was not a god. “Anaximenes omnes rerum causas infinito aëri dédit, nec deos negavit aut tacuit: non tamen ab ipsis aërum factum, sed ipsos ex aere ortos credidit.46 —Anaximenes ascribed the causes of all things to the infinite air, nor did he deny, or say nothing of the gods; yet he did not believe that the air was made by them, but that they had sprung from the air.” By these words of St Augustin, we better understand the doctrine of Anaximenes, than by those of Cicero: “Anaximenes aëra deum statuit, eumque gigni, esseque immensum et infinitum, et semper in motu.47 Anaximenes supposed the air to be God, and that it was immense and infinite, and always in motion.” Cicero does not seem to have well related the opinion of this philosopher; for since Anaximenes made the air the principle of all things, and ascribed to it immensity and infinity, we must believe that he supposed it eternal and unproduced; and that if he called it God, under this notion, he did not believe the generation of God in that respect. When therefore he said, that the infinite air was the cause of all beings, and that the Gods themselves were produced from it, he did not ascribe to it the name and nature of God, in the same sense that he ascribed it to the Gods, which owed their origin and existence to the air. Perhaps he was willing, in order to avoid all disputes about words, to give the name of God to the immense and infinite air, which he looked upon as the principle of all things; but he did not pretend,that Saturn,
Rhea, Jupiter, Juno, Neptune, Minerva, and the other Gods which the Heathens adored, were that air, or had produced it: he supposed, on the contrary, that that air was their principle, as well as that of other beings which compose the universe. He gave this principle a perpetual motion, whence it may be concluded that he took it for an imminent cause, which produced in itself infinite effects without end; and he reckoned amongst those effects, not only the stars and meteors, plants, stones, and metals, but also the gods and men.This doctrine however, was merely at the bottom Spinozism; for, according to this opinion God, or the eternal and necessary being of Anaximenes, was the only substance; of which heaven and earth, the animals, &c. were but modifications. Thales was perhaps of such an opinion, who taught that water was the principle of all things. Perhaps he called it God on that account. This was the God he meant, when he said that, God not having been produced, was the oldest of all beings. He added that, the world being the work of God, was the most beautiful of all beings. Spinoza would acknowledge this; he does not deny that God is the cause of all things, that is to say, the imminent cause, which modifies itself a thousand different ways, whence results what we call the world, and the whole universe in general. If Thales said also that the world is animated and full of spirits, this signified perhaps that water, the principle of all things, the unproduced God, had so modified itself, that it had formed a soul dispersed through all the bodies, and the particular spirits like the Gods, which were adored by the Heathens. This would help us to comprehend what we have seen elsewhere, and which is doubtless very surprising, namely, that Thales and the other natural philosophers, who lived before Anaxagoras, explained the generation of the world, without interposing the direction of a divine Thales and Anaximenes could not admit it, if they
supposed, the one that water, and the other, that air was the principle of all things, a principle eternal and unproduced; for though, to avoid contention about words, they called this universal and uncreated principle God, they could not consider it as an intelligent cause antecedently to the particular beings which it formed, since it produced them in itself, and from itself, as an imminent cause, and not as a cause external, and distinct from its matter. But because Anaxagoras was the first who acknowledged a spirit distinct from the matter of the world, a pure spirit and unmixed with body, he must have reasoned otherwise than the natural philosophers, his predecessors. He might say, arguing consistently, that the world has been formed by the direction of a spirit, that disentangled and put the parts of matter into order. His hypothesis admitted an intelligence antecedent to the formation of the world; the other hypothesis supposed nothing before the world, except the chaos, or water, or air, &c. And so they were to give a beginning to intelligent beings, as well as to the coarsest creatures. All things proceeded from the first principle, by way of generation or reproduction. Jupiter, the greatest of the Gods, Saturn his father, and Heaven his grandfather, Æther his great grand-father, and all the genealogy upwards, was a particular being, which owed its origin, birth, and existence, to eternal and uncreated matter; the principle of all things; the chaos, according to Hesiod; water, according to Thales; and air, according to Anaximenes. But you will say, did not Thales acknowledge that the Gods knew the very thoughts of men. I answer, that we can only conclude from it, that he ascribed a vast extent of knowledge to some of the beings which the water had produced, and which were called Jupiter, Juno, Venus, Neptune, &c. Homer, who so pompously describes the power of the Gods, says that all proceeded from the ocean.The great and prodigious absurdity of these hypotheses consists in saying that the Goda endowed with
great knowledge were formed from a principle which knows nothing; for neither the chaos, nor the air, nor the sea, are thinking beings. How then could they be the total cause of those divine natures which, in the system of the poets, and of the most ancient natural philosophers, know so many things? but though those hypotheses be never so false and absurd, I no longer wonder, as I did, how they could be admitted by philosophers. Most of them supposed that the soul of man was material. They believed, therefore, that it was formed of the subtilest parts of the blood, or of the seed. Now, when once this step is made, one may go a great way in a little time. Set experience aside; consult only the ideas of the theory, and it will not appear more easy for matter received in the womb, to be converted into a child, who by eating and drinking grows into a man of great understanding, than for a child to be born of a tree. Hence, a Heathen thinks it possible that, at the beginning, men were born either from the mud of the earth, or from some liquor dropped from heaven.48 When this seems to be possible, it is easy to go on, and to believe what the poets did of the birth of Venus.We may infer from all this, that there is nothing more dangerous or contagious than to lay down a false principle. It is a bad leaven, which though it be but small, may spoil the whole lump. One absurdity once laid down, draws after it many others. If you only err concerning the nature of the human soul; if you think that it is not a substance distinct from matter; that error will lead you to believe that there are gods, who at first were born from fermentation, and afterwards multiplied by marriage. I cannot conclude, without observing a thing at which I am amazed. Nothing appears to me grounded upon clearer and more distinct ideas than the immateriality
of every thinking being, and yet some Christian philosophers maintain, that matter is capable of thinking; and they are philosophers of great parts, and of a most profound meditation. Can we depend, after this, on the clearness of ideas? but do not these philosophers see that, upon such a foundation, the ancient Heathens might err so far as to say, that all intelligent substances had a beginning; and that eternally there was nothing besides matter: this was the opinion of the philosopher Anaximenes, as we have seen above. It was also the doctrine of Anaximander, his master. This inconvenience cannot be prevented by this corrective; namely, that matter becomes thinking, only by a particular gift of God. It would be true, notwithstanding, that in its nature it is susceptible of thought; and that, to make it actually thinking, it suffices to put it in motion, or to order its parts in a certain manner: whence it follows that an eternal, unintelligent, but moveable matter, might have produced both gods and men, as the poets and some Heathen philosophers have foolishly given out.Art. Jupiter.
GONZAGA (ISABELLA).
Isabella de Gonzaga, the Wife of Guido Ubaldo de Montefeltro duke of Urbino, deserves to be reckoned amongst the most illustrious ladies. One of her panegyrists calls her, “a woman, for her goodness, integrity, courage, and nobleness, more divine than human.” She had such a chastity as deserves to be admired; although some circumstances are told of it, that appear fabulous; for it is said, that after she had lain two years with an impotent husband, she remained fully persuaded that nothing was wanting to her marriage, and that all other husbands were like her own. At last she was undeceived, and the duke himself confessed his infirmity to her, when he perceived that she understood the nature of it, but nevertheless
she continued her tender affection to him, comforted him, and never complained, nor revealed the state of her marriage to any body. The secret however came to be publicly known, for the minim Hilarion de Costa, having made an exclamation against those who say, “that women cannot keep a secret,” adds, “that the duchess of Urbino more faithfully kept her secret and promise to her husband than he did himself, having lived fourteen years with him without ever discovering the defect of her marriage by any complaint. For the first years she concealed it through youth and ignorance, and afterwards out of honour and virtue, and the obligation of secrecy. Not only the people of the duchy of Urbino, and the inhabitants of the fine city of Pesaro, but even the most intimate and familiar domestics, and the principal lords of the court, were ignorant that this defect and barrenness proceeded from the duke; on the contrary, they rather attributed it to the duchess. Nor had it ever been known if the duke himself bad not told it, when, being driven out of his dominions by Caesar Borgia, duke of Valentinois, he came to wait on king Louis XII, who was then in his duchy of the Milanese, and city of Milan, to whom he had recourse to be restored to his dominions; but not obtaining his desires, because the king was in league with Pope Alexander VI, father of the duke of Valentinois, and feared the hatred of the house of Borgia against him and his family, he gave them hopes of parting with his wife, and becoming an ecclesiastic; affirming he had never consummated the marriage, by reason of his impotency; and being asked by the king, be certified the truth of it. Thus the secret, being revealed by the husband, was divulged through all the territories of Urbino and Italy, where the meanest people knew that Ubaldo, duke of Urbino, was only a man in face, or that, if he were a man, he could not be ranked among husbands; and all the world admired the constancy and modesty of his prudent and chaste princess, Isabella Gonzaga: her constancy, because she might have had her marriage declared null, yet she would not, choosing rather to be silent than to pollute her lips; proving her modesty, by the heroical act of having lived above twenty years with such a husband.”Isabella was strongly solicited to think of another match: it was made appear to her that she might very easily get her marriage declared null; and they represented many other forcible considerations to her, but nothing moved her. Here the monk strains his throat, and lifts up his voice like a trumpet. “What a wonderful chastity of a woman! what an incredible constancy! what a perfect and unparallelled virtue! thus to live twenty years with a husband, in the same house, in the same palace! here is a true pattern of chastity, and a demonstrative proof that the spirit and virtue have more power than the flesh and sensuality; and that conjugal faith and affection prevail over the inferior lust and the brutish part. How few others would have thus concealed the secret, I do not say for fourteen years, but for fourteen months, which she kept not twenty months, but twenty years, and even to the death of her husband, without voiding the marriage; when, being intreated, importuned, and almost forced, by all sorts of powerful persons that were her relations, to separate from her husband, for a thousand urgent considerations they laid before her, she would never hearken to them; but on the contrary constantly maintained, that the fault lay not in him, taking it ill to have it said otherwise; and she was much concerned when the truth of the story came to light. O most faithful and chaste princess! let thy example dazzle the eyes of those women who, led by the spirit of sensuality, without grounds, or with the least pretence and frivolous reason, break a marriage concerted by the consent of relations, and celebrated in the face of the church, procuring I know not what
dispensations under pretence of misunderstandings, which will only serve as a chain to drag them to damnation; whilst you, a young, beautiful, and noble lady, who might have lawfully procured a divorce, have shewn your marriage to be rather a match of the mind than of the body, &c. Isabella not only rejected all solicitations to part from her husband, till his death almost reduced her to despair, and her affliction had like to have proved truly mortal. Observe also that she had been married twenty years.”The exclamations of this minim, who has praised her, are pardonable considering the rarity of the thing; but he might have been a little more moderate without transgressing the rules of a good rhetorician. Our Isabella spent the rest of her days in a glorious widowhood. She was aunt to Eleonora Gonzaga, whom she married to a nephew of Julius II, that is, to Francis Maria de la Rovere, who succeeded her husband in the duchy of Urbino. By that you will see at what time she lived; and if you read “Il Cortegiano” of Balthasar Castiglione, you will see her very much praised; and you will also learn, that the court of Urbino was then very polite.—Art. Isabella Gonzaga.
GOOD AND EVIL.
If the conjecture of a learned critic49 be well grounded, Xenophanes was of opinion that there is in nature more good than evil. Many things might be observed upon the question, whether Euripides, who held the same opinion, is rather to be believed than Pliny, and so many other great men. who have maintained that the evils of human life surpass the good things of it, Let us consider this subject a little, and say in the first place that if the dispute be only about vicious evil, it will soon be decided in
favour of Pliny; for where is a man who dares maintain that the virtuous actions, compared with the crimes of mankind, are in proportion as ten to ten thousand? In the second place, if the dispute be about painful evil, Euripides will have several adherents. As to the second point, I shall refer it to the following remark, and also offer something there on the first.How detestable soever the opinion of two principles hath constantly appeared to all Christians, they nevertheless acknowledged a subaltern principle of moral evil. Divines teach us that a great number of angels having sinned, made a party in the universe against God. For brevity’s sake this party is denoted by the name of devil, and he is acknowledged as the cause of the fall of the first man, and as the perpetual tempter and seducer of mankind. The devil having declared war against God from the moment of his fall, hath always continued in his rebellion, and there has never been any peace or truce. He continually applies himself to usurp the rights of his Creator, and seduces his subjects, in order to make them rebels and engage them to serve under his banner against their common master. He succeeded in his first hostilities with regard to man; in the Garden of Eden he attacked the mother of all living, and vanquished her; and immediately after he attacked the first man, and defeated him. Thus he became master of mankind. God did not abandon this prey to him, but delivered them out of their bondage, and recovered them out of that state of reprobation by virtue of the satisfaction which the second person of the Trinity undertook to pay to his justice. This second person engaged to become man, and to act as a mediator between God and mankind, and as a Redeemer of Adam and his posterity. He took upon him to combat the devil's party; so that he was the head of God’s party against the devil, who was the head of the rebellious creatures. The design was not to
conquer all the posterity of Adam; for they were all by birth, in the power of the devil, but to preserve, or recover the country which had been conquered. The design of Jesus Christ, the Mediator, and Son of God, was to recover it; that of the devil was to hold it. The victory of the Mediator consisted in leading men into the paths of truth and virtue; that of the devil in seducing them into the road of error and vice. So that in order to know whether moral good equals moral evil among men, we need only compare the victories of the devil with those of Jesus Christ. Now in history we find but very few triumphs of Jesus Christ: “Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto;” and we every where meet with the triumphs of the devil. The war between these two parties is a continual, or almost continual train of successes on the devil’s side; and if the rebellious party made annals of their exploits, there is not one day in the year but it would be there marked with some ample subject for bonfires, songs of triumph, and such other signs of victory. The annalist would have no occasion for hyperboles and flattery to shew the superiority of that faction. Sacred history, in fact, tells us of but one good man in Adam’s family, and reduces to one good man the family of that good man, and so on in the other generations to Noah, in whose family we find three sons whom God saved from the deluge with their father, mother, and wives. Thus at the end of sixteen hundred and fifty-six years, all mankind, except one family of eight persons, were so deeply engaged in the interest of the devil, that the enormity of their crimes rendered it necessary to extirpate them. The deluge, that terrible monument of the justice of God, is a lofty monument of the devil’s victories; and so much the more as that general punishment did not deprive him of his prey; the souls of those who perished in the deluge went to hell. This is the devil’s aim and intention, and therefore his triumph. Error and vice soon after the deluge, lifted up their heads in Noah's family; his descendants plunged themselves into idolatry, and all manner of debaucheries; that is to say, the devil preserved his usurped power over them. There was no more than a handful of people confined in Judæa, that escaped him with respect to orthodoxy; nay, it must be owned, that among that people the success of the good party was very variable with respect to orthodoxy, since that very nation suffered itself to be seduced to idolatry from time to time; insomuch, that their conduct was a continued shifting between true and false worship. But as for vice it never suffered a real interregnum amongst the Jews, any more than in other countries: and consequently the devil continually kept a footing in the small conquests which the good party recovered.There doubtless happened a happy revolution at the birth of Jesus Christ; his miracles, his gospel, and his apostles, made glorious conquests. Then the empire of the devil received a very great check, and a considerable part of the earth was wrested out of his hands; but he was not so driven out that he did not preserve several correspondents, and a great many creatures there. He maintained himself by the abominable heresies which he sowed; vices were never entirely driven out of it, and soon after entered into it again, as it were, in triumph. Errors, schisms, disputes, and cabals, introduced themselves, together with the fatal train of infamous passions, which generally accompany them. The heresies, superstitions, violences, frauds, extortions, and impurities, which have appeared all over the Christian world for several ages, are things which I should only be able to describe imperfectly, though I were master of more eloquence than Cicero. What Virgil said is true in the most literal sense.
Non, mihi si linguae centum sint, oraque centum.
Ferrea vox, omnes scelerum comprendere formas, possim.
Virgil. Æneid. lib. vi, ver. 625.
Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,
And throats of brass, inspired with iron lungs,
I could not half those horrid crimes repeat.
Dryden.
Thus whilst the devil reigned uninterrupted without the limits of Christendom, he so successfully disputed the ground in Christendom, that the progress of his arms was beyond comparison greater than that of truth and virtue. A stop was put to his progress, and he was forced to give ground in the sixteenth century; but what he lost on one side he regained on the other; and what he does not effect by lies, he brings to pass by the corruption of manners. There is no asylum, no fortress where he does not make men feel the effects of his power in this respect. Leave the world, shut yourself up in a monastery, he will follow you, he will bring into it intrigues, envy, factions, or if he can do no worse, lewdness; this last resource is almost infallible; “Diaboli virtus in lumbis est, The power of the devil lies in the loins, saith St Jerome.”50 A modern author affirms, that in those places where popery is predominant, there is no true piety. He spares the protestants a little more; but yet he says that corruption runs very high amongst them: You may say if you please, that his descriptions are overstrained; but it will nevertheless be true, that there prevails among Christians a deplorable corruption of manners.
These two things also require our reflection. War reigns at least for as long a time as peace amongst the Christians. I confine myself to Christendom, because it is unnecessary for me to speak of the infidel nations; they are continually in the service of the devil, and subject to his empire; and the usurper reigns there unmolested. It is undeniable that war is the devil’s time, or if I may so express myself, his
turn of reigning; for without mentioning the violences and debaucheries committed in it, every soldier is obliged to profess that he will suffer no injuries; he must either quit the employment, or revenge an affront: but this is manifestly denying our allegiance to the empire of Jesus Christ and desert - ing to the enemy. Times of peace do not seem so favourable to the empire of the devil, and yet they are very much so: for as people grow rich, they grow more voluptuous, and plunge themselves deeper in luxury and voluptuousness.Nunc patimur longæ pads mala, sævior armis
Luxuria incubuit, victumque ulciscitur orbem.
Juvenal, Sat. vi, ver. 291.
We suffer all th' invet'rate ills of peace,
And wasteful riot; whose destructive charms
Revenge the vanquish'd world of our victorious arms.
Dryden.
My remaining remark is more decisive. The Papists and Protestants agree, that very few people escape damnation. They allow none to be saved only the orthodox who lead good lives, and repent of their sins at the point of death. They do not indeed deny but that habitual sinners may be saved upon a sincere death-bed repentance, but withal they maintain, that nothing is more rare than such a repentance. According to which it is plain, that for one man saved, there are perhaps a million damned. Now the war which the devil wages with God, is about the conquest of souls; and therefore it is certain that the victory is on the devil's side. He gains all the damned, and loses only the very few souls who were predestinated to be saved. He is therefore “victor prsælio, & victor bello—victorious in the battle, and victorious in the war." For having inspired men with an infinitely greater number of wicked actions, than Jesus Christ has inspired them with good ones, he has been superior in the battle; and
as he makes almost all men die in impenitence, he keeps all he had conquered. Death puts an end to the war. Christ doth not combat in order to release the dead from the power of the devil. We must therefore say that this war ends in the devil’s advantage, what he claimed is yielded and abandoned to him. I know he will suffer eternal punishment for his victories; but this, far from obscuring my position, that moral evil is greater than moral good, serves to make it more indisputable: for the devils amidst the flames will eternally curse the name of God. There will therefore be more creatures who will hate, than who will love God. Besides, in this remark, the question is properly about the state of things in this life.I have an Italian book intituled Monarchia del nostro Signor Giesu Christo, printed at Venice 1573, and written by Giovann’ Antonio Panthera Parentino. The author of this book gives the history of the battles of Lucifer with Jesus Christ, from the beginning of the world down to the times of Mahometanism. He passes slightly over some of the attempts in which Lucifer succeeded; but gives a full account of every attempt in which he failed; such as the design of destroying the posterity of Abraham in Egypt, his enterprises against David, against the Maccabees, against Jesus Christ, &c. This is like a man who seeing people gaming, should only take an account of the losses; it would appear by such a computation that he who had won the most had lost all his money. This is an image of the conduct of several historians; their nation appears always victorious, for they relate only those events which were prosperous.
Observe, that all I have been saying is every day preached, and that without any design of derogating from the almighty power of Jesus Christ. No more is meant by it than (what is also my opinion) that man is naturally so prone to evil, that except the
small number of the elect, all other men live and die in the service of the evil spirit, and render the paternal love of God to remedy their wickedness, or bring them to repentance, of no effect.Notwithstanding the opinion of Casaubon, the probability is that Xenophanes believed that the sweets of life do not equal the bitter portions which it obliges us to swallow. Those who bold the contrary opinion, chiefly insist upon a parallel betwixt diseases and health. There are very few persons, of any age, but can reckon up, incomparably more days of health than of sickness; and there are a great many, who, in the space of twenty years, have not been afflicted with diseases that will take up in all fifteen days. But this comparison is fallacious; for health considered alone is more an indolence than a sense of pleasure; it is rather a bare exemption from evil, than a good, whilst sickness is worse than a privation of pleasure; it is a positive state which plunges the mind into a sense of suffering, and loads the patient with pain. Somebody judiciously says, that when health is alone, it is a good which is not much perceived, and sometimes only serves to make us the more ardently desire all the other pleasures which we cannot have. Let us make use of a comparison taken from the schoolmen: they say that rare, that is, porous bodies contain but very little matter under a great extent; and that dense bodies contain a great quantity of matter in a small compass. According to this principle we must say that there is more matter in three feet of water than in two thousand five hundred feet of air; which is a lively image of sickness and health. Sickness resembles the dense bodies, and health the rare. Health lasts many years successively, and yet contains but a small portion of happiness. Sickness continues but a few days, and yet comprehends a vast load of misery. If we had a scale adapted to weigh both a
disease of fifteen days, and the health of fifteen years, we should observe the same difference that we find in the balance betwixt a bag of feathers and a piece of lead. In one scale we should see a body which takes up a great deal of room, and in the other, one which lies in a very small compass; and yet one of them is not heavier than the other. Let us then beware of the illusion which the extension of health may draw us into, when it is paralleled with sickness.But you will say that health is considerable, not only because it exempts us from a very great evil, but also by the liberty it affords us, to enjoy a thousand lively and very sensible pleasures. I grant all this, but it ought to be farther considered, that there being two sorts of evils to which we are subject, it only secures us from one, and leaves us wholly exposed to the other. We are subject to pain and sorrow, two such terrible afflictions, that it is not to be decided which is more dreadful. The most vigorous health doth not secure us from grief. For grief flows in upon us through a thousand channels, and is of the nature of dense bodies; it comprises a great deal of matter in a very small compass; evil is heaped up, crowded and pressed close in it. One hour’s grief contains more evil, than there is good in six or seven pleasant days. The other day I was told of a man who killed himself, after an anxious melancholy of three or four weeks. Every night he had laid his sword under his bolster, in hopes that he should have courage enough to end his life, when darkness should increase his grief; but his resolution failed for several nights successively. At last, not being able to resist his uneasiness, he cut the veins of his arm. I affirm, that all the pleasures which this man had enjoyed in thirty years, would not equal the evils which tormented him the last month of his life, if both were weighed in the
balance. Look back to my parallel of dense and rare bodies, and remember this, that the good things of this life are a less good, than the evil things are an evil. Evils are generally more pure and unmixt than good things; the lively sense of pleasure doth not continue long, it immediately grows flat and dull, and is followed with disgust.The best of things beyond their measure cloy;
Sleep's balmy blessing, love's endearing joy;
The feast, the dance . . . . .
Pope’s Homer, Iliad. lib. xiii. ver. 635.
What appeared to us a great good when we did not possess it, scarcely affects us in the enjoyment; so that we acquire, with a thousand troubles, and a thousand uneasinesses, what we possess with no more than a moderate pleasure; and very often the fear of losing the good we enjoy, surpasses all the pleasures of the fruition of it.
There has been pointed out to me a very fine passage of Pliny, and a very proper one to confirm the thoughts which I have just now offered. “Si verum facere judicium volumus, ac repudiata omni fortunæ ambitione decernere, mortalium nemo est felix. Abunde igitur, atque indulgenter fortuna decidit cum eo, qui jure dici non infelix potest. Quippe ut alia non sint, certe, ne lassescat fortuna, metus est: quo semel recepto, solida felicitas non est. Quid quod nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit? utinamque falsum hoc, et non a vate dictum quam plurimi judicent! Vana mortalitas, et ad circumscribendum seipsam ingeniosa, computat more Thraciæ gentis, quæ calculos colore distinctes, pro experimento cujusque diei in urnam condit, ac supremo die separatos dinumerat, atque ita de quoque pronunciat. Quid quod iste calculi candore illo laudatus dies, originem mali habuit? Quam multos accepta afflixere imperia; quam multos bona perdidere, et ultimis mersere
suppliciis? ista nimirum bona, si cui inter ilia hora in gaudio suit. Ita est profecto, alius de alio judicat dies, et tamen supremus de omnibus: ideoque nullis credendum est. Quid quod bona malis paria non sunt, etiam pari numero: nec lætitia ulla minimo mœrore pensanda? Heu vana et imprudens diligentia! numerus dierum comparator: ubi quæritur pondus. If we would make a true judgment of things, without being biassed by the allurements of fortune, we must determine that no man is happy. Fortune is bounteous and indulgent to the man who may justly be said not to be happy. For as to those who are called happy, their condition is always attended with a fear lest fortune should change and forsake them; and where this fear takes place, there can be no solid happiness. What shall we say of this observation, that no man is wise at all times? I wish this was false, and that a great many people did not justly account it an oracle. Man is vain, and ingenious in circumscribing himself, and computes his happiness after the manner of the Thracians, who every day put into an urn either a black or a white pebble, to denote the good or bad fortune of that day: at last they separate these pebbles, and upon comparing the two numbers together, they formed their judgment of the whole of their lives. Shall that very day which is distinguished by the white pebble give rise to evil? How many have been afflicted by the power which they have accepted? How many undone and reduced to the greatest misery by good things, and the same good things which were the cause of their former rejoicing. Thus it actually happens, one day judges of another, and the last judges of all the rest; so that no particular day can be relied upon. What shall we say of this observation, that the good things of this life are not equal to the evil, not even in number? And that the least affliction is not to be compensated by any joy? Alas! how vain and imprudently diligent in man, who compares his fortunate with his unfortunate days by their number, when the question is concerning the weight and nature of them.” I have found another passage which gives a lively description of the ill side of felicities, I speak of those common to all meh, I mean corporeal pleasures. “Quid autem de corporis voluptatibus loquar, quarum appetentia quidem plena est anxietatis, satietas vero pœ- nitentisa? Quantos illæ morbos, quàm intolerabileis dolores, quasi quendam fructum nequitiæ fruentium soient referre corporibus!...Tristeis vero esse voluptatum exitus, quisquis reminisci libidinum suarum volet, intelliget. . . . .Habet omnis hoc voluptas,
Stimulis agit fruenteis,
Apinmque par volantum,
Ubi grata mella fudit,
Fugit, et nimis tenaci
Ferit icta corda morsu.
Boetius, de Consol. Philosoph. lib. iii.
What need I speak of bodily pleasures, the pursuit of which is full of anxiety, and the enjoy nient followed by disgust and repentance. How great diseases, how intolerable pains do they bring upon the body, as the fruits of wickedness . . . . But that the issue of pleasures is disagreeable and painful, whoever reflects on his own lusts, must easily understand.” ....
If pleasures e’er invade the heart
They stimulate through every part:
But when th’ enjoyer's happy made,
And when their grateful honey’s shed,
Their sweet allurememts soon decay,
They leave a sting and fly away.
Thus Boëtius introduces philosophy addressing him. It appears by this discourse, that if anxiety precede the enjoyment of pleasures, disgust and
repentance follow close after it, and a vast number of authors observe this unhappy connexion of pleasure and uneasiness.Let us also observe that we are not only in fear of losing what we possess, but also vexed to see other people equal or surpass us, and that others will soon be able to come up to us, and afterwards get before us. Observe, that in order to prove that good is not so perfectly good, as evil is evil, I have made no use of this argument, that it rarely happens that a good use is made of the favours of fortune, it rarely happens that they do not lead us to great miseries, and become not a grace, but a snare; I say, I have omitted this reason, because I do not here consider the causes and occasions off good and evil, but good and evil in themselves. For the rest, it would be departing from the state of the question to say, that man afflicts himself without cause. For it is not our business here to know whether his grief be reasonable, or the effect of his weakness; but the question is, to know whether he grieves. This very thing, that a man vexes himself without reason, and makes himself unhappy by his own fault, is an evil.
We must own with Seneca, considering the multitude of good things which nature has. imparted to us, and the inexhaustible industry with which the wit of man diversifies pleasures, and discovers the sources of them; that God, not contented to provide barely for our necessities, hath besides furnished us wherewithal to live deliciously.
All that Seneca saith on this score in his book de Beneficiis is very true; but, on the other side, doth not Pliny assure us that nature makes us buy her presents at the price of so many sufferings, that it is dubious whether she deserves most, the name of a parent, or of a step-mother? To reconcile these two authors, we ought to consider what the scripture teaches us concerning the æconomy of God, as a
father, and as judge of mankind. Those two relations require that man should feel good and evil; but the question is, whether evil exceeds good? and upon this head I am apt to think that we can go no farther than opinions and conjectures. Several people say, that most persons, when a little advanced in years, grow like la Mothe le Vayer, who would have refused to pass again through the same good and evil which he had felt in his life. If it be so, we must believe that, upon the whole, every one finds the pleasures which he has enjoyed, have been unequal to the uneasinesses and pains with which he has been afflicted. I do not allege that no body is content with his condition, for this is no proof that every man believes himself less happy than unhappy. These verses of Horace contain a most certain fact:Qui fit, Maecenas, ut nemo, quam sibi sortem
Seu ratio dederit, seu sors objecerit, illá
Contenus vivat? laudet diversa sequentes?
Horat. lib. i. initio Sat. 1.
Whence comes, my Lord, this general discontent?
Why do all loath the state that chance hath sent,
Or their own choice procur'd? but fondly bless
Their neighbour's lots, and praise what they possess?
Creech.
Four inconveniences mixed with twenty conveniences would make a man wish for another condition; I mean such a one as is not charged with any inconvenience, or at least where he should find but one or two of them to forty conveniences. On the other side, it must not be alleged against me, what Lactantius saith, that men are so nice that they complain of the least evil, as if it absorbed all the good things they have enjoyed. It is to no purpose to consider here what the absolute quantity of good and evil dispensed to man may be in itself; we are only to consider their relative quality; or, to express myself more clearly,
we ought to consider nothing but the feeling state of the mind. A very great good in itself, which raises but a very moderate pleasure, ought not to pass for more than a moderate good; but an evil, though very little in itself, which gives an uneasiness, grief, or pain, that is insupportable, ought to pass for a very great evil; so that to denote a man less happy than unhappy, it is sufficient that he is afflicted with three evils for thirty felicities which he enjoys, if those three evils, as little in themselves as you please, give him more disturbance than the thirty felicities, as great in their own nature as you please, afford him pleasure. The government of a province is in itself a much greater good than a ribbon; and yet if a duke or a peer should feel more joy in receiving a ribbon from his mistress, than in obtaining the government of a province from his king, I affirm that a ribbon would be a greater good to him than the authority of a governor. For the same reason, it would be a greater evil for him to be deprived of this ribbon than to be deprived of his post, if he should be more grieved at the loss of the ribbon than at that of his post. On this account no man is able to judge aright, either of the misery or happiness of his neighbour. We do not know what another feels, we only know the outward causes of evil and good; now these causes are not always proportioned to their effects: those which seem to us very small, frequently produce a lively sense; and those which appear to us great, very often occasion but a faint one. The following words of Tacitus are really an oracle;51 “Neque mala vel bona quæ vulgus putet: multos qui conflictari adversis videantur, beatos, ac plerosque quamquam magnas per opes miserrimos, si illi gravem fortunam constanter tolerent, hi prospéra inconsultè utantur.—Neither are these things good or evil which the vulgar deemto be such. Many who struggle with adversities are happy, if they bear their afflictions with resolution; and most of those who abound with riches are very miserable, if they make an imprudent use of their prosperity.” We must only extend the signification of the word inconsultè, so that it may comprehend the disposition of the temper which makes us possess the favours of fortune with uneasiness, or without joy.
All this shows that none can determine positively whether his neighbour's destiny be drawn out of Homer’s two vessels, in such a manner that the dose of good be as large, or perhaps larger, than that of evil. All that can be said with full certainty is, that no man’s fate was ever drawn wholly out of the good vessel. I shall cite an excellent passage out of Pausanias on this subject; it is the reflection which he made upon hearing that one Aglaus was happy during the course of his life.52 “What I have heard at Psophis, concerning Aglaus, a man of that city, who lived in the time of Crœsus, King of Lydia, that this Aglaus was happy through the whole course of his life, seemed to me incredible. One man, indeed, may meet with fewer afflictions than other men, as one ship may suffer less in a storm than another. But that any man should be continually free from troubles and distresses, is as incredible, and contrary to experience, as that ever there was a ship which always enjoyed favourable winds. Homer says that there lies by Jupiter an urn containing good things; but he places by him another containing evil things. This he learned from Apollo of Delphos, who pronounced, that Homer himself was both an unhappy and a happy man, and was born both to a good and a bad fate.” As this Aglaus was living in Croesus’s time, it is no wonder that Solon omitted him when he named to that monarch three men who, to him, seemed happy; for he believed that, to deserve such a title, one ought to be sheltered from the inconstancy of fortune, and that, during this
life no man is secure from this inconstancy. If Solon had affirmed that those three men never felt either grief or pain, he had been mistaken, and had contradicted that profound good sense which made him look for instances of happiness, not at the court of Crœsus, but amongst men of an ordinary condition.It is certain that those who would find persons who have felt more happiness than uneasiness, will rather meet with them among the peasants, or the meanest tradesmen, than amongst kings and princes. Read these words of a great man:—“Do you believe, then, that afflictions and the most deadly pains do not hide themselves under the purple; or, that a kingdom is a universal remedy against all evils, balm that assuages them, or a charm which enchants them? Whereas, by the course of divine providence, which knows how to counterpoise the most exalted conditions, the grandeur which we at a distance admire, as something more than human, affects those less who are born in it, or confounds itself in its own plenty; aud, on the contrary, in grandeur, afflictions are more deeply felt; their blow is so much the heavier on great men, as they are less prepared to bear it.”53 These are the two sources of the unhappiness of princes: their being continually accustomed to the advantages of their condition, renders them insensible as to good, and very sensible of evil. Let them receive one piece of bad news, and three of good; they scarce feel the happiness of the latter, but are touched to the quick with the misfortune of the former. Can they then want uneasinesses? Are their prosperities not thwarted by some ill fortune? Read all that Gustavus Adolphus did in Germany, and you will there find a superiority of fortune which has very few examples; yet you will observe so great a mixture of disadvantageous events, that you will easily, believe
him to have run through a great deal of uneasiness. Nay, suppose the victories gained in some provinces do not concur in the losses sustained in others, you Will have reason to believe that the joy is not pure and unmixed. A hundred anxious reflections disturb it. People will imagine that the attack was made too soon or too late; too many men were lost, and all advantage was not taken of the disorder of the vanquished, but they were permitted to recover from their fright; and they believe that, by a different tonduct, the victory had been more complete. How many generals are there who have very uneasy nights after entire victories? They are sensible that they are beholden for them to some lucky chance, to the fault of the enemy, and, sometimes, even to their own faults. They are sensible they have not done all that might have been done. They are apprehensive of the comments of the experienced, and of the malicious reflections of their enemies. In a word, they cannot bear a good testimony to themselves, nor internally applaud the eulogies bestowed upon them. This disturbs and racks them. Whilst their consciences are sometimes asleep, with regard to the law of God, they are touched to the very quick with respect to the transgression of some laws in the art of war, and the non-observance of some rules which an expert general would have followed. Observe, that the most fortunate princes, either in gaining of battles, or conquering of towns, are those whom the defeat of an army, or the raising of a siege, afflict the most sensibly. A long train of adversities hardens others; but these grow almost insensible as to good success, and extremely sensible of the least disgraces. Augustus is an example of this. On a thousand occasions he obtained the most important and glorious advantages over his enemies that he could have wished, and scarcely experienced any of the effects of bad fortune, but the loss of three legions so prodigiously afflicted him, that the pain, which he probably suffered on this account, was greater than the pleasure he had felt by ten victories. I cannot better prove, than by the example of Augustus, that we ought not to look for happy people upon the throne; for, if any monarch were ever fortune’s favorite, it was Augustus; and yet the list of his griefs is so large, that no one will deny, that at least he felt as much evil as good. See what I observe concerning Charles V, Queen Elizabeth, Lewis XI, and Lewis XIII. Mr Sillon saith judiciously, that “the whole lives of the emperors Ferdinand, Charles V, and Philip II, were nothing but a mixture of good and evil; that in them we see prosperities without number, and misfortunes without measure; wounds covered with laurels, and triumphs adorned with mourning. Look upon Ferdinand, proud of the reduction of the kingdom of Granada, and of obtaining the title of Catholic; see him triumphing in the conquest of Naples, and over the fortune of France; behold, a caprice gives him Navarre, and chance guides him to the discovery of an unknown world, and new riches. But let us consider the other side of his life, and turn the tables, and we shall see a prince ill treated by fortune, and a diadem broken by her blows. We shall see a father burying his son, and solemnizing the funeral of his eldest daughter. A husband losing a wife, who had been his glory, and more the companion of his fatigues than of his bed. A master forsaken by his servants and creatures; an old man driven from his house, and a father-in-law despoiled and stripped by his own son-in-law.”54 Add to this, that he could not bear the reputation of a great captain; and this jealousy was not the least of his uneasinesses. See in the original what Mr Sillon saith of Charles V and Philip II. and what Plutarch relates of a great prince who was esteemed happy.55What I have been saying of kings, may, in proportion, be said of all those whom providence raises to eminent posts, and who share in any kind of grandeur. Their lot is a mixture, in which evil is for the most part predominant. Great knowledge and a sublime genius do not exempt men from this fatality. No, look rather amongst the most ignorant rabble, than among illustrious, learned men, for happiness: the glory that surrounds authors and celebrated orators doth not secure them from a thousand troubles. It exposes them to envy two several ways, which are very inconvenient. They have rivals who persecute them, and are jealous, in their turn, of the praises which others deserve; a typographical error gives them more disturbance than four letters full of eulogies can afford them pleasure. The glory which they have acquired diminishes the pleasure they take in being praised, and increases their uneasiness for the want of praise, for censure, sharing of fame, &c. Besides, the more learning they have, the more they know that their works are imperfect. If they guard against the weaknesses of prejudices, and the irregularities of a hundred mean passions, and are willing to conform their language and conduct to this temper of mind, they become odious, and must renounce all external advantages. If they externally conform to the depraved taste of the world, they reproach themselves a hundred times a day with this ignominious hypocrisy, and thereby disturb their quiet. There are very few who, like Democritus, can know the extravagance of humours, and divert themselves with it: that philosopher was master of this talent. Pausanias mentions the oracle which was delivered to Homer, “You are happy, and unhappy.” Apollo could not answer better.
It is time to put an end to these common-places. Give me leave then to conclude with four remarks: the first is, that if we consider mankind in general, it seems that Xenophanes might have said, that pain and grief prevail over pleasure. That there are some private persons, who we may presume, taste in this life much more good than evil. That there are others of whom we may believe, that they have a much larger share of evil than good. That my second proposition is more especially probable, with respect to those who die before their declining age; and that the third appears chiefly certain in those who arrive to a decrepit old age. When Racan said,
Que pour eux seulement les dieux on fait la gloire,
Et pour nous les plaisirs,—
For them aloue the gods have glory made,
And for us pleasures,—
doubtless he considered only, the flower of our age; it is then that pleasures are predominant; and that good turns the scale. It is then that the Pagan Nemesis makes advances, and gives credit; she is then willing that accounts should be settled without any deduction; but she reimburses herself in old age.
Multa senem circumveniunt incommoda, vel quòd
Quærit, & inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti:
Vel quòd res omnes timide gelideque ministrat,
Dilator spe longus, iners, avid usque futuri:
Difficiles, querulus, laudator temporis acti
Se puero, censor castigatorque minorum.
Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secure,
Multa recedentes adimunt.
Horat. de Arte Poëtica, ver 169.
An old man’s character is hit with ease,
For he is peevish, and all one disease:
Still covetous, and still he gripes for more,
And yet he fears to use his present store:
Slow, long in hope, still eager to live on,
And fond of no man's judgment but his own:
On youth’s gay frolics peevishly severe,
And oh! when he was young, what times they were!
The flow of life brings in a wealthy store,
The ebb draws back whate’er was brought before,
And leaves a barren sand and naked shore.
Creech.
This poet hath not said all, nor was it necessary for him to touch on the advantage of old age which Juvenal displays.
Ut vigeant Sensus animi, ducenda tamen sunt
Funera natorum, rogus aspiciendus amatæ
Conjugis, & fratris, plenæque so ro rib us urnæ.
Hæc data pœna diu viventibus, ut renovata
Semper clade domus, multis in luctibus, inque
Perpetuo mærore, & nigra veste senescant.
Juvenal, Sat. x, ver. 240.
Well, yet suppose his senses were his own,
He lives to be chief mourner for his son:
Before his face his wife and brother burn,
He numbers all his kindred in the urn.
These are the fines he pays for living long,
And dragging tedious age in his own wrong:
Griefs always green, a household still in tears,
Sad pomps: a threshold throng’d with daily biers
And liveries of black for length of years.
Dryden.
Add to this that passage of Virgil:
Optima quæque dies miseris mortalibus ævi
Prima fugit: subeunt morbi, tristisque senectus;
Et labor, & duræ rapit indementia mortis.
Virgil. Georgic, lib. iii, v. 66.
In youth alone unhappy mortals live;
But ah! the mighty bliss is fugitive.
Discolour'd sickness, anxious labour come,
And age, and death's inexorable doom.
Dryden
Even those who believe that nature appointed all other things for their use, consider man as an unhappy being. Have we not seen above, that Pliny, ' after a prologue which allows the superiority to our species, places it in a worse condition than all other animals, with regard to disadvantages? Could Seneca, who so well represents the favours which God bestows on men, have denied Pliny's observations? Could Socrates, who so advantageously described the prerogatives of human nature, have denied them? “Thou thinkest,” said he to a disciple who denied Providence, “that the gods take no care of man, they who have allowed him alone the privilege of going erect, which is of great advantage to him in discovering things at a distance, in considering things above at his ease, and avoiding many inconveniences. In the next place, all animals which walk have indeed feet; but they serve them for no other use than barely to walk. Whereas the gods, besides this, have given hands to man, which render him the happiest animal in the world. All animals have tongues; but there is none besides that of man, that can form words to explain his thoughts, and communicate them to others. And to shew that the gods have provided even for our pleasures, they have not determined the season for the amours of men, who may continually enjoy, till their extreme old age, a pleasure which the brutes taste only at a certain season of the year. Lastly, not content to bestow so many advantages on the body of man, they have endowed him with a soul, transcendently excellent, and surpassing all others. For which, amongst the souls of other animals hath any knowledge of the essence of the gods, the works of whose creation are so stupendous? Is there any other species, besides that of man, that serves and adores them? What animal like him can defend itself from hunger, thirst, cold, and heat? Which of them like us can discover
remedies against diseases, or exercise his strength? Which of them is so capable of learning, or so perfectly retains the things which he hath seen, heard, or known? In a word, it is clear that man is a god in comparison with other Jiving species, considering the advantages of body and mind, which he naturally hath over them.”56 It is very likely that after this beautiful description, he would have owned the deplorable condition of man, if he had been desired to examine the matter thoroughly.As to seeking a remedy for their uneasiness among forbidden pleasures, is not this removing a physical evil by a moral one? Is not it a remedy worse than the disease? And is not the man very miserable, who can have recourse to no other remedy? It is doubtless very certain that a great many people find no other. Domestic brawls, and the sight of an ill management at home force men out of doors to gaming or to drinking at the tavern. Without those resources, they cannot drive away their melancholy; and such is the sole diversion which they oppose against uneasiness. Some even intoxicate themselves on purpose to avoid uneasy thoughts at night, the time when they are most troublesome. They have found that such thoughts keep them from sleeping, . and make them too cruelly attentive to their misery. Therefore by wine they procure themselves a perfect drowsiness. This is so much gained from ill fortune; this is securing the most formidable part of the whole day. Generally speaking, women cannot make use of this antidote to anxiety, and therefore their condition is more deplorable than that of man. Whence Medea declares in Euripides, that a woman ill married is in such a miserable condition, that it is better for her to die than continue in it; she cannot, like the men, go abroad in quest of necessary consolation.
. . . . . . . . .If, when
The careful consort rules her household well,
Her husband governs with a gentle away,
And courts her lov'd embrace; what home-felt joy,
What inward comforts seize her raptur’d breast!
But if, be scornful, slights her converse sweet,
’Tis better for her far to die than live.
Man when oppress'd with black domestic cares,
Ranges abroad to seek relief, and meets
The healing comforts of a faithful friend,
Or fellowship of some companion dear.
But helpless, hapless woman, when denied
Those tender joys which from her husband's love
She justly claims, must seek it no where else.
Euripid. in Medea, ver. 241.
Aristotle acknowledged that there was in nature more evil than good, and that therefore Empedocles first supposed two principles, one of good, the other of evil. Before I cite his words, I must observe, that he takes the liberty of unravelling Empedocles’ opinion, and explaining it according to the spirit, rather than the letter; but after all he takes for granted, that good is the cause of all good, and evil the cause of all evil. The two principles of Empedocles, were amity and discord.57 As there appear in nature things which are contrary and opposite to good ones, and we observe not only order and beauty, but also disorder and deformity, and more things evil than good, more things deformed than beautiful; so there must be two distinct principles, one the cause of amity, and the other of discord. For if you take the sense and spirit of this opinion, and not the inaccurate expressions of Empedocles, it will appear that amity is the cause of good, and discord of evil. Therefore, if any one should say that Empedocles affirmed, in some respect, and was the first who affirmed that there are two principles, one good, the other evil, perhaps he would be in the
right; for the principle of all good things is a good principle, and that of all evil things, is an evil one. Observe that he elsewhere censures this opinion of Empedocles, and that he did not believe that there was any eternal principle of evil; for he affirms that there is nothing but good in the eternal beings.I wonder Rabbi Maimonides could think that he had fully refuted the doctrine I mention.58 He confesses that the Heathens, and even some of the Rabbins, made declamations on the superiority of evil, and he treats them as ridiculous and senseless men. He says that the cause of their extravagant error is, that they fancy nature was made only for them, and do not mind that which has no reference to their persons, whence they infer that if any thing go ill with them, all is amiss in the universe. He adds, that if we would consider the smallness of man, with respect to the universe, we should be soon convinced that the superiority of evil has no place among the angels or the celestial bodies, nor among the elements and the mixt inanimate beings, nor among several sorts of animals. This observation of Maimonides doth not come home to the question; for those whom he refutes mean nothing else but that among men evil surpasses good. What doth it avail then in order to convince them of their error, to say that evil doth not surpass good in the rest of nature? All inanimate bodies are incapable of good and evil; they must not therefore be put into the account when this question is in dispute; and there is no body who may not maintain, that all in which we place the order, beauty, and perfection of the celestial bodies, &c. being changed, it would be no evil with respect to the universe, though man, or some other particular creatures, should suffer damage by it. If the sun
and the planets, had the same variation as the ships, which go and come between Marseilles and Naples, sometimes in fewer, and sometimes in more days, without any fixed rule, could any one pretend, that, with respect to the universe, it is not an evil, an imperfection and a disorder?After this Maimonides says that the evils of mankind may be reduced to three classes: the first comprehends those which proceed from man’s having a body; the second, those which proceed from the. machinations of men against each other; the third are those which a man brings on himself by his own fault. He makes fine remarks on all these, but they are foreign to the question; for the dispute is not about the cause of man’s happiness, but whether this be matter of fact, that the evils which he suffers surpass the good things he enjoys. It signifies nothing to tell us that we ourselves are the cause of our misfortunes, that we often afflict ourselves without any reason; and that the pleasures of life are numberless, and sometimes very long; for all this is incapable of solving the difficulty. A grain of evil, as I may say, spoils a hundred pounds of good. The sea water, whose bitterness is intolerable, contains forty, or forty-two, times more sweet particles than salt ones. A little piece of iron hot in the seventh degree, burns more than an hundred feet hot in the fourth degree. No evil is small when it is felt and considered as a great one, and nothing troubles an uneasy man more than to know, that he has no reason to be uneasy. “There is,” says Mr de St Evremond, “a sort of uneasiness of which I cannot imagine the cause; and as one does not know how to find the true reason of it, I think it very difficult to allay, or to avoid it. Uneasinesses of this kind are common to all; they are such as make us fall out with ourselves, and shewing us that we have
no reason to be uneasy, force us, in spite of self-love, to confess, that we are so.”59—Art. Xenophanes.HAGAR.
Who would have thought that the ill-treatment of Hagar by Sarah, would one day serve as an apology for persecution? Yet the copious and imaginative mind of St Augustine, found out thereby, that the true church may inflict chastisements on the false one, exile and torment it.— Art. Hagar.
HESSE. LANDGRAVE OF HESSE.
(His curious case.)
The world was long ignorant of the fault of Luther, in consenting, that the landgrave of Hesse should have two wives at the same time. Mr Varillas has spoken of this matter at large. “Philip, landgrave of Hesse, was of so vigorous a constitution, that one wife was not sufficient for him; and the surgeons, who opened him after his death, found
a natural cause for it, which the modesty of our tongue will not permit me to explain.60 He persuaded himself, that his infirmity dispensed with the gospel rigour, and permitted him to have two wives at the same time. Nothing disturbed him in the notion he had conceived of it, but the novelty of the thing: but he supposed, that the approbation of Luther, and others of the most famous divines of his sect, would justify his action. He assembled them at Wittenberg, in form of a council, in the year 1539. The affair was there examined with all the precautions that were thought necessary to prevent their decisions being turned into ridicule. They foresaw the troublesome consequences of what they were going to do; but, at last, the fear of disobliging the landgrave, carried it in Luther’s opinion, and his chief disciples, against the law of Jesus Christ, conscience, reputation, and all other human and divine considerations. The result of the assembly of Wittemberg, was written with Melancthon’s own hand, and signed by Luther, and by the other most famous divines of their sect. It was expressed in so strong terms, that it could leave no doubt, or ambiguity, and was sent to the landgrave in the following form:”61 Mr Varillas gives the act entire in Latin and French. We there find an express permission granted to this landgrave to marry a second wife, provided, that only a few persons were made privy to it. We there also find, that in certain cases of necessity, any other man might marry again in his wife’s life-time; and two of these cases of necessity are specified by these doctors; first, if a man being a captive, in a foreign country, cannot otherwise preserve, or recover his health: secondly, if a man be married to a leprous woman. “Certis tamen casibus locus est dispensation i, si quis apud exteras nationes captivus, ad curam corporis et sanitatem inibi alteram uxorem superinduceret, vel si quis haberet leprosam; his casibus alteram ducere cum consilio sui pastoris, non intentione novam legem inducendi, sed suæ necessitate consulendi, hune néscimus, qua ratione damnare liceret.” Mr Varillas sets down in Latin and French the landgrave’s contract of marriage with Margaret de Saal; to which marriage this prince’s first wife gave her consent. This historian makes many reflexions thereupon, tending to shew, that the reasons of these Casuists open a very large door to polygamy, and observes, that the two acts, inserted in his history, have been faithfully transcribed and collated by the imperial notaries with the originals, which are preserved in the archives of Ziegenhain, belonging equally to the branch of Hesse-Cassel, and to that of Hesse-Darmstadt.But after him came a more artful controversialist,62 who has made many subtle reflexions upon this matter, and on the instruction the landgrave gave to Martin Bucer. In this we find, on one hand, the reasons which induced this prince to a second marriage; and, on the other, those by which he would induce the Divines to consent to it. He shews, that he never loved the princess, his wife; and that she was so disagreeable, and so subject to drunkenness, that he neither could, nor ever would abstain from
other women, whilst he had no other wife than her; and that, nevertheless, he would not incur the penalties, which the scripture denounces to fornicators and adulterers. “Cum videam quod ab hoc agendi modo penes modernam uxorem meam nec possim nec velim abstinere.’63 The physicians, add he, know the strength of my constitution; besides, I am often obliged to assist at the diets; they last a long time, and we have rich tables there; how then can I preserve my continence? For I cannot always take my wife along with me, with her great retinue.” He adds to all this I know not how many threats and promises, which must have embarrassed his Casuists; for it is highly probable, that if a private gentleman had consulted them upon the like case, he would have obtained nothing from them. It may therefore reasonably be imagined, that they were men of little faith; they had not a due confidence in the promises of Jesus Christ; they believed, that if the reformation of Germany, were not maintained by the princes who possessed it, it would soon be extinguished. The experience of the time past made them timorous; they saw, that the violence of persecutions, and the violence, employed by Catholic princes against those who had left the Romish communion, had even destroyed those reformations in the birth. It was natural to fear a like fate, unless force were repelled by force. However it be, it cannot be denied, generally speaking, but Luther’s book contained several things favourable to polygamy.It must here be observed, that Thuanus was ill informed of the circumstances of this affair. The landgrave, according to him, was, on one hand, so vigorous, that his wife could not admit his embraces as often as he desired; and, on the other, so chaste, that he did not love to take his pleasure abroad: and therefore the princess consented to his taking a
concubine. This was not the case; be had never loved her; he married her against his inclination: and beginning three weeks after his marriage to make use of other women, he continued the same course till his second marriage.Some ministers, have not had all the necessary prudence in answering for Luther. The only answer that should have been given to the Catholic objectors, was to say, as Mr Basnage has prudently done:64 Luther ought not to have granted the landgrave of Hesse the permission to marry a second wife, whilst his first was alive; and that the bishop of Meaux did justly condemn him upon that article, and that the popes have run into much more criminal excesses. Whence it follows, that Luther’s fault, censured by the Papists, has no weight; for if this fault hindered him from being an instrument in the hand of God to declare the truth, and reform the church, the Roman Catholics are to blame in believing that the Popes, who have been guilty of more crying sins than this, were, however, living oracles to the church, and the vicars of Jesus Christ. It is certain, the Catholics can infer nothing from this action of the reformers, nor from any other to invalidate the reformation, without destroying a principle absolutely necessary for their own support; to wit, that the greatest crimes do not hinder the Pope pronouncing ex cathedra, from declaring a truth, the belief of which is obliging on all the faithful.
Art. Luther.
HISTORICAL TALENT.
History, generally speaking, is the most difficult composition that an author can undertake, or one of the most difficult. It requires a great judgment, a noble, clear and concise stile, a good conscience, a
perfect probity, many excellent materials, and the art of placing them in good order, and above all things, the power of resisting the instinct of a religious zeal, which prompts us to cry down what we think to be false, and to adorn and embellish what we think to be true. I know some persons, who could wish we had some histories of the reformation, written neither by a Roman Catholic, nor by a Protestant. They fancy that party-interest, zeal for his cause, and, much more, hatred of the contrary religion, engage a writer to exaggerate, or to suppress, or extenuate, or disguise things according as they may serve, or prejudice the honour of his party. They wish therefore, that a Thucydides, or a Livy, might have given us the history of the great event, not so much on account of their eloquence and great judgment, as because they were Heathens, and might have been neuters between the several sects of Christianity; so that they would have related without any prejudice or partiality, what was to be praised or blamed in the conduct of the Papists, Lutherans, and Calvinists. But I do not know whether they could have kept an exact neutrality; for Popery being more agreeable to Paganism than the Protestant religion, they might have been prepossessed against Luther and Calvin. An historian can never stand too much upon his guard; and it is almost impossible for him to be altogether free from prejudices. There are some forms of government, and some moral and political maxims, which he likes or dislikes. This moves him to favour one party rather than another, even when he writes the history of an ancient nation, or of a remote country. Suppose a man write in our days the history of an Indian king, who died two or three hundred years ago, after he had been dethroned, you will be apt to believe that no interest can hinder him from being a sincere writer; and yet if he be an enemy to monarchy, and approve the rebellion of subjects, he will use a thousand shifts and disguises to render the memory of that monarch odious, and to justify the civil wars which pulled him down from the throne. An historian, who is an enemy to rebellion, would take quite a contrary course; which is the reason why there are so few histories wherein the naked truth appears, and that are free from some marks of the historian’s anger or discontent, or from his satirical strokes against some living persons. He meets with them in his way, whilst he writes the history of the Indies. All readers cannot guess whom he means; but some guess at it, and he knows very well that some will do so. You may judge whether we can trust the modern historians, since Livy himself could not be altogether impartial between the Protestants and the Catholics, by reason of a certain general conformity. The best advice that can be given to zealous Catholics, is to continue to write controversial books, wherein an author may be allowed to appear passionate; and not set up for a historian. I am likewise of opinion, that a zealous Huguenot should be advised not to write the history of Calvinism, or Lutheranism, or that of the edict of Nantes, or any such like. They should be told, you are exasperated, you have conceived a great hatred against the persecutors, you are full of an ardent zeal for your cause, you would give us not a history, but a piece like an advocate’s plea; you would only blame the contrary party, and praise or justify your own; this you could not do without omitting several things, and publishing many falsities. Write therefore some other book, if you design to do something that way for the public good.But here is another reason why so few men can write a good history. They who are able to overcome all prejudices, and reject all the tricks of art,
cannot appear altogether impartial without exposing themselves to the indignation of the people; (the word people has a large extent, and takes in a great many persons of rank and title) they would be looked upon as false brethren, prevaricators, and perfidious men. Was not la Popelinière like to be crushed to pieces, for having related some things in his history of the troubles under Charles IX, otherwise than he should have done in the opinion of many? Several people could wish that a historian of their party would imitate those that play at piquet, who keep only good cards, and lay out the bad ones.Perhaps some will wonder that I should assert that an upright conscience, and a perfect probity, are necessary to a historian; and it will be said that an ingenious man may write a good history as well as a good speech, and a good tragedy, without those qualifications; I shall therefore prove my assertion: in order to do it, I observe that truth being the soul of history, it is an essential thing for a historical composition to be free from lies; so that though it should have all other perfections, it will not be a history, but a mere fable and romance, if it want truth. It is not so with a political or rhetorical piece. Whence I conclude, that none can be well qualified to write a good history, unless he be such an enemy to lying, that his conscience does not permit him to tell lies even to the advantage of his religion, and dearest friends, nor to the disadvantage of an impious sect, and of his most implacable persecutors. I understand by lying, not only the invention of a false thing, but also the suppression or addition of circumstances, that may serve to justify others, or to lay something to their charge. Those, who have not so upright a conscience, and so perfect a probity, will be guilty of a fraud in writing histories, sometimes to please those from whom they expect good offices, and sometimes for fear of dis -
obliging some persons, who might hinder them from obtaining pensions. What has been said of the orator, is still more necessary to the historian: he ought to be defined, vir bonus narrandi peritus, an honest man, who knows how to relate things. And yet you shall seldom hear any body enquire, whether the author of a history is a honest man. The usual question is, whether he be a man of wit and judgment? Whether he has a fine style? Whether he pleases the reader? And according as the answer is, people will either buy his book or not buy it. They should at least imitate those, who in their enquiries about the character of witnesses, began with their riches, and ended with their honesty.Protinus ad censum, de moribus ultima fiet
Quæstio: quot pascit servos, quot possidet agri
Jugera, quam mult a meguaque paropside cœnat?
Juven. Sat. ver. 140.
The question is not put how far extends
His piety, but what he yearly spends:
Quick, to the business; how he lives and eats;
How largely gives; how splendidly be treats:
How many thousand acres feed his sheep,
What are his rents, what servants does he keep.
Dryden.
It ought first to be enquired whether the author is an honest man.—Art. Remond.
HISTORY AND SATIRE.
The corruption of manners has been so great, as well among those who have lived in the world, as among those who have lived out of it, that the more a person endeavours to give faithful and true relations, the more he runs the hazard of composing only defamatory libels. Doubtless there is a great difference between History and Satire, but a small matter suffices to metamorphose the one into the other. If, on the one hand, you take from Satire that spirit of sharpness, that air of anger, which discovers that
passion has a greater share in the scandals reported than a love of virtue; and if you add the obligation one is under, of relating indifferently the good and the bad, it is no longer reputed Satire, but History. Let an historian, on the other hand, faithfully relate all the crimes, weaknesses, and disorders of mankind, his work shall be reputed rather a Satire than a History, if he discover but ever so little emotion in himself at the thoughts of so many commendable facts which he exposes to public view. I do not believe that that coolness of temper, with which a judge ought to pronounce sentence against robbers and murderers, is always to be exacted from a historian. Some pointed reflections do not become him ill.—Art. Bruschius.JAPANESE PRIESTCRAFT.
The Bonzes profess celibacy, but they do not always observe it very exactly. They abstain from flesh and fish, shave their beards and hair, and conceal their debaucheries under the appearance of an austere life. Their greatest profit is the burying of the dead; the people being persuaded that, in the other life, the souls of their relations may fall under some necessity, spare nothing to procure them the comfort which the Bonzes promise them, by means of their great alms. They use another artifice to enrich themselves, viz. to borrow money, which they promise the simple people to pay again in the other world with great interest; and borrowing it in this manner, they say among themselves that the term is worth the money: they who would draw a parallel between the east and the Catholic west, would find it equally defective as to the article of these debts payable in the other world. Celibacy ill observed, cheats, hidden under the appearances of a rigid morality, the profit of burials, and the assistances sent to souls separated from the
would afford them a great many comparisons. I am persuaded that many people, in reading extracts from the Japanese missionaries, could not choose but say inwardly to themselves, “thus it is with us.” It would be very curious to see an account of the west, written by a Japanese or a Chinese, who had lived many years in the great cities of Europe. They would pay us in our own coin. The missionaries, who go to the Indies, publish relations in which they particularise the falsities and frauds which they have observed in the worship of these idolatrous nations. But whilst they ridicule them for it, may they not fear that it should be replied to them, “Quid rides? mutato nomine de te fabula narratur.—Why dost thou laugh? changing the name, the story is told of thee or that they should be upbraided as they deserve, who wink at their own faults, and discover with the utmost sagacity the vices of others?Cùm tua pervideas oculis mala lippus inunctis,
Cur in amicorum vitiis tain cernis acutum,
Quàm aut aquila, aut serpens Epidaurius? at tibi contra
Evenit, inquirant vitia ut tua rursùs et illi.
Hor. Sat. iii, lib. i, v. 25.
For wherefore, while you carelessly pass by
Your own worst vices, with unheeding eye,
Why so sharpsighted in another's fame,
Strong as an eagle's ken, or dragon's brain?
But know that he, with equal spleen shall view,
With equal rigour shall your thoughts pursue. — Francis.
Art. Japan.
JESUITS.
(Prejudices against.)
It is undeniable that a great many condemn the Jesuits out of mere prejudice. Whatsoever is published against them is almost equally believed by their enemies, both Catholics and Protestants. It is also
true that the accusations are renewed against them, as often as occasion offers, in any new book. In the mean time they who examine, with any sort of equity, the innumerable apologies published by the Jesuits, find, as to some facts, sufficient justifications to make a reasonable enemy drop the charge. I will give an instance of this.In 1610, there came out a very severe book against the Jesuits, intituled Anti-Coton, in which it was affirmed that the abbot du Bois had maintained, and would prove it to father Coton’s face, that “sentence had been given against him at Avignon, for getting a nun with child.” Father Coton, answering this libel, produced the following letter. “I, whose name is underwritten, do certify that I was in Avignon, all the time the rev father Coton, of the society of Jesus lived there; and that I never heard any one say that he had committed any thing contrary to the dignity and quality of his profession; and, in particular, as to what the Anti-Coton charges upon him. In which Anti-Coton, since I am made the author of a manifest calumny, wherewith the rev father Coton is charged: I frankly aver, that I know nothing of it, and that I have always looked upon the said rev father Coton as a venerable and worthy man: in testimony whereof, I have written and signed this present deposition. From Paris, in my study, the eve of St. Denis the martyr, 1610. Olivier abbot du Bois. And I have sealed it with my seal.” Besides this, he produced four certificates, “seen and acknowledged for authentic, true, and legal, by the royal notaries of the city of Paris.” The first was signed “Lewis Beau, prothonotary of the holy apostolic see, and sealed with his seal, and with those of two subsequent archbishops in the metropolitan city of Avignon, whose vicar-general he had been all the time of father Coton’s sojourning in Avignon.” The second was signed by fifteen persons, “who composed, and represented all
the clergy of Avignon.” The third was signed by the two consuls of Avignon, and their accessor, and sealed with the seal of the consular house. The fourth was given by the bishop of Orange. These four attestations concur, not only in contradicting the author of the Anti-Coton as an infamous calumniator, but also in extolling father Coton’s good and pious conduct. “Besides these certificates, the magistrates of Avignon wrote to this Jesuit in these terms, ‘ If these testimonies of prelates and consuls are not sufficient, we can produce the certificates of the greatest part of the gentlemen, doctors, citizens, merchants, and others of the town.’ ” I know not what could be produced of greater force to justify the accused; and yet, there were a great many, who still believed that the nun was got with child, and that sentence had been passed upon father Coton. They gave more credit to the Anti-Coton, who brought no proof, nor any authentic evidence, than to father Coton, who produced all that the most exact judicial proceedings could require. This could be nothing but the effect of an extravagant prejudice.The fate of the Jesuits and that of Catiline is much the same. Several accusations were given in against Catiline without any proof; but they met with credit, upon this general argument; " since he has done such a thing, he is very capable of having done this, or that, and that it is very probable he has done the rest.” The historian Sallust has judiciously observed this illusion, which is not a sophism of the schools, but of the town. “Scio fuisse nonnullos qui ita existimarent, juventutem quæ domum Catilinæ frequentabat parum honeste pudicitiam habuisse: sed ex aliis rebus magis quam quod cuiquam id copertum foret, hæc fama valebat.65—I know there were some, who looked upon the young persons who frequented Catiline’s
house, as men of ill fame; but it was not a knowledge of them, but something else which gave rise to this opinion.” There was published at the Hague, about eleven years ago, a book intituled, the Religion of the Jesuits. The author confesses that the prejudice against these gentlemen is so general, that whatever attestations of innocence they fortify themselves with, it is impossible to undeceive the world. “We must know,” says he, “that nothing so horrible can be said against the Jesuits, though ever so doubtful, but it becomes probable from their character, and the consideration of what they are capable of.” He gives two examples of this: one is, " the report spread, not only at Heidelburg, but through all Europe, that they had suborned a false spirit from the other world, who cried every night in the ears of the old duke that there was no salvation for him, unless he would exterminate heresy and heretics out of his new dominions, according to the counsel of the fathers Jesuits: the duke, tired with these visions, resolved to enquire into the matter. He declared himself to one of his officers, who engaged to conjure the spirit most effectually, without either prayers or holy water. The officer hid himself under the prince’s bed, and when the spirit came, he so hacked and hewed him with his hanger, that it is said he died of his wounds. The officer who had done the exploit, had the indiscretion to tell his wife of it, against the duke’s express commands. The wife was no more retentive than the husband; and thus the thing was divulged. The Jesuits have tried all manner of ways to clear themselves. The duke has issued rigorous injunctions in his estates against speaking of it. The Jesuits have procured certificates under the hands of the Protestants themselves, concerning the falsity of the story. But all to no purpose. They will never destroy the suspicions which these stories, whether true or false, have imprinted in the people’s minds, because they are known to be capable of this juggle, by others of the same stamp.” He mentions some of them in general, I mean without circumstances of time, and place, and persons: and after having advised us to reject their certificates from the Palatinate, he concludes thus:66 “However, be this little story true or be it false, we know what they can do, and that is enough to make the thing probable.” The other example is, that the Jesuits had “plotted to poison the emperor in the sacrament.” This prince was cautioned of it, “and would not communicate the next day, but forced the Jesuit to take the poisoned Host, of which he died. The emperor and court of Vienna, according to its devotion, ordered under terrible penalties the few persons that were privy to it, to keep the thing a secret. It was not, however, well kept; or at least it spread a little, and a gentleman of honour swore that the thing happened for certain in Vienna. We do not give this for a truth,” pursues the author, and indeed, to say all, we are not much inclined to believe it: but, be it ever so false, the Jesuits will never be able to destroy the suspicion of it, because of the character of the society, which is known all the world over.” He adds several reflexions, tending to persuade his readers that this story of Vienna is certain; and then proceeds: “The thing after all may be false; but it will ever be thought probable, considering the ordinary conduct of these good fathers. “They who believe the story of Vienna false, will however believe it probable. If it be false, it will at least serve to justify what I have just now said, that the hatred against the society is extreme, even in the church of Rome.”Without so many repetitions, we might easily have taken his thought. He means, that a man need only confidently publish whatever he pleases against the Jesuits, to be assured that abundance of people will
believe it. I believe him in the right; at least, that in this he will prove a good prophet. It was doubtless on this presumption that he published the story of Vienna, though he believed it false. But if other authors have taken the same method, what will become of all the facts which the enemies of the Jesuits have published? Should we not have reason to believe, that they have divulged several which they knew to be false or doubtful, and which nevertheless would in their reckoning appear as certain, and be received by the public as undoubted truths? I cannot think the rules of morality will allow the making so ill a use of public prejudice: they command us to be equitable towards all, and never to represent people worse than they are. I own to this author, that the readiness wherewith the public swallows all that is said against the Jesuists, is “a sign of excessive aversion to that society;” and I deny not but this aversion affords most reasonable consequences, which blast their reputation. He has reason to add, “that the good fathers would not do amiss to explain to us this riddle; how it comes to pass that, being so good, so officious and so amiable, they are notwithstanding so terribly hated, while the Jansenists and Jacobins are not so cried down in the world as the Jesuits are?” But he might perhaps be embarrassed, should we require of him the explication of another riddle: how it comes to pass that there are ministers, accomplished in all kinds of virtues, as they pretend, who are hated as a pest in all the communions different from their own, and who have innumerable enemies in their own, and of whom nothing could be published, but what would appear probable. I question, however, whether this writer had all the prudence of a nice disputant, when he insisted so much upon this great disposition of the public to believe whatever is printed against the Jesuits. This is more proper than he imagines to keep their own friends fast to them, who will easily believe that this prejudice has been made too much use of, in publishing the most ill grounded stories.They themselves, at least, fail not to make the most of this plea, that they may be furnished with one general common-place to invalidate the accusations. Heretofore, they used to answer all the books that were written against them; at last, they are weary of it. The reason they allege for their silence is, that they are no more obliged to confute the satires of their enemies, than the king of France is to answer the gazettes of Amsterdam. “Why should not he allow” it is father Tellier who speaks “the Jesuits to neglect answering libels which, in their opinion, are no less fabulous and contemptible than the gazettes of Amsterdam, and the historical or prophetical systems of Mr Jurieu? Ought they to be more tender in point of reputation, than the powers whom God has placed over us? Ought they not, or at least may they not be permitted, after these great examples, to despise what only touches their particular honour.” Here are more reasons of theirs, taken from the insignificancy of their answers, and the disposition of one part of the public to take for truth whatever is said against them. “We no sooner answer one of their satires, than they have half a dozen more ready to be published. They keep magazines full of them; they have them remitted from all parts of the world. Those that were refuted a hundred years ago, or which the world laughed at though they were not refuted, they revive again at present, with the same confidence as if they were new pieces, or had remained unanswered. And the generation that shall come after them, forty or fifty years hence, will do the same with those satires invented in our days; as despicable and as despised as they are. What use will it be, for instance,
to the Jesuits of China to have been the first and almost the only men, who submitted without the least resistance to the apostolical vicars, in 1684, when this has not hindered their enemies from publishing, the last summer, by the pen of their secretary, the Holland Gazetteer, that the holy father was extremely provoked against the Jesuits, because they would not acknowledge the bishops he had sent to China. Can it be doubted that, some years hence, this lie will come again upon the stage? In like manner, what advantage will it be to the Jesuits of Germany, to have had an attestation, signed by four of the principal counsellors of the elector Palatine, all Protestants, in which they declare that the story of a Jesuit, counterfeiting a voice from heaven, to deceive this prince and to excite him to the destruction of heresy, is a pure fable? Will this act hereafter hinder any good Protestant, who shall continue the history of the Jesuits, from making a chapter of this chimerical adventure, upon the credit of the Holland Gazetteer? Why should we not expect this, when we see the gravest authors of the party seriously tell us the story of the packers of Amiens, with all the circumstances that are capable of making a story ridiculous....After this, let not the Holland Gazetteer repent his publishing, for example, that it was the Jesuits, who by their avarice and wicked councils, engaged the emperor in the last Hungarian war; that the people of Vienna, enraged against them on this account, massacred several of them when they would have escaped, upon the approach of the Ottoman army: that it was they who burnt Stockholm the last year, (a little before, it was four disguised Turks that did it), &c. Let him not repent his publishing these follies, and a hundred more of the same nature; nor let him change his style for the future. If they are at present despised, at least he may assure himself that the time will come when they shall be very good memoirs for him who shall write the twentieth or thirtieth tome of the Practical Morality.” You see with how much art they take advantage of the prejudice of their enemies; and how they verify the maxim, ' misfortune is good for something.’ They turn the hatred of the world against them to their advantage, Fruuntur diis iratis. It is certain their enemies would hurt them more, if they observed some measure in the blows they give them; for, whilst they promiscuously heap on well-grounded accusations with those that are otherwise, they favour the accused; they give him a handle for rendering those suspected, which are really true. A man must be very blind not to foresee that several libels, which daily appear against the society, will put weapons into their hands. Did they pay the authors for publishing such stories, they might be said to employ their money well.Opinions adopted and extended by the Jesuits.
The Jesuits have carried very far the consequences of several doctrines which were hatched before their time, and which expose kingdoms to continual revolutions. The opinion, that the authority of kings is inferior to that of the people, and that they may be punished by the people, in certain cases, has been taught and practised in all countries, in all ages, and in all Christian communions that have made any figure in the world. History affords us instances every where of kings deposed at the instigation, or with the approbation, of the clergy. The opinion, that sovereigns have received the sword from God to punish heretics, is yet more universal than the former, and has been reduced to practice among Christians from the days of Constantine to ours, in all the Christian communions that have had the power in their hands; and a man scarcely dare write in Holland against such an opinion. These two doctrines, therefore, were not
invented by the Jesuits; but they have drawn the most odious consequences from them, and such as are most prejudicial to public peace: for, from the conjunction of these two principles, they have concluded, and that as they think by consequential reasoning, that a heretical prince ought to be deposed, and Heresy extirpated by fire and sword, if it cannot be done any other way.If sovereigns have received the sword to punish heretics, say they, it is evident that the people, the true sovereign of their monarchs, according to the first principle, ought to punish them when they persist in heresy. But the gentlest punishment that can be inflicted on a heretic is, doubtless, imprisonment, banishment, confiscation of goods; and consequently an heretical king ought at least to be dethroned by the people, his sovereign and superior; since, according to the first principle, monarchs are only delegates to whom the people, not being able to exercise its sovereignty in person, recommend the functions and exercise of it, with restrictions, and an inalienable right of resuming them, when they acquit themselves ill. Now there is no case in which they ought more reasonably to be divested of them, than when they deserve the punishment which the sovereign, according to the second principle, is ordered by God to inflict on heretics. But as it is not ordinarily possible by judicial processes to take from them the goods which they have fairly forfeited by virtue of the laws, which God will have established against heresy: as, I say, they have most commonly power enough in their hands to maintain themselves in the exercise of royalty; an exercise which is nothing but usurpation, as long as they are heretics; it follows, that recourse must be had to artifice, in order to bring them to the punishments which they have rightly incurred; that is to say, conspiracies may be formed against their persons; since, otherwise, God would have given the
sword to the people, as a true sovereign, for the punishment of heretics, in vain. On the other hand, if sovereigns have received the sword to punish the breakers of the two tables of the decalogue, it follows, that they ought to proceed with greater severity against heretics, who violate the first table, than against murderers and thieves, who only violate the second; for the infractions of the first are immediate treason against the divine majesty, and affront God directly; whereas the infractions of the second offend him only in an indirect manner. It is, therefore, the duty of ecclesiastics to excite sovereigns to the punishment of heretics, violators of the first table of the commandments; and if princes are negligent in this part, that negligence deserves to be more exclaimed against, than a neglect in punishing murderers and robbers.It ought also to be represented that, if the inevitable danger of ruining the state, oblige them to grant heretics a toleration, they are bound to keep their word no longer than the danger lasts; and this danger ceasing, they ought to resume the sword for the extirpation of heresy, just as they would resume it against robbers and murderers, when the danger which forced them to make a truce with these is once over. In a word, if God have given the sword into the sovereign’s hand for the punishment of heresy, the granting it impunity will render them as criminal before God, as the granting impunity to theft, adultery, and murder; and the only thing that can excuse them would be that, for the avoiding a greater evil, the infallible ruin of the state and church, they were forced to promise the suspension of the penal laws; whence it follows, that they are obliged to their first engagement as soon as that danger is passed; for every oath that engages to the disobedience of the laws of God, is essentially null.
Thus you see upon what foundation the Jesuits
have built a system which hath rendered them so odious, and which has given so just a horror for the maxims that several among them have vented. They have built upon a foundation which they found ready to their hands; they have raised consequence upon consequence, quite out of sight, without being astonished at the hideousness of the objects; they have believed, on one hand, that this would turn to the advantage of the church; and, on the other, that they did nothing against the art of right reasoning. I shall not examine whether logic, in effect, did not lead them through all these consequences; the matter would be too odious. I content myself with saying that France, having seen two of her kings successively murdered, under the pernicious pretence that they were favourers of heretics, thought she could no better ruin this wretched gradation of consequences than by overturning the first principle it depends upon. For this reason the third estate of the kingdom resolved to condemn, as pernicious, all doctrines which make the authority of monarchs depend on any thing besides God.67Again: It was not the Jesuits who invented the mental reservations, nor the other opinions that Mr Pascal has charged upon them, nor even the philosophical sin. They found all this in other authors, either expressly, or in such a manner, as a doctrine is in the principle that produces it by consequences.
This doctrine is almost an unavoidable result of the definition of liberty, by which it is asserted that, to the end any action be free, the agent must have a power of determining himself to the right or left, without being necessitated by any foreign cause. Now this definition is that which is most commonly received in the church of Rome, and as we have seen in their society a greater number of patrons of these
opinions than in other communities, and that in their hands the loose maxims grew daily more fruitful by the earnestness with which they disputed on these points, they have been formally and expressly impleaded. Wretched fruits of disputation! their method of studying has had at least as great a share in it as the corruption of the heart. Before they come to read moral divinity, they have dictated one or more courses of philosophy; they have accustomed themselves to cavil upon every thing; they have wrangled a thousand times upon the “ens rationis;” they have heard as often the questions maintained pro and con about universals, and many other things of the same nature; their heads are so turned to objection and distinction, that, when they come to handle matters of morality, they find themselves wholly disposed to perplex them. Distinctions offer to them in shoals; arguments, ad hominem, oblige you to fortify yourself on every hand, and to abate one thing to-day, another thing to-morrow. All this is very dangerous. Dispute as long as you please about logical questions; but in morality be content with good sense, and with that light which the reading of the gospel sheds on your mind. If you go about to dispute after a scholastic manner, you will not readily find a clew to the labyrinth. It was a very good saying of a certain person, that the books of the Casuists teach nothing but the art of cavilling with God. These advocates in the court of conscience find out more distinctions and subtleties than the lawyers in the civil courts. They make the tribunal of conscience a sort of moral laboratory, in which the most solid truths evaporate into smoke, volatile salts, and vapour. What Cicero said of the subtleties of logic, admirably agrees with those of the Casuists. “Dialectici ad extremum ipsi se compungunt suis acuminibus, et multa quæ- rendo reperiunt non modo ea quæ jam non possint ipsi dissolvere, sed etiam quibus ante exorsa et potius detexta prope detexantur. The logicians at last wound themselves with their own edge, and, by enquiring after many things, find not only what they cannot themselves give a solution of, but what overthrows all they have before been raising.” A man is caught in webs of his own spinning; he is lost, and knows not how to turn himself; nor has he any way to disengage, but by relaxing in almost every article. They, who have read father Pirot’s book, will own that it is easier to censure it, and perceive that it contains dangerous doctrines, than answer his objections.Doctrine of the Jesuit Mariana.
John Mariana wrote a book which Spain and Italy suffered to go abroad, and which was burnt at Paris by a decree of the parliament, because of the pernicious doctrine it contained. There is nothing more seditious, nor more capable of exposing kingdoms to frequent revolutions, and even the lives of princes to the knife of assassins, than this book of John Mariana.
The title of it is, “de Rege et Regis Institutione,” and it was printed at Toledo in the year 1598, with the king’s licence, and the usual approbations. The author having proposed in the sixth chapter of the first book, to consider whether it be lawful to kill a tyrant, enters on this subject with a narrative of the tragical end of Henry III. He admires the courage of James Clement, and says there were different opinions about the action of this young monk: some commended it, and thought it worthy of immortality; others blamed it, because they were of opinion that it is never lawful for a mere private man to kill a prince declared king by the nation, and anointed with the sacred oil according to custom, although this prince become a wicked man and a tyrant. “De facto monachi non una opinio fuit, multis laudantibus atque immortalitate dignum judicantibus: vitupérant alii prudentiæ & eruditionis laude præstantes, fas
esse negantes cuiquam privata auctoritate regem consensu populi renunciatum, sacroque oleo de more delibutum sanctumque adeo perimere, sit ille quamvis perditis moribus, atque in tyrannidem degenerant.”68 We may clearly perceive, that Mariana is one of those who approved the action of James Clement; for he rejects the principle upon which wise and learned men condemned it. Besides, he affects to extol the courage and undaunted steadiness of this assassin, without dropping one word that tends to render him odious to the reader. This observation admirably discovers the whole venom of the doctrine of this Jesuit; for it is certain that he only begins with the example of Henry III, that he might descend from the thesis to the hypothesis, and to show the people a notable case of tyranny, that so at all times, when they should find themselves in the like condition, they might think that their circumstances warranted them to make use of the knife against their monarchs. But if it be once lawful to do this, when people live under such a prince as Henry III, I know not what monarchs ought not to fear that they shall be assassinated or dethroned: for oftentimes the good and evil of two conditions are counterbalanced when they are compared together. If the faults of government are not the same as they were under Henry III, yet it will be said, that all things duly considered, they are equal, and thence people will conclude, that they are in the same condition which the Jesuit has described. However let us go on with the explication of his system.Mariana relates the reasons of those who blamed James Clement, that is to say, according to him, the reasons of those who teach that every one must patiently submit to the tyrannical yoke of his lawful sovereign; and before he answers them, he produces the arguments of the contrary party, built upon this
fundamental principle, that the authority of the people is superior to that of kings. This is his beloved position, for proof of which he spends two whole chapters. Having alleged the reasons of each party, he declares—I, That according to the opinions of divines and philosophers, a prince who, by main force, and without the general consent of the people, is possessed of the sovereign power, is one whom every private person has a right to kill: “Perimi à quocunque, vita & principatu spoliari posse.—May be killed by any one, and deprived of his life and crown.” II. That if a prince, who is lawfully created, or who is a lawful successor to his ancestors, overturn the religion and public laws, without hearkening to the remonstrances of the nation, may be made away by the safest and surest method. III. That the shortest and surest way of doing it, is to assemble the states, and in this assembly to depose him, and there to order that an army be raised against him, if it be necessary for removing his tyranny. IV. That such a prince may be lawfully put to death, and that each private person, who shall have the courage to attempt to kill him, has a right to do it. V. That if an assembly of the states cannot be held, and it appear nevertheless to be the will of the people that the tyrant should be dispatched, there is no private person but may lawfully kill this prince to satisfy the desire of the people: “Qui votis publicis favens eum perimere tentavit, haud quaquam inique eum fecisse existimabo. He who to accomplish what is wished by the people, shall attempt to kill him, I shall not judge him to have acted at all unjustly.” VI. That the judgment of a private person, or of many, is not sufficient; but one must be governed by the voice of the people, and also consult grave and learned men. VII. That, indeed, it shows greater courage to rise up openly against the tyrant; but there is no less prudence to attack him secretly, and destroy him in the snares that are laid for him. “Est quidem majoris virtutis & animi simultatem aperte exercere, palam in hostem reipublicæ irrnere: sed non minoris prudentiæ, fraudi & insidiis locum captare, quod sine motu contingat minori certe periculo publico atque private.” He advises therefore, either that he should be attacked in his own palace with open force, or that a conspiracy should be formed against him; he will have it that open war, crafty devices, frauds, and treacheries, are equally lawful; and if the conspirators, adds he, are not killed in the attempt, they ought to be admired as heroes all their life time; if they perish in it, then they fall victims acceptable to God and men, and their efforts deserve immortal praises. VIII. That although there seems to be no difference between an assassin who kills with the stab of a knife, and one who poisons; yet because Christianity has abrogated the laws of the Athenians, which ordered criminals to drink a poisoned cup; Mariana does not approve that a tyrant should be killed by poison mixed with his meat; but if any would make use of poison, he would have it applied to his clothes or to his saddle. “Ergo me auctore neque noxium medicamentum hosti detur, neque lethale venenum in cibo & potu temperetur in ejus pernicem. Hoc tamen temperamento uti, in hac quidem disputatione licebit, si non ipse qui perimitur venenum haurire cogitur, quo intimis medullis concepto pereat: sed exterius ab alio adhibeatur nihil adjuvante eo qui perimendus est. Nimirum cum tanta vis est veneni, ut sella eo aut veste delibuta vim interficiendi habeat.”Such is the system of this Jesuit. The last part of it is very absurd; it is a ridiculous distinction, for he who drinks poison without knowing it, and believing it to be good food, does not any ways contract the guilt of those who destroy themselves; and yet to preserve a tyrant from so great a crime, Mariana would not have him made to drink or eat poison.
Moreover, if it were true, that in drinking off the poison without knowing of it, he would be guilty of his own death; he would be no less guilty in putting on a poisoned shirt: and yet Mariana makes no scruple to consent, that his clothes should be poisoned, his saddles, or any other things which act from without upon the inward parts. I say therefore, that the eighth article of this Jesuit is unworthy of a man who understands reasoning; and I am surprised, that a man who had so much good sense, and so much logic, should trifle so childishly. Abating this, many people are persuaded that his system is finely contrived, that the parts of it are well connected together, and that he proceeds naturally from one consequence to another. Suppose once they say, that a king holds of the people, as being his supreme judge, and that he is accountable to them, all the rest will follow of course; and therefore the author who refuted Mariana, laid down a principle quite opposite to this, viz. that sovereign princes depend only upon God, to whom alone it belongs to call them to an account. I shall not enter upon the discussion of this question; but shall only observe, that as the doctrines of Mariana are very destructive of the public good, it had been better that he had argued inconsequently, than to follow, like a good logician, the consequences of his principle.—Art. Mariana.Chastity of the Jesuits.
I will observe upon this occasion some very notable singularities which are to be found in Alegambe, concerning the chastity of certain Jesuits. He says, that father Gil, who died in 1622, aged seventy-three years, knew not any woman by sight, so strict a watch did he keep over his senses that they should not fix upon these objects. He was afraid of himself: he could scarcely bear to touch himself; and he thanked God that he had a bad sight, because that
had afforded him great assistance to chastity. Father Costerus declared, that his chastity was never overcome by any irregular motion, nor by any obscene imagination. Father Coton, who was confessor to a very lewd prince, whose court followed the maxim, Regis ad exemplum lotus componitur orbis, died a virgin, and preserved his inward purity in such a manner, that he had a horror for every thing that might be offensive to this virtue; and he had so nice a sense in this respect, that persons who came near him after having violated the laws of chastity would excite in him the sensation of intolerable disgust. Father Spiga, who died in the year 1594, aged seventy-four years, was accounted a virgin, he had never looked upon any woman, and could not distinguish his own nieces one from another, although he had been their confessor; and nothing could induce him to enter into their house, when he knew they were alone. I am surprised, that Alegambe should not know what is related of Possevin the Jesuit, “That having to read Tibullus, upon account of his fine Latin, he prayed to God kneeling on the ground, that the verses of this poet about love might not inspire him with love.” Mr Menage, who relates this, had said just before, that he heard father Sirmond say, that having read the judgment which Photius gave of the romance of Achilles Statius, whereby it appeared, that this romance was full of obscenity, he would never read it. To this purpose I will add, that Melchior Canus, who was no friend to the Jesuits, made himself merry one day at their cost, at the king of Spain’s court. He said, that they carried about them a herb which mortified nature in such a manner, that by the efficacy of this simple they could safely converse with women. Philip II taking this in a literal sense, had a mind to know what this herb was, and having given order that the Jesuits should be pressed to name it he learned that it was called the " Fear of God.” " Philip II, says he, their great protector, and a prince of fine wit, jesting, asked them one day, how they could be chaste, having private and familiar conversations with all the fine ladies of his magnificent court, we have, said they, as it is reported by their historian, a herb which we carry about us, by which we avoid the danger of incontinence, and resist all its attacks. Being pressed by the monarch to name it, they answered, that it was the Fear of God; but I assure you, if they had it then, I am very certain they have lost the seed of it now, and that it does not grow in their garden.”—Art. Mariana.Seduction of Youth.
Renatus Ayrault, eldest son of Peter Ayrault, was the cause of great uneasiness to his father. He was born at Paris on the 11th of November, 1567, and was put to school to the Jesuits. Peter Ayrault had a good opinion of them then, and was so fond of them, that he would hardly have undertaken the Parisian clergy’s cause against them at that time, as he actually did afterwards in the year 1564. Perceiving in this his eldest son a lively wit, great memory, and many other good qualities, he earnestly intreated the provincial of the Jesuits and the rector of the college of Clermont, when he committed his son to their care, not to solicit him in any manner to enter their order; and assured them he had other children whom he intended to dedicate to the church, but that he designed this son should succeed him in his post, and intended him for the support of his family. They promised to grant his request, but the young gentleman’s great abilities soon made the Jesuits desirous of having a subject of this importance in their society, and at length after he had studied rhetoric two years under father James Sirmond, they gave him the habit of their order in 1586.
His father, without whose consent or privacy this was done, made a great stir about it; he accused them of seduction, and summoned them to deliver up his son. They answered that they knew not what was become of him. Ayrault obtained a decree of parliament, whereby the Jesuits of the college of Clermont were ordered not to receive Renatus Ayrault into their order, and to notify this prohibition to the other colleges. This decree was not obeyed, the young man was removed from place to place, his name was changed, and he was sent into Lorrain, Germany, and Italy. Henry III caused his Ambassador and the protector of his affairs, to solicit the Pope; Ayrault wrote to his holiness about it; the pope caused the list of all the Jesuits in the world to be shewn him; Renatus Ayrault going under another name, did not appear in this list.Three years of trouble and enquiry having been employed to no purpose, the father had recourse to his pen, and wrote a book concerning the paternal power, and addressed it to his son Renatus; Renatus answered it, but his superiors did not think fit to publish his answer. They employed Richeome provincial of the Jesuits of Paris, to refute Peter Ayrault’s book. Renatus’s adventures are as follows: he entered into the order at Triers, on the 12th of June, 1586, and went afterwards to Fulda, where he renewed his study of rhetoric. He passed through Germany, and was detained there by the Protestants; he then went to Rome, where he studied philosophy a year under Mutius Vitelleschi; and continued this study the year following at Milan, and finished it at Dijon. Having taught the classes in the same city during four years, with great success, he left it when the Jesuits were banished from several cities of the kingdom, in the year 1594, went into Piedmont, where he taught for two years. He came afterwards to Avignon, where he studied divinity four years, after which he returned to
Rome, whence he was sent to Milan to teach rhetoric; this he did for some years, and returned afterwards into France, where he passed through the most illustrious employments of his order. He taught philosophy, preached, and was superior of a college: he was rector at Rheims, Dijon, Sens, Dole, and Bezançon; he was the provincial’s assistant, and procurator of the province of Champagne, and afterwards of that of Lyons, at Rome. Lastly, he died at La Fleche, on the 18th of December, 1644. His father, by a deed executed before a notary and witnesses, deprived him of his blessing in the year 1593, but he did not keep his resentment till his death, for a writing was found among his papers in winch he gave him his blessing. It was signed with his own hand, and contained as follows: “God give his peace, and his love, and his grace to my son Renatus Ayrault. I give him my blessing in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; and I forgive him every thing wherein he may have offended me. And I pray God to assist him with his holy spirit, whatever state or calling he may undertake.”Art. Ayrault.
IGNORANCE.
(Sins of)
Gregory of Rimini maintained that an invincible ignorance does not justify a man. Mr Arnauld who makes this observation, afterwards mentions three opinions upon the subject. The first is, “that a human action is not a formal sin, if he who does it does not know that he commits a sin.” He ascribes this opinion to the Jesuits, and affirms that they pretend to say nothing but what is reasonable; because it is agreed on all hands, as they suppose, that an invincible ignorance justifies a man, and that he is reputed to be invincibly ignorant of the sinfulness of
what he does, when he has no such thought in the doing it. The second opinion is that of several divines, who lest these false subtleties should overthrow this important maxim, that the ignorance of the law of nature does not justify a man, which has been acknowledged by the Heathens themselves, and is laid down in the canon law in these words, “Ignorantia juris omnibus adultis damnabilis est: Ignorance of the law in all adult persons is damnable maintain /that it ought not to be looked upon as invincible, absolutely speaking, because that law is such, that man was made capable to know it, and would have known it, if he had continued in the state wherein God had placed him; that in the state he is in, it is one of the consequences of original sin that he knows only the first principles of it, and is ignorant of the rest, which he may however know with the assistance of grace. This, according to St Thomas, is sufficient to oblige men to do what they cannot do without grace; though that grace, without which they cannot do it, be given to some out of mercy, and be denied to others out of justice, as a punishment of preceding sin, although but original sin. Nothing can be more express than what this angelical doctor teaches upon this subject; and according to this second opinion, which has been entertained by most of the ancient Divines, the ignorance of the law of nature did never justify any body, because it could not be looked upon as invincible.The third opinion is that of Gregorius Ariminensis, of Estius, and other divines, who taking the word invincible in another sense, do not scruple to assert that the ignorance of the law of nature does not justify a man, even when it might be looked upon as invincible. For, say they, it may be called invincible with respect to human means, such as instruction, of which many people have been deprived, especially among the infidels. Those, who, taking the word invincible in this sense, have acknowledged that a
vast number of Heathens have been invincibly ignorant of many duties of the law of nature, should necessarily have said, that the ignorance of the law of nature does not clear men from sin, even when it may be called invincible, with respect to the want of human, and even divine means, when God does not afford those, that would be immediately necessary to overcome that ignorance. We have still some theses publicly asserted in our days at Rome in the school of the Augustins, wherein this proposition is to be found:"ignorantia invincibilis juris naturalis non excusât à peccato.” So that it is not very long since they publicly asserted at Rome, that an invincible ignorance does not clear men from sin, and nobody was offended at it; nor was it believed that they who ascribed that opinion to St Augustin, and to Gregorius Ariminensis, one of his most faithful disciples among the school-men, imposed upon that father. Estius did also teach the same doctrine in express words. Mr Arnauld adds that the difference between the two last opinions is but a dispute about words, and that at the bottom each of them perfectly agrees with the general maxim of the canon-law, and the doctrine of St Augustin against the Pelagians, and that of St Bernard against Abelard; that whatever is done against the law of nature is a sin, in whatever manner one may be ignorant of it, because it is always a punishment of some sin, as St Augustin says in his letter to Sixtus. But the first opinion, which is that of the Jesuits, totally overthrows the maxim of the canon-law, and the doctrine of holy men, by generally asserting on one hand that an invincible ignorance always justifies men; and on the other by stretching so far the word invincible whenever they please, that if they would speak sincerely, they should say that the sins of ignorance are never formal sins, but only material.I thought fit to mention all these things, not only because they afford us a short and useful instruction about a very difficult and important subject, but also because they discover to us that our Gregorius Ariminensis did not use any evasion and subterfuge. He dived into the bottom of a doctrine, he perceived the most natural consequences of a principle, and owned them boldly, without seeking any equivocal or mitigated expressions. I do not say this, to condemn those who endeavour to soften what they think might offend their readers. They may have a good design, and some matters are so difficult and intricate, that we may well excuse those who use sometimes a different method to explain them. The question about sins of ignorance is one of that kind: it is surrounded with precipices. It is therefore no wonder if those, who walk in such a way, do sometimes turn aside or go back. They grant one thing, and then they oppose it: they give with one hand what they take away with the other. They will grant “that an invincible ignorance excuses men, both in fact and right,” and then they will allege a great many examples, taken from holy scripture, to show that the sins of ignorance do not excuse men; and the necessary result of those quotations must be, either that the ignorance of moral duties was never invincible, or that, though it is invincible, it does not excuse a sinner. If you consider narrowly all their arguments, you will find that they have supposed that ignorance of right or of fact is never a sin, but when it is not invincible; they leave, properly speaking, no case wherein that ignorance is invincible; for, they say, it may be overcome with respect to the passion of Jesus Christ, even when it has never been heard of. They pretend, that if a savage of America be ignorant of the matters of fact contained in the New Testament it is his fault, because he has not put himself in a disposition that may move God to reveal to him the mysteries of the
salvation, and has made himself unworthy of that heavenly favour. Ask them this question; could he have that good disposition that you speak of? could he make a good use of the light of nature? They will answer you, that he could if he would. If you ask them whether he could have such a will? I think they will answer you, that he could not, but that it was only a moral impotency, which is nothing else but the ill disposition of his will, and a consequence of the corruption wherewith the children of Adam are born. This is at the bottom the same doctrine with that of our Gregory, and I think it were better to say plainly, as he does, that an invincible ignorance can be no excuse when it proceeds from original sin, and is a punishment for it. It is true that this doctrine is liable to some inconveniences; for it seems to lead one by degrees to this assertion, frenzy and madness can be no excuse, since they ought not to be excluded from the number of evils which have been introduced by sin, and which serve as a punishment for sin. But is not the first opinion, mentioned by Mr Arnauld, also liable to many inconveniences? The question is not to chuse between an opinion free from all intricacies and one that is very intricate; but the question is to chuse between two extremes, whereof one is contrary to philosophical notions, and the other to the theological systems.—Art. Rimini. JUPITER.(His employment.)
Chilo, one of the seven wise men of Greece, it is not well known where and when, having asked Æsop what was the employment of Jupiter, received this answer: “he lowers things that are high, and raises those that are low.” Without doubt, this answer is an exact epitome of the history of mankind. Take that history at which end you please, and, follow the course
of it from the beginning to the end, you will see every where instances of the alternative meant by Æsop. The world is a true wheel of fortune, where every thing by turns ascends and descends, and wherein we ought to admire the depths of a wise providence, and the activity of our passions. Does a man grow rich, his children, brought up in wealth, are puffed up with vanity, become prodigal, and ruin themselves. The children of the latter, having nothing to trust to but their industry, labour day and night to enrich themselves, and succeed accordingly. A kingdom requires great power; they grow proud, and treat their neighbours haughtily: each fearing to be subdued, to secure themselves from danger, make such formidable leagues, that they humble the prince who raised himself so high. This rule is not without its exceptions; for there are families and states who preserve their grandeur a long time. The Roman Commonwealth, which pulled down so many sovereigns, increased in greatness for many ages. The Pagans were so thoroughly persuaded that heaven purposely humbled high things, that they feigned there were some Gods, who were filled with jealousy at the prosperity of men. The philosophers themselves, who denied a providence, acknowledged I know not what, which affected to overthrow great things.Usque adeo res humanas vis abdita quædam
Obterit, et pulcros fasces, sævasque secures
Proculcare ac ludibrio sibi habere videtur.
Lucret. lib. v. ver. 1233.
And hence we fancy unseen powers in things,
Whose force and will such strange confusion brings,
It spurns and overthrows our greatest kings. Creech.
If man were not an undisciplinable animal, would he not have been cured of his pride after so many proofs of Æsop’s maxim, reiterated in every country, and
in every age? Two thousand years hence, if the world should last so long, the continual revolutions of the wheel will have made no changes in the heart of man. Art. Æsop.KISSES.
(Of civility.)
Puteanus educated a young Italian gentlewoman, and wrote to his friend that he would not suffer her to let herself be kissed; “that,” says he, “is dangerous for Italian girls. Our Flemish ones may do it without any hazard or detriment; they do not understand that there are any love-lessons in ogling and kisses; but those of your country know very well the consequences of it, and for this reason I have taught her our language, and all our customs, except that of kissing.” Kempius quotes this passage, in his learned and curious compilation, “de Osculis,” and refers us to a professor of philosophy at Leyden. This professor, treating of temperance, one of the four cardinal virtues, proposes this among other questions: " Is the custom which is allowed to strangers in the Low Countries and elsewhere, to kiss other people’s wives, widows, and maidens, when they pay them a formal visit, conformable to the laws of chastity?” He answers “that this custom is very ancient; but the several wise men of antiquity looked on it as a little unchaste.” He quotes Socrates, who would have people absolutely abstain from it, there being nothing which stirs up the fire of love so much as kisses. He quotes Seneca as saying, “that a maiden was accused of impudence, because she received a kiss.” He says, “that the ancients were persuaded that kissing made a strong attack on chastity,” and proves it by these words of Ovid:
Oscula qui sumpsit, si non et caetera sumpsit,
Hæc quoque quae data sunt perdere dignus erat.
He that took kisses, and took nothing more,
Deserved to lose what he obtained before.
His conclusion is, that ceremonial kisses are not contrary to chastity; and that we must not think that every body is so easily moved, that kisses of civility may not be altogether honest. This determination, and the reason on which it is grounded, are solid and good; but what can be more foolish than the quotation out of Ovid, for the verses of the poet concern only the kisses of lovers? This professor is to be blamed for quoting them on such a subject. He should have laid aside the learning that is in his thesis, and kept to the difference of climates, like Puteanus. Those familiarities which are dangerous in Italy, are very little, or not at all so, in the northern countries. This is certainly the meaning of the Louvain professor; for he had no thoughts of a farewell kiss, or of a kiss upon the return from a long journey. There is no probability that, upon such occasions, he would have excepted his young Italian maid from that custom. There were other occasions enough, in which he might prescribe her a particular rule, and in which she might, according to the knowledge of her nation, experience what Horace says:
Oscula, quæ
Venus Quinta parte sui Nectaris imbuit.
Hor. Lib. I. Ode XIII.
Socrates has expressed himself on this in the liveliest manner. “Critobulus,” said he, “is more rash than if he had thrown himself upon the point of naked swords, or leaped into the fire, for he had the boldness to kiss a fine face.” “Is this so great a rashness?” says Xenophon to him. “Truly, I fancy I could very easily expose myself to the same danger.” “Ah, unfortunate,” says Socrates, “do you know what follows, after kissing a fine face? Do not you lose
your liberty? Do not you become a slave? Do not you engage in excessive expences, to obtain a destructive pleasure? Do not you find yourself unable to do good, and constrained to follow those things which you would despise, if your reason were not corrupted?” “O God!” said Xenophon, “this is to attribute a strange power to a kiss.” “Are you astonished at it?” says Socrates. “Do not you see little spiders, whose bite is so venomous that it causes strange pains, and makes people lose their senses?” “I know it very well,” said Xenophon; “but those creatures spit out their poison when they bite. ” “Do you think,” added Socrates, “that love-kisses are not venomous, because you do not see the poison? Know that a fair woman is an animal more dangerous than scorpions, because they cannot hurt unless they touch us; but beauty wounds us without coming near us. What way soever we perceive it, it shoots out its venom, and perverts our understandings. Perhaps it is for this reason, that the Cupids are represented with bows and arrows, because a fair face wounds us from afar. I advise you then, Xenophon, when you see any beauty, to fly without looking behind you; and as for you, Critobulus, I think it would be proper for you to be absent a whole year: for that will be time little enough to heal your wound.”Can any morality be more worthy of a great philosopher than this? Our good Casuists would not judge it too severe, nor find any hyperbole in the comparisons of Socrates. The maxims of an ancient Roman had no less rigour. He had a freedman whom he loved very much, and a daughter who began to grow marriageable. He knew that this freed-man had kissed her, and punished him severely, though there was something which might be urged as an excuse in the circumstances of that fault; but he had no regard to that, nor to the friendship he had for the criminal, he considered only the consequences of
the punishment. Penelope would not have thought this morality too severe. We have spoken of a Florentine lady who managed herself after this rule, and of a law which was grounded on the same maxim. This law subsists no longer in France, but it is not abrogated at Naples. Half the donations of the man who is contracted, and dies before the consummation, belongs to the woman, if she gave him a kiss, but otherwise she has nothing. These are maxims unknown to a great many nations, that judge of things quite otherwise, and do not set them at so high a rate. We will quote the author of the Saint Evremoniana. “A kiss, which in Turkey, Italy, and Spain, is the beginning of adultery, at Paris is only a mere civility; and if that Persian, who made so many mysterious voyages to get three kisses of the fair Cyrus, had been in Paris, he would not have valued that pleasure so much as he did. There are no visits now in which there are not kisses, but they are like money, which we value just as we please; and as kisses are a merchandise which costs nothing, and does not wear out, and is always plentiful, nobody is sparing of them, and few are greedy of them.” What I am going to quote out of Montaigne is not of the same sort, for that author considered only kisses of civility; but as what he says is an evidence of the custom of his time, I may join it to the words of Saint Evremoniana. The reader will distinguish where there is occasion. "Scarcity gives a relish to meat. Thus the manner of salutations, which is particular to our nation, takes off, by its frequency, the pleasure of kisses, which Socrates says, is so dangerous and powerful to steal our hearts. It is an unpleasant custom, and injurious to the ladies, to hold out their lips to every one who has three footmen in his retinue, how disagreeable soever he be.Cujus livida naribus caninis
Dependet glacies rigetque barba:
Centum occurrere malo culilingis.
Mart. Epigr. VII.
And we ourselves do not get much by it; for, as the world is at present, we must kiss fifty ugly ones for three that are handsome; and for a tender stomach, as such of my age have, one bad kiss is too much for a good one.”
In respect to this custom in England, we have the following curious passage in one of the epistles of Erasmus. “If you did but sufficiently know, my Faustus, the pleasures of England, you would haste hither with wings at your feet, or if your gout would not permit you to do that, you would wish yourself a Dedalus. To mention only one pleasure out of multitudes: here are nymphs beautiful as angels, lovely and debonair; you would readily confess that your Muses are not to be compared to them. Besides, we have a custom which can never be sufficiently commended. Wherever you go, you shall be welcomed with kisses from them all; and when you depart, you shall be dismissed with as endearing a farewell: return, the same sweet welcome shall be repeated. Do they take their leave of you, kisses are exchanged at parting. Wherever you meet them, you feast on their rosy lips. In a word, all places you enter are full of kisses, which, my friend, had you once but tasted, how soft, how fragrant they are, you would not, I am positive, like Solon desire to live ten years, but till death, in England.” You see that Erasmus did not like English women less than Englishmen.
To conclude, I must needs say that Puteanus was much in the right, not to breed an Italian girl as they did the Flemish ones. All must act in such an affair, according to the law of custom; neither the law of nations, nor the law of nature include this part of education: the diversity of climates and opinions is the best rule here.—Art. Puteanus.
LACTANTIUS.
(His Arguments against Philosophy.)
Lactantius pretends to destroy all philosophy, by maintaining with Socrates, that we can know nothing, and, with Zeno, that nothing is to be believed, but what we know. “Si neque sciri,” says he, “quicquam potest, ut Socrates docuit, nec opinari oportet, ut Zeno, tota philosophia sublata est.” He confirms his pretence by the great number of sects into which philosophy was divided. Each engrossed truth and wisdom to itself, and made error and folly the portion of all the rest. So that whatever particular sect we would condemn, we have the suffrages of all the other philosophers, who are not of that sect. We are sure then of a majority in condemning them all; for each in particular approves our judgment as to all the rest; and has nothing to oppose, in bar against a general sentence, but the testimony it gives itself; in which case it is a judge in its own cause, and consequently unworthy of credit. “They destroy each other,” says he, “like Cadmus's brood, not one of them is left alive; and the reason is, because they have, indeed, each a sword, but no buckler: they have arms for an offensive, but not for a defensive war.” Arcesilas observing this, took up arms against them all, and founded a new sect of philosophy, which consisted in not philosophising at all. He introduced a kind of wavering, uncertain philosophy; for in order to know, that nothing can be known, we must necessarily know something; for if you know nothing at all, this very knowledge, that nothing can be known, will be destroyed. He therefore who gives it as his opinion that nothing is known, professes to know something; something therefore may be known. Akin to this is that example of this kind of philosophy usually proposed in the schools; that
a certain person dreamt that he ought not to believe in dreams. For if he did believe in them, it follows, that he ought not to believe in them; but if he did not believe in them, it follows, that he ought to believe in them. Thus, if nothing can be known, we must necessarily know this very thing, that nothing is known. But if it be known, that nothing can be known, it is false which is pretended that nothing can be known. Thus an opinion is advanced which is repugnant to, and destructive of itself.” Lastly, Lactantius confesses, that with relation to physics, there is no such thing as science, and that it ought not to be so much as sought after. “How much more wisely and truly would Arcesilas have reasoned if he had said only, that the causes and reasons of heavenly or natural things, as being hid, could not be known; since there is no teacher to instruct us in them; and that we ought not to inquire after them, since no inquiry will discover them?”Let us briefly observe on this dispute. The argument which Lactantius makes use of to overthrow all the sects of philosophy by each other, proves too much. An atheist, who should make use of it, at present, to overthrow the Christian religion, would reason ill; the Christian sects mutually condemn each other; I grant it; but if you should condemn any one of them in all its doctrinal points, you would not have the suffrages of all the rest. Lactantius contradicts himself wretchedly. He confesses, that if there be no science among men, Arcesilas gains the victory; and he pretends to have demonstrated, that we are too frail to attain to science. Why then does he presently add, that Arcesilas loses the victory, because there are actually several sciences among men? The examples he alleges are nothing to the purpose; for in the sense in which the word is taken in this dispute, it is not science to discern good from bad; nor has this kind of knowledge been called in question by the
Acataleptics. The charge of contradiction has less of solidity in it than of false lustre; it is rather a subtilty than a convincing reason; good sense soon unravels the difficulty. If I dream that I ought not to believe in dreams, I am caught in a dilemma; for if I do not believe in them, I do believe in them; and if I do believe in them, I do not believe in them. Who sees not, that, in this case, the particular dream, which advises me not to believe in dreams, must be excepted from all other dreams? See, in “Sextus Empiricus,” what the Sceptics replied to this objection. Lactantius’s concession as to physics was not at all proper to his design: an advantage might be drawn from it against his own cause.—Art. Arcesilas.LACYDES.
(Joke on his Scepticism.)
Lacydes, a Greek philosopher, born at Cyrene, was the disciple of Arcesilas, and his successor in the academy. What Numenius relates of his pyrrhonism looks altogether like a pleasant tale. Here is the substance of what he says. Lacydes discovered a great stinginess in his way of living; he trusted nothing to his servants; his pantry was inaccessible to them; he put in, and took out of it himself, what there was occasion for, and never left it open; but that he might not be troubled with the key, he put it in a hole, which he sealed up, and then he threw his seal into the pantry through the hole of the lock. His servants, having discovered this, easily, and as much as they pleased, tricked him. It was no difficult thing for them to get the key, and to place it again where he had put it, and to seal up the hole. They eat, they drank, they robbed him as they thought fit, and laughed at him into the bargain. He on his part very easily perceived the diminution of his wine and provisions; and not knowing where to lay
the fault, he remembered the doctrine of Arcesilas, who taught that our senses and our reason comprehended nothing, and he attributed the vacuum of his bottles and baskets to that incomprehensibility. Thus he began to philosophise in Arcesilas’s school, against the certainty of human knowledge. Nay, he made use of that domestic experience to prove, that he had reason to suspend his judgment in every thing. “I will not allege a hearsay,” said he one day, gravely to one of his friends; “I know by experience what I am going to tell you; I can speak of it without any doubt.” Hereupon he told him from one end to the other the adventure of his buttery. “What,” continued he,“could Zeno say against an argument of this force, which has so clearly demonstrated to me the Acatalepsia? Have not I reason to mistrust every thing, when having shut, sealed, unsealed, and opened again my pantry with my own hands, I cannot find what I had left in it? I only find my seal there, which will not permit me to believe that I am robbed.” When he came to that part, his friend could hold no longer; he broke out into such a fit of laughter, as made the philosopher perceive his blunder, and resolve to look to his seal better. His servants did not trouble their heads about it; and whether they had learned from the Stoics or elsewhere, to dispute with him, they unsealed his key, without troubling themselves to put the same seal on again. They put on another, and sometimes none at all. It vexed him when he saw their roguery; but they maintained they had never meddled with the seal, and that he had forgotten to put it on. He made long discourses to let them see that he well remembered he had sealed it, and went so far as to swear it. “You have a mind,” answered they, “to divert yourself, and to laugh at our simplicity. A philosopher, like you, has neither opinions nor memory; for you maintained the other day, that memory was an opinion.” He confuted them with reasons different from those of the academics; but they had recourse to a Stoic, who taught them how to reply to their master, and to elude all his arguments by the doctrine of incomprehensibility, which they did with a great deal of pleasant humour. The worst of it was, that they continued to rob his provisions, and Lacydes perceiving that his goods vanished away every day, found himself in great perplexity; his principles, instead of serving him were against him, and he was forced to behave himself like the vulgar. All the neighbourhood was filled with his clamours and complaints. He protested by all the gods and goddesses, that he was robbed; at last he took the resolution not to stir out, and to keep within sight of his buttery-door. What did he get by disputing with his servants? he made use of the method of the Stoics against them, and they answered him in the way of the academics, and beat him with his own weapons. At last, resolving to free himself once for all from the intolerable perplexity he was in, he ingenuously told his servants; “children, we dispute one way in the schools, and we live another way in our houses.”This is a pretty story, and Mr de la Fontaine might have made it very diverting; but it is plain that it has been forged by a pious fraud of the Stoics. This has been a method used at all times, and in all places; people have always endeavoured, and do so still, to turn the doctrine and person of their adversaries into ridicule; and to that end a thousand fables are invented, if the least pretence can be found to strain maliciously the consequences of their opinions. This passion has been so blindly indulged against the Sceptics, that not only sincerity, but even probability has been laid aside; for they never denied, that in the ordinary conduct of life, men ought to trust to the testimony of their senses. They only denied, that the absolute nature of objects is just the same as it
appears to be. Note, that Diogenes Laertius is contented to observe, that our Lacydes having sealed the door of his pantry, threw his seal into it, and that his servants made use of the seal to steal his provisions without being discovered by him.—Art. Lacydes.LEARNED MEN.
(Irritability of)
The history of the lives of learned men commonly shews that they have been engaged in troublesome quarrels, attended with jealousy, calumny, virulency, satire, factious spirit, fraud, and a thousand other shameful passions. It might be thought that of all men scholars are most apt to make themselves and others uneasy; which must needs create a contempt and hatred for learning, or at least make us lose the good opinion we might entertain of it. Ignorant people fancy, that if they had spent all their time in reading, they would have learned to moderate their passions, and to cure themselves of several faults, which incline them to behave themselves unjustly toward their neighbour; but they would have other thoughts, if they knew that the most learned men abuse and persecute one another, and complain of their sad destiny. Hence we may draw this conclusion, that there is nothing so difficult to be acquired as the tranquillity and uprightness of the mind. A continual study of good books seems to be a most proper means to acquire that treasure; and yet it seldom procures it, but very often produces a quite contrary effect. Horace had a very wrong notion, when he spoke these words: “It is enough for me to beg of God that he would preserve my life, and bestow riches upon me; and then I shall know how to procure to myself tranquillity of mind.
Quid sentire putas? quid cred is, amice, precari?
Sit mihi, quod nunc est, etiam minus: ut mihi vivam
Quod superest ævi, si quid superesse volunt di:
Sit bona librorum & provisæ frugis in annum
Copia: ne fluitem dubiæ spe pendulus horæ.
Sed satis est orare Jovem, qui donat, & aufert,
Det vitam, det opes: æquum mi animum ipse parabo.
Horat. Epist. xviii, lib. i, in fine.
He was grossly mistaken: the thing for which he thought he stood in no need of God’s assistance, was what he could least expect from his own ability, and the first he should have besought Jupiter to bestow upon him; for it is much more easy to get riches and honours by industry, than a quiet and contented mind. If it be said that riches and honours depend upon a thousand things which we cannot dispose of at pleasure, and that therefore it is necessary to pray to God that he would turn them to our advantage; I answer, that the silence of the passions, and the tranquillity of the mind depend upon a thousand things, which are not under our jurisdiction. The stomach, the spleen, the lymphatic vessels, the fibres of the brain, and a hundred other organs, whose seat and figure are yet unknown to the anatomists, produce in us many uneasinesses, jealousies, and vexations. Can we alter those organs? Are they in our power?— Art. Reinesius.
LEARNING, MEN OF
(At Court.)
Francis I boasted never to have seen any learned man, whose knowledge he had not exhausted in two years. This deserves attention. Francis I boasted, that, of many very learned men, with whom he had conversed, he had found none but Castellan, who could supply him with something new for two years. That is to say, all the rest were soon exhausted, and reduced either to repeat or be silent. They shewed the bottom of their bag; but Castellan was a living
spring, which never dried up. Perhaps there are no persons, whose conversation is more to be feared by a learned man, than that of great lords, who love learning. For, as they are used to speak without preparation on the things, which are under their cognizance, they conceive an ill opinion of a man who does not answer readily to the questions, which are asked him concerning his profession. Now how many learned divines are there, who would be cruelly puzzled by a question, put on a sudden, concerning the year, progress, issue, and chief circumstances of a council? I have heard a famous historiographer of France confess ingenuously, that he did not know in what age Philip the Fair lived. The more a man reads, and the more collections he makes, the less fit is he to answer immediately to questions about matters of fact; so that there are some persons, that make their learning no less to be admired in their books, than their ignorance in conversation. The Blondels, the Salmasius’s, and a very small number of such like persons, are not subject to this misfortune. But others fall into dangerous hands, when they are to go through the continual questions of a person of quality, who loves books. I have heard say, that the Marshall de Crequi, being retired to a country-house during his disgrace, sent for the most learned man of that part of the country. The prior of a monastery was brought to him. Fifteen days had not passed before he said, that they had brought him the most ignorant man in the world. Not but that this prior knew a great many things, and might have satisfied Monsieur de Crequi, if he had had time to prepare himself; but, to tell immediately the proper names, the dates, and other circumstances, was what he could not do.—Art. Castellan.LIBRARY.
(Reflections on the fate of that of Ancillon.)
The estate, which M. Ancillon, a French Protestant divine of great eminence in the seventeenth century, gained by his marriage, having put him in a condition of gratifying his favourite passion, he bought all the capital books, which may be called the pillars of a great library; such as the most curious bibles, either for the editions or notes; several dictionaries; the most excellent commentaries on the scriptures; the works of the fathers; collections of councils; ecclesiastical histories; and several others of the like nature; all of the best editions. He observed this maxim ever after, and gave good reasons for it. An account of which would be too tedious; however, the substance of them, in few words, is this. He said, that the less the eye is fatigued in reading a book, the more at liberty the mind is to judge of it. That, as the beauties and faults of it are more easily perceived, when it is printed, than in manuscript; so the same beauties and faults are more clearly seen, when it is printed in a fair character, and upon good paper, than when it is printed on bad paper, or with a bad letter. Having thus laid a good foundation for a library, he increased it with all the good books, which came out afterwards. He had the pleasure of reading all the new books; for his friends in Paris, Holland, England, Germany, Switzerland, and Geneva, with whom he kept a strict correspondence, sent them to him as soon as they were exposed to sale. The opinion of those, who say, that the first editions are the least valuable, because they are of no use, but to make the works of an author appear in a fairer character, did not abate his curiosity. He was not ignorant, that the famous M. Menage, Dean of St Peter’s, at Angers, in his epistle dedicatory to
his Etymologies of the French Tongue, speaking to Mr Du Puy, tells him, that he had formerly learned from him, that Mr Loysel, a famous advocate in the parliament of Paris, used to say of first editions, that they only serve to make the works of an author appear in a fairer character; that it was very probable this judicious gentleman said so of all sorts of books, but that it was more true of Dictionaries, than of any other kind of works. He knew very well, that others were of opinion, that the first editions of books were only to be looked upon as imperfect essays, which authors propose to the learned, to have their opinion of them. But this was no restraint to his eagerness; and, the event teaching him afterwards, that he ran no great risk, he did not discontinue it.Mr Ancillon’s Library was very curious and large; he increased it, daily, with all that appeared new and valuable in the republic of letters; insomuch, that, at last, it became one of the finest of any private man’s in the kingdom. Foreigners of curiosity did not fail to see it, as they went through the city of Metz; it being the greatest rarity of that town. As soon as he saw the catalogue of the pretended heretical books, drawn up by the archbishop of Paris, in the year 1685, he selected all the books, which were ordered to be suppressed, which made up his Library in foreign countries; his own having been, as it were, given up to be plundered, after the revocation of the edict of Nantes. None would have remained, if those, which he concealed, had not escaped the greediness, with which the rest were carried away.—The monks, and the clergy of Metz, and the adjacent towns, had long coveted Mr Ancilion’s Library; his forced and hasty departure supplied them with a fair pretence to appropriate it to themselves. Some proposed to buy it in the gross; others would have it sold by retail; but neither of
them intended to pay for it; they only desired to get it into their possession. The last expedient was followed, as being more proper to favour this unjust design: a crowd of ecclesiastics of all orders came in, from all parts, to this noble and rich Library; which had been forty-four years in collecting, with pleasure and choice; and which consisted only of rare books, and worthy of the curiosity of the most learned men: they made several parcels of them, and, going away, they gave money to a young girl, of about twelve or thirteen years of age, who was looking upon them, that they might say they had paid the price of them. In this manner Mr Ancillon saw his precious collection dispersed, which he had made, and on which he had set his affections, and, as we may say, his very heart.The loss of this Library was attended with the loss of a vast number of letters, which were designed for the press, and which Mr Ancillon had received from many learned men. He designed chiefly to print those, which Mr Daillé, his intimate friend, had written to him. What a loss was this! and what a copious matter for reflexion: for is it hot a deplorable consideration to think, that a single day may undo, what has been completed with a thousand cares, and, at a vast expence, during many years? is it not a melancholy fate, to be exposed to lose, in a moment, what has been a long time purchasing, by innocent means, and been treasured up, as a perpetual source of every lawful pleasure, and honest instruction? To be deprived, in a moment, of a vast number of volumes, which have been so carefully collected, and so much our delight, is it not a hard and cruel destiny? If the flames had devoured them, we could more easily bear the loss; but, without a special grace of God, we cannot support, that they should become the prey of an unjust possessor, who is at no other trouble, than that of
transporting them to his own house. The Triumvirate, which dispossessed of their lands, those, who had cub tivated them, during their whole life, and gave them to others, who had contributed nothing towards their improvement, did not occasion so sensible a grief, as that of the learned, who have seen their libraries plundered, and fallen into the hands of a persecutor, worthy of hatred, if he acted against his conscience, and deserving of pity, if his false devotion persuaded him, that it was a thing acceptable to God.Impius hæc tam culta novalia miles habebit,
Barbarus has segetes?
Virgil, Ecl. 1 ver. 71.
Did we for these Barbarians plant, and sow?
On these, on these, our happy fields bestow?
Dryden.
This was the complaint of those good people of Italy, who found themselves obliged to surrender their patrimony to the soldier of the Triumvirate.
- - - - enj! queis consevimus agros!
Insere nunc, Melibœe pyros, pone ordine vîtes.
Virgil. Ecl. i. ver 21.
Now let me graft my pears, and prune my vine;
The fruit is theirs, the labour only mine.
Dryden.
Mr Ancillon, and many others might have adapted most of these expressions to their fortune. Perhaps it were better to have no affections, than to set them on a Library; when, perhaps we may be reduced to address it in this manner:
Nuper sollicitum quæ mihi tædium,
Nunc desiderium, curaque non levis.
Horat. Od. 14. lib. i. ver. 17.
O! lately, thou, my anxious fear,
Now my sad loss, and heavy care!
But, if possible, let us forget the unhappy and fatal
revocation of the edict of Nantes, which was attended with so many acts of injustice. Let us rather cast our eyes on objects, which do not raise the passions into a ferment. Let us praise the good taste of this able divine. He was for having the first editions of books, though it was very probable they would be reprinted, with additions and corrections. This was to understand things; this we may call love of books, and eagerness after instruction; but they, who can rest satisfied without a book, till it be reprinted, make it appear, that they are satisfied with their ignorance, and that they had rather save a few pistoles, than acquire instruction. I speak of those, (and the number of them is very great) who are persuaded, on the one side, that a new book will afford them much information; and who, though they are able to purchase it, defer the buying of it, because they are told, that there will be published better, or cheaper editions. This delay cannot be sufficiently blamed: it is a shameful neglect of learning. Mr Bigot told me, one day, that a man of Rouen, who applied himself to the study of genealogies, would willingly have improved by the works of father Anselm; and yet he did not purchase them; but waited for the second edition, which never came out; thus he died without satisfying his curiosity. Mr Bigot represented to him, several times, that it was better to have two editions of a book, than to deprive ourselves of the advantage, which might accrue by reading the first; and that a man judges wrong of the value of things, who prefers three or four crowns to such a profit. They, who can afford it, ought to provide themselves with the first editions. I confess the foreign editions of books are not so expensive: but are they faithful? Is there nothing altered in, or added to them? Did not the Abbot de la Roque publicly complain, that the printers of Holland had corrupted his book? I have been assured, but a few days ago, that the history of Davila, and that of Strada, printed in the Netherlands, are not exactly the same with the Italian editions; the booksellers of Flanders, having suppressed, or altered, some things, out of complaisance to some illustrious families. I may be told, that the author often corrects his faults in the second edition; I own it: but they are not always real faults; they are alterations, which he sacrifices to prudential reasons, to his repose, and to the injustice of his too powerful censurers. The second edition, which Mezerai published, of his Chronological Abridgment, is the most correct; for he left out some mistakes, but he omitted likewise some truths, which were ungrateful; and, for this reason, the curious endeavour to get the edition in quarto, which is the first; and pay a great price for it. I say nothing of the advantage of comparing editions. It is so great, when an able writer has carefully revised his work, that bis first essay deserves to be kept. All this proves, that Mr Ancillon knew very well what belonged to a Library.69Art. Ancillon.
LOUIS XIII.
(His unhappiness.)
A modern author, designing to show the vanity of human prosperity, makes use of two great examples; he runs over the life of Augustus, and then proceeds in this manner: “Let us come to the second instance, and behold the most glorious potentate of this age, with such a series of the blessings of heaven, as all the
earth has reason to be astonished at. One may easily judge that I mean Louis XIII, whose prosperities doubtless will be admired by those who come after us, if they judge of them by the lustre of his heroic actions, by the number of his trophies, by the extent of his conquests, and by the greatness of his triumphs. In effect, whether you consider the monsters he has subdued at home, or cast your eyes on the advantages he has every where reaped abroad, you will be forced to confess that France never had a more fortunate king than he. There is not a frontier but be has far advanced into his enemies’ country. France has subdued the pride of those who envied her, and confounded their designs. And if you observe what has passed on the ocean, as well as the Mediterranean, you will conclude that all the elements fought for us, under the command of this prince. Now the instances of his good fortune were no less conspicuous in his domestic affairs; and here, doubtless, he bad great advantages above Augustus on that account. God gave him for a companion of his bed a princess, whose singular goodness, together with many other extraordinary and truly heroical virtues, might have made her beloved, though she had not been in other respects one of the most perfect and most agreeable persons of her time. He saw himself the father of two sons, most worthy of his affection, as being so beautiful and well formed by nature, that he could not wish them more accomplished; besides the season in which he had them, ought to have rendered them still more dear to him. He was respected by all the world; and on what side soever he turned himself in his Louvre, he saw nothing but testimonies of love and reverence. Could any thing then be wanting to his felicity, to make it more entire, if we judge by appearances? And yet, with all this, what should we say if, by his own confession, he never spent one day without some mortification, nor ever tasted in his life a joy that was not dashed with the bitterness of discontent? I shall here take care not to commit the fault of him whom the Athenians treated so ill, for having obliged them to deplore a second time the misfortunes of their allies, by representing them on the stage. And indeed, my imprudence would be greater than his, if I should at present enlarge on so ungrateful a subject as would be that of the sorrows, and continual inquietudes of this monarch. But however, since his last words at the point of death, which the Civilians call sacred, and which are reckoned oracles in mouths less sincere than his, have assured us, that his satisfactions were never pure, nor his pleasures exempt from sadness and affliction, may we not well conclude, that all his happiness, as well as that of Augustus, had nothing real in it, and was only of the nature of those things which subsist no where but in opinion?” I make no reflections on this long passage, though it were easy perhaps to find in it some subjects of criticism; I shall content myself with observing, that we here see the most convincing proof imaginable of my text. Louis XIII confesses he was unhappy; nobody could know this so well as himself; and he had no reason to dissemble in the condition he was in.There was nobody, even to the Dauphin, but vexed him without the least ill meaning or design. Mr Boursault, having said that kings are so nice that any thing wounds them, and that they who are most dear to them are sometimes those who vex them most, gives this instance of it. “One day, as I was with the president Perrault, in his fine gallery, Mr de la Villiere, secretary of state, came to see him, and from him I have the following story. The king, who was then but Dauphin, was baptised at St Germain, the twenty-first of April, 1643, being four years of age, seven months, and some days. Louis XIII could not assist at that ceremony; he was sick, and died twenty-three
days after. The Dauphin, as he came from baptism, was brought to the king, to whom he said that he had been just baptised. ' I am glad of it, my son,' said the king, ‘ but what is your name?’ ‘ My name,’ replied the young prince, ‘ is Louis the fourteenth,’ without thinking on what he said, and perhaps even not knowing the consequence of it. And yet this answer afflicted the king: in the condition that he was, he took it for an ill omen, and turning to the other side, ‘ not yet,’ said he, ‘ not yet.’ Some flatterer (for princes have the misfortune to have such before they can speak) had already possessed this royal infant with the great name he was soon to bear; which was the cause of this little mortification he innocently gave the king his father.”—Art. Louis XIII.LUCRETIA.
(Her conduct argued.)
The Heathens who praise Lucretia, ground their panegyrics upon her extreme sense of glory, and the reputation of a chaste wife, and her great delicacy as to this point of honour; which was so very great as not to permit her to survive the affront which had been offered her. What a certain critic borrows from St Augustin, whose meaning he has not rightly taken, is founded on a false supposition, that Lucretia killed herself to punish herself for the commission of a crime. It is an ignorance of the state of the question: this lady knew herself innocent, and yet would die, that no lewd woman should have the face to live, under the pretence that Lucretia had the cowardice to survive her rape.
One of the most reasonable objections of St. Augustin is, that self murder is a crime; and he strengthens his argument by the encomiums that are given to Lucretia. He reasons “ad hominem,” against the Heathens, and alleges to them “the laws of their
own tribunals. These laws would have obliged them to punish a man who had killed Lucretia. You would therefore be obliged,” continues he, “to punish her, if she was accused before you of having killed herself. But if you answer, that it is impossible to punish her, since she is not in being, why do you accumulate so many praises upon the murderer of a virtuous person?” I do not pretend to justify those who would say in favour of this lady, that St Augustin has condemned her by principles she did not know; for she was ignorant of the axioms of the Christian religion, which forbid all attempts upon our own lives. She might therefore have complained of being brought before such a tribunal: she might have declined the jurisdiction, and appealed to her natural judges, to those ideas of grandeur and heroical glory, which have persuaded so many people that it is better to die, than to live in disgrace; but, as I have already said, this is an answer with which I shall not concern myself; I choose rather this other reflection. The Roman magistrates, whom St Augustin speaks to, and demands for judges of the question, might have quickly undeceived him, by showing that the laws, which gave no authority to private persons over one another’s lives, debar not anyone the privilege of disposing of his own. Do not you know they might have said in what admiration the Catos, the Brutuses, the Cassiuses, and so many other illustrious Romans have ever been, who preferred death, to a life that would have made them witnesses to the oppression of liberty, or exposed them to the discretion of their enemies, or a languishing condition. Are you ignorant with what eulogies that courage of Portia and Arria have been crowned? Know you not that we have seen, with some displeasure, that Cleopatra, who had dishonoured herself by her debaucheries, should have the glory she did not deserve, of preferring death before the disgrace of being led in triumph? In a word, are you ignorant how the resolution of private persons has been admired, or even of whole towns, of perishing by precipice or fire, rather than to fall into their enemies’ hands? The nation whom you look upon as the favourite people of the true God, blamed not Saul, its first king, and one of the valiantest princes of his age for having prevented, by killing himself, the disgrace of falling into the hands of the conqueror. His successor, one of your greatest prophets, nevertheless gave him the greatest praises. Do not the books of the same nation give the same praises to a hero who imitated the action of king Saul? And after this will you tell us, “whoever should have killed Lucretia, would have been punishable; and therefore she is punishable for having killed herself?” Learn to reason better, and remember, that the maxims of the noblest and most august sect that ever was among the Greeks, favour this lady’s proceeding.It is certain St Augustin took a wrong method in recurring to the maxims of the Heathens, as a rule for the condemnation of Lucretia. I know well enough that they were not all of the opinions of the Stoics, and there were some great philosophers, who condemned self murder. I know also, it has been said, “that it was rather cowardice than a proof of courage, to forego life, to be rid of trouble and pain; and that a man, who resolves to struggle long with his ill fortune, discovers as much firmness as he who kills himself, shews weakness. I know, there have been many among the Heathens who have been of this opinion; but they wanted on their side glory and lustre; they were only considered as the populace; the other faction was the nobility, the distinguished party, the school of heroism; and it might be represented to them that, like counterfeit bravoes, they assumed honourable names, and gave the names of constancy and intrepidity to an excessive love of life, and an excessive fear of death. They were so
fond of life, that nothing was able to give them a disgust of it: dishonour, poverty, the most gloomy dungeons, the most inveterate diseases, did not disfigure it in their eyes; it appeared to them amiable even in this equipage. Death was not able to put on any disguise that could conceal the least feature of its ugly face. This, might they say, was the principle of that great courage in which they gloried, and which made them consider the action of Lucretia as the effect of cowardice.Let us now examine St Augustin’s dilemma. “Ita hæc caussa ex utroque latere coarctatur, ut si extenuatur homicidium, adulterium confirmetur; si purgatur adulterium, homicidium cumuletur: nec omnino invenitur exit us, ubi dicitur: si adulterata, cur laudata? si pudica, cur occisa?—This case has its difficulties on each side, so that if the murder be extenuated, the adultery is confirmed; if we acquit her of adultery, she must be charged with murder: nor can we any way answer this charge, viz. If she was an adultress, why is she praised? if chaste, why did she kill herself?” He pretends, that this lady’s murder cannot be extenuated without aggravating the adultery, nor her adultery extenuated without aggravating her murder. But, to show that he had not diligently examined this matter, it suffices to say that his argument proves too much; for by a like reasoning, we ought to blame a person who deserves great praises. It sometimes happened, that in the first ages, very pious young women, who were consecrated to celibacy for the service of God, were violated. This is but too common a case at present; and we daily hear the story of an abbess who, with her nuns, had passed through the hands of an Irish company in Piedmont, and who made her complaints to Monsieur de Catinat. Let us suppose that a nun should, in this case, contract such a melancholy, as might bring upon her a mortal distemper. Let us
suppose that the testimony of her conscience, fortified with the strongest consolations that a Divine could give, were unable to relieve her. Let us suppose she had conceived such a value for the purity of body and mind, that the bare idea of the most involuntary defilement should cast her into an insupportable affliction, of which she should die; would not this be a convincing proof of an exquisite chastity? Would not her innocence and virtue stand in a clear light? Whereas, if we follow St Augustin’s dilemma, as much as you give to her affliction, you take from her chastity, “si pudica, cur mortua?” You see then, that there is more subtilty than solidity, in this father’s argument: and thus you see Lucretia perfectly screened from St Augustin’s attacks, except in respect of the murder; for if she had died of grief only, both he, and the other fathers of the church had, by this kind of death, confirmed the praises of her incomparable chastity.It has been said that religion had no share in this action of Lucretia. A learned man70 has opposed this opinion by some remarks, which deserve to be discussed. Three observations have been made in the Miscellaneous Thoughts upon Comets. That for the three first ages of ancient Rome, the modesty, frugality, and chastity of women were very remarkable; and there were some who manifested a very lively sense of honour. That this sense of honour could not be inspired into the Roman women by the religion they professed; since it was necessary, to that end, that their religion should teach them, that immodesty was displeasing to the gods: but far from that it taught them the contrary, that the gods themselves were excessively lewd. That, if Lucretia had loved chastity from a principle of religion; or, which is the same thing, if she had loved it in
obedience to God, she would never have consented to Sextus’s desires; but have rather chosen to abandon her reputation to calumny, than her body to adultery. However this she did not do. She courageously resisted this prince’s pursuit, though he threatened to kill her; but when he threatened to expose her reputation to eternal infamy, she granted his desires, and afterwards killed herself. This is an evident proof that she loved nothing in virtue but the glory that attended it; and that she had not in view the pleasing of her gods; for they who would please God, would chuse rather to be reckoned infamous by men, than commit a crime. It must therefore necessarily be confessed, that Lucretia’s religion contributed nothing to her chastity: and that, in that respect, she had been the very same as she was, though she had never heard there were any gods at all.Mr du Rondel published in 1685, some reflections upon a chapter of Theophrastus, which I have read over and over again with great pleasure. The place where he makes the eulogy and apology for Lucretia, chiefly charmed me, as having always been an admirer of this illustrious lady: and if the subject could have suffered it, I would have pleaded her cause no less in the Miscellaneous Thoughts on Comets, than in the preceding remark. I therefore heartily applaud all that Mr du Rondel alleges in her justification, except what relates to the motives of religion. He makes two learned reflections upon this point; one “that the lewd gods were not those who were worshipped in ancient Rome; ” the other, that “if Lucretia was willing for some moments, to survive her honour, it was because she was forced to it by her religion, and was accountable for her reputation, before the Eumenides. According to the ancient theologists, man was composed of a soul, a body, and a shade. At death the soul was restored to heaven, where the thoughts were examined before the Diræ;
the body was restored to the earth, where the actions were examined before the Furiæ; and the shade was restored to hell, where the reports that had been spread of us were to be accounted for, and that before the Eumenides. ‘ Ne Lucretia,’ says an ancient author, Castitatis famam deperderet, quippe quam sine purgatione futuram esse cernebat, invita turpibus imperiis paruit. Lucretia fearing she should lose the reputation of her chastity, which she saw would happen unless she justified herself, submitted therefore, though against her will, to his base desires.’ It was necessary there should be witnesses, and blood, to be cleared from calumny, and to appear with impunity before the Eumenides; or resolve to be damned to all the serpents of infamy, which was one of these goddesses, tertia Pænarum Infamia. Thus, sir, Lucretia has satisfied her religion, and is more commendable than has hitherto been imagined: since, with the stab of the dagger, she made an expiatory sacrifice, which stopped the mouth of slander, and cleared her a glorious way to the Elysian fields.”Nothing can be more properly alleged, to confirm the first of these observations, than what is found in Dionysius Halicarnassus, concerning the laws of Romulus. This prince, the founder of Rome, borrowed from the Greeks the best institutions they had for divine service, but rejected the fables the ancients had divulged concerning the crimes of their gods, and suffered not any thing to be ascribed to those divine natures unbecoming the supreme felicity. He expressly observes, that the Romans did not teach that Cælus was castrated by his children, or that Saturn devoured his; or that Jupiter having dethroned Saturn, threw him into Tartarus, or that the gods had been at wars, or had been wounded in them, or that they had been slaves among men. This whole passage of the historian is very remarkable: we see in it, that Romulus established a religion, not as a man
educated among shepherds, but as an excellent philosopher, and a thousand times a better theologist, than the magistrates of Greece. Nevertheless, the other historians, even they, who, like Livy, were more interested than Dionysius, in Romulus's glory, have been silent upon this article; which silence is surprising and unaccountable. But let us observe, that this author, who particularises so many things, rejected by the first king of the Romans, does not take notice that he had banished what concerned the adulteries of the gods. Let us also say, that he falsely advances, that they did not speak of the castration of Cœlus, or the dethroning of Saturn, &c. How durst he affirm things so false? Did he not know that the Romans had adopted all the chimeras of the Greek mythology? Why did he not content himself with saying, that during the first ages of Rome, they gave no credit to them? Be it how it will, though we grant what he says of Romulus, we cannot thence infer, that our Lucretia was persuaded that the gods were very chaste.The tradition that Romulus was the son of Mars, and of the vestal Sylvia, was doubtless very ancient in Tarquin’s time; for this vestal had declared, when she was with child, that a god was the father of it. It was Romulus’s interest that this fable should be believed in order to screen the honour of his mother, and give himself a celestial origin. This was moreover well suited to the temporal interests of the city he had built; which is probably the reason why he, rejecting the other fables of the Greeks, did not intimate, that the amours of the gods were to be excluded. Let us then be persuaded, that in Lucretia's time, one of the articles of the faith of the Roman people, was, that Mars got Sylvia with child when she went to fetch water for the divine service to the wood consecrated to this god. So that Lucretia far from fearing to offend the gods, supposing she should
commit adultery, ought to fear the being alone in some consecrated wood, and imagine that her honour would run a great risk there, the god of the place being very likely to fall in love with her, and to force her, with so much the less scruple, as she had never been a vestal, as the mother of Romulus hack Observe also, that during the wars that Tarquin made with the Romans they built a temple to Castor and Pollux; that is, to two bastards of the same Jupiter, whom they worshipped in the capital; which is a justification, even in respect of ancient Rome, of what is said in the Miscellaneous Thoughts on Comets, that religion did not teach that lewdness was displeasing to the. gods. The first king of Rome too, by forbidding to ascribe to the gods what Greece imputed to them, intimated, that there were evil reports concerning their conduct. This, doubtless, would occasion at least a curiosity to inform themselves what these slanders were; and we know, that in Tarquin’s time, the oracle of Delphi was very well known at Rome. They had therefore an account of the religion of the Greeks; they knew the stories concerning the love intrigues of the gods; and, as people easily believe what gratifies their passions, they readily gave credit to these discourses, authorised by a learned and ingenious nation; and which furnished dissolute men with so many apologies. We only imitate the gods, said they privately, in the beginning; they were bolder afterwards, as the law of Romulus grew obsolete. We know, from the experience of later ages, that the forbidding a book, wherein the amours and corruptions of a court are exposed, prevents indeed the inhabitants of the country from dispersing these scandalous stories, but not from thinking of them and believing them any more than before. Apply this to the subjects of Romulus, with respect to the proscribing the Grecian fables: add too, that the building of the temple of Castor and Pollux, was, as it were, an authentic declaration of Jupiter’s adulteries, and derogatory to Romulus’s law. The husband to the mother of these two deities, was, by this edifice, as solemnly declared a cuckold, as by a decree of the Amphictyones, or of the senate. Whence we must conclude, that the virtue and good morals, so conspicuous among the Romans for the three or four first centuries, did not depend on the religion of the heathens, but only on natural religion.But here is a dilemma. The religion established by Romulus, and which represented God as a most perfect being, either subsisted entire in Lucretia’s time, or was already corrupted by the fables of Greece. In the first case, Lucretia did not govern herself by the principles of her religion, since she stood more in fear of what the world would say, than of God himself. In the second case, she governed herself by the ideas of virtue, and the love of chastity, which the notion of her gods did not give her. Let us now see what relates to the second observation of our learned friend.
He must give me leave to say, that the learning he has shewn upon the distinction of the Diræ, the Furiæ, and the Eumenides, and so on, was above the comprehension of Lucretia, and all the other women of Rome and Athens. It was a piece of the most mystical theology then in being: the women had nothing to do with it; the initiates did not come near it; only the old Adepti were to be instructed in this article. I question whether Varro, the most learned of the Romans, and the pontifex Caius Cotta, penetrated so far. But most certainly Lucretia did not know, that her acquitting herself in heaven and earth, before the Diræ and the Furiæ, was to no purpose, unless she was furnished with the certificates, which the Eumenides demanded in hell. She did not therefore die, to provide herself with an answer to an
examination, which she had no idea of. The bare interest of her reputation, without the least regard to religion, induced her to kill herself.St Augustin understood very well this truth, and hath justly concluded, that Lucretia’s conduct does not equal that of Christian women, who, having submitted to a like violence, comfort themselves in God, the witness of their inward purity; and are far from refuting the suspicions of men, by transgressing the laws of God.71 “Though she submitted to the adulterer, yet without being an adulteress, afterwards slew herself, was not the effect of her regard to chastity, but through a fear of shame. She could not endure the thoughts of a man’s baseness towards her, though she was not base with him, and this Roman lady, too covetous of praise, was afraid, least the violence which she had suffered when alive, would be thought to be voluntary if she still lived; therefore she resolved to render that evident to the eyes of men by her death, which otherwise she could never have made manifest to their minds, dreading to be thought an accomplice in the fact, if having been basely used she had patiently sustained it. But Christian women have not acted like her, for having suffered what she did they are yet alive, desiring not to revenge on their own bodies the crimes of others, nor to add new crimes to theirs, which they must have done, if, because the enemies in the heat of their lust had abused them, they had for shame murdered themselves. They enjoy within the glory of chastity from the testimony of their consciences; as well as in the sight of God; neither do they re quire any more; but choose to act so as not to offend against the divine law, rather than to do evil to avoid the suspicions of men.” If instead of following the Roman genius, which thirsted after the praise of men, she had conformed to the precepts of
sound religion, she had chosen to die by the hand of Sextus, rather than suffered him to do what he did. She cannot therefore be justified at the bar of religion; but if she be judged at the tribunal of human glory, there she will come off with flying colours; for if, on one hand, life was less dear to her than chastity; she sacrificed, on the other, to a fair reputation, what she preferred before life itself. All this centered in self-love; but had she been a Christian, I say, a thorough Christian, she would have acted otherwise, and from a principle of divine love. The Spanish Jesuit, above cited, states her duty aright, and opposes to her the answer of Lucia, a Christian woman. “How much more to the purpose was the answer not of the Roman Lucretia, but of the Christian Lucia to the president Paschasius, who, in the same case, said, he would send her among the most abandoned women that any one might defile her, and the holy spirit on which she valued herself should forsake her.” “If you order violence to be offered me against my own consent my chastity will merit a double crown.” There is one thing more, in which the Christian women St Augustin speaks of, excelled her. She had her choice of death or consenting: they were not allowed this option. Tyrants, persecutors, and soldiers, made use of violence, without proposing the alternative. Being reduced to this condition, all the defence they had was a denial of consent, and repugnance of will; for what would the resistance of arms and hands have signified? As for the rest, we must presume as much in favour of Lucretia, as in favour of them, that is, reject the surmises St Augustin has suggested concerning this heathen lady. ‘‘ Who knows,” says he, “but she was conscious of some kind of consent, which might be the reason of her killing herself?” These are unreasonable suspicions. We ought to believe that her soul lost nothing of its purity; and that she was violently robbed of an immaculate chastity, according to the literal meaning of Brutus’s words in Dionysius Halicarnassus, and we may also reasonably suppose that nobody had ever known young Tarquin’s exploit, if Lucretia had not revealed it.Father le Moyne has made an apology for this lady, in which he says she surpassed her own deities. “I have seen,” says he, “the action brought against her memory, and the sentence which is annexed to it in St Augustin’s books de Civitate Dei. I have sometimes heard, in declamations, that one of the most heroic and strict ladies of her sex had pleaded against her; and I confess, that if she were to be judged by the Christian law, and the rules of the gospel, she would find it very difficult to justify her innocence. But if she be removed from this severe tribunal where Pagan virtue finds no footing, she is out of danger of being condemned. If she be judged by the laws of her own country, and the religion of her time, she will be found to be the chastest of those who then lived, and the most resolute of all the Heathens. The noble and virtuous philosopher, who accuses her so often, would pardon her misfortune, and reconcile himself to her, and every body must confess, that her crime was less her fault, than the imperfection of the Roman law, which had not regulated it rightly, and the scandals of her religion, which had only given her ill examples. We need not therefore scruple to praise Lucretia; not being able with her hands to resist an armed force, she repulsed it in thought, and her soul raised itself as much as possible to avoid the stain of impurity with which her body was defiled.—Art. Lucretia.
LUTHER.
(His timely interference.)
We cannot sufficiently admire that a simple monk should be able to give Popery so rude a shock. How many states and nations did he induce, in a little
time, to separate from the Romish communion? This was represented very happily, though in somewhat a burlesque manner on a piece of tapestry. Read this passage, taken from a letter of Costar. “The last time the king was at Chalons, a very rich piece of tapestry was hung in his chamber, which came from the late queen of Navarre; in which were represented Luther and Calvin, who gave the Pope a clyster, which put the good man into such commotion, that he was seen in another place evacuating abundance of kingdoms and sovereignties, Denmark, Sweden, the duchy of Saxony, &c.” Wickliff, John Huss, and several others had attempted the same thing, but did not succeed. This was, you will say, because they were not favoured with a concurrence of circumstances: they had no less merit nor abilities than Luther; but they undertook the cure of the disease before the crisis; and, as we may say, in the increase of the moon. Luther on the contrary, attacked it at a critical time, when it was arrived to the highest pitch; when it was impossible it should grow worse; and therefore, according to the course of nature, must either cease or diminish; for when things are arrived to the highest point of their ascension, they commonly begin to decline. He sowed in the full moon when the wane was just drawing on; he had the same good fortune as those remedies have which are employed last, and which carry away the glory of the cure, because applied when the distemper has discharged its malignity. You may if you please, add, that the concurrence of Francis I and Charles V was fatal in this affair. I answer, that notwithstanding all this, there must have been eminent gifts in Luther to produce such a revolution as he has done. Here is an excellent thought of father Paul:72 “If there were any thing in the setting up of this novelty that gave scandal as I shall relate it, yet it is well known that Leo’s predecessors made many like concessions, and from less honest motives, and had carried their avarice and extortions farther; but frequently good opportunities of doing great things are lost for want of knowing them, or knowing how to make use of them. Besides that, we must wait the time that God has appointed to punish the faults and corruptions of men; and all this concurred under Leo’s pontificate, of whom we speak at present.” It must be acknowledged that several circumstances concurred to favour Luther; learning flourished among the laity, whilst churchmen would not renounce their barbarism, and persecuted the learned and scandalized all the world by an unbridled lust. It was said with reason, that Erasmus by his railleries prepared the way for Luther; he was his St John Baptist, his forerunner. Simon Fontaine complains, that occasionally Erasmus did more mischief than Luther, because Luther did only open the door wider, after Erasmus had picked the lock, and half opened it.(His doctrine regarding continence.)
Bossuet observes that in a sermon which Luther preached at Wittemberg for the reformation of marriage, he was not ashamed to speak these infamous and scandalous words: “If they are so obstinate,” he speaks of wives,“it is fit their husbands should tell them, if you will not another will; if the mistress will not come, let the maid be called: however, the husband ought first to bring his wife before the church and admonish her two or three times, after that divorce her, and take Esther instead of Vashti.” The bishop of Meaux also expresses himself thus in another place: “Luther explained himself against monastic vows in a terrible manner, so far as to say of that of continence, (stop your ears, chaste souls) that it was as impossible for a man to keep it, as to
divest himself of his sex.73 It would put modesty out of countenance, should I repeat the words he uses in several places upon this subject, and show how he explains the impossibility of continence; I cannot imagine how he can reconcile this to that life which he said he had led without reproach, all the time of his celibacy till he was forty-five years old.” He is accused of having preached, that it is lucky if five maids and as many men be found in a whole city, who have preserved their chastity to twenty years of age, and that this would exceed the purity of the apostolic ages, and the ages of the martyrs; and that a man who lives without a wife, as much transcends the powers of nature, as if he lived without eating. These are things which we must not attempt to justify; they are excesses and first notions which Luther doubtless retracted before his death. What can be said more satirical against the laws canonical and civil, which force nobody to marry, and which prohibit marrying any more than one wife? These principles of Luther are inconsistent with monogamy; I doubt not but these sallies of his zeal against monastic vows, gave grounds to the accusation that was formed against him. George duke of Saxony complained, that so many adulteries had never been known, as since Luther’s teaching that a woman who conceived not by her husband, might apply to another man, and that if she happened to be pregnant, her husband was to take care of the child; whilst a husband whose wife was barren, might use the same privilege. This prince charged this on Luther himself, in a letter he wrote to him in the year 1526. “Quando tam numerosa perpetrata sunt adulteria quam postea quam tu scribere non dubitasti: si mulier è viro suo concipere nequeat, ut ad alium se transférât à quo possit fœcundari, et maritus prolem inde natum alere teneatur: itidemque vir faciat.” This was carrying the point higher than Lycurgus.(His original Writings.)
Prince Rodolphus Augustus, duke of Brunswick, who has joined the love of letters to all other qualities worthy his illustrious family, was not satisfied with the magnificent library of Wolfenbuttle, he set up another private one, which he stored with a very great number of scarce books. Here we find all the writings that Luther published from the year 1517 to his death: including the editions which he published and corrected himself, and which are preferable to the original manuscripts, because in revising the proofs he corrected many things that had escaped him. It is a much safer way to have recourse to these editions, than to those in which all his works have been reduced into a body, for they who collected them took the liberty to mend and change what they thought fit; and this is doubtless the reason, why the citations from Luther, upon which any controversy arises, are so hard to be verified; we can hardly have any recourse now, except to the volumes in folio published since his death. The complete editions of all his works have caused the particular editions of his tracts to be neglected, and hereby almost all the copies of these particular editions are lost, which is a misfortune. The prince I speak of, employed a professor of Helmstadt to publish an account of his library; see the book intituled, “Antiqua Literarum monumenta, autographa Lutheri aliorumque celebrium virorum ab an. 1517, usque ad annum 1546 reformationis ætatem et historiam egregie illustrantia, &c.”; the first volume of which was printed at Brunswick in 1690, and the second in 1691. The overseers even of public libraries, which are the best endowed, sometimes use a blamable economy; they part with the particular tracts when they have once all the works of an author reduced into a
body, and thus it comes to pass, that there is no verifying from these great libraries, whether an author who has cited passages from the first editions, which differ from the latter, hath acted sincerely.(Reply of Charles V.)
Charles V would not suffer Luther’s tomb to be demolished, and forbad the attempting any thing of that nature upon pain of death; the Spaniards earnestly solicited him to pull it down, and even desired his bones should be dug up and burnt; but the emperor very wisely answered, “I have nothing farther to do with Luther, he has henceforth another judge whose jurisdiction it is not lawful for me to usurp: know that I make war not with the dead, but with the living who still make war against me.”
(Opposition to Luther.)
Erasmus observed seven great faults in the measures taken against Luther. The first consisted in their suffering a quarrel to arise about the gatherings among the mendicant friars, and allowing the theses of indulgences to be discussed before the people in sermons; the second, in their opposing to Luther only some mendicant friars, who were no more than declaimers and organs of slander; the third, that they did not impose silence on the preachers of both parties, and chuse out prudent, learned, and peaceable persons, who might have instructed the people without any contention, and inclined them to peace and the love of the gospel; the fourth, that they would abate nothing on either side; the fifth, that cruelty was exercised against the Lutherans, at the instigation of some mendicant friars; the sixth, that the bishops of Germany, who were military men for the most part, did not do their duty; the seventh, that they did not take care to appease the wrath of God by public prayers, and by a conversion truly penitent
and sincere. The catalogue of faults of the Romish party might perhaps be enlarged; but that we leave to the speculative, and content ourselves with saying, that most of those specified by Erasmus, could not well be avoided, considering the posture of affairs the church was then in; hence it may be concluded that Luther’s design was brought forth in a favorable juncture of time. The prudence of the court of Rome played its part well enough, but it could not prevent the marring the affair in several instances, by a defect in its instruments; and I am certain that numbers of Protestants are convinced that their party maintained itself by the false measures of the opposite side, as much as by the goodness of its cause. On the other hand, a great many fancy that there were several faults committed on the part of the reformation, and that these were incidents favourable to popery. Thus great quarrels are generally fed and fomented; each party makes false steps which reciprocally serve to balance and support the other.Art. Luther.
MACHIAVEL.
(Strictures on his “Prince.”)
This author’s maxims are very pernicious; the world is so persuaded of it, that Machiavelism, and the art of reigning tyrannically, are terms of the same import. “The Prince” of Machiavel was translated into French by Mr Amelot de la Houssaye. The author of the News from the Republic of Letters,74 speaking of the third edition of this translation, makes the following remark. “The preface is full of reflections which are very judicious; we there read amongst other things this thought of Mr de Wicquefort; Machiavel says almost every where what princes do, and not what they ought to do. It is strange there are so many people, who believe,
that Machiavel teaches princes dangerous politics; for on the contrary princes have taught Machiavel what he has written. It is the study of the world, and the observation of the transactions in it, and not a fanciful closet meditation, that have been Machiavel’s masters. Let his books be burned, answered, translated, and commented, it will be all one with respect to government. By an unhappy and fatal necessity, politics set themselves above morality; they do not confess it, but yet they do like Achilles, jura negat sibi nata. A great philosopher of this age cannot bear it should be said, that it was necessary man should sin; I believe, however, that he owns, with respect to princes, that sin is now become a necessary thing, although it does not make them excusable; for besides that there are few who content themselves with what is necessary, they would not be under this wretched condition, if they were all good men.” To this may be added the saying of an ancient poet, that by the bare exercise of royalty, the most innocent would learn to be guilty, without any tutor: “Ut nemo doceat fraudis et scelerum vias, regnum docebit.75 Though no one were to teach the ways of fraud and wickedness, a kingdom will teach them.” Every body has heard that maxim, qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare, and he who denies the truth of it, must be very ignorant of affairs of state. Boccalini cunningly gives us to understand, that the reign of some popes taught Machiavel the politics of his prince, and pretends, that since the reading of history is both permitted and recommended, the reading of Machiavel is unjustly condemned. The meaning of which is, that the same maxims are found in history, as in this author’s prince. This does not excuse Machiavel: he advances maxims which he does not blame; but a good historian, who relates the practice of these maxims, condemns it. This makes a great difference between this Florentine’s book and history; and yet it is certain, that, by accident, the reading of history is very apt to produce the same effect, as the reading of Machiavel.There are people, who make the apology of Machiavel, by saying, that those who attack him, shew their ignorance of matters of policy. “Whoever have hitherto undertaken to confute Machiavel, if I may speak the truth, have too plainly discovered their ignorance of politics. You will find them almost all disputing, as if there were no other republics, than such as principally, if not solely, regard the good of the people, or aim at a full and exact happiness of human life; and therefore that a politician ought solely to confine himself to them: hence they condemn all doctrine, as without the limits of politics, which does not regard such republics, as they think ought alone to be inquired into by men.” You will find several reflexions of this nature, in the preface which the learned Conringius has prefixed to Machiavel’s “Prince.” Observe, that our Florentine is accused of enriching himself with the spoils of Aristotle: his political maxims therefore have for a long time been in books. It is the same Conringius who thus charges him. “Nicolas Machiavel, that cymbal of the arts of politics, could teach his prince no secret spring of government, which Aristotle had not long ago observed, for the preservation of power, in the fifth book of his politics. Nay, perhaps this cunning doctor of iniquity transcribed his whole doctrine from Aristotle, without confessing the theft; yet with this difference, that Machiavel impiously and imprudently recommends to all princes, that, which, according to Aristotle, is applicable only to tyrants.” Gentillet accuses him of being Bartolus’s plagiary. I wonder they do not say, that he has stolen his maxims from
the angelic doctor, the great St Thomas Aquinas. See in Naudé’s State Politics, a long passage of Thomas Aquinas’s commentary upon the fifth book of Aristotle’s Politics. Mr Amelot proves, that Machiavel was but the disciple or interpreter of Tacitus, and he makes use of the same observation as Conringius. “Of all those,” says he, “that censure Machiavel, you will find that some confess they never read him; and the others who have read him, have never understood him; as appears by their taking several passages in a literal sense, which the politicians know how to interpret otherwise. So that, to tell the truth, he is censured only because he is ill understood; and he is ill understood by many, who are capable of understanding him better, only because they read him with prejudice: whereas, if they read him as judges, that is, holding the balance even between him and his adversaries, they would see, that his maxims are for the most part absolutely necessary to princes, who, as the great Cosmo de Medicis said, cannot always govern their states with their beads in their hand. The prince in question observed, that it is no wonder, that Machiavel is censured by so many people; since there are so few that understand reasons of state, and who, consequently, are qualified to be competent judges of his precepts and maxims. And I will say by the way, that there are abundance of ministers and princes, that study them, and even practise them in every point, who had condemned and detested them, before they came to the ministry, or the throne. So true it is that a man must be a prince, or at least a minister, to know, I say not the usefulness, but the absolute necessity of these maxims.” This is applying to Machiavel, what another had said of Tacitus: “They who accuse him of holding impious maxims, and opposite to morality, must pardon me, if I tell them, that never politician handled state-maxims more reasonably than he; and that the most scrupulous who have blamed diem, whilst they were private persons, have studied and practised them, when they were called to the management of public affairs.” Mr Amelot has cited these words from Mr de Chanvalon. It is said, that Machiavel’s “Prince” was translated into the Turkish tongue, and read by Sultan Amurath IV, in that language.—Art. Machiavel.MAHOMETANISM.
(Extent of.)
The religion of Mahomet soon had, and still has, a vast extent. We must not believe those who say, that it possesses one half of the world or more, it is sufficient to say, “That, if we divide the known countries of the earth into thirty equal parts, five of them are Christian, six Mahometan, and nineteen Pagan.” Thus the Mahometan religion is of much larger extent than the Christian; for it exceeds it by one thirtieth part of the known world, which is a very considerable part.
Mahometan Miracles,
Mahomet says himself, that he wrought no miracles, and yet his followers attribute many to him. Grotius makes use of this confession, to refute Mahometanism, after having observed, that Mahomet does not deny the miracles of Jesus Christ. “Jesus visum cœcis, claudis gressum, ægrotis sanitatem dedit, imo fatente Mahumete, etiam vitam mortal's. Mahumetes76 se missum ait non cum miraculis, sed cum armis. Secuti tamen sunt, qui ei et miracula attribuerent, at qualia? Nempe quæ aut arte humana facilè possunt effects reddi, ut de columba ad
aurem advolante: aut quorum nulli sunt testes, ut de camelo noctu ei locuto: aut quæ sua absurditate refelluntur,77 ut de magna Lunæ parte in manicam ipsius delapsa, et ab ipso remissa ad reddendam sideri rotunditatem78. Jesus, by the confession of Mahomet himself, gave sight to the blind, feet to the lame, health to the sick, and even life to the dead. Mahomet says, he was sent, not with miracles, but with arms. Yet some, in after times, ascribed miracles, to him, but of what sort? Either such as could easily be effected by human art, as that of a pigeon flying to his ear; or such, as there are no witnesses of, as that of a camel which spoke to him by night; or such, as are refuted by their own absurdity, as that of a great part of the moon dropping into his sleeve, and sent back again by him, in order to restore to that planet its rotundity.”We must not leave this subject, before we set down the remark of a learned German, who says, that some Christians, prompted by a false zeal against Mahomet, accuse him of boasting of certain miracles, which the Arabian writers never attributed to him. “There are some Arabian authors, who attribute miracles to Mahomet; but others deny them. For instance, the former say, that the moon drawing near to Mahomet, he clave it asunder. Mr Pfeiffer observes, after Beidavi, that Mahomet never said this, but only that, before the last day, that prodigy will be seen in heaven. They make him say, that, at the taking of the city of Chaibar, a Jewish woman having presented him with a poisoned lamb, the lamb, though quite roasted, warned him not to eat it. But Abulfeda, relating the story, only says, that Mahomet, having tasted it, and perceiving that it was
poisoned, spat it out upon the ground, and said, this lamb tells me, that it is poisoned; meaning, I find that it is poisoned. In effect, he confesses often in the Koran, that he could not work miracles. Wherefore I consider as a fable, what some tell us of a pigeon, that came to eat from his ear, and of a bull, that would eat nothing but what he gave him with his own hand. Mr Pfeiffer acknowledges, that these stories are the effects of the distempered zeal of some Christians against this impostor.”Might we not represent to Mr Pfeiffer, that the Christians have used the Mahometans in this respect as the reformed have used the Catholics. For there are in legendary writers, many miracles, which are not mentioned by grave authors of the Romish communion, and which they even laugh at. Does it follow therefore, that the Protestant writers are calumniators, or transported with too much zeal, because they object to Catholics such kind of miracles? And why may we not say, that the Christians, who have ridiculed the Mahometans for such miracles, as are not now to be found in Arabian authors, had read them in some obscure writers, who took the liberty to tell them, in honour of that false prophet, as the legendary writers have done in honour of the saints.
In some respects, therefore, the 2eal of our disputants is unjust; for if they make use of the extravagances of a Mahometan legendary, to make Mahomet himself odious, or to ridicule him, they violate the equity, which is due to all the world, to wicked, as well as good men. We must not impute to any body what they never did, and consequently we must not argue against Mahomet from these idle fancies, which some of his followers have fabled of him, if he himself never published them. We have sufficient matter against him, though we charge him only with his own faults, and do not make him answerable for the follies, which the indiscreet and
romantic zeal of some of his disciples has prompted them to write.Mahomet no Enthusiast.
Some imagine, that Mahomet might believe what he said. They reason after this manner: all Christians are agreed, that the devil is the true author of Mahometism, and that he only made use of Mahomet as an instrument to establish in the world a false religion. We must therefore say, that Mahomet was delivered up to the devil, by the providence of God; and that the power God gave the devil over this wretch, was much less limited, than that he had over Job; for God did not permit the devil to pervert the soul of Job, as he permitted him to make use of the soul of Mahomet to deceive mankind. The devil having so great a power over him, by the confession of all Christians, as to instigate him to spread his new opinions; could he not persuade him, that God had established him a prophet? Could he not inspire him with that vast design, of planting a new religion? Could he not make him willing to undergo a thousand troubles, in order to deceive the world: and could he not seduce him? What reason can any one have to admit the one, and deny the other? is it more difficult to move the will to great designs, in spite of all the light of reason, that opposes them, than to deceive the understanding, by a false persuasion, or to incline the will to embrace a false light, so as to acquiesce in it as a true revelation? I must confess, that one of these things appears not to me more difficult than the other; for if the devil could seduce Mahomet, is it not very probable, that he did in effect seduce him? This man would be the fitter to execute the devil’s designs, if he were so persuaded, than if he were not. This cannot be denied me; for all things being otherwise equal, it is plain, that a man, who believes he does well, will
always be more active and in earnest, than he who believes he does ill. We must therefore say, that the devil managing very dexterously the execution of his projects, did not forget the wheel that was most necessary to his engine, and which would best increase the motion of it: that is to say, he seduced this false prophet. If he could, he would; and if he would, he did it; and we have already proved, that he could do it. Moreover, say these gentlemen, the Koran is the work of a fanatic: every thing in it savours of disorder and confusion; it is a chaos of disjointed thoughts. A deceiver would have ranged his doctrines better; a comedian would have been more polite. And let none say, that the devil would never have persuaded him to oppose idolatry, nor to have recommended so much the love of the true God, and of virtue; for this proves too much; since thence we might conclude, that Mahomet was not his instrument.How specious soever these reasons may appear, I chuse rather to concur with the common opinion, that Mahomet was an impostor: elsewhere his insinuating behaviour, and dexterous address, in procuring friends, very plainly shew, that he made use of religion only as an expedient to aggrandize himself.
" Facetus moribus, voce suavi, visitandi et excipiendi vices talionis lege suis reddens, pauperes munerans, magnates honorans, con versans cum junioribus, petentem à se aliquid repulsa nunquam abigens, aut sermone facili non excipiens.79—He was of a pleasant disposition, a sweet voice, receiving, and paying visits regularly, bestowing gifts on the poor, honouring the great, conversing with young men, never sending away a petitioner repulsed, but always receiving him courteously.” Had a true fanatic ever such a character? Did he ever understand
his business so well? Though a man should, for some time, fancy that God has sent an angel to reveal to him the true religion, yet, might not he perceive the delusion, when he found, that he could not confirm his mission by any miracle? Now this was the case of Mahomet: the Koreishites offered to embrace his new religion, provided he wrought miracles; but he never had the boldness to promise them any: he cunningly evaded their proposal, sometimes telling them, that miracles were not necessary, and sometimes by referring them to the excellency of the Koran. Was not this sufficient to convince him, that he was not extraordinarily called by God to found a new religion?Again: to colour his incontinence, which moved him to marry several wives, he forged a revelation from God, that this was allowed. He must therefore insert this article in his Koran; but because he liked his servant-maids, and lay with them, therefore he stood in need of a new revelation in favour of adultery; and so it was necessary he should make a distinct article of the concubinage of husbands. He had but two wives, when Marina, his servant-maid, a very pretty lass, pleased him so well, that he lay with her, before she came to a marriageable age. His wives surprised him in the very fact, and were transported with rage against him. He swore to them, that he would never return to her any more if they would keep it secret; but, because he broke his oath, they made a great noise, and went away from his house. To remove this great scandal, he feigned a voice from heaven, which informed him that it was lawful for him to have to do with his servant-maids. Thus this impostor began with committing a crime, and finished with converting it into a general law. This does not at all favour of Fanaticism. A good touch-stone to discover whether those who boast of inspiration, either to give out
new prophecies, or to explain the old, such as the Apocalypse, act sincerely, is, to examine whether their doctrine changes proportionably as the times change, and as their own peculiar interest becomes different from what it was before. With an impudence, that cannot be sufficiently admired, Mahomet forged, that God forbade incest to other men, but allowed it him by a peculiar grace.“He forbids others,” says Hoornbeek, “under severe penalties, in his chapter of women, to marry within the degree of consanguinity: mix not with women, which have been known by your father, because it is base, evil, and unjust: your mothers, your daughters, your aunts, and cousins, are forbidden you, &c. But he indulges himself in the enjoyment of any one, as it were by authority from heaven. In his chapter of heresies or sects; O prophet, says God, to him, we give thee power over all thy wives, to whom thou shalt pay their hire, and whomsoever thou shalt take unto thee, whether they be the daughters of thy uncle, or the daughters of thy mother’s brother, or the daughters of thy mother-in-law, which have journied with thee, and every woman, that is a believer, and is willing to prostitute herself to thee a prophet: and this privilege is granted to thee in a special and peculiar manner; but not to other men.”
He durst not, however, always exercise his prerogative, for he said, he was forbidden for the future, to take away his neighbour’s wife. He was contented to tell the world, that God approved what was past, provided he did not relapse into it again. For the better understanding of this, we must know, that Mahomet had already married nine wives, and then espoused a tenth, which he took from his servant, who murmured at it. The false prophet, to put a stop to the scandal, made a shew of desiring to restore what he had taken; but, because he had not
really a mind to do so, he quickly found out a way to dispense with it. He feigned, that God had censured this resolution, and had ordered him to keep his tenth wife, without paying any deference to human scandal, to the prejudice of a celestial approbation. He was very sensible however, that this would alarm all husbands against him; and therefore, to satisfy every body, he published, that, for the future, by the order of God, he would let husbands enjoy their own wives, even though he should fall in love with them.The variations of his prophetic spirit were in fact always suited to the change of his private interest. We shall keep to the words of Dr. Prideaux80. “Almost all his Koran was framed after this manner, to answer some private design he had, according as occasion required. If he had any new thing to set on foot, or some objection against himself or his religion to answer, some difficulty to resolve, or some discontent among the people to pacify, some scandal to remove, or something else to be done for carrying on his designs, he had commonly recourse to the angel Gabriel for some new revelation; and presently he inserted in the Koran some addition, proper to answer the ends he then proposed to himself. So that the whole almost was composed upon occasions of this nature, to produce in his own party the effect which he proposed to himself; and all his commentators plainly enough confess it, by shewing exactly the reasons, for which each chapter had been sent them from heaven. But this was the cause of the many contradictions, that are to be found in this book; for as this impostor’s affairs and designs varied, he was obliged to vary his pretended revelations; which is so well known among those of his sect, that they all confess this to be true; upon which account, when these contradictions are such, that they cannot be reconciled, they revoke one of the contradictory places; and they reckon in the whole
Koran more than one hundred and fifty verses thus revoked, which is the best expedient they can take for saving the contradiction and inconsistencies that are in it.” This proof of imposture is of great force; I have mentioned it already; but here I ought to add, that it would be too far extended, if it should be made use of without exception against all the expounders of the Apocalypse, who change their hypotheses as the general affairs take a different turn. It may sometimes happen, that there is nothing but fanaticism in the inconstancy of those men, and that not being sensible of the disorder of their brain, they are no less sincere, when they vary, than when they do not. Let us therefore make use of a distinction, and say only, that the conduct of those, who change their apocalyptic system, according to the news in the Gazette, and always agreeably to the general design of their writings, is very often an imposture, but not always.Morals of Mahometanism.
It is pretended that Mahomet gained proselytes by accommodating his morals to the corruption of men’s hearts; but as to that point, I do not see that this false prophet has derogated from the morality of the gospel. On the contrary, I perceive, that as to ceremonies, he has considerably increased the yoke of Christians. He ordains circumcision, which is a thing very harsh to adult persons; he requires them to abstain from certain meats, which is a slavery that does not well agree with worldly men; he forbids the use of wine, which is a precept indeed that is not so very harsh to the Asiatic people as to the northern nations, and which had certainly made Willibrod and Bonifacius miscarry in their design; but yet it is inconvenient in all countries where wine grows; and we know by ancient and modern history, that this liquor does not displease the Oriental people. Besides, Mahomet imposed fastings and ablutions,
which are very troublesome, and so frequent a use of prayers as is tedious and uneasy. He enjoins also pilgrimages; and, in a word, you need only consider the forty aphorisms of his morals, and there you will find every thing opposite to the corruption of man’s heart, the precept of patience in adversity, of not speaking evil of our neighbours, of being charitable, of renouncing vanity, of doing no injury to any man; and lastly, that which is the epitome of the law and the prophets, ‘ Do to your neighbour, whatever you would that he should do unto you.’It is therefore an illusion to pretend that the only reason why the law of Mahomet was propagated so readily, and spread to so great an extent, was, because it eased men of the yoke of good works, and troublesome observances, and allowed them freedom in evil courses. If I mistake not, the only things wherein it opened the gap which the gospel had shut, are marriage and revenge; for it permits polygamy, and to return evil for evil; but the Jews and Pagans scarcely gained any thing by this, for they were already in possession of a custom which did not much trouble them in this respect. Hottinger has given us a long catalogue of the moral aphorisms or apophthegms of the Mahometans. We may say, without flattering this religion, that the most excellent precepts that can be given to man for the practice of virtue, and avoiding of vice, are contained in these aphorisms. Hottinger makes no scruple to exalt this morality above that of many monks. Mr Simon has spoken no less advantageously of the Mahometan religion, with respect to morality: “It consists,” says he, “in doing good, and shunning evil, and therefore they examine carefully virtues and vices; and their casuists are no less subtle in these points than ours.” After he has related some of their principles concerning the necessity of faith, and trust in God, and humility and repentance, &c. he adds, “I pass over in silence the
rest of their morals, because what has been said is sufficient to show what they are; and I can assure you, that they are not so loose as those of some casuists in our age. I shall only add, that they have many good precepts about the duties of private persons to their neighbour, wherein they do also give rules of' civility. They have also written of the behaviour that is due to a prince; and one of their maxims is, ‘ That it is never lawful to kill him, nor even to speak evil of him under pretence that he is a tyrant.'With respect to a sensual paradise, it must be granted that this promise might be a bait to allure the Pagans, who had but confused notions of the happiness of another life, but I do not know whether it was proper to entice the Jews, neither do I think that it could have any force upon Christians, and yet how many Christians have been drawn into apostacy by this false prophet? Suppose what he says of the pleasures of his paradise ought to be literally understood, “that each person there shall have the strength of one hundred men, to enjoy a full satisfaction with women, as well as to drink and eat —this would not balance the idea the scripture has given us of the happiness of another life; for it speaks of it as a state which surpasses all that “eyes have seen or ears heard, or hath entered into the heart of man to conceive.” So that, if we believe the scripture, the happiness of paradise is something that surpasses imagination, and has no bounds set to it. Endeavour to have a fixed idea of it, you can never compass it, but your hopes still carry you higher, and launch out farther beyond all bounds. Mahomet did not allow you this liberty, but confined you within certain limits; he multiplied a hundred times the pleasures you have already tried, and there he left you; but what is a hundred times in comparison with a number indefinite? Some, indeed, may say, “the scripture speaks only of pleasure in general and if it make use of corporeal images, as
when it promises “that we shall be satisfied with the fatness of the house of God, and that we shall drink of the rivers of his pleasures,” you are presently warned that these are metaphors, under which spiritual pleasures are veiled: but that this does not move worldly souls like sensible pleasures. I answer, that the souls which are most immersed in matter, will always prefer the paradise of the Gospel before that of Mahomet, provided they give an historical faith to the description of the beatific vision, though they should give the same faith to the Koran. I shall explain my meaning by this supposition: let us represent to ourselves two preachers, the one a Christian, and the other a Mahometan, preaching before Pagans, each of them endeavouring to allure them to his party, by laying open the joys of paradise. The Mahometan promises feasts and fine women; and, the better to move his auditors, he tells them that, in the other world, the pleasures of sense will be a hundred times more delicious than in this. The Christian declares that the pleasures of paradise will neither consist in eating nor drinking, nor in the conjunction of the two sexes, but that they shall be so substantial, that no man’s imagination is able to reach them; and that all that can be conceived, by multiplying the pleasures of this world a hundred times, a thousand times, a hundred thousand thousand times, &c. is nothing, in comparison of the happiness which God imparts to the soul, by “seeing him face to face,” &c. Is it not certain that the most unchaste and gluttonous hearers would rather follow the Christian preacher than the other, though we should suppose that they give as much credit to the promises of the Mahometan as to those of the Christian? They would doubtless do the same thing which a soldier would do to two captains, who would hire him for a price; for, though he was persuaded that they were both of them sincere, and would give all that they had promised, he would certainly list himself with him that offered most. So, likewise, these Pagans would prefer the paradise of the gospel before that of Mahomet, though they should be persuaded that both of these preachers would make good to their disciples the reward which they had promised. For it must not be imagined that a voluptuous man loves the pleasures of sense merely because they flow from that source; he would equally love them, if they came from any other: make him feel more pleasure by sucking in the air in a cave, than by eating the best ragouts, he will quit with all his heart the best meals, to go into the cave. Make him feel more pleasure in examining a geometrical problem than in enjoying a fine woman, he will readily quit the fine woman for this problem; and consequently it would be unreasonable to suppose that a Mahometan should draw after him all the hearers that are lovers of pleasure: for, since they love the pleasures of sense only because they can find none better, it is plain that they would renounce them with ease, to enjoy a greater happiness.Not of a nature to court female influence.
The permission Mahomet granted to men to have many wives, and to whip them when they were not obedient, and to divorce them upon any displeasure, was a law very prejudicial to the female sex. He took care to deny women the liberty of having many men, neither would be allow them to part from their husbands, though they were troublesome, at least unless they consented. He ordained, “that a woman divorced could not marry more than twice; and that if she were divorced from the third husband, and the first would not take her again, she should never marry all her life time.” He was so far from permitting them to show their bosoms, or at least their necks, that he would not suffer their feet to be seen, except by their husbands. It is true, that in this he only retained
the custom observed in Arabia; for we learn from. TertuIlian, that the women of that country did thus cover their face, so that they could make use but of one eye. “Judicabunt vos Arabiœ fœminæ Ethnicæ, quæ non caput, sed faciem quoque ita totam tegunt, ut ano oculo liberato contentæ sint dimidiam frui lucem, quàm totam faciem prostituere.” I believe it is a mistake to say, that Mahomet permitted men to marry as many women as they would; for he does so moderate and limit his proposal, that it plainly appears he had no mind that they should marry above four, and that he allowed them so many, provided they thought themselves capable of keeping them peaceably. But it is no mistake to affirm that he set no bounds to the number of their concubines; and indeed the Turks may have as many as they are capable of maintaining. Is not the condition of the four wives deplorable, under a law which gives the husband power to divert what is their due to as many handsome slaves as he can purchase? Does not this diversion of the matrimonial stock reduce them to the greatest want, and to an extreme indigence? Let none tell me of the provision the law has made for them, by appointing the four wives to lie once every week with their husband. “So that, if any one be found that has not enjoyed this privilege for a whole week, she has a right to demand it on Thursday night in the following week, and she may prosecute her husband in case of a refusal, in the courts of justice;”—for notwithstanding this privilege, the law is very harsh. What pleasure can any one take in a matter of this nature, when it is obtained only in the execution of a sentence from a magistrate? This ought not to be a work that is commanded; when it is done only by way of duty, there can be no great satisfaction in it. We must therefore confess that Mahomet did not use the sex well.But as to women, he taught many other strange
things: for he not only made them miserable in this world, but deprived them of the joys of paradise. He not only excluded them from that place, but he turned its joy into an occasion of sorrow; for it is pretended that he taught, that the pleasures of marriage which men shall enjoy after this life, shall be furnished them by virgins of a ravishing beauty, whom God creates in Heaven, and who are destined for them from all eternity; and as to women, that they shall not enter into paradise, nor approach nearer to it than is necessary to discover across the pallisadoes what shall be done there. Thus their eyes shall be witnesses of the happiness of men, and of the pleasure they shall take with these celestial maids. What can be imagined more grievous? Is not this to be ingenious in mortifying our neighbours? Lucretius tells us, that it is pleasant to see a shipwreck when it is not feared; but all things are quite contrary in Mahomet’s system for women; the sight of a happiness of which they are deprived must needs afflict them, and it will be so much the more grievous to them, as well because it will discover the pleasures which another enjoys, as because they will see the happiness which they want; for the torment of jealousy proceeds not so much from the want of a thing, as from knowing that others enjoy it. I have heard many people say, and I think I have read it, that the damned shall have a very exact idea of the happiness of paradise, that so the knowledge of the great joys which they have missed, may augment their despair; and that the devil shall make use of this artifice to render them more miserable. This is to understand very well the way of heightening the pains of the miserable: and therefore we may say in a word, that Mahomet could not have discovered his cruelty more maliciously; for he would have women see at a distance, that which can only create unprofitable temptation, and insupportable grief.However to declare the matter as it is indeed, I must acquaint you, that neither the Koran, nor learned Mahometans say, that the women are excluded from paradise; yet I thought I might relate what so many authors have asserted on the subject.
There is some occasion to wonder why the Mahommetan religion should be so unkind to the female sex, since it was founded by a man so excessively lascivious, and since his laws were deposited in the hands of a woman, and another was to give the interpretation of them as she pleased. We have already shown that Ayesha was looked upon as a prophetess and an oracle; and that she was indeed a pope among the Mahometans. Mr Herbelot relates, “that she had among them a very great authority, even in matters of doctrine and religion, and that they often had recourse to her to learn some tradition of Mahomet, and that she undertook to condemn the Caliph Othman for impiety.” She might then have settled matters upon a footing very suitable to women. Whence then came it to pass, that she did not do it? Was she of the humour of certain women, who are the first and most fierce in defaming their own sex? May this be looked upon as a proof of that which is sometimes said, “that the authority of men is never greater than when a woman is seated on the throne, and that the authority of women is never greater than when the sceptre is in the hands of a man?” For my part, I know nothing of the matter; let speculative men exercise their wit as much as they please upon this question; but consider, I pray you, the influence of the fair sex upon the foundation of Mahomet, and how the passions of a woman very quickly spread in it the seeds of discord. Follow the tracks of Ali’s schism, and you will find the lewdness of Ayesha whom he accused, to be the source of it; this woman never forgave him: she hindered him three times successively from arriving at the dignity of caliph, and after he had obtained it,
she made a league against him, and put herself at the head of 30,000 men. She lost the battle, and was taken, and sent back to Medina, where she died, and was buried near to Mahomet; but the league she had made to revenge the death of Othman, died not with her. Ali was at last killed upon this pretence, and thence arose a great schism, which still continues.( Curious predictions of the fall of )
There are several predictions extant, which have threatened Mahometanism a long while. Bibliander affirms, “that there is a famous prophecy among the Mahometans, which strikes a great terror both into men and women, and which says, ' that the empire shall be destroyed by the sword of the Christians.’ The prophecy is expressed in the following words, which are translated out of Persian into Latin by Georgievitz: ‘ our emperor shall come, shall take the kingdom of the Gentiles, shall take the red apple, shall subdue it even unto seven years; if the sword of the Gentiles shall not rise again, he shall reign over them twelve years, shall build a house, shall plant a vineyard, shall enclose gardens with a hedge, shall have a son and a daughter; after twelve years, the sword of the Christians shall rise up, which shall beat back the Turk.’” Sansovin published a book in 1570, wherein he affirms, “that there is a prediction, ' that the laws of Mahomet shall last no longer than a thousand years, and that the empire of the Turks shall fall under the fifteenth sultan.’ " He adds, “that Leo the philosopher, emperor of Constantinople, has said, in one of his books, ‘ that a light-haired family, with its competitors, shall put all Mahometanism to flight, and shall seize him who is possessed of the seven mountains.’” The same emperor makes mention of a column which was at Constantinople, whose inscriptions the patriarch of the place explained, and said that they signified, “that the Venetians and
Muscovites shall take the city of Constantinople; and, after some disputes, they shall chuse with one consent, and crown a Christian emperor.This light-haired family, so fatal to the Mussulmen, puts me in mind of a passage of Dr Spon, which I shall set down. “Of all the Christian princes, there is none, whom the Turk fears so much as the great Czar of Muscovy;—and I have heard some Greeks say, and among the rest, the Sieur Manno-Mannea, a merchant of the city of Arta, a man of wit and learning for that country, that there was a prophecy among them, which imported, ‘ that the empire of the Turks was to be destroyed by a nation chrysogenos, that is, light-haired which cannot be attributed to any but the Muscovites, who are almost all light-haired," There is mention made of this in the “Miscellaneous Thoughts upon Comets,” on occasion of I know not what tradition which is current, “that the fates have promised the French the glory of destroying the Turks.” The prophecy of the Abyssinians mentions only a Christian king, who shall be born in the north. “Mecca, Medina, and the other cities of Arabia Felix shall hereafter be destroyed, and the ashes of Mahomet and his priests be dissipated; and that some Christian prince, born in the northern regions, shall perform all this, who shall also seize on Egypt and Palestine.” It is pretended, that a book was written in Arabic concerning this prophecy, before the taking of Damietta, and that this book was found by the Christians. Willichius relates, “that the Turks find in their annals, that the reign of Mahomet shall continue until the arrival of the light-haired boys;‘ donec veniant figliuoli biondi, flavi et albi filii, vel filii ex Septentrione flavis et albis capillis.’ ” Some think that this denotes the Swedes; but Antony Torquato, a famous astrologer, applies it to the king of Hungary.
If we should ascribe all these prophetical
threatnings to one cause only, we should be mistaken. The desire some have to comfort themselves with the hopes of the destruction of a furious persecutor, makes them easily find this destruction in the predictions of Scripture, or in some other things. Thus, there are some who foretel through credulity and illusion. The desire of comforting people, and dissipating their fears, obliges some to suppose that the scripture, prodigies, and many other prognostics, promise the approaching ruin of the power which they now fear. Thus there are some who foretel things out of policy. Those who do it in order to render their troops more courageous, are prophets of the same kind. There are others who prophecy, in order to stir up insurrection in an enemy’s country; for instance, to encourage the Greeks, who acknowledge the Grand Seignor for their prince, to take arms against their master.81.—Art. Mahomet.MARGARET OF NAVARRE.
Reflection on her religious liberality.
The generosity wherewith queen Margaret protected several persons of merit, persecuted for the sake of religion, is highly to her honour. I do not examine whether Florimond de Remond ’has it from good authority, that she protested at her death, that what she had done for the followers of the new opinions, proceeded rather from compassion than from any ill will to the ancient religion of her fathers; but granting her protestation to be sincere, I maintain, there was something more heroical in her compassion and generosity, than there would have been, had she been persuaded that the fugitives she protected were orthodox. For a princess, or any other woman, to do good to those whom she takes to be the household of faith,
is no extraordinary thing, but the common effect of a moderate piety. But for a queen to grant her protection to people persecuted for opinions which she believes to be false; to open a sanctuary to them, to preserve them from the flames prepared for them, to furnish them with a subsistence, liberally to relieve the troubles and inconveniences of their exile, is an heroical magnanimity, which has hardly any precedent. It is the effect of a superiority of reason and genius, which very few can reach to: it is the knowing how to pity the misfortune of those who err, and admire at the same time their constancy to the dictates of their conscience: it is the knowing how to do justice to their good intentions, and to the zeal they express for the truth in general: it is the knowing that they are mistaken in the hypothesis, but that in the thesis they conform to the immutable and eternal laws of order, which require us to love the truth, and to sacrifice to that love the temporal conveniences and pleasures of life: it is, in a word, the knowing how to distinguish, in one and the same person, his opposition to particular truths which he does not know, and his love for truth in general; a love which he evidences by his great zeal for the doctrines that he believes to be true.Such was the judicious distinction the queen of Navarre was able to make. It is difficult for all sorts of persons to arrive at this science; but more especially difficult for a princess like her, who had been educated in the communion of Rome, where nothing has been talked of for many ages but faggots and gibbets for those who err. Family prejudices strongly fortified all the obstacles which education had laid in the way of this princess; for she entirely loved the king her brother, an implacable persecutor of those they called Heretics, a people whom he caused to be burnt without mercy, wherever the indefatigable
vigilance of informers discovered them. I cannot conceive by what method the queen of Navarre raised herself to so high a pitch of equity, reason, and good sense; it was not through an indifference as to religion, since it is certain she had a great degree of piety, and studied the scriptures with a singular application. It must therefore be the excellency of her genius, and the greatness of her soul, that discovered a path to her, which scarcely any one else knew. It will be said, perhaps, that she needed only consult the primitive and general ideas of order, which most clearly show that involuntary errors hinder not a man who entirely loves God, as he has been able to discover him after all possible enquiries, from being reckoned a servant of the true God, and that we ought to respect in him the rights of the true God, I might immediately answer, that this maxim is of itself subject to great disputes. So far is it from being clear and evident, that these primitive ideas hardly ever appear to our understanding without limitations and modifications, which obscure them a hundred ways, according to the different prejudices contracted by education. The spirit of party, the attachment to a sect, and even zeal for orthodoxy, produce a kind of ferment in the humours of our body; and hence the medium through which reason ought to behold those primitive ideas, is clouded and obscured. These are infirmities which will attend our reason, as long as it shall depend on the ministry of organs. It is the same thing to it, as the low and middle region of the air, the seat of vapours and meteors. There are but very few persons who can elevate themselves above these clouds, and place themselves in a true serenity. If any one could do it, we must say of him what Virgil did of Daphnis:Candidas insuetum miratur lumen Olympi,
Sub pedibusque videt nubes et sidera Daphnis.
Virgil, Eclog. V, ver. 56.
Daphnia, the guest of heaven, with wondering eyes,
Views, in the milky way, the starry skies:
And far beneath him, from the shining sphere,
Beholds the moving clouds and rolling year.
Dryden.
And he would not have so much the appearance of a man, as of an immortal being, placed upon a mountain above the regions of winds and clouds, &c. There is almost as much necessity for being above the passions, to come to the knowledge of some kind of truths, as to act virtuously. This mountain is the emblem of a good man, whom no passion can withdraw from the paths of justice:
. ..... Sed ut altus Olympi
Vertex, qui spatio ventos hiemesque relinquit,
Perpetuum nulla temeratus nube serenum,
Celsior exsurgit pluviis, auditque ruentes
Sub pedibus nimbos, et rauca tonitrua calcat:
Sic patiens animus per tanta negotia liber
Emergit, similisque sui; justique tenorem
Flectere non odium cogit, non gratia suadet.
Claudian, de Mallii Theod. Consulatu, pag. m. 6, col. 2.
But as Olympus’ tow’ring summit knows,
Nor discomposing storms, nor hoary snows,
And in superior region is seen
Far above clouds, eternally serene;
While at its steady foot the rushing rain,
And rattling thunder spend their force in vain:
So, the just man, disclaiming all controul,
In perfect peace preserves his constant soul;
Always himself, enjoys his seat above,
Nor chill'd by hatred, nor inflam'd by love.
I think I have given a fine view of the queen of Navarre’s heroism.—Art. Navarre.
MAROT.
(His version of the Psalms.)
I shall relate some curious things concerning his
version of the fifty psalms of David. Florimond de Remond affirms that Marot, after his return from Ferrara into France, was exhorted by Vatablus to turn the Psalms of David into French verse, and that, following his advice, he published a version of thirty Psalms, and dedicated it to Francis I. It was censured by the faculty of divinity at Paris, who moreover made some remonstrances and complaints of it to that monarch. “The king, who loved Marot for the fineness of his wit, made use of delays, and said, that he had approved the first draughts, and desired to see the rest. Upon which account the poet sent him this epigram:Puis que voulez que je poursuive, ô sire,
L’œuvre royal du Psautier commencé,
Et que tout cœur aymant Dieu le desire,
D’y besongner me tiens pour dispensé:
S’en sente donc qui voudra offensé:
Car ceux à qui un tel bien ne peut plaire,
Doivent penser si jà ne l’ont pensé,
Qu’en vous plaisant, me plaist de leur deplaire.
Since you desire it, sire, I can’t refuse
To clothe in metre David’s royal muse.
Let those then, whom the work displeases, know,
If you’re my friend,
I care not who’s my foe.
Nevertheless the publication, after many remonstrances made to the king, was forbidden. But
Des hommes plus la chose est desirée,
Quand plus elle est aux hommes prohibée,
We value most what is forbidden us.
They could not be printed so fast as they were sold off. They were not then set to music, as they are now, to be sung in churches; but every one gave them such a tune as he thought fit, and commonly that of a ballad. Each of the princes and courtiers took a psalm for themselves. King Henry II loved this psalm, “Ainsi qu’on oyt le cerf bruire,—like as
the hart doth breathe and bray and took it for his own in hunting. Madame de Valentinois, whom he loved, took this, “Du fond de ma pensée;—Lord, to thee I make my moan;” and made choice of it for herself. The queen chose the psalm, “Ne vueillez pas ô Sire,—Lord, in thy wrath reprove me not;” which she sang to a merry tune. Antony, king of Navarre, took the psalm, “Revange moi, prens ma querelle,—judge, and revenge my cause, O Lord;” which he sang to the tune of a dance of Poitou, and so did the rest. In the mean time Marot, fearing lest he should be sent to prison a second time, because he could not hold his tongue, fled to Geneva, where he continued his version as far as fifty psalms. Beza put the remaining hundred psalms into verse, and the psalms, which he rhymed in imitation of Marot’s, were received by all men with as much applause as ever any book had. Not only all the Lutherans, but Catholics also, took pleasure in singing them; because they were pleasant, easy to learn, and fit to be played upon the violin, and musical instruments. Calvin took care to put them in the hands of the best musicians in Christendom; and among the rest, he pitched upon Goudimel, and another called Bourgeois, to set them to music. After this, ten thousand copies of the Psalms in rhime, set to music, were dispersed every where. Then every one begun, even the Catholics, to carry them about, and sing them as spiritual songs, thinking there was no hurt in doing it. They were not yet, nor until some years after, a form of religious worship among the Calvinists; but afterwards they were appointed to be sung in their assemblies, being divided into small sections; which was done in the year 1553, to serve as a resting place, where they might take breath, after so long a devotion as theirs is; for the singing of Psalms at church, for the most part, lasts half a quarter of an hour. After they were bound up with the Calvinian and Geneva catechisms, the use of them was wholly forbidden, and the former prohibition renewed, with a severe penalty; so that to sing a Psalm, was to be a Lutheran.” The substance of this narrative of Florimond de Remond was turned into elegant Latin, by Famianus Strada,82 who particularly observes, that Francis I often sang this translation of the Psalms.We do not find, that, till the year 1553, the reformed, whether natives of France, or inhabitants, sang any other Psalms, than these fifty, excepting eight other Psalms, the translators of which are yet unknown; which eight Psalms, with the first thirty of Marot, were printed, in 1542, in Gothic, at Rome, by order of the Pope, by Theodore Drust, a German, his printer in ordinary, the fifteenth of February; as we read in the last leaf of the book, printed in 8vo., without name of place or printer. Jeremiah de Pours knew nothing of this edition, which, by the way, is the same with that of Strasburgh, 1545, except as to the number of Psalms. The other hundred, put into verse by Beza, appeared probably in 1553, since it was at that time, that being appended to the Catechism and Liturgy of Geneva, they excited the aversion of the Catholics, who, after the example of Francis I, on his death-bed, made no scruple to use the first fifty.
This aversion continued to the time of the Conference of Poissy, the event of which, being favourable to the Reformed, produced, the nineteenth of October 1561, the privilege of Charles IX, upon the approbation given by the Sorbonne, on the sixteenth, for the translation of the rest of the Huguenot Psalms; in consequence of which, the edition of Antony Vincent appeared at Lyons, in 1562; from which, several years after, other editions, in various forms, were
printed at Lyons, Rochelle, and elsewhere, all in virtue of this privilege, which ought to have been inserted in them at length, together with the approbation of the Sorbonne.—Art. Marot.MARRIAGE.
(St Paul on that of Bishops.)
Reihing, professor of Divinity at Tubingen in the sixteenth century, and the author of his funeral oration, explain the words of St Paul, wherein he seems to command the bishops to marry, as a precept. They pretend that the apostle commands the ministers of the gospel to marry, and to take but one wife.83 This would be certainly the meaning of St Paul’s words, if they were understood literally, that is, according to the rules of grammar; for the terms, which denote the marriage of the bishop with one wife, are as much governed by the word must, as those that denote the bishop’s blameless life, sobriety, prudence, gravity, modesty, equity, moderation, and disinterestedness. As therefore it were absurd to pretend that St Paul leaves it to the liberty of the ministers to be sober, modest, blameless, &c. or not; so it is absurd to pretend that he leaves it to their choice to marry a wife, or to marry none; I mean that it would be absurd, if we adhered to the literal sense, and supposed that St Paul actually observed grammatical rules. I do not mean a rigorous exactness, such as is observed in the articles of a treaty of peace, wherein all the expressions are narrowly considered, to prevent the abuses that might arise from an equivocation, or the omission of a particle. Neither do I mean the rigid exactness of those
scrupulous pedantic grammarians, who had rather spend three hours in mending a period, than let it pass with some carelessness. I mean a method of explaining ourselves clearly and distinctly, as a man of sense would do in a letter to a tutor, containing some directions. If he should write to him, I will have my children say their prayers twice a day, go to church twice a week, forbear swearing and quarrelling, be dutiful to their mother, and go every Monday to the play-house, he would take all these several things as so many injunctions; he would not think that it is left to his discretion to carry his pupils every Monday to the playhouse, or not. In such a case, he must suppose that there is no connexion between these words, I will, and to go to the play-house; and that the father of his pupils made use of another verb, as to this last thing, and said for instance, and I give you leave to carry them to a play-house every Monday. It must be therefore granted, that if a Sophist should obstinately maintain, that whatever St Paul says concerning the qualifications of a bishop is obligatory, it would be no easy thing to confute him; and that we should be obliged to beg of him not to take it ill, that we departed from the grammatical strictness, since it is not likely that the apostle designed to exclude from episcopacy, those who would live a single life, though they were endowed with all the talents requisite for the performance of episcopacy.This shews, that too scrupulous an adherence to the literal sense of the scripture, would very often prove the cause of many illusions, and that there are many cases in which the interpreters ought to remember the axiom, summum jus summa injuria. It proves at the same time, that we ought to do, not what the apostles command, according to the grammatical sense, but what common sense teaches us they intended to command. St Paul, according
to the grammatical rules, commands the bishops to marry; but reason shews us, that he intended only to forbid them polygamy. We must therefore abide by this. Reihing and others are in the wrong to find in St Paul’s words an injunction to marry; they contain only a permission: but their mistake is much more excusable than the intolerable boldness of forbidding clergymen to marry. The Christian people will never be able to justify before God, the base compliance wherewith they have permitted that the laws of St Paul should be abrogated, though never so plain, clear, and intelligible. They have been severely punished for it, by the overflowing lewdness wherewith their families have been polluted, and they are not yet free from it. I must observe by the by, that the holy scripture has been handled by the Christians much after the same manner as Justinian’s code. They are well pleased when the common-law agrees with the written law; but if the common law serve their turn better than the written law, they can very well dispense with the want of conformity. Christendom has not been for many ages governed by the written law.—Art. Reihing.MATHEMATICS.
Zeno wrote a book against the Mathematics. We are informed of this by Proclus, who adds that Possidonius refuted it. Huetius having told us that Epicurus rejected geometry, and the other parts of the Mathematics, because he believed, that they, being founded on false principles, could not be true, adds, that Zeno attacked them another way. This was by alleging that in order to render them certain, some things should have been added to their principles which were not joined to them. Mathematics are the most evident and certain of all human sciences, and yet they have met with opposers. If
Zeno had been a great metaphysician, and followed different principles from those of Epicurus, he might have composed a book not very easy to be refuted, and cut out more work for the geometricians than they imagine. All sciences have their weak side; nor are the mathematics free from that defect. Indeed very few people are able to oppose them well, because to succeed in this engagement it is requisite not only to be a good philosopher, but also a very profound mathematician. But those endued with the latter quality are so ravished with the certainty and evidence of their inquiries, that they never think of examining whether there be any illusion in them, or whether the first foundation be well established. They rarely think of suspecting any deficiency in them, although it is very certain, that several disputes prevail amongst the most famous mathematicians. They refute one another, and answers and replies multiply among them as well as among other learned men. We observe this among the moderns, and it is certain that the ancients were not more unanimous. It is a proof that there are in this road several dark paths, and that a man may wander and lose the track of truth. This must of necessity be the lot of one side or the other, since one affirms what the other denies. It may be urged that this is the fault of the artificer, but not of the art, and that all these disputes proceed from some mathematicians mistaking that for a demonstration which is not so; but that very thing shews that there are some obscurities in this science. Besides, the same thing may be urged, with respect to the disputes of other learned men. It may be said, that if they closely followed the rules of logic, they would avoid the wrong consequences, and false assertions which mislead them. Nevertheless we must confess, that there are many philosophical subjects, concerning which the best logicians are incapable of coming to a certainty, by reason of the want of evidence in the object; but the object of the Mathematics is free from this inconvenience. Be it so; yet there is in this object a very great and irreparable defect; for it is a mere chimera which cannot possibly exist. Mathematical points, and consequently the lines and surfaces, globes and axes, of the geometricians are fictions which never can have a being: they are therefore inferior to those of the poets; for the latter commonly contain nothing that is impossible, but have at least probability and possibility.Gassendus made an ingenious observation.84 He says that the mathematicians, and especially the geometricians, have established their empire in the land of abstractions and ideas, where they walk at their ease; but that when they get into the country of realities, they soon meet with an invincible resistance. “The mathematicians, and especially the geometricians, by abstracting quantity from matter, have erected for themselves a sort of empire, where they enjoy the greatest liberty, as they never meet with any obstacle from the grossness and stubbornness of matter. Accordingly they have, in the first place, supposed that in quantity thus abstracted, there are such dimensions as a point, which hath no parts, and a line, or length without breadth, generated by the flowing of a point, &c. Such are the suppositions, by virtue of which the mathematicians retire within the limits of pure and abstract geometry, and as it were into a separate kingdom, where they compose their famous demonstrations. In a word, it is the mathematicians, who in this their empire of abstractions, suppose those things to be indivisible, which are without parts, without length, or breadth, and that where there is a division of parts, it may be carried on in infinitum. It is not thus with the
natural philosophers, who having to do with the material world, and living, as it were, in the empire of matter, cannot take such liberty.” He gives an instance of the vanity of their pretended demonstrations, in two subtle mathematicians who attempted to prove that a finite and an infinite quantity are equal. “Nuper Viri præclari Cavalerius, et Torricellius ostenderunt de acuto quodam solido infinitè longo et cuipiam tamen parallelepipedo, cylindrove finite æquali.” Others prove that there are infinite quantities bounded on each side. If they find evidence in demonstrations of that kind, ought it not to be suspected, since after all, it doth not overbalance the evidence with which common sense informs us, that what is finite can never be equal with what is infinite, and that infinity as infinity cannot have any bounds? I add, that it is not true, that evidence can accompany these gentlemen in all their speculations. For proof of this I shall quote an author who is very well acquainted with their subtilties. “It were to be wished,” saith he,85 “that the analysis of infinitely small quantities, which is pretended to be so admirably fertile, should carry in its demonstrations that evidence which is, and of right ought to be expected in geometry. But when they argue on the infinite, on the infinite of infinite, on the infinite of infinite of infinite, and so on, without ever finding terms to stop them, and when they apply to infinite magnitudes these infinites of infinites, those whom they would either instruct or convince have not always the penetration requisite to see clearly into such profound abysses. Those who are accustomed to the old ways of reasoning in geometry, do not easily quit them to follow such abstracted methods; they choose rather not to go so far than to engage in the new paths of the infinite of infinite of infinite, where we do not always see very clearly about us, and where it is easy to go astray without perceiving it. For it is not sufficient, in geometry to conclude, we must evidently see that the conclusion is just.”It is a pretty good prejudice against the Mathematics, that Pascal despised them even before he gave himself up to devotion. He had been passionately fond of the Mathematics, and had made extraordinary progress in them. He was, besides, endued with a very solid judgment, and very few people were capable of knowing the value of things better than he. It was not by his conversion to the only thing necessary, that he became disgusted at these sciences which had so charmed him. It was the examination of the thing itself; and the reflection he made on the discourse of a layman, which cured him of his prepossession. It would be foolish to imagine that the Chevalier de Mere attacked him with pious reflexions. He undoubtedly made use of no other than philosophical considerations.
Observe, that it is highly proper that those, who endeavour to shew the weak side of the Mathematics, should convince the public that they understand them, that they have studied them, that they acknowledge the usefulness of them, and that they have no design to rob them of their just value. The learned bishop of Avranches, above cited, hath acted according to this rule, after having said several excellent things concerning the uncertainties and illusions of that science.
I believe that the Chevalier de Mere intended to recommend the philosophy of ideas, the most subtile metaphysics, which only tend to the contemplation of spirits, and the intelligible world which is in the mind of God; but the characteristics, which distinguish that science from the Mathematics, have not been considered by him; nor did he remember that the Mathematics have this principal property of
considering extension as separated from matter and every sensible quality. Extension or intelligible matter, is their object as sensible matter is that of physics. Their excellency, according to the ancients, consists in disengaging us from perishable corporeal things, and raising us to those which are spiritual, immutable, and eternal. Thence it proceeded that Plato disliked the conduct of some mathematicians who attempted to verify on matter their speculative propositions. I shall here transcribe a most excellent passage of Plutarch, which turns on a saying of Plato, that God is continually employed in geometrical exercises.86 “This saying, intimates what he himself has often mentioned, when he praised geometry as a science that takes men off from sensible objects, and fixes their thoughts on such as are intellectual and eternal, the contemplation of which is the end of all philosophy, as the viewing of mysteries is the end of mystical religion: for of all the mischiefs which arise to us from that sympathy in pain and pleasure which fastens the soul to the body, this is the greatest, that it renders sensible things more evident to us than intellectual, and forces the understanding to judge, rather according to passion than reason. Man being accustomed by his feeling of pain or pleasure, to regard the mutable and uncertain nature of bodies as a thing actually subsisting, grows blind, and loses the knowledge of that which really subsists, and destroys that instrument and light of the soul, which is worth a thousand bodily eyes, and by which alone the Deity can be discerned. Now in all the mathematical sciences, as in plain and smooth mirrors, the images and marks of the truth of intellectual objects appear, but geometry chiefly, as being the parent of all the rest, withdraws, and, as it were, purifies and sets loose the understanding from the thoughts of sensible objects; and therefore Plato himself reprehended Eudoxus, Archytas, and Menechmus, for endeavouring to reduce the doubling of the cube to mechanical operations, as if it were impossible to find out two lines which could be demonstrated to be mean proportionals. He objected to them that all that was good in geometry would be lost and corrupted, if it were made to fall back again to sensible things, instead of rising higher and contemplating those immaterial and immortal images, to which God was always attentive, and of which he was also the cause.”Several passages of Aristotle also inform us, that quantity, as disengaged from whatever falls under the senses, is the object of the Mathematics; and the greatest part of the mathematicians own, that this object exists no where but in the mind. Dr Barrow disapproves the granting this.87 His censure falls expressly on the Jesuit Blancanus and on Vossius; but it is certain that Blancanus was in the right, and ought not to have been censured for any thing besides asserting the possibility of the existence of the globe and triangle, &c. of the geometricians. There is no need of a long discourse to shew it impossible that this globe, or that triangle, &c. should really exist; we need only remember that such a globe placed on a plane, would only touch it in one indivisible point, and that rolling on the plane, it would touch it always in a single point. Whence it will result, that it must be wholly composed of unextended parts; but that is impossible, and manifestly includes this contradiction, that an extension would exist and not be extended. It would exist according to the supposition, and it would not be extended, since it would not be at all distinct from a being not extended. All philosophers agree that
the material cause is not distinct from its effects; wherefore what would be composed of unextended parts, would not be distinct from them; but whatever is the same thing with an unextended being, is necessarily an unextended thing. Our divines, when they teach that the world was produced out of nothing, do not mean that it is composed of nothing: the word nothing doth not signify the material cause of the world, “materiam ex qua but the state antecedent to the creation of the world, which they call “terminum à quo,” and they acknowledge that taking the word nothing in the first sense, it is absolutely impossible that the world should have been made of it. Now it is not more extravagant to assert, that the world was made of nothing as of its material cause, than to affirm that a foot of extension is composed of unextended parts. It is not therefore possible that either an angel, or God himself, should ever produce the triangle, the plane, the circle, the globe, &c. of the geometricians; and therefore Blancanus on this head deserved to be censured.Art. Zeno
MELANCTHON.
(On his Scepticism.)
I will make some reflexions upon the inclination to Pyrrhonism for which Melancthon is blamed. “He seemed to have been brought up in the school of Pyrrho, for a thousand doubts beset his soul, for fear, said he, of erring. His writings were a continual jumble of uncertainties.” Florimond de Remond, who says this, cites some authorities, and tells us no more than what an infinite number of writers have observed. See in the last place the bishop of Meaux in his “Histoire des Variations.” I believe they exaggerate the matter, but at the same time I think Melancthon was not free from doubts, and
that there were many points about which he could not positively say, it is so, and it cannot be otherwise. He was of a mild and peaceable disposition, he had a great deal of wit, much reading, and a vast knowledge. Such a mixture of natural and acquired qualities is commonly a source of irresolution. A great genius, supported with great knowledge, will scarce find error to be altogether on one side. He discovers a strong and a weak side in each party; he understands what is most specious in the objections of his adversaries, and what is not solid in his own proofs; he does, I say, all this, provided he be not of a choleric temper; for if he be, he is so prepossessed in favour of his own party, that his knowledge is of no service to him. He not only persuades himself that he is in the right, but he has such a fondness for his own sentiments, as moves him to hate bitterly the doctrine that opposes them. From a hatred of opinions he quickly proceeds to a hatred of persons; he aspires to triumph, and being heated with dispute, he is fretted till he obtains the victory: he is angry with those who represent to him, that it is for the interest of heavenly truth, that we should not have recourse to expedients of human policy. He is no less troubled if he hear any body say, that his doctrines are not certain and evident, and that the contrary party can allege good reasons. Being of such a temper, he examines things only for this end, that he may be more and more convinced, that the doctrines he has embraced are true, and he does not fail to find much solidity in his own arguments; for there is no mirror so flattering as prepossession: it is a paint that embellishes the ugliest faces; it does the same offices to a. doctrine that the Venus of the Roman poet did to her son.Restitit Æneas, claraque in luce refulsit;
Os humerosque deo similis: namque ipsa decoram
Cæsariem nato genitrix, lumenque juventæ
Purpureum, & lætos oculis afflarat honores.
Virgil Æn. lib, i, ver. 588.
Confess’d Æneas stood, and shone in light
Serene, in shape, and features like a God:
For Venns with the rosy bloom of youth
Had flush’d her son, with graceful looks adorn’d,
And breath’d a sparkling lustre on his eyes.—Trapp.
Melancthon not having this temper, could not be so steady in his opinions. He was so cool, that he examined matters freely pro and con; and because he loved peace, and deplored the confusions which the schism gave birth to, he was more disposed to judge favourably of several doctrines, which warm men made the foundation of a rupture, and which he would have had tolerated to facilitate a re-union. His modesty and experience rendered him a little distrustful. He was persuaded that his knowledge might increase every day, for he remembered that he had corrected many things in his own writings, which he believed to be good when he first published them; but time taught him to withdraw his approbation, and to apply to himself a fine passage of Terence:
Nunquam ita quisquam bene subdue ta ratione ad vitam fuît.
Quin res, ætas, usus, semper aliquid apportet novi,
Aliquid moneat: ut ilia, quæ te scire credas nescias
Et quæ tibi putâris prima, in experiundo ut repudies.
Quod mihi evenit nunc.
Terent. Adelph. act v, sc. iv. init.
No man ever formed a plan of life so exactly, but that experience, age and practice always taught him something new, and convinced him, that he was ignorant of what he thought he knew, and that he ought to reject what be had imagined was chiefly to be approved. This happens to be my case.
Could he warrant that time would not teach him still better? This is what hindered him from being peremptory in his opinions. He lived among a sort of people who appeared to him passionate, and too
forward to mix human methods, and the authority of the secular power with the affairs of the church. His tender conscience made him fear there was a mark of reprobation in it. Wherefore then did he continue in that party, will you say, if he had no positive assurance that it was the cause of God? It may be answered, whither would you have him go? Would not he have found in the Romish communion more things to be condemned, and more heat and oppression of conscience? Do not you think he had well weighed all inconveniences, when he cast his eyes upon Palestine, to retire thither in case his enemies should drive him away? “Non frangor animo, propter crudelissimam vocem meorum hostium, qui dixerunt, se mihi non relicturos esse vestigium pedis in Germania. Commendo autem me filio dei. Si solus expellar: Decrevi Palæstinam adire, & in illis Hieronymi latebris, in invocatione filii dei, & testimonia perspicua de doctrina scribere, & in morte deo animam commendare. I am not dejected at the cruel clamour of my enemies, who have threatened they will not leave me a footstep in Germany. But I commit myself to the son of God. If I shall be driven away alone, I am determined to go to Palestine, and in those lurking places of Jerom, by calling upon the son of God to write clear testimonies of the divine doctrine, and in death to recommend my soul to God.” Compare with this the design that Abelard had to retire among the infidels.Let us here admire a peculiar character of the fate of man: his virtues are liable to consequences that are somewhat vicious, and have their inconveniences; his bad qualities, on the contrary, produce good effects on several occasions. Modesty, moderation, love of peace, form in the minds of the most knowing men, a certain principle of equity, which makes them in some measure luke-warm and unresolved. Pride and passion make a great doctor so dogmatical and
self-conceited, that he does not entertain the least doubt, and will undertake and endure any thing for the advancement and propagation of his own opinions. If by good luck he light upon the truth, what services will he not do it? They will doubtless be greater, than they would be if he were of a more moderate temper. The ties of prejudice, or, if you please, the weight of the passions, more strongly fasten the soul to the truth, than the charms of light; and observe, that I say nothing of the good effects of grace, both upon constitutions that are too phlegmatic, and too choleric. I consider the matter only philosophically, and under this notion we may truly say, that as to what concerns the interest of a sect, a man who is obstinate and violent, is preferable to a wise man; and if any founder of a sect desire that his disciples should labour with success in spreading and propagating his doctrine, he should wish that they were of such a temper, as never to depart from any thing, and to espouse for all their lives the first party they embrace. If they pitch upon it before they are capable of weighing well the reasons on both sides, so much the better; they will be the farther from doubting for the future, and the less they doubt, the more obstinate and fiery they will be: whereas those who propose to inform themselves more and more every day, do not think themselves obliged to show a very great zeal; for they imagine, that what appears true to them to day, will appear to them at another time less probable than what they do not at all believe. Cicero, expresses very well these different characters, speaking of the Sceptics and Dogmatists. “Neque nostræ disputationes,” says he,88 “quicquam aliud agunt, nisi ut in utramque partem dicendo, & audiendo eliciant & tanquam exprimant aliquid, quod aut verum sit, aut id quàm proxime accedat. Neque inter nos & eos qui scire se arbitrantur quicquam interest, nisi quod illi non dubitant quin ea vera sint quæ defendant: Nos probabilia multa habemus, quæ sequi facile, affirmare vix possumus. Hoc antem liberiores & solutiores sumus, quod integra nobis est judicandi potestas, neque ut omnia quæ præscripta & quasi imperata sint, defendamus, necessitate ulla cogimur. Nam cæteri primum ante tenentur astricti, quam quid esset optimum, judicare potuerunt. Deinde infirmissimo tempore ætatis aut obsecuti amico cuidam, aut una alicujus quem primum audierunt, ratione capti, de rebus incognitis judicant, & ad quamcunque sunt disciplinant quasi tempestate delati, ad earn tanquam ad saxum adhærescunt. Nam quod dicunt, omnino se credere ei, quem judicent fuisse sapientem, probarem, si id ipsum rudes & indocti judicare potuissent. Statuere enim quid sit sapiens, vel maxime videtur esse sapientis. Sed ut potuerunt omnibus rebus auditis, cognitis etiam reliquorum sententiis judicaverunt, aut re semel audita ad unius se authoritatem contulerunt. Sed nescio quomodo plerique errare malunt, eamque sententiam quam adamaverunt, pugnacissime defendere, quàm sine pertinacia quid constantissime dicant exquirere. The design of our disputations is nothing else, but by arguing and hearing both sides of the question, to draw forth, and as it were to force out, the truth, or what comes very near it. Nor is there any difference between us and them, who think themselves knowing, but that they entertain no doubt about the truth of what they defend, while we think many things probable, which we can readily follow, but can hardly aver for certain. In this however we are more free and independent, that we have entire liberty to judge, and are by no means compelled to defend all that is prescribed, and in a manner commanded, while the others are preengaged before they could judge what was best. And moreover, being swayed in the weakest time of life by some friend, or led away by the first that instructed them, they judge of things without examination, and whatever, opinion they are cast upon, as it were by a tempest, they cleave to it as to a rock. As to what they say, that they entirely believe him, whom they judge to have been a wise man, I should approve it, if ignorant and illiterate persons could judge of wisdom; for to determine what a wise man is, seems chiefly to be the province of a wise man. But I know not how it is, most people chuse rather to err, and stiffly to defend the opinion they love, than, without partiality, to search out what they may stedfastly maintain.”—Art. Melancthon.MODESTY.
Icarius not having been able to persuade his son-in-law Ulysses to stay in Lacedæmon, endeavoured to prevail upon his daughter Penelope; but his intreaties could not move her to make so great a sacrifice to him, as to prefer her father’s house to her husband, and she therefore set out with Ulysses, to go to Ithaca. Her father perceiving that they had made their escape, got into his chariot and overtook them, and renewed his intreaties to his daughter. Ulysses being weary of that persecution, declared to Penelope that if she would follow him willingly, he should be very glad of it; but that if she had rather return to Lacedæmon, he would not oppose it. Though Penelope returned no answer but let down her veil, Icarius discovered her thoughts, and easily apprehended that she had a mind to follow her husband. He consented to it, and erected in that very place, a statue of Modesty. Here are some well-marked strokes of the character of a refined and honourable woman.— Art. Penelope.
MOLIERE.
(His singular Death.)
His last comedy was Le Malade Imaginaire. It
was acted for the fourth time on the seventeenth of February, 1673, and he died the same day. The chief person represented in Moliere’s last play, is a sick man who pretends to be dead. Moliere represented that person, and consequently was obliged in one of his scenes to act the part of a dead man. It has been said by a great many people, that he expired in that [part of his play, and that when he was to make an end of it, in order to shew that it was only a feint, he could neither speak nor get up, being actually dead. This singularity was looked upon as very wonderful, and afforded the poets plentiful matter for witty conceits and ingenious allusions; which, in all probability was the reason why that story was so much credited. Nay, some gave a serious turn to their thoughts, and made many moral reflections upon that incident. But the truth is, Moliere did not die in such a manner; he had time enough, though very sick, to make an end of his part, as it appears from this passage of his life. “The seventeenth of February, 1673, On which Le Malade Imaginaire was acted a fourth time, he was so much troubled with his defluxion, that he had much ado to act his part; he made an end of it in great pain, and the spectators were sensible that he was very far from being what he acted: for indeed when the comedy was over he went home, and was scarcely got to bed, when his continual cough increased so violently, that one of the veins of his lungs broke. He no sooner found himself in that condition, but he bent all his thoughts upon heavenly things; and immediately he lost his speech, and in half an hour’s time was stifled by the great quantity of blood that ran out of his mouth.”89 I must however inform the reader that if some other writers are to be credited, Moliere was not able to hold out till the play was over. “Moliere died in a very surprising manner. He had been indisposed for a long time; which was ascribed to the trouble his wife gave him, but more still to his great application. One day being to act Le Malade Imaginaire, a new piece at that time, and the last he had made, he was taken very ill before he began it, and had nearly put it off on account of his illness. Nevertheless, considering the great number of spectators, and being unwilling to send them away, he strained himself, and acted his part almost to the end, without perceiving that his illness increased upon him. But when he came to that part of the play, wherein he counterfeited a dead man, he happened to be so weak, that it was thought he was really dead, and they had much ado to make him stand up. They advised him to go to bed, but he chose rather to make an end; and the play being far advanced, he thought he could go through it without much prejudice to himself. But his zeal for the public was attended with a sad consequence to him; for as he was speaking of rhubarb and senna, in the ceremony of the physicians, some blood came out of his mouth, at which the spectators, and his friends being very much frighted, he was immediately carried home, and his wife followed him into his chamber, pretending to be very much afflicted. But every thing they did to relieve him proved ineffectual, and he died in a few hours, having lost all his blood, which came out of his mouth in great plenty.”90 The poets, as I have already said, took hold of that occasion to shew their wit: they banded about a great many small pieces; but of all those that were made upon Moliere’s death, none was better approved than these four Latin verses; which they have thought fit to preserve.Roscius hic situs est tristri Molierus in urnà.
Cui genus humanum ludere, ludus erat.
Dum ludit mortem, mors indignata jocantem
Corripit, & mimum fingere sæva negat.
Here Moliere lies, the Roscius of his age,
Whose pleasure, while he liv’d, was to engage
With human nature in a comic strife,
And personate her actions to the life.
But surly death, offended at his play,
Would not be jok’d with in so free a way.
He, when he mimick’d him, his voice restrain’d,
And made him act in earnest what he feign’d.
I add a French epitaph to the above Latin verses.
Cy git qui parut sur la scene
Le singe de la vie humaine,
Qui n’aura jamais son égal,
Qui voulant de la mort, ainsi que de la vie,
Etre l’imitateur dans une comedie,
Pour trop bien reussir, y reussit fort mal;
Car la mort en etant ravie,
Trouva si belle la copie,
Qu’elle en fit un original.
Within this melancholy tomb confin’d,
Here lies the matchless ape of human kind;
Who while he labour’d with ambitious strife
To mimic death as he bad mimick’d life,
So well, or rather ill perform’d his part,
That death delighted with his wond’rous art,
Snatch’d up the copy to the grief of France,
And made it an original at once.
His dramatic excellence.
Many are of opinion that the plays of Moliere exceed or equal the noblest performances of that kind in ancient Greece and Rome. Mr Perrault displeased many people by contradicting those who say, that no modern author can be compared with Homer and Virgil, Demosthenes and Cicero, Aristophanes and Terence, Sophocles and Euripides. This dispute has occasioned on both sides several books
which contain very good things; but we have not seen hitherto, the answer to Mr Perrault’s parallel, nor do we know when it will come out. I think I may say that among the productions of the pen, there are few things wherein so many people have acknowledged the superiority of our age, as in the comic pieces. Perhaps the reason of it is, that the beauties and niceties of Aristophanes are not known to all those who are sensible of Moliere’s wit and charms; for it ought to be granted, that in order to pass a right judgment upon the comic poets of Greece, it were necessary to be thoroughly acquainted with the faults of the Athenians. There is a ridicule common to all times and people, and a ridicule peculiar to certain ages and nations. Some scenes of Aristophanes which appear dull to us, perhaps wonderfully pleased the Athenians, because they knew the fault he ridiculed; perhaps it was a fault altogether unknown to us, a ridicule consisting in some particular facts, and in a transient and common taste of that time, of which we can have no notion, though we are able to read the originals. These obstacles do not permit us to admire that poet according to his merit, neither in Greek nor in Latin, nor in the French versions, though never so faithful and polite. Moliere is not liable to this inconveniency; we know what he aims at, and easily discover whether he describes well the ridicule of the age we live in; when he succeeds in any thing, it cannot escape us. Nay, he seems to be more copious than Aristophanes and Terence, as to those thoughts and nice railleries of which all ages and polite nations are sensible. This is a very considerable prerogative, for it cannot be said that our age has not a true relish of the fine passages of the Latin poets. If you shew some thoughts of Horace, Ovid, Juvenal, &c. to ingenious ladies in old French, if you translate them faithfully, though never so coarsely, they will tell you that those thoughts are fine, delicate, and subtle. There are some beauties of wit in fashion at all times; and it is probable that Moliere is more copious in that respect than the ancient comic poets. He has some beauties that would vanish away in a translation, or in a country of a different taste from that of France; but he has many others that would be preserved in all sorts of translations, and approved, whatever the taste of the readers might be, provided they understood the essence of a good thought.His unhappiness in marriage.
It is said that Moliere knew by experience the uneasiness of husbands that are jealous, or have reason to be so. I have read in a small book printed in the year 1688, that he was less praised than his wife was courted; that she “was the daughter of the deceased Mrs Bejard a country actress, who made many young sparks of Languedoc happy when her daughter was born; and therefore,” adds the author, “it were a very difficult thing to know who was her father among so many gallants: all that we know of it is, that her mother affirmed she never admitted any but persons of quality, except Moliere, and that therefore her daughter was of a very noble blood; and indeed, the only thing she recommended to her all all along was, to prostitute herself to none but the best sort of people. Moliere was thought to be her father, though he married her afterwards; however the truth of it is not well known. Moliere married young Mrs Bejard some time after he he had settled his company at Paris. He made some pieces for the stage, and among others La Princesse d’Elide, wherein his wife who acted the part of the princess, shone so brightly, that he had all the reason in the world to repent his having exposed her in the middle of all the sprightly youth of the court; for she was hardly got to the chamber where the king gave that
entertainment, but she fell desperately in love with the count de Guiche, and the count de Lauzun fell desperately in love with her. Moliere was made sensible that the great care he took to please the public, kept him from observing how his wife behaved herself; and that whilst he made it his business to divert every body, every body made it their business to divert his wife. Jealousy awakened his tenderness, which had lain asleep by reason of his application to study; he immediately went and made great complaints to his wife, telling her in a reproachful manner how carefully he had brought her up, how he had stifled his passion, how he had behaved himself towards her more like a lover than a husband, and that to reward him for so many kindnesses, she made him ridiculous to the whole court. His wife fell a weeping, and confessed to him that she had had an inclination for the count de Guiche; but she swore that the only fault she was guilty of, consisted in the intention; she added that he should forgive the first fault of a young woman, who for want of experience will be apt to make such steps; but that the kindness she was sensible he had for her, would prevent for the time to come, her being guilty of such a weakness. Moliere being persuaded of her virtue by her tears, begged her pardon a thousand times for the anger he had expressed, and gently represented to her that a good conscience was not sufficient to preserve reputation, but that we should take care to do nothing that may occasion ill reports, especially in an age wherein people are so apt to think ill, and so little disposed to judge favourably of things?”She however quickly began again her old trade more openly than ever. “Moliere being informed of his wife’s behaviour, by some people who were willing to make him uneasy, renewed his complaints with more violence than he had done before, and even threatened to get her confined; on which being
provoked to the highest degree with his reproaches, she wept and fell into a swoon. Her husband, who was extremely fond of her, repented of having put her into that condition, and did his best to recover her spirits, intreating her to consider that nothing but love was the occasion of his passion; and that she might be sensible of the great power she had over him, since notwithstanding all the reasons he had to complain of her, he was ready to forgive her provided she would be more cautious for the time to. come. One would think that so extraordinary a husband should have made her sensible of her fault, and brought her off from her ill course, but his kindness produced quite a contrary effect. She thought she had a fair opportunity of parting with him, and therefore she spoke in a high strain, and told him that she knew well enough from whom he had those false stories; that she was weary of being every day accused of a thing she was not guilty of; that he might think of a separation; and that she could no longer endure a man who was always intimate with Mad. de Brie who lived in the house, and had never left it since they were married. The care that was taken to pacify Moliere’s wife proved ineffectual; from that very moment she conceived an extreme aversion for him, and when he had a mind to make use of the privileges of a husband, she treated him with the utmost contempt. At last she carried things to such an extremity, that Moliere who began to perceive her wicked inclinations, consented to the separation she continually desired since their quarrel, so that without a decree of parliament, they agreed to have no commerce with one another; but Moliere could not resolve upon it without doing himself a great violence.“One day as he was thinking upon it in his garden at Auteuil, one of his friends called Chapelle, who came to walk there by chance, accosted him, and
finding him more uneasy than he used to be, asked him several times the reason of it. Moliere being somewhat ashamed of showing so little constancy under a misfortune that was so much in fashion, held out as much as he could, but having his heart then full, a thing well known to those that have been in love, he ingenuously confessed to his friend that the grief wherewith he was overwhelmed, proceeded from his being obliged to use his wife as he did. Chapelle, who thought he was above things of that nature, jeered him, and told him he wondered that a man who knew so well how to represent the weak side of other men, should be guilty of a weakness he blamed every day, and showed him that the most ridiculous of all was, to love a woman when her love is not reciprocal. ‘ For my part,’ added he, ‘ I must needs tell you that if I were so unhappy as to find myself in such a condition, and if I were fully persuaded that the woman I love grants some favours to others, I should have such a contempt for her, that it would infallibly cure my passion. You have a satisfaction you could not have if she were your mistress, and revenge which commonly succeeds love in an injured lover, may make amends for all the uneasiness your wife gives you, since you need only get her shut up, and this will be a sure way to quiet your mind.’ Moliere, who heard his friend quietly enough, interrupted him, and asked whether he had ever been in love. ‘ Yes,’ replied Chapelle, ‘ I have been in love as a man of sense ought to be, but I should not have been so much troubled for a thing which my happiness should have required from me, and I am ashamed to see you so uncertain? ‘ I perceive,’ replied Moliere, ‘ that you have never been a true lover, and that you have taken the figure of love for love itself. I will not allege many examples whereby you might know the power of that passion, but shall only give you a faithful account of the perplexity I am in, to make you sensible how little a man is master of himself, when love has got its usual ascendant over him. Wherefore in answer to what you say, that I have a perfect knowledge of men’s hearts, as it appears by the public descriptions I daily make of them, I confess that I made it my chief study to know their weak side; but if I have learned that the danger may be shunned, experience has but too well taught me that it is impossible to avoid it. I judge of it every day by myself.’ ”He afterwards gives an account of his marriage, and after some reflections, adds, “I am therefore resolved to live with her as if she were not my wife; but if you knew the anguish I am in, you would pity me: my passion is come to such a pitch, that I cannot forbear being concerned for; and when I consider that it is impossible for me to overcome my affection for her, I am apt to fancy that perhaps she finds it no less difficult to conquer her inclinations to be a coquet, and I am more disposed to pity her than to blame her. You will say that none but a poet can love in such a manner; but it is my opinion there is but one sort of love, and that those who have never been so nice, are perfect strangers to true love. Do not you wonder that my reason should serve only to make me sensible of my weakness, without being able to conquer it?” “I must needs tell you,” replied his friend,” that you are more to be pitied than I thought; but I hope time will cure you, and I beseech you to use your endeavours towards it.”
Such was the fate of that wit. In the midst of the acclamations of the whole court, shining with glory, and admired in France and in foreign countries, he was tormented with a thousand domestic griefs. His marriage deprived him of his honour and quiet: nay, he could not have the satisfaction of hating his cross, I mean the person who was the cause of so much vexation. He might have been told, “physician, cure thyself: Moliere, you who give so much diversion
to the public, cannot you divert yourself? You laugh at every body, you give very good advice to the poor cuckolds, why do not you make use of it yourself first?” Perhaps he said a thousand times, as Horace did, “I had rather be accounted the meanest of all authors, than have so much wit, and live such an uneasy life.”(Boileau's Criticism.)
Boileau found fault with Moliere for humouring too much those that sat in the pit; which is a reasonable censure in some respects, but unjust in the main. Moliere was dead when Boileau praised him in one of his epistles; as much, or more, than in the satire he had inscribed to him. It is therefore a great piece of injustice to say, that he praised him out of policy, and for fear of being bantered by him upon the stage, if he should say nothing to his advantage, or if he should venture to criticise him. But some will say, he criticised him when he had nothing to fear, and therefore the suspicion entertained of him seems to be well grounded. I am not of that opinion; I believe that if he had made his Art Poëtique in Moliere’s life-time, he would have inserted in it the censure contained in the following verses. It was, in a manner, essential to his subject; there is in it a very judicious observation, which should be an inviolable rule, if comedies were only made to be printed; but because they are chiefly designed to appear on the stage in the presence of all sorts of people, it is not just to require they should be adapted to Boileau's taste. These are his words:—
Etudiez la cour, & connoissez la ville,
L’une & l’autre est toûjours en modèles fertile.
C'est par là que Moliere illustrant ses écrits
Peut-être de son art eût remporté le prix;
Si moins ami du peuple en ses doctes peintures,
Il n’eût point fait souvent grimacer ses figures,
Quitté pour le bouffon, l’agréable & le fin.
Et sans honte à Terence allié Tabarin.
Dans ce sac ridicule où Scapin s'envelope,
Je ne reconnois plus l'auteur du Misanthrope.
Desperaux Art. Poétique, Canto iii, ver. 391, & seq.
Study the court, and know the city well:
So shall your various characters excel.
It was by this that Moliere in his plays
Perhaps, as victor, might have claim'd the bays;
If he, to please the rabble of the town,
Had not sometimes affected the buffoon;
Preferr'd low farce and drollery to wit,
And more like Tabarin than Terence writ.
In that same bag which Scapin doth enclose,
The author of the Misanthrope I lose.
He blames Moliere for endeavouring to please, not only men of a nice judgment, but also the common people. Moliere had some reasons for it, and might have said what Arlequin answered in a like case. “Those jests, said I to him, (to Arlequin) are pleasant enough in your plays; it is pity they are not equally good. I own it, replied he, but they please several young people, who come to our play-house only to laugh, and who laugh at any thing, and very often without knowing why. Our plays are frequently acted before such people, and if our jests were not suited to their capacity, our house would be very often empty. I am sorry, said I to him, that you have almost left your old pieces off; they were well approved by men of sense, they contained many things of good use in morality, and I dare say, that your stage was a place where vice was so effectually ridiculed, that every body found himself inclined to love virtue merely out of reason. Should we act none but our old pieces, replied he, our play-house would be little resorted to, and I will tell you what Cinthio formerly told St Evremond, that good actors
would be starved notwithstanding their excellent plays.” It ought to be observed, that players are at great charges, and that plays are no less designed for the diversion of the people, than for the diversion of the senate; and therefore they must be adapted to the taste of the public, in order to bring a numerous audience; for without that, although they were a perfect compound of ingenious, nice, and exquisite thoughts, the actors would be ruined by them, and they would be of no use to the people.This is what may be said, not only against those who censure Moliere, but also against those who find fault with many other books, because they do not consider the several uses they are designed for, and because there are many things in them which they could wish the author had left out. What do I care for that, says one? What is it to me, says another, that such a one had a bad wife? To what purpose so many quotations, so many merry thoughts, so many philosophical reflections, &c? Such are the complaints of those who censure this dictionary: but they will give me leave to tell them, that they want the most necessary notion to pass a right judgment upon this work. They do not consider that it ought to be of some use to all sorts of readers, and that if it had been entirely framed according to the taste of the greatest purists; it would go out of its natural sphere. I would have them to consider, that if I had kept to their notions of perfection, my book would indeed have been acceptable to them, but then many others had been displeased with it, and it had remained in the dust of the booksellers’ warehouses. What a poor thing would two or three large folios be for him, if there were nothing in them but what may please those who pretend to gravity, and to an exquisite taste, and who would have the most copious subjects explained in the shortest way? They may, if they please, make such a reflection as Socrates
made at the sight of a fair; but the fair will nevertheless be as it ought to be.91—Art. Moliere.MOTION.
(Arguments of Zeno against the existence of.)
Some objections of Zeno against the existence of motion, are preserved in Aristotle’s works. Read Aristotle’s Physics,92 where you will find four objections made by Zeno examined.
The first is: If an arrow, which tends towards a certain place, should move, it would move and rest at the same time. But that is a contradiction; therefore it doth not move. The consequence of the major is proved thus. The arrow is every moment in a space equal to itself. It is then at rest; for a thing is not in a space when it leaves it: wherefore there is no moment in which it moves; and if it moved in some moments, it would be at once in motion and at rest. To understand this objection the better, we must take notice of two principles which cannot be denied: one is, that a body cannot be in two places at once; the other, that two parts of time cannot exist together. The first of these two principles is so evident, even without making use of any attention, that I need not explain it: but as the other requires a little more reflection, in order to be understood, and comprehends the whole force of the objection, I will render it more obvious by an instance. I say then that what suits Monday and Tuesday with respect to succession, suits every portion of time whatsoever. Since then it is impossible for Monday and Tuesday to exist together, and that of necessity Monday must cease to be before
Tuesday begins to be, there is no paît of time whatsoever, which can co-exist with another; each must exist alone; each must begin to be, when the precedent ceaseth to be; and each must cease to be before the following can begin to exist, whence it follows, that time is not divisible in infinitum, and that the successive duration of things is composed of moments, properly so called, each of which is simple and indivisible, perfectly distinct from time past and future, and contains no more than the present time. Those who deny this consequence, must be given up to their stupidity, or their want of sincerity, or the insurmountable power of their prejudices. But if you once grant that the present time is indivisible, you will be unavoidably obliged to admit Zeno’s objection.. You cannot find an instant when the arrow leaves its place; for if you find one, it will be at the same time in that place, and yet not there. Aristotle contents himself with answering, that Zeno very falsely supposes the indivisibility of moments.Zeno’s second objection was this: If there be motion, what moves must pass from one place to another; for all motion comprehends two extremities, “terminum à quo,” and “terminum ad quern,” the place from whence it departs, and that to which it comes. But these two extremities are separated by spaces which contain an infinity of parts, since matter is divisible in infinitum; it is therefore impossible for the body that is moved to proceed from one extremity to the other. The intermediate space is composed of an infinity of parts, through which it ought to run successively, one after the other, without ever being able to touch that which is before at the same time that it touches that which is behind; so that to run through one foot of matter, I mean, to reach from the beginning of the first inch to the end of the twelfth inch, an infinite time would be necessary; for the spaces, which it is successively obliged to run
through, betwixt the two extremities, being infinite in number, it is plain that they cannot be run through in less than an infinity of moments, unless it were pretended that the body which moves is in several places at the same time, which is false and impossible. To this Aristotle makes a wretched answer: he saith that a foot of matter being no otherwise than virtually infinite or infinite in power, may very well be run through in a finite time. I set down his answer with the perspicuity which the Conimbrian commentaries have given it. “Aristotle says that he has already answered this objection, having shewn in this book, that a body infinite in division, that is, not actually, but virtually so, may be run over in a finite time. For as time hath a continuity of parts, which are infinite in the same manner as the parts of body are infinite, time and body will answer to one another by the same laws of infinity, and in the same division of their parts. Nor is it against the nature of such infinite that body should be thus run over.”You have here two particulars: That each part of time is divisible in infinitum; which is invincibly refuted above: That a body is only virtually infinite; which signifies that the infinity of a foot of matter, consists in this, that it may be divided without end into smaller parts, but not in its actually undergoing that division. To urge this, is to impose on the world; for if matter is divisible in infinitum, it actually contains an infinite number of parts, and is not therefore an infinite in power, but an infinite which really and actually exists. The continuity of parts hinders not their actual distinction; consequently their actual infinity depends not on the division; but subsists equally in a close quantity, and in that which is called discrete. But if we should grant this infinity in power, which by the actual division of its parts, would become an actual infinite, we should not lose any ground, for motion hath the same virtue as
division. It touches one part of the space without touching the other, and touches them all one after another; is not this actually to distinguish them? Is not this to do the very same thing which a geometrician performs on a table, when he draws lines which mark out all the half inches? He doth not break the table into half inches, but makes a division which expresses the actual distinction of parts; and I do not believe that Aristotle would have denied, that if an infinity of lines were drawn on an inch of matter, it would introduce a division which should reduce that to an actual infinity, which, according to him, was only virtually so. But what would be done with respect to the eyes, by drawing lines on an inch of matter, is certainly done with respect to the understanding by motion. This may be confirmed by what the geometricians say concerning the production of lines and surfaces.93 “The mathematicians, in order to give us a clear idea of a line, imagine a point to move from one place to another, for as a point is indivisible, that imaginary motion would leave a certain long trace without any breadth. The mathematicians in order to represent to us a surface, desire us to imagine any line moving across from one place to another, and the trace which that motion leaves, is a surface.” We conceive that a body which moves by successively touching the parts of space, determines them as effectually as the chalk in the hand; and besides, when it may be said that the division of an infinite is ended, is there not then an actual infinite? Do not Aristotle and his followers assert, that an hour contains an infinity of parts? Wherefore when it is past, it must be owned that an infinity of parts have actually existed one after another. Is this a virtual, and not an actual, infinity? Let us then say that this distinction is null, and that Zeno’s objection remains in full force. An hour, a year, or an age, &c. are each a finite time: a foot of matter is an infinite space; and therefore there is no body in motion that can ever reach from the beginning of a foot to the end of it. We shall see in the following remark, whether this objection may be eluded, by supposing that the parts of a foot of matter are not infinite. Let us content ourselves in this place with observing that the subterfuge of the infinity of the parts of time is of no service; for if there were in an hour an infinity of parts, it could never either begin or end. All its parts must exist separately; any two of them never do, nor can exist together: they must then be comprised between a first and last unity, which is incompatible with an infinite number.The third objection was the famous argument called Achilles. Zeno of Elea was the inventor of it, if we believe Diogenes Laërtius, who tells us nevertheless that Phavorinus ascribed it to Parmenides, and to several others. This objection hath the same foundation with the second, but it is more adapted to the declamatory stile. It tends to shew that the swiftest body in motion pursuing the slowest, can never reach it. Suppose a tortoise to be twenty paces before Achilles, and limit the swiftness of the hero in proportion to that of the tortoise as one to twenty. Whilst he advances twenty paces, the tortoise advances one: she will then be before him still. Whilst he proceeds to the twenty-first pace, she will gain the twentieth part, she will go through the twentieth part of the twenty-first part, and so on. Aristotle refers us to what he says in answer to the second objection; and we may refer him to our reply. See also what shall be said in the following remark, concerning the difficulty of explaining wherein consists the swiftness of motion.
I proceed to the fourth objection, which shows the contradictions of motion. Suppose a table of four ells, and take also two bodies of the same measure,
one of wood, and the other of stone. Let the table be immoveably fixed, and bear the piece of wood according to the length of two ells westward, and suppose the piece of stone placed to the east, and only to touch the edge of the table. Suppose it to move on the table westward, and that in half an hour it goes the length of two ells; it will become contiguous to the piece of wood. Suppose that they touch one another only by their edges, and in such a manner that the motion of the one towards the west, doth not hinder the motion of the other to the east. At the moment of their contiguity, let the piece of wood begin to tend towards the east, whilst the other continues to tend towards the west; let them move with equal velocity. In half an hour, the piece of stone will finish its course all over the table; and so it will move through a space of four ells, the whole length of the table, in an hour. But the piece of wood will run through the same space of four ells in half an hour, by reason that it touched the whole extent of the piece of stone by the edges: therefore it is true that two bodies, moving with an equal swiftness, go through the same space, one in half an hour, and the other in an hour: and therefore an hour and half an hour are equal times; which is contradictory. Aristotle saith, that this is a sophism, since one of those moving bodies is considered in reference to a space which continues at rest, meaning the table, and the other with respect to a space in motion, meaning the piece of stone. I own he is in the right to observe that difference, but this doth not remove the difficulty; for a thing which seems incomprehensible, remains still to be explained; that is, that a piece of wood should at the same time move four ells on its south-side, and but two on its inferior surface.But I will illustrate this with a clearer instance. Suppose two books in folio of equal length, as two feet each. Place them on a table, one before the other;
move them at the same time one above the other, one towards the east and the other towards the west, till the eastern edge of the one and the western edge of the other touch one another; and you will find that the edges by which they did touch one another, are now four feet distant from each other; and yet each of the books hath moved but the space of two feet. You may strengthen the objection by supposing whatsoever body you please in motion, in the midst of several others, which are moving several ways, and in various degrees of swiftness; you will find that the same body will in the same time run through several sorts of space, double, triple, &c. to one another; consider well of it, and you will find that this is only explicable by arithmetical calculations, which are only the idea of our mind; but that thing doth not seem practicable in the bodies themselves.94 For we ought to remember these three essential properties of motion. 1. It is impossible for a body in motion to touch the same part of a space twice successively. 2. It never can touch two of them at once. 3. It never can touch the third before the second, nor the fourth before the third, &c. He who can physically reconcile these three particulars with the distance of four feet betwixt two bodies, which have run through no more than the space of two feet, must be no ignorant person. Observe, these three properties are as necessarily requisite to a body which goes over spaces, whose motion is contrary to its own, for instance, the two folio books above mentioned, as to one which passes through spaces where it meets with no resistance.I am apt to think that those who would revive Zeno’s opinion, ought to argue thus.
There is no extension, therefore there is no motion. The consequence is good, for what hath no extension, fills no space, and what fills no space cannot possibly pass from one place to another, and consequently move. This is incontestible: the difficulty is then to prove that there is no extension. Zeno might have argued thus: extension cannot be composed either of mathematical points, or of atoms, or of parts divisible in infinitum; therefore its existence is impossible. The consequence seems certain, by reason it is impossible to conceive more than these three modes of composition in extension; wherefore the antecedent remains alone to be proved. A few words shall suffice as to mathematical points, for a man of the meanest capacity may apprehend with the utmost evidence, if he be but a little attentive, that several nothingnesses of extension joined together, will never make an extension. Consult the first body of scholastical philosophy that comes to hand, and you will there find the most convincing reasons, supported by many geometrical demonstrations, against the existence of these points. Wherefore, to say no more on that head, let us take it to be impossible, or at least inconceivable, that matter should be composed of them. Nor is it less impossible or inconceivable that it should be composed of the Epicurean atoms, that is, of extended and indivisible corpuscles; for every extension, how small soever, hath a right and left side, an upper and lower side: therefore it is a conjunction of distinct bodies; and I may deny of the right side what I affirm of the left, for these two sides are not in the same place. A body cannot be in two places at once; and consequently every extension which fills several parts of space contains several bodies. I know besides, and the anatomists do not deny it, that because two atoms are two beings, they are separable from one another; whence I conclude, with the utmost certainty, that since the right side of an atom is not the
same being with the left side, it is separable from the left; and therefore the indivisibility of an atom is merely chimerical. Whence it follows, that if there be an extension, its parts are divisible in infinitum. But, on the other side, if they cannot be divisible in infinitum, we ought to conclude the existence of extension impossible, or at least incomprehensible.The divisibility in infinitum is an opinion embraced by Aristotle, and almost all the professors of philosophy, in all universities for several ages. Not that they understand it, or can answer the objections it is liable to; but because, having clearly apprehended the impossibility of either mathematical or physical points, they found no other course but this to take. Besides, this opinion affords great conveniencies; for when their distinctions are exhausted, without being able to render this doctrine comprehensible, they shelter themselves in the nature of the subject, and allege, that our understandings being limited, none ought to be surprised that they cannot resolve what relates to infinity, and that it is essential to such a continuity to be liable to such difficulties as are insurmountable by human reason. Observe that those who espouse the hypothesis of atoms, do not do it because they comprehend that an extended body may be simple, but because they believe the two other hypotheses to be impossible. We may say the same thing of those who admit of mathematical points. In general, all those who argue on extension, are determined in their choice of an hypothesis no otherwise than by the following principle: “If there be but three ways of explaining a subject, the truth of the third necessarily results from the falsity of the other two.” Whence they do not believe themselves mistaken in the choice of the third, when they are clearly convinced that the two others are impossible; and accordingly the impenetrable difficulties of the third do not stop them in the least: they comfort
themselves with this consideration, that they may be retorted; or with a persuasion that, after all, this hypothesis is true, because the other two are not so.A Zenonist might tell those who choose one of these three hypotheses, you do not argue rightly; you make use of the disjunctive syllogism.
Matter is composed either of mathematical points, or physical points, or of parts divible in infinitum.
But it is not composed of. . . nor of. . .95
Therefore it is composed of.... The fault of your argumentation lies not in the form, but in the matter; you ought to lay aside your disjunctive syllogism, and make use of this hypothetical one.
If extension existed, it would be composed either of mathematical points, or of physical points, or of parts divisible in infinitum.
But it is not composed either of mathematical points or of physical points, or of parts divisible in infinitum.
Therefore it doth not exist.
There is no fault in the form of this syllogism; the sophism à non sufficienti enumeratione partium is not in the major; the consequence is therefore necessary, provided the minor be true. To be clearly satisfied of the truth of the minor, we need only consider the arguments which those three sects allege one against another, and compare them with their respective answers. When each of those three sects makes the attack, it overthrows, subdues, and triumphs; but when it is on the defensive, it is utterly overthrown and confounded in its turn. To be convinced of their weakness, it is enough to remember that the strongest of them, that which best disputes the ground, is the hypothesis of the divisibility in infinitum. The
school-men have armed it cap-à-pee with all the distinctions which their great leisure would allow them to invent; but all this only serves to afford their scholars matter for talk upon a public disputation, that their relations may not suffer the disgrace of seeing them mute. A father or a brother go away better satisfied, when the scholar distinguishes betwixt a categorematical infinite, and a syncategorematical one, betwixt the parts communicantes, et non communicantes, proportional and aliquot, than if he had answered nothing. It was therefore necessary for the professors to invent some jargon; but all the pains which they have taken, will never be able to obscure this notion which is as clear and evident as the sun; that an infinite number of parts of extension, each of which is extended, and distinct from all others, as well with respect to its entity, as with respect to the space it fills, cannot be contained in a space one hundred thousand millions of times less than the hundred thousandth part of a barley corn.Here is another difficulty. An extended substance, if it did exist, must necessarily admit of an immediate contact of its parts. According to the hypothesis of a vacuum, several bodies would be separated from all others, but several others must immediately touch. Aristotle, who denied this hypothesis, is obliged to own that there is no part of extension which doth not immediately touch some other parts in all its exterior points. This is incompatible with the divisibility in infinitum; for if there be no body but what contains an infinity of parts, it is evident that each particular part of extension is separated from all others by an infinity of parts, and that the immediate contact of two parts is impossible. But when a thing cannot have whatever is absolutely necessary to its existence, it is certain that its existence is impossible: wherefore the existence of extension necessarily requiring the immediate contact of
its parts, and that immediate contact being impossible in an extension divisible in infinitum, it is evident that the existence of such an extension is impossible, and that this extension barely exists in the mind. What the mathematicians acknowledge with respect to lines and superficies, with which they demonstrate so many excellent things, must be owned to be true with respect to bodies. They honestly own, that length and breadth without depth, are things which cannot exist any where but in our imagination. Let us say the same thing of the three dimensions: they cannot subsist any where but in our minds; they cannot exist any other way than ideally. Our mind is a kind of ground, where a hundred thousand objects of different colours, figures, and situation unite: for from an eminence we may see at once a vast plain covered with houses, trees, and flocks, &c. Whilst it is so far from truth, that all these things can possibly be ranged in this plain, that there are not two which can find room there; each would require ’an infinite space, since it contains an infinity of extended bodies. There should be infinite intervals left round each one, by reason that there is an infinity of bodies betwixt each part, and every other part. Let it not be said that God can do every thing; for if the most religious divines venture to say, that in a right line of twelve inches, he cannot render the first and third inches immediately contiguous, I may very well say that he cannot make two parts of extension immediately touch one another, when an infinity of other parts separate them from one another. Let us therefore say that the contact of the parts of matter is only ideal; and that the extremities of several bodies no where unite but in our mind.I shall now make a quite contrary objection. The penetration of dimension is impossible, and yet it would be inevitable, if extension should exist; therefore the existence of extension is impossible. Put a
cannon bullet upon a table, a bullet, I say, covered over with some liquid colour, make it roll upon the table, and it will trace out a line by its motion: you will then have two strong proofs of the immediate contact of the bullet and table. The weight of the bullet will shew you that it immediately touches the table; for if it did not touch it in this manner, it would remain suspended in the air, and your eyes will, besides, convince you of this contact by the track which the bullet hath left. Now I maintain that this contact is a penetration of dimensions properly so called. That part of the bullet which touches the table is a determinate body, and really distinct from the other parts of the bullet which do not touch the table. I affirm the same thing of that part of the table touched by the bullet. These two parts touched, are each of them infinitely divisible in length, breadth, and profundity; they must therefore mutually touch one another according to their profundity, and consequently they penetrate one another: This is every day objected to the peripatetics in their public disputes: they defend themselves by a jargon of distinctions, proper for no other use than preventing the displeasure of a scholar’s relations, if they should see him silenced; and as for the farther use of these distinctions they have never served to any other purpose than to make it appear that the objection is unanswerable. Here is therefore a very singular thing; if extension existed, it would not be possible for its parts to touch one another, and it would be impossible that they should not penetrate one another. Are not these most evident contradictions in the existence of extension?Add to this, that all the ways of suspension which destroy the reality of corporeal qualities, overthrow the reality of extension. Since the same bodies are sweet to some men, and bitter to others, it may reasonably be inferred that they are neither sweet nor
bitter in their own nature, and absolutely speaking. The modern philosophers, though they are no sceptics, have so well apprehended the foundation of the epoch with relation to sounds, odours, heat, and cold, hardness, and softness, ponderosity, and lightness, savours, and colours, &c. that they teach that all these qualities are perceptions of our mind, and do not exist in the objects of our senses. Why should we not say the same thing of extension? If a being, void of colour, yet appears to us under a colour determined as to its species, figure, and situation, why cannot a being, without any extension, be visible to us, under an appearance of determinate extension, shaped, and situate in a certain manner? Observe also, that the same body appears to us little or great, round or square, according to the place whence we view it; and certainly, a body which seems to us very little, appears very great to a fly. It is not therefore by their proper, real, or absolute extension that objects present themselves to our mind: whence we may conclude, that in themselves they are not extended. Would you at this day argue thus: since certain bodies appear sweet to one man, sour to another, and bitter to another, &c. I affirm, that in general they are savoury, though I do not know the savour proper to them, absolutely, and in themselves? All the modern philosophers would explode you. Why then would you venture to say, since certain bodies appear great to this animal, middle sized to that, and very little to a third, I affirm, that in general they are extended, though I do not know their absolute extension? Let us see what a celebrated Dogmatist acknowledges:96 “It is clearly discernible by the senses, that such a body is larger than another; but we cannot certainly know what is the true and natural size of each body; to comprehend which we need only consider, that if all mankind had never seen external objects any otherwise than through magnifying glasses, it is certain that they would not have formed any other idea of bodies, and all the measures of body, than according to the size in which they had appeared to them through those glasses. But our eyes themselves are optic glasses, and we do not know exactly whether they diminish or increase the objects which we see, and whether those artificial glasses, which, as we believe, diminish or increase them, do not on the contrary restore them to their true magnitude; wherefore we do not certainly know the absolute and natural magnitude of each body. Neither do we know whether they appear of the same size in our eyes as in those of other men; for though two persons measure them, and agree that a certain body, for instance, is but five feet; yet what the one conceives to be a foot, differs perhaps from what the other takes to be so; for the one conceives what his eyes report to him, as doth the other also; but perhaps the eyes of the one do not report the same thing which the eyes of the other represent, because the optic glasses are differently made.” Father Malebranche,97 and Father Lami,98 a Benedictine monk, will give you an excellent account of all these particulars, and one is capable of carrying my objection to a very great degree of strength.My last difficulty shall be grounded on the geometrical demonstrations so subtly displayed, to prove that matter is divisible in infinitum. I maintain they serve for no other use than to make it appear that extension exists no where but in our minds.
In the first place I observe that some of these demonstrations are employed against those who affirm that matter is composed of mathematical points. It is objected to them that the sides of a square would be equal to the diagonal, and that amongst concentrical circles, the least would be equal to the largest. This consequence is proved by making it appear that the right lines which may be drawn from one of the sides of a square to another, will fill the diagonal, and that all the right lines which may be drawn from the circumference of the largest circle, will find room in the smallest circumference. These objections are not stronger against bodies being composed of points, than against their being divisible in infinitum; for if the parts of a certain extension are not more numerous in the diagonal line than in the sides, nor in the circumference of the largest circle than in that of the smallest concentric circle; it is clear that the sides of the square equal the diagonal, and that the smallest concentric circle equals the greatest. But all the right lines which can be drawn from one side of a square to another, and from the circumference of the largest circle to the centre, are equal to each other, they ought then to be considered as aliquot parts; that is, as parts of a certain magnitude, and of the same denomination. Now it is certain that two extensions, whereof the aliquot parts and of the same denomination, as inch, foot, pace, are in equal number, do not exceed one another, it is therefore certain that the sides of the square would be as large as the diagonal line, if the diagonal line cannot be intersected by more right lines than the sides. The same thing may be said of two concentric circles. In the second place I affirm, that it being very true that if circles did exist, as many right lines might be drawn from the circumference to the centre, as there are parts in the circumference, it follows that the existence of a circle is impossible. I am persuaded it will be allowed me that every being which cannot exist, without containing properties which cannot exist, is impossible; but a round extension cannot exist without having a centre in which there meet as many right lines as there are parts in the circumference, and it is certain that such a centre cannot exist; it must then be owned that the existence of this round extension is impossible; but that such a centre cannot exist, I shall clearly prove. Let us suppose a round extension whose circumference is four feet, it then contains forty-eight inches, each of which contains twelve lines; the circumference will then contain five hundred and seventy-six lines, which is the number of the right lines that may be drawn from the circumference to the centre. Let us trace a circle very near the centre; it may be so small that it will not contain above fifty lines; it cannot then give passage to five hundred and seventy-six right lines, therefore it will be impossible for these five hundred and seventy-six right lines begun to be drawn from the circumference of this round extension, to reach the centre; and yet if this extension exist, these five hundred and seventy-six lines must of necessity reach the centre. What remains then to be said, but only that this extension cannot exist, and that accordingly, all the properties of circles and squares, &c. are founded on lines without breadth, which cannot exist otherwise than ideally? Observe, that our reason and our eyes are equally deceived in this case. Our reason clearly conceives, first, that the concentric circle nearest the centre is less than the circle which encompasses it; and secondly, that the diagonal of a square is larger than the side. Our eyes see this without compasses, and more clearly with compasses; and yet the mathematicians teach us, that as many right lines may be drawn from the circumference to the centre as there are points in the circumference, and that from one side of a square to the other, as many right lines may be drawn as there are points in the side: and besides, our eyes shew us that there is not in the circumference of the small concentrical circle, any one point which is not a part of a right line drawn from the circumference of the great circle, and that the diagonal of the square contains no one point that is not a part of a right line drawn from one of the sides of the square to another. Whence then can it proceed that this diagonal is greater than the sides?This is what relates to the first proof which I suppose Zeno might have made use of to refute the existence of motion. It is founded on the impossibility of the existence of extension. I am willing to believe that what he might have said in the last place, by making use of geometrical demonstrations, is easy to be refuted by the same means, but I am strongly convinced that the arguments taken from the mathematics to prove the divisibility in infinitum, prove too much: for either they prove nothing, or they prove an infinity of aliquot parts.
Zeno’s second objection might have been this: granting that there is an extension which is not merely ideal, but really exists, yet I say that it is immovable; motion is not essential to it, nor contained in the idea of it, and several bodies are sometimes in a state of rest. Motion is therefore an accident; but is it distinct from matter? If it be distinct, of what must it be produced? Doubtless of nothing; and when it ceases it will be reduced to nothing; but do not you know that nothing is made out of nothing, and that nothing returns to nothing: besides, must not motion necessarily be diffused on and through the body that is moved? The former will therefore be as much extended as the latter, and of the same figure; there will therefore be two equal extensions in the same space, and consequently a penetration of dimensions. But when three
or four causes move one body, must not each of them produce its motion? Must not these three or four motions be penetrated together, both with the body and amongst themselves? How then can each produce its effect? A vessel moved by the winds, tide, and rowers, describes a line which partakes more or less of these three actions, according as one of them is stronger than the others. Will you venture to affirm that insensible entities penetrated amongst themselves and with the whole vessel, will have such a regard for one another as not to thwart themselves? If you say that motion is a mode which is not distinct from matter, you must then allow that whatever produces it, creates matter; for without producing matter, it is impossible to produce a being which is the same thing with matter; but would it not be absurd to assert that the wind which moves the vessel, produces a vessel? It appears therefore that these objections cannot be otherwise answered than by supposing with the Cartesians, that God is the sole and immediate cause of motion.Here is another objection. It is impossible to affirm what motion is, for if you say that it is to pass from one place to another, you explain one obscurity by a greater,—obscurium per obscurius. I immediately ask what you mean by the word place? Do you mean a space distinct from bodies? If so, you will involve yourself in a labyrinth from which you will never be able to get out. Do you mean by it the situation of a body among some others that surround it? but in this case you will define motion in such a manner, that it will a thousand and a thousand times suit with bodies that are at rest. It is certain that hitherto the true definition of motion hath not been found; that of Aristotle is absurd, and that of Des Cartes wretched. Mr Rohault, after much pains in endeavouring to find one which might rectify the notion of Des Cartes, produces a description which
may agree with bodies of which we conceive very distinctly they do not move at all, wherefore Mr Regis thought himself obliged to reject it; but that which he hath given is not capable of distinguishing motion from rest. God, the only mover according to the Cartesians, must do with respect to a house, the same thing as with respect to the air which flies from it in a high wind: he must create the air every moment with new local relations with respect to that house, and he must also every moment create that house with new local relations with respect to that air. And certainly according to the principles of these gentlemen, no body is at rest if an inch of matter is in motion: all then that they say centers in explaining apparent motion, that is, explaining those circumstances which make us judge that one body moves and another doth not; but all this is useless labour; every one is capable of judging of appearances. The question is, to explain the very nature of things which exist independently of our minds; and since in that respect motion is inexplicable, we may as well say that it exists only in our minds.I shall now offer an objection much stronger than the foregoing. If motion can never begin, it doth not exist, but it is impossible for it ever to begin; therefore, &c. I prove the minor thus. It is impossible for a body to be in two places at once, but it could never begin to move without being in an infinity of places at once; for though it advance ever so slowly, it would touch a part divisible in infinitum, and which consequently corresponds with infinite parts of space; therefore, &c. Besides, it is certain that an infinite number of parts doth not contain any which is first; and yet a body in motion can never touch the second before the first; for motion is a being essentially successive, of which two parts cannot exist together, wherefore motion can never begin if matter is divisible in infinitum, as doubtless it is if
it exist. The same reason demonstrates that a body in motion, rolling on a sloping table, could never fall off the said table, for before it falls it must of necessity touch the last part of the table; and how will it touch that, since all those parts which you will pretend to be the last, contain an infinity of parts, and an infinite number hath no part which can be last? This objection obliged some scholastic philosophers to suppose that nature hath intermixed mathematical points with the parts divisible in infinitum, to the end that they may. serve to connect them, and compose the extremities of bodies. They thought by that means to answer also the objection of the penetrative contact of two surfaces; but this evasion is so absurd, that it doth not deserve to be refuted.I shall not much insist on the impossibility of circular motion, though that would supply me with a strong objection. I say only in one word, that if there were a circular motion, there would be a whole diameter at rest, whilst all the remainder of the globe moved very swiftly. But conceive this if you can in matter. The Chevalier de Meré did not forget this objection in his letter to Mr Pascal on the futility of the mathematics.
Lastly, I say that if motion existed, it would be equal in all bodies; there would be no Achilles’s nor tortoises; the hound would never reach the hare. Zeno objected this; but it seems he went only upon the divisibility of matter in infinitum; and perhaps, some will say, he would set aside that objection, if he had dealt with adversaries who admitted either mathematical points or atoms. I answer, that this objection equally strikes at all the three systems: for suppose a road composed of indivisible particles; place the tortoise in it one hundred points before Achilles, and if she go on, he will never reach her: Achilles will go but one point every moment, since if he went two he would be in two places at the same
time. The tortoise will also advance one point each moment; which is the least she can do, nothing being less than a point. The true reason of the swiftness of motion is inexplicable: the most happy thought on this head is, that no motion is continued, and that all those bodies which seem to us to move, stop by intervals. That which moves ten times faster than another, rests ten times to the other’s hundred; but however well contrived this subterfuge appears, it is of no use; it is confuted by several solid reasons which you may see in all the bodies of philosophy. I content myself with that which is drawn from the motion of a wheel: you may make a wheel of so large a diameter that the part of the spokes the farthest distant from the center will move one hundred times swifter than the part fixed in the nave. And yet the spokes remain always straight: an evident proof that the lower part doth not rest, whilst the upper moves. The divisibility in infinitum of the particles of time, rejected above as visibly false and contradictory, is of no force against this sixth argument. You will find some other very subtle objections in Sextus Empiricus.It is not likely that Zeno forgot the objections which may be grounded on the distinction of a plenum and a vacuum. Melissus, who studied under the same master with him, denied motion, and made use of this proof: If motion exist, there must of necessity be a vacuum, but there is no vacuum, therefore, &c. This shews that in Zeno’s time there was a great philosopher, who did not believe motion and a plenum to be consistent together. Wherefore since Zeno denied a vacuum, I cannot persuade myself that he did not make use of the same proof with Melissus, against those who admitted motion. He made it his business to oppose them, and used several arguments for that purpose. Would he have forgotten the argument which the asserters of a vacuum have so often
employed? He might have turned it otherwise than they, but not less speciously. If there were no vacuum, said they, there would be no motion; but motion exists, therefore there is a vacuum. He would have argued on the contrary foot, agreeing with them in this principle, that motion cannot exist in a full space; for, from this position, common to them and himself, he might have drawn a consequence diametrically opposite to theirs. His syllogism ought to have run thus: if there were any motion, there would be a vacuum; but there is no vacuum, therefore there is no motion. Observe, that when I say his manner of arguing would not have been less specious than theirs; I mean this only with respect to philosophers capable of comprehending the reasons against a vacuum; for I know very well that to common minds it is almost as strange a paradox to deny a vacuum, as to deny motion. Anaxagoras found the vulgar so possessed with the existence of a vacuum, that he had recourse to some trivial experiments to destroy this false prejudice. Aristotle, in the chapter where he mentions this, alleges some of the arguments which were made use of to prove a vacuum: they are not of any force, and he refutes them pretty well in the following chapter. Gassendus hath given all possible force to the experiments and arguments which favour the hypothesis of Epicurus concerning a vacuum; but he hath said nothing really convincing, and the weakness of it is fully exposed in the Art of Thinking. However, I believe that Zeno rendered himself formidable on this topic: such a subtle and vehement logician as he, could very dexterously perplex this subject, and it is not probable that he neglected it.But if he had known what several excellent mathematicians say in this age, he might have made vast ravages, and given himself airs of triumph. They assert that a vacuum is absolutely necessary, and that without it the motion of the planets, and the
consequences thereof are things inexplicable and impossible. I have heard a great mathematician (who hath reaped great advantages from the works and conversation of Sir Isaac Newton) say, that it is no longer a problem “whether motion be possible, supposing a plenum that the falsity and impossibility of that proposition hath been not only proved, but mathematically demonstrated, and that henceforth to deny a vacuum will be to deny a point supported by the utmost evidence. He maintained that vacuity takes up incomparably more room than matter in the most ponderous bodies; so that in the air, for instance, there are not more corpuscles than there are great cities on earth. Thus we are doubtless highly obliged to the mathematics: they demonstrate the existence of what is contrary to the most evident notions of our intellect; for if there be any nature with whose essential properties we are clearly acquainted, it is extension: we have a clear and distinct idea of it, which informs us that the essence of extension consists in the three dimensions, and that its inseparable attributes and properties are divisibility, mobility, and impenetrability. If these ideas be false, deceitful, chimerical, and illusory, is there a notion in our mind which we ought not to take for a vain phantom, or matter of distrust? Can the demonstrations which prove a vacuum remove our distrust? Are they more evident than the idea which shews us that a foot of extension may change its place, and cannot be in the same place with another foot of extension? Let us search as much as we please into all the recesses of our mind, we shall never find there any idea of an immovable, indivisible, and penetrable extension. And yet if there be a vacuum, there must exist an extension, essentially endued with these three attributes. It is no small difficulty, to be forced to admit the existence of a nature of which we have no idea, and is besides repugnant to the clearest ideas of our mind.But there are a great many other difficulties, —is this vacuum, or immovable, indivisible, and penetrable extension, a substance, or a mode? It must be one of the two, for the adequate division of being, comprehends only these two members. If it be a mode, they must then define its substance; but that is what they can never do. If it be a substance, I ask whether it be created or uncreated? If created, it may perish, while the matter, from which it is really distinct, may not cease to be. But it is absurd, and contradictory, that a vacuum, or a space distinct from bodies, should be destroyed, and yet that bodies should remain distant from each other, after the destruction of the vacuum. If this space distinct from bodies is an uncreated substance, it will follow either that it is God, or that God is not the only substance which necessarily exists. Which part soever you take of this alternative, you will find yourself confounded: the last is a formal, and the other at least a material impiety; for all extension is composed of distinct parts, and consequently separable from each other; whence it results, that if God were extended, he would not be a simple, immutable, and properly infinite being, but a collection of beings, “ens per aggregationem,” each of which would be finite, though all of them together would be unlimited. He would be like the material world, which, in the Cartesian hypothesis, is an infinite extension. And as to those who should pretend that God may be extended without being material or corporeal, and allege, as an argument, his simplicity, you will find them solidly refuted in one of Mr Arnauld’s books: I shall cite only these words from it: “So far is the simplicity of God from allowing us room to think that he may be extended, that all divines have acknowledged after St Thomas, that it is a necessary consequence of the simplicity of God not to be capable of being extended.” Will they say with the
schoolmen, that space is, at most, no more than a privation of body; that it hath no reality, and that properly speaking, a vacuum is nothing? This is so unreasonable an assertion, that all the modern philosophers who declare for a vacuum, have laid it aside, however convenient it was in other respects. Gassendus carefully avoided having recourse to so absurd an hypothesis, and chose rather to plunge himself into the most hideous abyss of conjecturing, that all beings are not either substances or accidents, and that all substances are not either spirits or bodies; and of placing the extension of space amongst the beings which are neither corporeal nor spiritual, neither substances nor accidents. Mr Locke, believing that he could not define what a vacuum is, hath yet given us clearly to understand that he took it for a positive being. He was too knowing not to discern that nothingness cannot be extended in length, breadth, and thickness. Mr Hartsoeker hath very well apprehended this truth. “There is no vacuum in nature saith he, “this ought to be admitted without any difficulty, because it is utterly contradictory to conceive a mere nothingness, with all the properties which can only agree to a real being.” But if it be contradictory that nothingness should be endued with extension, or any other quality, it is not less contradictory, that extension should be a simple being, since it contains some things, of which we may truly deny what we may truly affirm of some others which it includes. The space filled up by the sun is not the same space taken up by the moon; for if the sun and the moon filled the same space, those two luminaries would be in the same place, and penetrated with one another, since two things cannot be penetrated with a third, without being penetrated among themselves. It is most evident that the sun and moon are not in the same place. It may then be truly said of the space of the sun, that it is penetrated with the suit, which may as truly be denied of the space penetrated with the moon: here are then two portions of space really distinct from one another, since they receive two contradictory denominations, of being penetrated, and not being penetrated with the sun. This fully confutes those who venture to assert, that space is nothing but the immensity of God; and it is certain that the divine immensity could not be the place of bodies, without giving room to conclude that it is composed of as many parts really distinct, as there are bodies in the world. It will be in vain for you to allege that infinity hath no parts; this must necessarily be false in all infinite numbers, since a number essentially includes several unities: nor will you have more reason to tell us, that incorporeal extension is wholly contained in its space, and also wholly contained in each part of its space; for not only we have no idea of it, and it thwarts all our ideas of extension, but besides it will prove that all bodies take up the same place, since each could not take up its own, if the Divine extension were entirely penetrated with each body, numerically the same with the sun, and with the earth. You will find in Mr Arnauld a solid refutation of those who say that God is diffused throughout infinite space.By this specimen of the difficulties which may be raised against a vacuum, my readers may easily apprehend, that our Zeno would, at this present time, be much more formidable than he was in his own age. It is no longer to be doubted, would he say, that if all is full, motion is impossible. This impossibility hath been mathematically proved. He would be far from disputing against those demonstrations, but admit them as incontestable; he would solely apply himself to prove the impossibility of a vacuum, and would reduce his adversaries to an absurdity. He would confute them on whatsoever side they turned; he would plunge them into perplexities by his dilemmas; he would make them lose ground wherever
they retired; and if he did not silence them, he would at least force them to confess, that they neither understand nor comprehend what they say. “If any one ask me (they are Mr Locke’s words), what this space I speak of, is? I will tell him when he tells me what his extension is. They ask whether this space be body or spirit? To which I answer by another question, Who told you that there can be only bodies and minds? If it be asked, (as usually it is) whether this space, void of body, be substance or accident, I shall readily answer, I know not: nor shall I be ashamed to own my ignorance, till they who ask that question, shew me a clear, distinct idea of substance.” Since so great a metaphysician as Mr Locke, after having so well studied this subject, is not able to answer the questions of the Cartesians, otherwise than by asking other questions which he thinks yet more obscure and perplexed than theirs, we may judge that the objections which Zeno might propose, could not be answered; and we may certainly conjecture that he would speak thus to his adversaries: You shelter yourselves in the hypothesis of a vacuum when you are driven from that of motion and a plenum; but you cannot hold out in this hypothesis, as the impossibility of it is demonstrated. Learn some better way to come off; for by that which you have already chosen you avoid one precipice, and throw yourselves into another. Follow me, I will shew you a better way: do not conclude, from the impossibility of motion in a plenum, that there is a vacuum, but rather conclude, from the impossibility of a vacuum, that there is no motion, I mean real motion, but at most an appearance of motion, or an ideal and intellectual motion.Thus, or in a manner very like it, we may suppose our Zeno of Elea to have argued against motion. I will not affirm that his reasons persuaded him that nothing moved; he might be of another opinion, though he believed that none could refute them, nor
elude their force. If I should judge of him by myself, I should affirm that he as well as other men believed the motion of matter; for though I find myself very incapable of solving all the difficulties which we have just now seen, and though the philosophical answers which may be made to them do not seem to me very solid, yet that does not hinder me from following the common opinion. Nay, I am persuaded that the proposing of these arguments may be of great use with respect to religion; and I say here with regard to the difficulties of motion, what M. Nicolle said of those of the divisibility in infinitum. “The advantage which may be drawn from these speculations is not merely to acquire this sort of knowledge, which in itself is very barren; but to learn to know the limits of our understanding, and to force it however unwilling to own that some things exist, though it is not capable of comprehending them: for which reason it is proper to fatigue the intellect with these subtilties, in order to subdue its presumption, and deprive it of the assurance of ever opposing its faint light to the truths which the church proposes, under pretext that it cannot comprehend them: for since all the force of human understanding cannot comprehend the smallest atom of matter, and is obliged to own that it clearly sees that such an atom is infinitely divisible, without being able to conceive how that can be, is it not plain that the man acts against reason, who refuses to believe the wonderful effects of God’s omnipotence, which is of itself incomprehensible, because our minds cannot comprehend these effects.”—Art. Zeno.99NATURE AND DUTY.
Guarini in his Pastor Fido composes a remarkable scene. He introduces a young woman, who, being at the discretion of two tyrants, who hate one another, Love and Honour, envies the happiness of beasts, whose love is directed by no other rule than love itself. She is amazed at the opposition that is between nature and the law. One of them annexes a great pleasure to certain things, and the other will have them to be severely punished. Her conclusion
is, that it cannot be accounted for without the revelation of Moses; and I have often wondered that the ancient philosophers have so little reflected upon
it. I mean only such philosophers, as acknowledged the unity of God; for those, who admitted of many gods would find no difficulty in it: it was only to suppose, that one deity was the cause of the inclination of nature; and that some other deities imprinted the instincts of conscience and the notions of honour. The difficulty concerns only those, who believe, that the world is the work of one most holy Being. How is it possible that under such a Being men should be drawn to evil by a bait that is almost insurmountable, I mean, by the sense of pleasure, and be deterred from it by the fear of remorse, infamy, or several other punishments? They spend their lives, tossed by these contrary passions, pulled sometimes one way, and sometimes another; sometimes overcome by the sense of pleasure, and sometimes by the fear of the consequences. Manicheism probably arose from a strong meditation on this deplorable condition of man.—Art. Guarini.
NESTORIUS.
(Reflections produced by the defeat of )
The disputes between Nestorius and St Cyril, have only served to augment the honours of the
Holy Virgin by accident. These two prelates did not contend about any point of devotion: their quarrel had no relation to worship; and supposing that, at the time, the Holy Virgin had been invocated, Nestorius did not pretend to alter the custom, nor did St Cyril require it to be enlarged. The difference between them was about a speculative opinion: one apprehended the confounding the two natures of Jesus Christ; and the other feared the human nature of our Saviour would be looked upon as a person. We may however conclude, that the defeat of Nestorius, and the innovation introduced into Christianity, by establishing the worship to the Virgin three or four hundred years more or less, after the ascension of Jesus Christ, has been countenanced by the natural and mechanical disposition of mankind, since it has made a continual and prodigious progress, and still subsists at this very time in all the full vigour it ever obtained. There is no conceiving that if it had not met with very great dispositions in the human passions, it could have made such progress, destitute as it was of all support from scripture and authentic tradition. This has moved some curious wits to enquire what those natural modifications of the soul of man might be, which have favoured the innovations here spoken of; and this is the result of their enquiries.In the affair of religion, there is nothing which better suits with the gross genius of the people, than representing Heaven to them as resembling the earth. This was the reason, that the fancies and caprices of the poets, concerning the marriage of the gods, their councils, their divisions and intrigues, passed so easily upon the Greeks, and afterwards upon the Romans, for articles of faith. It was impossible to raise man to the gods; and therefore the gods were to be brought down to man; and thus was formed the point of contact and center of union. Had it been
said, that God governed the world by simple acts of his will; and that he was alone in Heaven; this would not have satisfied the imagination of the people, who have no example of such a thing. But if you tell them, that a God assisted with several other divinities governs the world, that the court of Heaven is pompous and magnificent, that every one there has his post, and suffers not another to encroach upon his employ, they will easily believe you, because the mind of man is accustomed to the like ideas borrowed from what they daily see in the government of the states, and the courts of great kings. Such courts are not without females; we there find a queen-mother, and a reigning queen whose authority is sometimes equal to that of the king. Thus the people easily believed what was told them of Cybele and Juno; and because amongst men the power of a queen-dowager is generally less, than that of the reigning queen; hence the worship of Cybele, mother of the gods, was esteemed inferior to that of Juno, sister and wife of Jupiter. This wife of Jupiter had abundance of temples under different titles. It is no wonder, since she was considered as the queen of the world, and as a queen who interested herself in its government; and besides it is the custom to pay our respects to the ladies, with greater care and ceremony, than to men of equal quality.By such prejudices as these the Christians have been easily persuaded, without any example, or command, or permission of scripture, without any authority of the tradition of the first ages, that the saints in heaven are continually employed as mediators betwixt God and man. We find in the courts of princes, and proportionally in those of governors, and intendants, that nothing is done without the recommendation of a favourite, either of a secretary of state, or a steward of the household, or a lady in
waiting, &c. We see innumerable instances of those miscarrying who neglect these intercessors, and venture to apply directly to the head, and it is of absolute necessity to make choice of some subaltern patrons. Nothing has contributed more than this to establish the custom of worshipping the saints: all the arguments of a protestant controversialist will hardly have the same weight with a huguenot, as these comparisons; and in general all those who are a little acquainted with the way of the world, will be affected with the parallel they hear made by their parish priest betwixt the mediation of saints, and the recommendation of a great prince's officers. Popular notions suit very well with a celestial court, where the angels, apostles, and martyrs, are perpetually employed in recommending terrestrial affairs to God, in soliciting the dispatch of a decree, and putting him in mind of this and that, as is usually practised in the courts of princes.But whilst we only stock Heaven with saints and angels, masculine solicitors and mediators, we do not complete the popular ideas. These require a queen as well as a king: a court without women is something absurd, and shocks the natural taste with its irregularities. Consequently it was natural that the people should applaud the new invention of a mother of Jesus Christ, established in Heaven the queen of men and angels, and of all nature. This hypothesis filled up the chasm which was before apparent in the celestial court, and corrected all its irregularity. Hence it must follow, that the people’s devotion would immediately flame out for this almighty and most merciful queen. It is a general and reasonable prepossession, that women are more disposed to charitable actions than men. They are incomparably more officious towards the poor, the sick, and the captive; and if there be any favour to be begged, as the life of a deserter, they are the
persons who solicit, and take upon them to soften those in whose power it is to save him. A more certain success was therefore to be expected from the invocation of the holy Virgin, than from any other. We need not wonder that the honours paid to her, exceed those which the heathens paid to Juno: for the dignity of queen-mother and reigning queen did not centre in the person of Juno; and besides, she was looked upon as proud, morose, and revengeful: whereas the holy Virgin was at once queen-mother and queen-consort, free from all faults, and abounding with unspeakable goodness. It is very well known, that courtiers grow cold and become discouraged when a queen has too much pride, and is too prone to punish. This is the reason that Juno could not have so many adorers, as she would have had, upon the persuasion of her being a goddess, purely beneficent. My reader already imagines with what zeal the people contributed to build chapels and altars to the holy Virgin, and to offer her jewels and ornaments of all sorts; for according to the vulgar notions, these are things that please women, and this is the way that leads to their favour. Let us now take a view of a new device, which these liberalities and offerings have given rise to.The monks and parish-priests perceiving that the devotion to the holy Virgin brought in a great revenue to their cloisters and churches; and that it increased in proportion as the people were more strongly persuaded of the authority and goodness of this queen of the world, laboured with all their industry to enlarge the notion of her power and inclination to do good. The preachers made use of all the hyperboles and figures that Rhetoric could furnish. The legendaries made a collection of all sorts of miracles: the poets engaged in the design; and annual prizes were established, for those who made the finest poems in praise of the mother of God.
What was at first an oratorical sally, or a poetical rapture, became afterwards an aphorism of devotion. The divinity professors laid hold on these subjects, and were not the least concerned in corrupting them. It became a custom in all desperate diseases, and all other dangers which seemed inevitable, of making vows to our lady of such or such a place, as also when they desired children, or any other blessing. It happens every where, both amongst Infidels and Christians, that some patients, given over by their physicians, recover from their distempers against all probability, and others by unforeseen incidents avoid misfortunes which were thought to be unavoidable. We see in all countries of the world, that women, who have been barren many years, at last conceive. The vows I am speaking of are a wonderful artifice; for if they effect not a deliverance, there are a thousand evasions; as that they were not made with a faith sufficiently fervent, &c. There is no register kept of the ill successes, and people are not allowed to attend to them. If the sick person recovers, if barren women happen to be with child, &c. this is attributed to the vow: the list of miracles is enlarged with it in the new edition; offerings are multiplied, and devotion spreads farther and farther. We have lately learned from the gazettes, that the king of Spain, who was at the very point of death, towards the end of September 1700, escaped this danger; and because, amongst other objects of devotion, there was brought to him an image of our lady of Beelen, which has but very lately been in vogue, his recovery was ascribed to the efficacy of this image. If he had not relapsed some weeks after, and died the first of November following, this Notre-Dame had acquired a reputation that would have eclipsed the rest; for the preachers would have set off the miracle with all the circumstances which the conjuncture of public affairs might have furnished in abundance. These gentlemen have been the great promoters of this worship: it was they, I suppose, who first advanced, that Jesus Christ had reserved judgment to himself, and had left to his mother the whole distribution of graces; a sure method to bring over to the Virgin all the acts of the most tender devotion. This maxim is no longer a mere flight of a Rhetorician, grown warm in his pulpit; it is got into the books which are put into the hands of the votaries. Is anything more likely to strengthen the worship of the holy Virgin, than to affirm that God gives her an infinite number of signed blanks, that she may distribute as she pleases the things that appertain to God? The world therefore is indebted to her for salvation and all other good things, and not to God; since it is she who chooses the persons, and puts them down with what gratification she thinks fit, in the void space of the grant. The Heathens did not deal thus with Jupiter: they said that in regard to punishment he acted by the advice of the other gods; but that he consulted none of them in the case of benefits and rewards. This is a conduct which wise men have recommended to monarchs; and we see that worldly kings are the immediate authors of a pardon, but they appoint judges for the condemnation of criminals.When we call to mind that the devotion to the Virgin is a fruitful source of gain to the churches and convents, we shall easily discover the reason that has occasioned a division so different from this, betwixt Jesus Christ and his holy mother, with respect to warrants of justice, and patents of grace. Nothing is more proper than this to make the holy Virgin the principal and almost the sole object of prayers, and vows, and pilgrimages, and even of love, and of gratitude, and of all the internal acts of piety. Let us once more consider the court of princes, the grand model of most religions. There are some princes who suffer
themselves to be so engrossed by a favourite, that they bestow no place, except upon his recommendation. Present a petition to them yourself; particularise all your services; humbly beg but as a just recompense the government of a town, and they will refuse it you. Let but the favourite speak for you the next day, and they will grant it to you immediately. When things are reduced to this state in a court, much more pains are taken to gain the good graces of the favourite than those of the monarch; and there is a good deal of reason for this conduct; prudence enjoins it. Nay, I will go farther yet, and maintain that both reason and justice require that such as have obtained the government of a town by the method I have been mentioning, should think themselves obliged for it not to the prince their master, but to his favourite, and should reserve all their gratitude and friendship for the favourite as the true cause of their promotion. The prince is only a remote and indirect cause, an accidental, indefinite, and general cause. He is the fountain of authority, but it is another who determines it, and applies it to the benefit and advantage of such and such persons. By this parallel you see that, according to the hypothesis of those doctors who say that no favours are bestowed upon earth, but at the nomination and recommendation of the holy Virgin, it is to her, and not to God, that each private man owes his good fortune, and that it is for her, and not for God, he ought to have a suitable degree of love and gratitude. He could obtain nothing of God if the Virgin did not interest herself in it; consequently it is she who ought to be the object of his devotion: this is founded on good sense, and the reasons of it are demonstrative.Is it to be wondered at, after this, that the acts of religion have taken in the Romish church that turn which we find they have? Is not this a true discovery of their foundation? However it be, the worship of
the holy Virgin is grown to such a prodigious height, and maintains itself to so great a degree, that the Jansenists, who would be offering their, opinion upon this subject, have gained nothing by it: and for one man who conforms to their limitations, there are two thousand, literally speaking, who follow father Crasset. Consider, I pray, the obstacles met with in the Sorbonne, when the book of a Spanish nun was censured there.100 The most proper means to put a stop to the mischief, would be to lay an interdict on panegyrics, and to oblige the votaries who desire to testify their gratitude by their liberalities, to send them not to the Virgin's chapels, but to the Hospitals. A preacher is not ignorant that his auditors have been often present at the panegyrics of our Lady, and have read the finest sermons that have been published upon that subject. If therefore he would be heard and admired, he must take a new flight, and soar higher than all those who went before him; and this is a great cause of errors. The principal thing would be to forbid, under pain of simony, all those who serve privileged altars, and who preside over the worship, to receive so much as the value of a penny from any votary. This would be the way to dry up the sources of the legendaries and preachers, and of pretended miracles; but is not this an impracticable method? “Hoc opus, hic labor est.”—Art. Nestorius.OATH.
(A curious one.)
Borgarutius once swore never to have any thing more to do with the booksellers. The trouble he was involved in, during the printing of his book of Anatomy, and the vexation he met with in the printers’ work, made him, in a fret, take such an oath, but
when he was got from under the press, he broke his word. He compares himself in this to those women who, in the pains of childbirth, protest they will never expose themselves to the like any more; yet notwithstanding, when the pain is over, forget their protestations: he adds, that his zeal for the good of the public, obliged him to forget his oath.Every body knows the story of the. woman, who made the protestations above hinted at, who notwithstanding was no sooner delivered, than she desired that the blessed candle, which was burning on the table, might be put out: “for,” says she “it may serve me another time.” One cannot here properly apply the Italian proverb, “passato il pericolo, gabbato il Santo; when the danger is over, send the saint a grazing.” It is well known that there are particular and indispensible reasons which very justly discharge a woman from any thing she may have sworn on such an occasion. It is not the same thing in respect to vows made at sea in a storm, which are commonly forgot on shore.
There are no authors so subject as poets, to forget that they solemnly promised to print no more.
How light and inconstant is man,
How apt of his promise to fail!
I have sworn, in the best verse I can,
To meddle no more with a tale.
These are the words of the ingenious La Fontaine, in the beginning of one of his tales.101 Menage very unnecessarily bestows two chapters to prove that poets, after they have sworn to write no more, still write on.
Art. Borgarutius.
ODIUM THEOLOGICUM.
Some days before Melancthon died, he wrote upon a piece of paper in two columns the reasons
why he ought not to be sorry for leaving this world. One of those columns contained the advantages which death procured him; the other contained the evils from which death delivered him. He put only two articles into the latter;—1. That he should sin no more. 2. That he should be no longer exposed to the vexations and rage of the divines. That nature which gave Melanchthon a peaceable temper, made him a present ill suited with the juncture of time in which he was to live. His moderation served only to vex him. He was like a sheep in the midst of wolves; no person liked his mildness, which exposed him to all sorts of reproaches, and deprived him of the means of answering a fool according to his folly. The only advantage it procured him was to look upon death without fear, by considering that it would secure him from the odium theologicum, and from the infidos agitans discordia fratres. I shall speak hereafter of the slavery wherein he lived. He said in one of his works, that he held his professor’s place forty years, without ever having any assurance that he should not be driven from it before the end of the week. “Ego jam sum hie, dei beneficio, quadraginta annos: & nunquam potui dicere aut certus esse me per unam septimanam mansuram esse.”Art. Melancthon.
OMENS.
Pericles learned of Anaxagoras to fear the gods without superstition. The Athenians were alarmed without any reason, as soon as any uncommon phenomenon appeared in the air; they looked upon them as signs of the anger of the gods. The philosopher Anaxagoras freed Pericles from that fear, explaining to him by natural reasons the apparition of those meteors; and having thus inspired him with a more rational religion, he was not disturbed with superstitious fears, but expected heavenly favours with a quiet mind.102
What follows in Plutarch deserves to be taken notice of. It happened one day, that a ram’s head had but one horn, which was brought to Pericles. That ram was yeaned in a country house of Pericles. Lampon, the diviner, declared that it was a sign that the power of the two factions which were then in Athens, would fall into the hands of the person in whose house that prodigy happened. Anaxagoras went another way to work. He dissected that monster, and finding the scull smaller than it should be, and of an oval figure, he explained the reason why that ram had but one horn, and why it came out in the middle of the forehead. That method of giving an account of prodigies was admired; but sometime after Lampon was respected when they saw the faction of Thucydides overthrown, and all the authority in the hands of Pericles. The Historian says thereupon, that the diviner and the philosopher might be both in the right, the one in guessing at the effect, and the other in guessing at the cause. It was the philosopher's business, adds he, to explain whence and how that single horn was formed; but it was the diviner’s office to declare why it was formed, and what it portended. For they, who say that as soon as a natural reason is found out, the prodigy vanishes away, are not aware that they destroy artificial as well as celestial signs. Watch-lights upon towers, sun-dials, &c. depend upon certain causes, which act according to certain rules; yet they are appointed to signify certain things. This is the most specious and the strongest reason that can be alleged for the vulgar opinion which Anaxagoras opposed.
That a natural phenomenon may be a prodigy, or a sign of a future evil, it is not at all necessary that philosophers should not be able to give any account of it; for though they may explain it by the natural virtues of second causes, yet they may very well be appointed to presage something. Watch-lights are explained by
natural reasons, nevertheless they are a sign of the course which pilots ought to steer. It must be therefore confessed that Plutarch has defended the common opinion as learnedly as it can be maintained. The efficient cause, when found out, does not exclude the final cause, and even necessarily supposes it in every action directed by an intelligent being. What grounds therefore do philosophers go upon, when they maintain that eclipses, being a natural consequence of the motion of the planets, cannot be a presage of the death of a king; and that the overflowing of rivers being a natural effect of rains, or melted snows, cannot portend a sedition, the dethroning of a prince, or such like public calamities? I answer that they go upon this ground, that the effects of nature cannot be presages of future contingents, unless they be appointed for that end by a particular intelligent being. It is evident that the laws of nature being left in their general course, would never raise any towers, nor set up watch-lights upon them for the use of pilots. It must be the work of men; it is necessary that their particular wills should apply the virtue of bodies in such a manner as may relate to the end which they propose to themselves. On the other hand, it is manifest that the laws of nature being left in their general course cannot produce any meteors, or the overflowing of a river, whereby the inhabitants of a kingdom may know that there will arise a sedition in two or three years time, which will overthrow the monarchy. It is manifest that a particular intelligent being must needs form those meteors, or those great inundations, that they may be the signs of a change in government: but then it will be impossible to explain them by physical reasons; for that which depends upon the particular will of a man or an angel, is not the object of a science: the causes thereof cannot be found out by philosophy.Thence it follows, that an event which may be
explained byphysical reasons, is not a presage of a future contingent, and that such a presage cannot be explained by the laws of nature. So that when Plutarch says, “that the diviner found out the final cause, and the philosopher the efficient cause,” he must suppose that a particular spirit so disposed the scull of that ram, that his brains being straitened, and ended sharping over against the middle of the forehead, produced but one horn, which came out in that very place. He must also suppose that this spirit modified the brains of that ram in such a manner, to the end that the Athenians might know that the faction of Pericles would overthrow that of Thucydides, and have all the power in its hands. But that supposition being contrary to the notions whereby we know that none but God can foresee future contingents, cannot be admitted; and so the vulgar opinion about presages cannot be adopted without acknowledging that God produces miraculously, and by a particular will all the natural effects which are looked upon as prognostics. According to that supposition miracles, properly so called, would be almost as frequent as natural effects; which is a prodigious absurdity. Observe, that if God had been willing to work a miracle, to inform the Athenians that one of their factions would be destroyed, he needed not straiten the brains of that ram. He would have produced a horn in the middle of the forehead without making any alteration in the brains, which would have been a stronger proof of the prodigy. However, I hope the reader will find no fault with me, for having made a reflection upon a thought of Plutarch, which is so specious that it might seem to most readers to be a solid one.—Art. Pericles.ORACLES.
Agesipolis, king of Lacedemon, once sent to Delphi to know if the opinion of Apollo was agreeable to that given on the famous olympian temple of Jupiter.
We may hence collect a truth, which is otherwise evident enough; namely, that the Pagan religion was founded upon notions of the Deity as false as atheism. I do not speak of the sentiments of the common people only, or the abuse of particular persons: I speak of the public worship, performed by the most eminent persons, and supported by the authority of the state. We have here an instance of a king of Lacedemon, who, after having offered solemn sacrifices, as preparative to an expedition, and even after a favourable answer from the greatest of the gods, goes and consults another Deity, being uncertain whether he will contradict, or confirm this answer. He was therefore of opinion, that the decisions of Jupiter could not always be followed with a safe conscience, and he supposed, that the sentiments of Apollo were not always conformable to those of Jupiter. Was not this to believe, that all the gods, without excepting the greatest, were limited in their knowledge, and that between them and men there was only the difference of more or less? At this rate, the “tot capita, tot sensus, so many men, so many minds," was applicable to inhabitants of heaven, as well as earth. They consulted Jupiter, as we consult the most famous advocate of parliament, when we intend to commence a law suit. This advocate's answer does not satisfy a cautious client; but he desires to have the advice of other counsel; and some persons consult the most able doctors in every court of the kingdom. The Pagans did so with respect to their oracles: they consulted several of them upon the same point, to see whether the gods would contradict each other, and to take their measures the better, by comparing their respective answers. Thus their gods were as chimerical, as the deity of Spinoza; for it is as impossible that a limited nature should be God, as it is impossible that the world should be the Supreme Being which governs all things by a wise Providence. To confirm what is here advanced concerning the false idea which the Pagans entertained of God: they were not scandalized at the different fate of their victims. Those which were offered to one divinity encouraged their hopes, while those offered to another alarmed their fears. Apollo and Diana, twins of Jupiter, often contradicted each other; the brother rejecting an offering, the sister accepting it. Paganism found nothing scandalous in this. The heathens would willingly have found a greater harmony in the promises of good things; but in short they did not believe that the Divine Nature was free from ignorance, caprice, and disagreement; so that they acquiesced in this, as an unavoidable effect of the nature of things. We must not imagine, that Cicero’s objections opened the eyes of many among them. “Quid quum pluribus diis immolatur, qui tandem evenit ut litetur aliis, aliis non litetur? Quæ autem inconstantia deorum est, ut primis minentur extis, bene promittant secundis? Aut tanta inter eos dissensio, sæpe etiam inter proximos, ut Apollinis exta bona sint, Dianæ non bona?103—Whence is it, that in consulting several gods at a time, we sacrifice to some and not to others? And what inconstancy of the gods is it, to threaten in the first entrails, but to appear propitious in the second? Or is there such a disagreement among them, even those the nearest related, that Apollo’s victims shall promise success, but Diana’s not?”A modern author has made use of this conduct of Agesipolis, to shew that, in relation to the oracles, the greatest of the gods of Paganism did not preserve his advantage or his superiority. He says,104 " The oracles of Jupiter, such as those of Trophonius, Dodona, and Hammon, had not so much credit as that
of Delphi, for they never equalled the latter either in esteem, or in duration. And this is proved by what Xenophon reports of Agesipolis, who, after having consulted Jupiter Olympius, and received his answer, had recourse to Apollo at Delphi, as a judge without appeal, whether he was of the same opinion with his father. Aristotle imputes this kind of religious ridicule to one Hegesippus in the second book of his Rhetorics.” This passage furnishes matter for two observations. The first is, that the notions of the Gallican church concerning the council and the Pope, though speaking ex cathedra, may be compared to those of Paganism concerning the oracles of Jupiter, and of Delphi. The olympian Jupiter, when he answered a question, met with great esteem in the minds of the people; much deference was paid to his authority; but in short, his opinion, though delivered ex cathedra or rather ex tripode, did not pass for infallible. Behold the Pope of the Gallican church! The Apollo of Delphi was the judge without appeal: Behold the council! My second observation is, That Agesipolis was in earnest in what he did; there was no religious banter in the case. As for what concerns Hegesippus, I answer nothing for him. He was perhaps malicious enough to attempt ensnaring the oracles, that he might insult them if they did not agree. He might have said, “It is a shame for you to answer yes, and no.” Hegesippus, having received an answer from the god at Olympia, interrogated him at Delphi, whether he was of the same opinion with his father, as if it were scandalous for the gods to disagree in their answers.105 If Agesipolis had had any ill design against Apollo, in imitation of that malicious person, whose story Æsop relates,106 he would have been defeated; for the answer of Delphi was the same with that of Olympia.— Art. Agesipolis.PAPAL PORTRAITS.
(Gregory I.)
The morals of this pontiff concerning the chastity of ecclesiastics were very rigid. In the business of choosing a bishop, he principally recommended it to the electors to inform themselves, whether the person proposed were guilty of adultery, or mere fornication. “Nay, he would have them to ask him in private whether he had been guilty of that sin, admonishing him that, if he were guilty of it, though nobody knew it, and there was no proof to convict him, yet he could not in conscience receive orders; that, nevertheless, they should be given him, if he protested that he was free from that vice; but, if he confessed it, it should be gently represented to him, that he ought rather to think of a cloister to do penance, than of the priesthood, of which his crime, though secret, made him unworthy.” This chaste pontiff understanding107 “That some ecclesiastics of Sardinia had committed that sin, after they had received orders, ordered not only that they should be deposed, without any hopes of being ever restored to the functions of their ministry, but also that, to prevent so great an evil, none should be admitted to sacred orders, and especially to episcopacy, without assurance that they had always lived chastely, and even preserved their continency many years after they were separated from their wives, in
order to be admitted to the priesthood.” The suffrages being divided at Naples in the election of a bishop, this pope, without more ado, declared plainly that he could not approve John the deacon,108 “because he had been well informed he had a very little daughter. What presumption, added he, is this in him, to aspire to episcopacy, when he is manifestly convicted by this little child, of the small space of time he has preserved his continence?” He caused it to be inviolably observed, according to the canons, “that every ecclesiastic and beneficed man, whether sub-deacon, deacon, priest, abbot, or bishop, who should be guilty of impurity, if there were proofs of his crime, should be deposed, and put to penance in a monastery, and incapacitated to be ever restored to his order and dignity. Hearing that the abbot Secundinus, who was a very wicked man, bad committed horrible crimes, he said, that without seeking proofs for a judicial conviction, it sufficed that he himself, perhaps boasting of what this sort of debauchees call good fortune, had confessed that he had sported with women, which had not hindered him from being an abbot; whereupon he caused him to be depased.” He treated in the same manner the Bishop of Docleatina, a city of Illyricum, at present called Cataro; and he gave order to his metropolitan, “that, if this wicked man, who had been justly deposed for having stained his character by this infamous vice, durst ever pretend, or even intimate by a single word, that he had still some thoughts of being a bishop, he should be confined to a monastery to do penance all his lifetime, and be deprived of the communion till his death. What is very observable herein is, that the bishop of Tarentum not being accused, but only suspected, of keeping a concubine since he was a bishop, he advises him very seriously that, if he is conscious of this crime, though it were in secret, and he denied it, and there were no convincing proof against him, yet he is obliged in conscience to depose himself, and to forbear all sacerdotal functions. This will seem the more strange, because this bishop having committed another crime, which in the eyes of the world seems to be much greater, he inflicted a much less punishment on him. The same angry prelate having been disobliged by one of the poor old women, that were kept at the expense of the church, caused her to be beaten at such a rate that she remained half dead. It is certain that if she had died a few days after she had been so cruelly beaten, he had been most severely punished, according to the rigour of the canons, as guilty of murder: however, because she died not till eight months after, St Gregory did not think that her death was to be ascribed to the blows she had received, and contented himself with suspending him for two months. But for the sin of incontinence, which, by the laws of human justice, should be punished less rigorously than that other action so unworthy of a bishop, he declared to him, that if he had committed it, though it could not be proved, it was absolutely necessary, for the satisfaction of his conscience, that he should leave his bishopric.”109Maimbourg does not leave this subject without saying, “that the rigour of the canons upon this point is not at present in use, and that a man is not obliged to follow St Gregory’s opinion upon this case of conscience.”
Gregory was also very severe with respect to calumny. All that Maimbourg says upon this subject seems so good to me, that finding nothing useless in it,I shall not abridge it. He observes first, “that there is a very subtle oppression, and the more dangerous, because it is most difficult to be discovered, viz. calumny, which the wisest of men, and even those
who glory in suffering joyfully the first, find so barbarous and intolerable, that they cannot hinder their constancy from being shaken, be their minds ever so strong.” After which he goes on thus:— “I know that the civil and canon laws appoint punishments for this crime, so much complained of in the world; but they are not always well observed with respect to ecclesiastics, as St Gregory testifies, and especially in the communities, where calumny hardly meets with any rebuke, under pretence that the punishing of a false accusation would take away the liberty of bringing true ones, and discovering punishable faults to the superiors. Now this is what St Gregory could in no wise bear with, as appears by many of his letters. Hilary, sub-deacon of the church of Naples, having brought a false accusation against John, deacon of the same church, which could not be maintained against many witnesses, who attested the deacon’s innocence, the holy pontiff was very much offended that Paschasius, their bishop, had not as yet punished the slanderer. Whereupon he gave order to the defender, Anthemius, to tell him from him, that he would have him first deprived of his office of subdeacon, of which he was unworthy: secondly, that he should be publicly whipped; for this sort of correction was in use at that time to chastise clerks, as may be seen in St Augustin, though this custom has been since abolished; and lastly, that having been thus chastised, he be sent into exile, that is, either into a monastery to do penance, or by the order of the magistrate, to whom alone it belonged to punish a criminal with banishment by the law of the state. As he manifested his abhorrence of calumny by punishing it so severely, so he kept strictly upon his guard, that he might not be overreached; and never believed any informer till, having examined the least circumstances of the accusation and exactly heard both sides, he could not in the least doubt of the truth of it. He was moreover so much afraid of being deceived by the artifices of calumniators, that, when he could, he forbore giving his judgment about an accusation, referring himself to some other person, on whose sufficiency and probity he entirely depended.”“Gregory cannot be excused for prostituting his praises, to insinuate himself into the favour of a usurper. The emperor Maurice’s army, having revolted against him at the instigation of Phocas, marched towards Constantinople, and took it without any difficulty. The emperor was delivered to Phocas, who by an unheard of cruelty, caused five little princes, Maurice’s children, to be murdered in his presence, before their father’s eyes, whom that unfortunate father could not save. The nurse of the youngest had cunningly withdrawn him from the massacre, and substituted her own in his place; but Maurice, who perceived it, caused his own child to be returned to the executioners. After this, the tyrant, more cruel than the wildest beasts, being no ways moved with so brave and generous an action, which melted all the assistants into tears, commanded this poor little innocent to be killed, and the bloody sacrifice to be perfected, by laying Maurice upon the bodies of his five children, as upon an altar, where he was inhumanly butchered. The eldest son of Maurice had been, a little before, sent to the king of Persia; but he was taken at Nicæa, and beheaded. The cruel Phocas put also to death almost all the relations and friends of the emperor Maurice, and even the empress Constantina and her three daughters, contrary to the promise he had made to the patriarch Cyriacus, that he would suffer them to live quietly in a monastery where they were. In fine, there never was so much innocent blood shed, nor so many miseries and misfortunes, as in his reign. And, indeed, there
never was a more infamous tyrant than this wretched man; without virtue, birth, honour, and merit,
horribly ill-shaped, abominably ugly, of a frightful aspect, appearing always in a fury when he spoke, drunken, lascivious, brutish, sanguinary, without any sense of humanity, being wholly a wild beast in his look and humour, and having nothing of a man, but a very deformed shape; in a word, having all the ill qualities, which may be set in opposition to those, which the historians have extremely praised in Maurice.”I have used Maimbourg’s words, that nobody may say I have aggravated Phocas’s crimes to cast a greater blot upon St Gregory; and I will still use the same author’s expressions, as to this pope’s flatteries, that I may not be accused of representing things to his disadvantage. “I confess,” says that historian, “that what I have been saying may offend those, who after this shall read the three epistles which this holy pope wrote to Phocas, and to Leontia his wife, when they knew at Rome what had been done at Constantinople, when he was crowned emperor there. He seems in those three letters to rejoice, and to thank God for his coming to the crown, as for the greatest advantage that could happen to the empire, and to speak of him in the most advantageous terms, as of an admirable prince, who would make it flourish again, by delivering it from all miseries wherewith it had hitherto been afflicted. And he thanks God that the world, being delivered from so hard and uneasy a yoke, began to enjoy the sweets of liberty under his reign.”
Maimbourg gives the best colour he can to this strange flattery; he alleges several reasons for it; but he says nothing of the true one; which is, that Maurice had declared for the patriarch of Constantinople against pope Gregory, in very nice disputes, such as are always the differences about authority or superiority. The pope, overjoyed to be delivered from an emperor, who favoured the patriarch of Constantinople, loaded this new prince with praises, in
order to obtain from him what he desired against his rival. There are hardly any examples of a virtue that has been proof against the jealousy of authority, or the interest of a party. Though a prince be endowed with the noblest qualities, if he be withal contrary to a certain church, and be banished or killed, she looks upon this as a heavenly favour, and respectfully kisses the human hand that procures it, especially when this hand acts contrary to the other prince. In such a juncture, two contradictory propositions are found in the mouths of the clergy; the party that loses its patron considers this loss as a horrid conspiracy of infernal powers; it cites both divine and human laws against the revolution; but the other side speaks of nothing but the wonderful ways of providence, the paternal care of heaven, and runs into political doctrines. But I question whether this prepossession was ever carried to such infamies as those of St Gregory. What a fall! what blindness! what base condescension! a pope, who is so severe to a poor fornicating clergyman, and so terrible in his sentences thereupon, writes to Phocas, without so much as expressing his wish that Maurice and his children had not suffered death. There are no men that make greater outcries against the Sceptics than the clergy, and yet no men are more used to turn the rules of morality like a nose of wax, according to the reciprocal interest of their cause; which, at the bottom, is a most dangerous Scepticism.Gregory was equally complaisant to a most wicked queen of France, queen Brunehault. In all the letters this pope wrote to her, he bestowed upon her all the praises that can be given to one of the most perfect princesses in the world, so far as to make no difficulty to say, in a very affirmative manner, that the French nation was the most happy in the world, since they deserved such a queen, endowed with all sorts of virtues and good qualities. The following passage on
this subject is to be found in the Nouvelles de la République des Lettres. “We ought to make more account of this pope’s good intentions, than of his excessive complaisance for queen Brunehault, the most wicked woman in the world, as almost all historians say, but at the same time the most artful at gaining the clergy, because in the midst of her heinous crimes, she showed an extraordinary munificence towards churchmen, and in her foundation of churches and convents, not forgetting to make a devout request for relics to the holy father.” Maimbourg proves the exemptions, which are said to have been granted by this pope to the pious queen Brunehault, to be fictitious; for it is this virtue St Gregory praises in her, and the like will ever be done to any one that is liberal to the church, the dupe of those people, who sometimes are dupes in their turn. This puts me in mind of the answer that was given by a Carthusian to Philip de Comines, “The body pf John Galeazzo, a great and wicked tyrant. ...is in the Carthusian monastery at Pavia, near the park, higher than the great altar, and the Carthusians showed it me, at least his bones, which smell as nature requires: a native of Bourges called him saint, and I asked him in his ear why he called him saint, when he might see painted about him the arms of many towns he had usurped, to which he had no right? He answered me softly, in this country, we call all those saints that are our benefactors.”110 The rule of these good monks is of all times and countries.It is not certain that Gregory caused the noble monuments of the Romans to be destroyed, although certain that he has been accused of it, as it appears from these words of Platina, who rejects this accusation.111 “Nor ought we, in this matter,to let Gregory be censured by the ignorant and illiterate, for
ordering the buildings of the ancients to he demolished, lest travellers and strangers (as they pretend) coining to Rome on a religious account, should neglect places of devotion, and view with admiration the triumphal arches and monuments of the ancients. Be this reproach far from so great a pope, who, certainly next to God, valued his country dearer than his life.” The same historian observes, that Sabinian, who succeeded Gregory, expressed a violent resentment against his predecessor, so far as almost to burn bis books. Some inhabitants of Rome excited the new pope to this, because, said they, St Gregory had mangled, or thrown down, the statues of the ancient Romans. Platina rejects also this accusation.It is farther asserted that Gregory caused a vast number of heathen books to be burnt, and that the Palatine library, founded by Augustus, was reduced by him to ashes. I have read this no where but in Joannes Sarisburiensis, and therefore I give no great credit to it. What is certain, is, that this pope had conceived a great aversion for heathen books, as it appears from this passage of his history. Desiderius, archbishop of Vienna, “was a man of an extraordinary merit, of admirable learning, and a shining virtue, to whom St Gregory wrote more than once with great commendation; and yet he found fault with his conduct, and sharply reproved him, as being guilty of a great crime, for spending his time in teaching some of his friends grammar and literature, and explaining the poets to them. He assures him that this unlucky piece of news had given him so much trouble, that all the joy he had conceived, upon hearing the success of his studies, and his great capacity, was changed into sorrow: “because” says he, “that the praises of Jupiter and of Christ cannot be in the same mouth: consider what an unworthy and abominable thing it is for a bishop to
sing such verses, as a devout and religious layman could not repeat with decency, and without doing injury to his profession.' He adds, that though he has been informed from other hands, that it was not so, yet he cannot but lay it much to heart, and that he will make a more exact inquiry into the truth of it, because it is a horrid, and even execrable thing, to hear such a report of a priest and a bishop. ‘ But if” says he, at last, to comfort him, ' I can be fully satisfied that this report against you is false, and that you do not amuse yourself with these fooleries of human learning, and worldly sciences, I shall give thanks to God for'not suffering your heart to be defiled with the praises full of blasphemies, which those profane authors bestow on the most wicked men.'” It is said, that Livy in particular was thus treated, because he insists too much on the superstitious rites of the heathens. “At mirificus zelus fuit S Gregorii, qui ut S Antoninus, et ex eo Jo Hesselius, ex utroque Raderus ad Martialem tradit, Livium propterea combussit, quod in superstitionibus et sacris Romanorum perpetuo versetur.”112I had almost forgotten this pope’s zeal for the psalmody of the church. “He especially applied himself to regulate the office, and the singing of the church,” says Maimbourgh: “to which end he composed his Antiphonary. Nothing can be more admirable than what he did on this occasion. Though he had upon his hands all the affairs of the universal church, and was still more burthened with distempers, than with that multitude of business, which he was necessarily to take care of, in all parts of the world; yet he took time to examine with what tunes the psalms, hymns, oraisons, verses, responses, canticles, lessons, epistles, the gospel, the prefaces, and the Lord’s prayer, were to be sung; what were the tones, measures,
notes, moods, most suitable to the majesty of the church, and most proper to inspire devotion: and he formed that ecclesiastical music so grave and edifying, which at present is called the Gregorian music. He moreover instituted an academy of singers, for all the clerks to the deaconship exclusively, because the deacons were only to be employed in preaching the gospel, and distributing the alms of the church to the poor; and he would have the singers to perfect themselves in the art of true singing, according to the notes of his music, and to bring their voices to sing sweetly and devoutly, which, according to St Isidore, is not to be obtained but by fasting and abstinence. For, says he, the ancients fasted the day before they were to sing, and lived, for their ordinary diet, upon pulse, to make their voices clearer and finer; whence it is that the heathens called those singers, bean-eaters. I question whether, at present, the singers would willingly submit to that method, to which they are not used. However, St Gregory took care to instruct them himself, as much a pope as he was, and to teach them to sing well. Joannes Diaconus says, that, in his time, this pope’s bed was preserved with great veneration in the palace of St John of Lateran, in which he sang, though sick, to teach the singers; as also the whip, wherewith he threatened the young clerks and the singing boys, when they were out, and failed in the notes.”Many fabulous miracles are related by this pope in his dialogues. “Some learned men, who do not approve the recital of so many miracles, doubt whether St Gregory be the author of those dialogues, because they do not appear to them worthy of so great a doctor. Denys de Sainte Marthe, who speaks thus, solves the doubts of those learned men with very solid reasons, and shews that those dialogues are the works of St Gregory. Mr Du Pin is of the same opinion; but he owns at the same time,
that they do not seem to be worthy of the gravity and judgment of that holy pope, being full of extraordinary miracles, and almost incredible stories. It is true, he relates them upon the credit of others; but he should not have been so credulous as to believe them, and afterwards to publish them as matters of fact. The stories mentioned in those dialogues, are frequently grounded upon a bare relation of some ignorant old men, or upon common reports. The miracles, are so frequent, so extraordinary, and often wrought for so inconsiderable reasons, that it is a difficult thing to believe them all. He tells some stories which can hardly be reconciled with the lives of those he speaks of; as the voluntary imprisonment of St Paulinus in Africa, under the king of the Vandals. Visions, apparitions, and dreams, are more frequently to be met with in the dialogues of that pope, than in any other author. Hence it is, that he owns about the latter end of his work, that more discoveries had been made in his time about the other world, than in all the foregoing ages. But I do not think that any body will warrant the truth of all those relations.” Father Denys de Sainte Marthe acknowledges, “that he would not warrant all the miracles and visions contained in those dialogues.” Nevertheless he does not blame that pope. “That holy man,” says he, “might relate some upon the testimony of persons a little too credulous. He thought they were not to be slighted by reason of the edifying things he observed in them. The prudent reader ought to examine what degree of certainty he allows them, and who are his authors.” This monk plainly sets up for an apologist, who thinks, that St Gregory is not in the least to be blamed. But the worst is, that the reasons he alleges to prove it are not solid; for if one may be allowed to publish a relation, because it contains some things that are edifying, how many fables may not one give out as true and pious histories? though a writer does not say in express words, this is matter of fact, nobody ought to doubt of it;—yet if he do not quote cotemporary and grave authors, but only an ancient tradition, he cannot be justified, and afford not a sufficient preservative. The apologist moreover enlarges to shew, that the extraordinary things, related in those dialogues, were very frequent at that time. One of his reasons for it is, that there were many heretics to be converted, and many Catholics, who did not believe the immortality of the soul and the resurrection of the dead.” It is an undeniable matter of fact, that in St Gregory’s time, many Christians wavered in the belief of two fundamental doctrines of our religion. He is so humble as to confess, that he himself had formerly doubted of the resurrection; and therefore he makes it his business, in many of his homilies, to inculcate those truths into them. As there have been, at all times, many libertines, even within the pale of the Catholic church, there have always been many people whose interest it was, that there should be no future life, no resurrection and judgment, and therefore they easily believed it; for a corrupt heart will soon be attended with an erroneous mind. However it be, it is certain, that Italy, and particularly Rome, was full of such unbelievers in St Gregory’s time. It were needless to prove it, after what has been said upon this subject by the last translator of the dialogues, in his excellent preface. Gregory of Tours mentions a dispute he had with one of the priests of his church, who maintained, that there was no resurrection to be expected. He also speaks of a deacon of the church of Paris, who pretended to be a man of great parts, and who fell into that error, disputing about it with great eagerness: whence it may be inferred, that many others in France were engaged in that dangerous heresy. If any one read the dialogues, he will find, that Peter, the deacon, knew many christians, who doubted of the immortality of the soul. Was it not therefore becoming the mercy of God, that he should work miracles at that time, to help the weakness of those poor infidels? and is St Gregory to blame because he collected them?”I shall make only two short observations upon this: one is, that, if those unbelieving Catholics questioned only whether the soul was immortal, and whether the bodies should be raised out of their graves, they argued very pitifully; for the truth of the gospel being once admitted, it is a ridiculous thing to raise any doubts about those two points. The other is, that perhaps there never were so many unbelievers, as in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; I mean such unbelievers, as are not contented to reject the building, without destroying the foundation, but who reject both the foundation and the building. Besides, there were in those two centuries a great many heretics, who required conversion. Miracles should therefore at least have been as frequent in these ages, as in that of St Gregory. Whence we may conclude, that the argument of Father Denys de Sainte Marthe by proving too much proves nothing. If it be true that part of this pope’s books were burnt after his death, and that they would all have been destroyed, had it not been for an accident much the same with that, which, in former times, prevented the Romans putting to death the senators, as having murdered Romulus, some persons would infer from it, that the glory of that pope, and of some other ancient fathers, is like rivers, which, being very small at their spring, grow very large at a great distance from it. Something might be said against this comparison; but it is certain, generally speaking, that the objects of memory are of a very different nature from the objects of sight.
The latter lessens in proportion to their distance, whereas the former commonly increase, according as we are remote from the time and place of their existence.—Art. Gregory I.Gregory VII.
Gregory VII, called Hildebrand, before he was raised to the papal see. Of all the popes, who went about to increase the pontifical power, none has been so bold and successful in it as he. He was without doubt a wicked man; but it cannot be denied that he had the qualities of a great man. A modern author gives us the following character of him. “He was a man of small stature, but he had a very great soul, a quick and penetrating wit, an undaunted courage, and never gave over his enterprizes, whatever difficulty he met with in the execution of them. He was fiery, imperious, hasty, bold, and daring, too forward in the execution of his designs, and carrying things to the last extremities, without being afraid of the ill consequences that might attend his vigorous, but too violent resolutions. He was, otherwise, a man of an unblamable life, notwithstanding all the calumnies of his enemies. He gave first the example of what he required from others;113 and was very learned, especially in the divine sciences,114 the laws, and the rules and customs of the church, as the historians, and even the Germans, who have no reason to favour him, acknowledge. Lastly, if his fiery and inflexible humour could have permitted him to temper his zeal with the noble moderation of his five predecessors, it is certain that he would have prevented many evils,
and the shedding of a great deal of christian blood, and the historians would have bestowed none but great encomiums upon him.”115 If you consider well the following words of Naudé you will find in them the idea of a great man.116 “He was one of the greatest pillars of the church, and, to speak of him sincerely and impartially, he was the first, who put her in possession of her franchises, and who freed the sovereign pontiffs from the slavery of the emperors.” Some may say, that purchasing liberty, shaking off the yoke, making one’s-self independant, and subduing one’s own masters, are wicked actions; but they cannot say, that such things can be performed without noble endowments, and a great courage. This pope resembled some conquerors, who are, otherwise, guilty of a great many crimes. I am the more willing to use this comparison, because I am persuaded, that the conquest of the church was a work that required no less courage and ability than the conquest of an empire.Hildebrand was born at Soana, a small town of Tuscany, and rendered himself so considerable in the monastery of Clugny, that he was made prior of it. He negociated several affairs with and for the popes, and was at last raised to the pontificate in the year 1073. He resolved, without any loss of time, to deprive the emperors of their right of giving the investiture to the bishops; but, being afraid of meeting at first with insurmountable obstacles, if it could be objected to him that he had acted as a pope before his election bad been approved by the emperor, he wrote to that prince in very submissive terms, and declared to him, that he would not be consecrated or crowned till he knew his will about it. The German bishops advised the emperor to disapprove that election; but the only thing that they could obtain was,
that he would get himself informed of the manner how it was made; and he approved of it as soon as he heard the good answers his envoy received from Hildebrand. He had quickly occasion to repent of it; for the new pope, in the first council he held at Rome, renewed the ancient decrees against simonists, and such ecclesiastics as kept concubines; and made a new one, whereby he declared both those to be excommunicated who should receive the in vesture of any benefice from a layman, and those who should give it.No pope had ever been so severe as Hildebrand against the priests who did not observe celibacy; and therefore he was very much hated. Here are the words of Lambertus Schaffnabergensis: “Pope Hildebrand, having called several synods of the bishops of Italy, ordered that, according to the ancient canons, priests should have no wives, and those who had, should part with them or be deposed, admitting none into the priesthood, but such as should promise to live in perpetual continency. This decree being published all over Italy, he wrote to the bishops of Gaul, enjoining them to do the same in their churches, and that the priests should leave their wives upon pain of excommunication. The whole faction of the clergy rose up immediately against that decree, saying that it was heretical, and contained senseless doctrine, contrary to the word of God, which says, ‘ all men cannot receive this saying; he that is able to receive it let him receive it and likewise contrary to the apostle, who commands that ‘ those who cannot contain themselves should marry, it being better to marry than to burn.’ They farther added, that this man, by a violent exaction, would have men live like angels, and would occasion all manner of irregularity by stopping the course of nature. These factious priests concluded that, if he obstinately persisted in his resolution, they had rather renounce the priesthood, than forsake their wives; and he might then see where he could find
angels to govern the churches, since he would not make use of men.” Coëffeteau adds, according to the testimony of Marianus Scotus, “that many clergymen chose rather to be excommunicated by the pope, than to part with their wives; but the pope ordered, in a synod, that no Christian should hear the mass of a married priest.”I shall observe a thing which seems to deserve attention, namely, That the popes have found it incomparably more difficult to bring the clergy of the northern countries under the law of celibacy, than those of the southern. When those of Italy and Spain had been for a long time subjected to that yoke, those of Germany and other cold countries held out still, and disputed the ground for marriage, “tanquam pro aris et focis:” nay, I do not know but it may be said, that in Luther’s time, the concubinage of priests was more apparent and scandalous in Germany than in Italy. It ought not to be thence inferred that the inhabitants of the southern counties are more chaste; on the contrary it seems that the northern priests chose rather to keep certain concubines, than to disguise their incontinence by a vague lewdness. They acted therefore with greater fairness, and perhaps they believed it was less a crime.
“Hildebrand excepting no one in his excommunication of those who gave benefices being a layman, his legates declared to the emperor, who went to meet them as far as Nuremberg, that they had express orders to treat him as an excommunicated person, until he had received absolution for the crime of simony, of which he had been accused by the late pope. He did what they desired of him, received the absolution, and wrote to the pope that he would always remain submissive to him. Nevertheless he did not permit the legates to call a council; and he kept with him those ministers of his who had been excommunicated. For these reasons and several others, the pope
summoned him to appear at the next synod of Rome; in default of which he threatened to excommunicate him. The emperor slighted his threatenings, and offered all sorts of indignities to the legates, who had been so bold as to threaten him; and he convoked a council at Worms, where he was charged with so many crimes, that the assembly declared the election of that pope to be void, and wrote to him letters full of injurious words, to acquaint him with their determination. Those who presented the letters did it with great brutality; and yet that pontiff who, notwithstanding his hasty and fiery temper, had a great command of himself, took them unconcernedly and without saying any thing. But the very next day, having imparted them to his synod, he pronounced in a solemn manner an anathema against the emperor, and declared I know not how many prelates of Germany and Lombardy excommunicated. The latter were so little concerned at it, that they quickly assembled at Pavia, and excommunicated him. As he had foreseen that his conduct would draw upon him very potent enemies, he omitted nothing to strengthen his party; and in the first place he brought over three princesses to his interest; the empress Agnes the emperor’s mother, the duchess Beatrix his aunt, and the countess Matilda, his cousin-german. Beatrix and Matilda being very powerful in Italy, where they had vast estates, were able to assist him more effectually than the empress Agnes by her remonstrances, which Henry made no great account of. These two princesses, who were very devout, had a great opinion of Gregory’s virtue, who was looked upon as a holy man, and very austere; nay, he was said to have revelations and extacies, with the gift of prophecy and miracles, which are powerful motives to make a ghostly father. Afterwards they resolved to be governed by him; and he, on his part, answering the confidence they reposed in him, took a particular care to direct them by his letters in the way to virtue, and expressed a great affection for them, and a mutual confidence: so that when this great rupture between the pope and the emperor divided the empire into two parties, they did not in the least waver, but openly declared for Gregory, and resolved to assist him with all their power, especially the countess Matilda.” I use the words of Maimbourg, lest the readers should suspect that I design to impose upon them by artificial translations. It must be confessed that this pope was a very cunning man, and that notwithstanding his fiery and violent temper, he knew very well how to make use of the most effectual devices: he made sure of the female sex, and pitched upon the ladies who had the greatest power.Matilda, in particular, adhered to him in such a manner as was very much talked of. A pope, though never so peaceable and well beloved, could not have avoided the satirical strokes of ill tongues, had he been so intimate with a lady as Hildebrand with Matilda. You may therefore judge whether a pope, so violent as he was, and who had many enemies, could avoid being defamed on account of the mutual affection between him and that countess. I shall set down another passage of a Jesuit, who cannot be suspected upon this occasion. “The countess Matilda finding herself alone, and being absolute mistress of her states, because the duchess Beatrix, her mother, died much about the same time that the death of Godfrey came to be known, resolved to be directed by Gregory more than ever, and made him entirely master of her mind, her conduct, and estate; and therefore, according to the usual custom of those devout women, who would think themselves undone if they were far from their directors, for whom they have sometimes too great a fondness, she did whatever she could, not to lose sight of him. She constantly followed him, and did him a thousand services with an incredible affection. She acted only by his orders, which she
executed with a wonderful exactness; and though she was the greatest princess of Italy, she preferred the title of that of his most humble servant and dear daughter, looking upon him as her father and master, for whom she expressed a great deal of respect, zeal, and devotion; though perhaps she did it with less prudence and discretion than she should have done, if I may say so, without pretending to lessen the honour that is due to the memory of so illustrious a princess. For, in short, the partisans of the emperor, and the enemies of Gregory, especially the clergy of Germany, whom he absolutely resolved to deprive of their wives, whom they had imprudently married against the most holy laws of the church, thence took occasion to inveigh against him in a strange manner, to accuse him of too great a privacy with that countess, and to tell many scandalous stories of him, and such as cannot be credited in the least, as being contrary to truth, and the known virtue of both. And therefore the German historian, who lived at that time, and who relates this, adds that all judicious persons, and such as were not blinded and prejudiced by an unjust passion, were fully sensible that they were mere impudent calumnies, which like thin clouds so vanished away, by the apostolical life the pope led in the sight of all the Roman court, and those who knew him did not entertain the least suspicion of him.”Gregory also made a league with the duke of Suabia, and dispersed several circular letters, which had a good effect; for he declared all those to be excommunicated who should correspond with the emperor; he forbad all bishops to absolve him; and enjoined all princes to force him to submit to the holy see, or to proceed to the election of another emperor. What is very remarkable is, that he durst maintain that, in in deposing him, he had only conformed to the practice of the court of Rome. The league that was formed in his favour in Germany was so powerful
that, after a long deliberation, it was declared, that “they ought to elect another king by the pope’s authority, who should give him the imperial crown.” The emperor, notwithstanding his mean condescension to the confederate princes, could obtain but very hard conditions; which obliged him to go and beg the pope’s absolution; and, in order to obtain it, he was forced to submit to the most unheard of indignities. He set out, in the beginning of the winter, with his wife, one of his children, and a very small retinue, and passed the Alps in the worst time of the year, being exposed to great inconveniences, which might raise compassion for a mere traveller, and much more for so great a prince, reduced to so miserable a condition. Nevertheless, his arrival in Italy gave some uneasiness to the pope; and therefore Matilda carried him to her castle of Canossa, that he might be safe whatever should happen. Many princes intreated him to absolve the emperor, but he continued a long time inexorable; and then, being rather overcome by importunities, than moved with the continual and earnest solicitations of those princes, he told them at last, that he would absolve him, according to their desires; but upon condition that, in order to make it appear to all the world that he truly repented of his revolt, he should first send him his crown, and all his other royal ornaments, to dispose of them at his pleasure; and that he should publicly confess that, after what he had done in his infamous conventicle at Worms, he was unworthy of being a king or an emperor. The princes threw themselves at the pope’s feet, beseeching him for God’s sake to be contented with something more tolerable: and they obtained, with great difficulty, that he might come then, in God’s name, if he had a mind to be absolved; but that, in order to obtain that favour, he must resolve to do whatever should be enjoined him for a penance. The emperor submitted to those terms. He went to the first gate of the castle, expecting with great submission what should be required of him. First, he was obliged to go alone, and to leave all his attendants out of doors to wait for him, and go back with him at his coming out; which was certainly a very nice point, and no sovereign prince but he would have submitted to it. In short, he delivered himself, as it were bound hand and foot, into the hands of those who might have absolutely disposed of him as they pleased, and kept him prisoner in a place that was thought to be impregnable, and out of which his attendants had never been able to rescue him. Besides, when he got out of the first inclosure, they stopped him in the second; where he was obliged to lay down all the ensigns of the royal majesty, to pull off his clothes, and put on a woollen tunic, like a hair-cloth, and to stay there bare-footed in the coldest time of the winter; (for it was about the latter end of January) and fasting from morning till night, imploring with deep sighs God’s and the pope’s mercy. And what is most strange is, that this poor prince was forced to continue in this sad and pitiful condition three days together, whilst the pope could not be moved by tears and intreaties to admit him sooner into his presence, in order to comfort him: and the thing went so far that, as he himself confesses, boasting of his extreme severity in his letter to the princes of Germany, all those that were with him murmured at it, being amazed at his hard-heartedness; nay, some made no scruple to say, that such a behaviour was more like the barbarous cruelty of a tyrant, than the just severity of an apostolic judge. They are the very words of Gregory, mentioned by cardinal Baronius. That prince was like to lose his patience about the end of the third day of so severe a penance, when the Countess Matilda undertook this business with more earnestness than before; and then pope Gregory, who could not deny any thing to so great a princess, to whom he was so much indebted, resolved at last to receive Henry on the fourth day in the morning, and to reconcile him to the church upon these terms: “That he should submit to the judgment which the pope, in the time and place appointed for it, should give upon the accusations brought against him; and that, in the mean time, he should not exercise any act of sovereignty.” I omit the other conditions, which were all very severe.His excommunicated friends were treated much in the same manner. He did not use much more gently the German bishops and others, both ecclesiastics and laymen, who came a little before to throw themselves at his feet, in order to be absolved from the excommunication they had incurred. For, before he absolved them, he caused each of them to fast a considerable time, against the custom of the country, where, by reason of the cold, fasting is with more difficulty observed than in Italy. Fasting is without doubt one of the greatest mortifications that can be laid upon the northern nations, especially upon rich people, who are used from their younger years to feed well, and to make long meals, where, if they eat a great deal, they drink still more. If the Christian religion had been first planted in that country, I do not think they would have sent into the east the same canons about abstinence and vigils, which came from the east to the northern nations.
The pusillanimity of the emperor made the Lombards less zealous for him; and he could not recover their esteem but by expressing a desire of revenging himself. The wars he had upon his hands in Germany, where Rodolphus, duke of Suabia, had been made king, prevented his attacking the pope; but, having obtained great advantages over his rival, he showed himself but little disposed to perform what Gregory required of him. Wherefore this pope, in a council held at Rome in the year 1080, excommunicated and deposed him anew. “By this thundering
decree, he deprived him of the empire, and of the kingdoms of Germany and Italy, absolves all his subjects from their oath of allegiance; and what he would not do till then, confirms Rodolphus’s election, to whom he sent a rich crown of gold, about which there was an inscription, contained in one verse, importing that Christ, who is the mystical stone, gave the diadem to Peter, and in the person of Gregory to Rodolphus.” These are father Maimbourg’s words. If it be true that Gregory’s father was a carpenter, we have here an instance, that men of the most lofty courage may be born among the dregs of the people. Can any body be more haughty than our Hildebrand was? did not he make it bis business to humble kings; “because,” said he, that “they carried it too high, and he was resolved to bring down their pride by his severe usage. —“Imperatoribus et regibus, cæterisque principibus ut elationes maris, et superbiæ fluctus comprimere valeant, arma humilitatis, Deo auctore, providere curamus: proinde videtur utile, maximè Imperatoribus, ut cùm mens illorum se ad alta erigere, et pro singulari vult gloriâ oblectare, inveniat quibus se modis humiliet, atque unde gaudebat, sentiat plus timendum. —To humble the pride of kings and princes, we take care, by God’s assistance, to provide the arms of humility: esteeming it useful to show monarchs the way to humble themselves amidst their greatness, and discover to them the danger of the situation they so much pride themselves in.” Observe that the Jesuit Maimbourg rejects what has been said of Gregory’s father.This final stroke brought things to the last extremities. The emperor called an assembly first at Mentz, and then at Brixen, wherein Gregory was declared to have forfeited the pontificate, and Guibert of Parma, archbishop of Ravenna, was elected in his room, and took the name of Clement III. The emperor, having gained two battles, one in Germany over Rodolphus,
notwithstanding the pope’s prophecies, the other near Mantua, over the troops of the countess Matilda, resolved to go and settle his antipope at Rome. Hildebrand, in order to encourage Rodolphus and the Saxons, assured them that he knew by revelation, “That a false king was to die that very year,” which he understood of the emperor Henry IV; “and if it be not true,” added he, “I desire to be no longer pope; nay, if it do not happen before St Peter’s day.” Du Plessis Mornai, who had this from Sigebert, observes, “that Rodolphus, depending on that oracle, renewed the battle four times, others say six times; and not only lost it, but also his right hand, wherewith he had sworn to the emperor, and also his life.” Coëffeteau answers, “that cardinal Baronius had prevented that calumny, and showed that Gregory never pretended to the revelations his enemies lathered upon him, but only that he affirmed in general, trusting to God’s mercy, and the justice of his cause, that God would destroy his enemies, and that his friends would shortly be uppermost; but without fixing any day, as he had been falsely charged by the schismatics.” It was replied to Coëffeteau that Baronius says this, upon occasion of a letter117 written by Gregory to his fellow bishops and other faithful: and it is true that the words of that letter may bear such an interpretation; but this does not prove that the pope did not speak otherwise elsewhere. And indeed the charge laid upon him concerns quite another thing, not contained in a letter, but spoken in a public sermon, which he preached in his pontifical habit. The words run thus: “Do not look upon me hereafter as a pope, but turn me out from the altar, if this prophecy be not fulfilled on St Peter’s day.” It fell out that the assassins, who had been bribed, could not strike the intended blow, in order to fulfil the prophecy; so that, to justify himself, he pretended that his words were only to be understood of the death of the emperor’s soul, because he had not been able to destroy his body.118Hildebrand’s craft proves that those who pretend to foretel things to come, take care to have a brazen face, and an inexhaustible source of equivocations, in order to explain events in their favour, though they be never so contrary to them. If the enemies meet with worldly prosperity, they say they grow more obdurate, and that it is the true misery which was foretold by them. See how Hildebrand applies to the death of the soul, what he ventured to foretel concerning the emperor’s death. Of what use could it be to Rodolphus that the emperor Henry IV should be damned, after a certain number of years, if, before that Rodolphus was to be killed in a battle gained by the emperor?
The emperor effected the humiliation of his enemy after many difficulties, and had the satisfaction of forcing him to fly from Rome, and retire to Salerno, where pope Gregory VII died, the 24th of May 1085. It is no easy thing to give a particular account of his actions with any certainty; for, besides that the writers who speak of him, confute one another, it cannot be denied that his enemies appear too passionate, and that what they say of his being a magician is mere fiction. However this be, I can affirm, that no pope was ever so well or so ill spoken of as our Gregory VII. Many miracles are ascribed to him, and he has been inscribed in the catalogue of Saints.
He was buried at Salerno, in St. Matthew’s church, which he consecrated not long before he died. His body was searched for, in the year 1573, and it was found clothed with the pontifical ornaments. The following epitaph was added to it. “Gregorio VII.
Soanensi Pont. Opt. Max. Ecclesiasticæ libertatis vindici acerrimo, assertori constantissimo, qui dum Rom. Pontificis auctoritatem adversus Henrici perfidiam strenuè tuetur, Salerni sancte decubeit, Anno Dom. 1085. 8 Kal. Junii. Marcus Antonius Columns, Marsilius Bononiensis Archiepiscopus Salernitanus, cum illius corpus, quingentos circiter annos, sacris amictum, ac ferè integrum reperissit, ne tanti pontificis sepulcrum diutius memoria careret. Gregorio Kill. Bononiense sedente, anno dom. 1578. pridie kalendas Quintilis.—To perpetuate the memory of Gregory VII, of Soana, Pope, the most inflexible assertor of the immunities of the church, who, whilst he strenuously asserted the papal authority against the perfidiousness of the emperor Henry, died holily at Salerno, A. D. 1085, May 25. This epitaph was inscribed by Mark Anthony Colonna, archbishop of Salerno, having found his body after about 500 years interment, clothed in his pontifical habit, and almost entire: A. D. 1578, June 30, in the reign of Gregory XIII.” He was placed in the Roman Martyrology in the year 1584, and his festival was celebrated in 1595. We may very well wonder at the uncertainty of history, when we read the apologies published by his favourers. Art. Gregory VII.(Pius II.)
A letter which Pope Pius II wrote to the sultan, Mahomet II, has much employed the controversial writers. Mr du Plessis Mornai was the aggressor in these words:119 “The ambition of Pius II cannot be better known than by his epistle 396, wherein he offers and promises the Grecian empire to Mahomet sultan of the Turks, provided he would turn Christian, and succour the church, that is, his own party, and assist him to rend Christendom in pieces, as he did
by continual wars, giving him to understand, that it was in his gift, and that thus his predecessors had granted the empire of Germany to Charlemagne.”Coëffeteau filled all the sails of his eloquence, or rather of his anger, in answering this passage of Du Plessis. “Is it possible,” says he,120 “that heresy should so far extinguish all ingenuousness, as to make us condemn what is most commendable in the actions of those we have a mind to defame? There can be nothing so learned and eloquent, nothing so solid and nervous, nothing so humble and Christian, nothing so pious and religious, as this epistle; and yet Du Plessis alleges it as a signal mark of the insolence of its author. Does any spark of modesty, any sense of justice, remain with him? Here are the words, from which he would infer the ambition of Pius. 'If you desire,' says this pope to Mahomet, ‘ to enlarge your empire among the Christians, and render your name glorious, you need neither gold nor silver, nor armies, nor ships to do it. One little thing may render you the greatest, the most powerful, the most famous, of all men that live this day. You will ask what it is? It is not difficult to find it, and you need not search far for it; it is to be met with in all parts of the world; it is only a little water, to baptise you, that you may embrace the Christian religion,and believe the gospel. If you do this, no prince in the world will exceed you in glory, or equal you in power. We will call you the emperor of the Greeks, and of the East; and what you now possess by violence and injustice, you shall then possess by right and equity. All Christians will honour you, and make you arbitrator of their differences, &c. And again, if you were baptized, and would go with us into the house of the Lord, the people would no longer dread your empire, nor would we assist them against you; but rather we would implore your aid
against those, who sometimes usurp what belongs to the Roman church, and lift up their horns against their mother. And as our predecessors, Stephen, Adrian, and Leo, called in to their assistance Pepin and Charlemagne against Astulphus and Desiderius, kings of the Lombards, and, after they had by them been delivered from the oppression of tyrants, transferred to their deliverers the empire of the Greeks; so we would make use of your assistance, and we would not be ungrateful for the benefit we should receive.’ Can a reader, who considers these things without passion, discover any appearance of ambition in this epistle? was it not rather his zeal, that made him write thus, to influence the pride and courage of this barbarian? And does he promise Mahomet any thing, but what all Christendom would have consented to, if this barbarian had been willing to embrace these conditions, which Pius proposed to him?”Rivet, answering for Du Plessis, confesses, that the long letter of Pius II to Mahomet contains very good things against the belief of the Turks, in confirmation of the Christian faith; but, adds he,121 “Besides that it appears to be a very useless design, that of converting this prince by an epistle, which was no ways probable, there is a diabolical malice in it. For, instead of shewing that the poor Christian Greeks under the empire of this barbarian, raised the compassion of the Christians in these parts, and exhorting him to treat them civilly, he seems to have written this epistle on purpose to blacken them as false Christians, and to discover, that their loss does not affect the Latins. Our history adds, as a mark of ambition, that he proposes to Mahomet, provided he would be baptized, the peaceable empire of all he had usurped, and promises him, that ‘ all will make him judge of their debates, and that the whole world will appeal to
his ‘decision,’ (you may judge whether the princes, who had been a long time Christians, were not mightily obliged to him); ‘that many of themselves would submit to him, and to his sentence, &c.’ He adds, ‘ that the charity of the Romish church will not only be towards him what it is to other kings, but so much greater, as he is higher than they.’ Observe this stroke. ‘ In fine, he represents to him, that the Romish church would implore his aid against the undutiful children that rose up against their mother.' And in fine, having boasted, that the Popes had transferred the empire of the Greeks to the French, he promises, that, in consideration of his services done to the church, he would do the like by him, in return for his benefits. There is wanting a long commentary on this discourse. In a few words, this way of converting men by promising them the empire of the world is not apostolical. It is a ridiculous thing to promise a foreign and potent prince, what he is already possessed of. It is contrary to charity, which is no respecter of persons, to be greater toward those who are more highly advanced. It is against the same charity, to discover to an infidel die miseries of Christendom, and to desire his conversion, on purpose to make use of him against princes already Christians. Lastly, it is vanity, ambition, and presumption, to boast, that the empire of Charlemagne is a reward from the Pope, and to pretend, that he could reward, after the same manner, him to whom he speaks: let the reader judge, whether this discourse becomes him, who says he is seated in the chair of St Peter: Is this a discourse humble, Christian, modest, and pious? Would these conditions and promises have been approved by all Christendom?"It seems not possible to reply any thing very material to the remarks of Rivet; but, on the contrary, it seems very possible to make them more unanswerable; for what can be more horrible, and shameful to
the Christian religion, than to see Mahomet II, one of the greatest criminals that ever lived, a man, who had shed so much blood, and robbed so many persons of their estates by a continual train of cruelties and injustices, become lawful possessor of all his usurpations; provided he would be baptized? What becomes of that inviolable law of Christian morality, that the first step of repentance that expiates a robbery, is the restitution of the ill-gotten goods? What should we say, if a Jew, guilty of a fraudulent bankruptcy for three millions, should obtain, by the mere ceremony of baptism, without being obliged to make any restitution, a full absolution of his crimes, and a right to possess those three millions? Would not the Infidels have very good reason to defame Christianity as the pest of equity and natural morality? And yet this procedure with respect to the bankrupt would be only a peccadillo, in comparison of the offers, which Pius II made to Mahomet, to make him lawful possessor of his conquests, by means of a few drops of water sprinkled upon bis face. What would the apostles say at the sight of such a dispensation, and such a use of the keys? Is this agreeable to what St Paul says, or even to what Ovid a Heathen poet says:O niminium faciles qui tristia crimina cædis
Fluminea tolli posse putatis aqua.
Fools! to believe, that water, duly spilt,
Can wash away the crimson stains of guilt.
Some persons believe, that the letter of Pius II was not written with the design of being sent to Mahomet. I shall add nothing to the words which I borrow from a Catholic writer. “Here we must add a word about the long letter, which Francesco Sansovino has published, under the name of Pope Pius to Sultan Mahomet. For it appears by it, that this Pope wrote it at the time, when the conquest of Sinope
and Trebizonde made the Latin princes fear the like effort from the Ottoman arms. It shews at large the advantages of the Christian religion above the Mahometan, and pretends to invite the Sultan to baptism by great examples, representing to him how glorious it was for Constantine the great, to have been the first of the Roman emperors, who became a Christian, and to Clovis to have been also the first of the French kings, who embraced the Gospel, and that it would be no less honourable for him to be the first of the Ottoman monarchs, who embraced our faith. There are many, who, reflecting upon the inaccessible and morose humour of Mahomet, do not think it probable, that a letter, on so nice a subject, was ever delivered to him, or that any durst wait for an answer to it. They add, that at least it would have found the Sultan very little inclined to the proposal, and that, unless by a miracle, his conversion could not be the effect of the remonstrances of a letter. Thus when the Italians would express the little hopes there is of success in any matter, they say pleasantly in their language ' La penna non toglie il filo alla spada: that the pen does not blunt the edge of the sword.’ It is probable therefore, that it was published among the western nations, after the taking of Trebizonde, as a manifesto, to justify the arms of the Crusade, and to awake the ardor of the warriors in Christendom, after they had seen, that the Pope had endeavoured in vain to divert the arms of the Sultan in the peaceable way of remonstrance.”— Art. Mahomet II.(Innocent VIII.)
Innocent VIII, created pope in the year 1484, was of Genoa, and his name was John Baptist Cibo. Authors are not agreed about the illustriousness or the obscurity of his family; but it is acknowledged that he was sent to the court of Naples in youth,
and that he served king Alphonso. He was afterwards one of the cardinal Bologna's domestics at Rome, which I think was of some use to him, in order to be promoted to the bishopric of Savona. Pope Sixtus IV, who was much his friend, bestowed on him the bishopric of Melfi, and afterwards a cardinal’s cap. One of the first actions of Innocent VIII, after his advancement to the pontificate, was to conspire with the grandees of the kingdom, against Ferdinand king of Naples; he sent for Robert Sanseverino to give him the command of the troops in the expedition against that king; but not being satisfied with the conduct of this general, he turned him out of that post, and made peace with Ferdinand. The conditions of the treaty were, that the king of Naples should pardon the rebels, and pay to the holy see the tribute that he owed: he performed neither the one nor the other, and frustrated the pope’s designs, who endeavoured to revenge that infraction. Afterwards Innocent VIII thought no more of war, and applied himself to make Rome enjoy the fruits of peace. We shall see how difficult it is to exercise the papacy; for if the popes are blamed for meddling with the politic affairs of Europe, they are also blamed when they do not concern themselves with them, and it is then said that they are useless to the public good, and Guicciardini gives this idea of Innocent VIII. It is true, he adds something that softens his censure; for he observes, that the indolence the pope fell into, produced this advantage, that nobody feared his giving any disturbance to Italy. This matter of fact is to be found in the following words, with a parenthesis of a Protestant divine. “Guicciardini describes Innocent VIII in these words, that his life in other respects useless to the public good (an excellent quality for a pope) was at least useful in this, that having suddenly laid down his arms which he had unfortunately taken up in the beginning of his pontificate against Ferdinand, at the instigation of several barons of the kingdom of Naples, and afterwards turned his mind to idle pleasures; he had neither for himself, nor for those who belonged to him, any thoughts that tended to disturb the repose of Italy.’' Those who shall consider the parenthesis, will perceive, that the reason why I quote Rivet’s reply, rather than the original words of Guicciardini, is because the passage of Rivet serves me for a proof. Would to God there were no other faults committed but such as contribute to the public peace.Innocent procured a great plenty and cheapness of provisions, and caused robbers to be severely punished. He created new offices, the sale whereof brought him a great deal of money, and he was the first pope who gloried in having bastards, and loaded them with, wealth.
Volaterranus speaks of it in this manner. “He was the first of the popes who introduced that new and extraordinary proceeding of owning publicly his spurious issue, and without any respect to the ancient discipline, heaping upon them riches without measure.” He mentions but one son, and one daughter of this pope, and he says, that the one obtained of his father some towns in the neighbourhood of Rome, and the advantage of being son-in-law to Lorenzo de Medicis, and that the daughter was married with a prodigious fortune to a Genoese. Moreri has stumbled here; he says, “that Innocent VIII left two rich sons, which he had before his pontificate.” This is an error both as to the sex, and the number of these bastards. They were sixteen, eight sons and eight daughters; whence this epigram:
Quid quæris testes, sit mas an fœmina Cibo,
Respice natorum, pignora certa, gregem:
Octo noceus pueros genuit, totidemque puellas,
Hunc merito poterit dicere Roma patrein.
Of Cibo’s sex, if you full proofs require,
Look on the pledges he has left below,
Eight lads, eight lasses, own him for their sire,
The stile of father well might Rome bestow.
Innocent was a handsome man, obliging even to excess, but covetous, ignorant, and of little wit. I will quote a Catholic writer, because a Protestant would be suspected. “Innocent was tall, well made, and of a fine person, but slow of understanding, and had no learning.” He died in July 1492, at the age of sixty.—Art. Innocent VIII.
Julius II
Julius II created pope the night between the thirty-first of October and the first of November, 1503, was nephew to Sixtus IV, and was called Julian de Rovere. It is said that he had been a waterman: Erasmus has inserted this tradition in his adages. “From the oar to the tribunal, is proverbially said when any one is suddenly raised from a low condition to an honourable employment. I know not whether this happened more luckily to any one than to Julius II; for it is reported that when he was a young man, he used to row for hire, and yet he was raised from a boatman not only to the seat of justice, but even to the highest of human honours; and not satisfied with this elevation, he greatly enlarged the Papal authority, and would have carried it still farther, had he not been prevented by death.” Anastasius Germonius, archbishop of Tarentaise, has maintained that all the stories concerning the birth of Sixtus IV and Julius II, are false, and that Leonard de Rovere, father of Sixtus IV, was a very noble knight, and that before the exaltation of this pope, the family of Rovere was in a flourishing state; but Mr de la Monnoie pretends that Anastasius Germonius, who only copies Onuphrius, cannot stand against Philelphus, Baptist Fregosus, Volaterranus, Corio, Erasmus, Machiavel, Chasseneuz, Bandello, Du Ferron, Masso, and so many others cited by Spondanus in his continuation
of Baronius, on the year 1471, n. 10. Bandello affirms that Julius II boasted that he had steered a little vessel. “Pope Julius II made no difficulty frequently to say, that from Arbizuola, a village in the Savonese, he many times when a boy, carried onions in a boat to sell at Genoa. He was nevertheless a man of great parts, and an exalted genius.”There was something very remarkable in his election; he was sure of it before the cardinals entered the conclave, so that he came into it pope. He was an exception to the common proverb that he who enters the conclave pope, comes out cardinal, “Chi entra papa, esce cardinale.” He had secured his faction by so many promises, and had in his power so many means of enriching such as would serve him, that it was not possible for him to miss the papal dignity. Besides the riches which he had already gotten, he had in hand those of others; every one was eager to offer him money and even their benefices, so that he saw himself in a capacity of promising more than was asked. Thus you see the iniquitous way by which he rose to the pontificate; It is not a Protestant but an Italian author that says it.122 “But that which served most in his advancement, was the promises immoderate and infinite which he made to the cardinals, princes and barons, and to all others whom he might make profitable to him in that action. Besides, he had the means to distribute money, benefices, and spiritual dignities, as well such as were his own, as those that were the rights of others; for that such was the bruit and renown of his liberality, that many made willing offers to him to dispose as he best liked of their treasures, their names, their offices, and benefices. They considered not that his promises were far too great then, than being pope he either could or ought to observe; for that he had of so long continuance enjoyed the name of just and upright, that
pope Alexander himself, his greatest enemy, speaking ill of him in all other things, could not but confess him to be true of his word, a praise which he made no care to defile and stain thereby to become pope, knowing that no man more easily beguileth another, than he that hath the custom and name never to deceive any.” If he had not made use of this simony, how could he have induced the cardinals to give him their voices? he who had always discovered so terribly and turbulent a temper, and had made many enemies. Money brings about every thing; it made a pope before they had met for the election, a thing never known before. Julius gained the faction of the duke of Valentinois, by making him believe that he was his father, and promising to treat him as his son; he did afterwards just the contrary. No man had ever a more martial spirit than he; he was in person at the taking of towns, and appeared more fiery than those who commanded his armies. Du Plessis Mornai adds nothing to the expressions of Guicciardini when he says “Being resolved to attack Ferrara, he was advised first to take Mirandola, and being tired with the slow progress of that siege which went not to his mind (a thing not expected, and never known before) the vicar of Christ on earth was there in person against a Christian town,” says Guicciardini; “and though old and sick, was so obstinate and impetuous in a war which he himself had raised against the Christian princes, that nothing was done soon enough; he was always calling to the captains in a fury, having his quarters so near the battery that two men were killed in his kitchen, notwithstanding the remonstrances the cardinals made to him of the disgrace he brought both upon himself and his see.” Monstrelet says on that occasion, “he deserted St Peter’s chair to take the title of Mars the god of battle, to display his three crowns in the field, and to sleep in a watchtower; and God knows what a fine figure these mitres, crosses, and crosiers made, fluttering in the camp; the devil was not such a fool as to be there, for benedictions were too cheap.” Guicciardini does very well represent what concerns the siege of Mirandola; for he observes that this pope had no regard to the horrible cold of the season, which retarded the works of the besiegers. Complaining of his captains, he encouraged his soldiers with the hopes of plunder, for he promised them not to capitulate with the town, but to suffer them to sack it. Mezerai says that the town being taken by composition, the nineteenth of March, the pope would be carried into it through the breach.A great number of writers affirm that he once threw St Peter’s keys into the Tiber; hitherto I have found no authority for this, besides this Latin epigram of one Gilbertus Ducherius Vulto Aquapersanus:—
In Galium ut fama est, bellum ges turns acerbum,
Armatum educit Julius urbe manum:
Accinctus gladio, claves in Tibridis amnem
Projicit et sævus, talia verba facit:
“Quum Petri nihil efficiant ad prælia claves,
Auxilio Pauli forsitan ensis erit.”
Fame says Pope Julius once the sword did wield,
And to engage the Frenchman took the field.
Fierce into Tiber’s stream the keys he threw,
Exclaiming loudly as his sword he drew:
“Since in my aid thy keys, O Peter, fail,
Thy sword, O Paul, in battle may avail.”
It must be confessed that this is a very weak foundation; for when a poet has a pretty thought, and finds no proper subject that he may apply it to, he makes no scruple to supply the want of it by his amplifications and fictions; and he will dispense with the truth rather than lose a witty saying: be that how it may, this action true or false, of Julius II is to be found in many authors. One of the latest writers in whom I
I have read it, relates it thus:123 “Having made an alliance with the Venetians, this most unjust and perfidious warrior led his army against the emperor’s allies, the duke of Ferrara and Lewis XII king of France, with an expression which denoted him rather the successor of a most abandoned and wicked robber, than of St Peter; for marching out of Rome with his army, he in a rage threw St Peter’s key into the Tiber, adding these words: ‘Since St Peter’s key is of no farther use (at the same time he drew his sword), let us try St Paul’s sword.'” However this may have been, if this pope wanted the qualities of a good bishop, he had at least those of a conquering prince. He had great courage and a political bead, by which he formed leagues and broke them according to the exigency of his interest; he made a most formidable one against the republic of Venice, and made use among other things, of the thunder of his excommunications; but when he saw that the victory which the king of France, one of the heads of that league, obtained over the Venetians, too much weakened that republic, he forsook his allies and reunited himself with it. The emperor and the king of France equally dissatisfied with him, endeavoured to bring him to reason by a way always formidable to the popes, which was by the calling of a council; but he was not daunted at that, he proceeded severely against this council, and called another himself which had the better of it, to which at last the king of France submitted in a low manner: it is true that Julius II was then dead. The sacred league which he formed in Italy received a terrible check by the battle of Ravenna; and if they had known how to make use of that advantage, they would doubtless have humbled this haughty pontiff, whereas they permitted him to recover himself from that severe blow, by the little use they made of that victory, to which the powerful diversion in his behalf contributed very much. He recovered himself so well, that the same year the French were forced to abandon the Milanese. Nothing was so prejudicial to Lewis XII as the superstition of Anne of Bretagny his wife. She filled her head with so many scruples about the war that France made with the pope, that she retarded all the good designs of her husband. Julius obtained great succours from the Swiss, and was very liberal of titles and marks of honour towards the cantons; he died of a sickness, full of vast designs, the twenty-second of February, 1513. This is what Guicciardini says: “He was a prince of incredible constancy and courage, but so full of fury and unruled conceptions, that the reverence that was borne to the church, the discord of princes, and the condition of the times, did more to stay him from his ruin than either his moderation or his discretion; worthy no doubt of great glory, if either he had been a secular prince, or if that care and intention which he had to raise the church into temporal greatness by the means of war, had been employed to exalt it by the mediation of peace in matters spiritual. Nevertheless he was lamented above all his predecessors, and no less esteemed of those who having either lost the true consideration of things, or at least, ignorant how to distinguish and appease them rightly, judged it an office more duly appertaining to popes, to increase the jurisdiction of the apostolic see by arms and blood of Christians, than by good example of life and due curing and correction of corrupt manners, to travel for the saving of those souls, for whom they glory so much that Jesus Christ hath named them his vicars on earth” How judicious is this, and what an admirable censure upon those impatient doctors who believe all to be just, provided the temporal grandeur of the church be improved by it! It in particular hits cardinal Palavicini, who speaks so faintly of Julius II’s faults, and excuses them by reason of the temporal advantage they brought to St Peter’s patrimony. “He was endowed with a high spirit, insomuch that if he had been a temporal prince, he would deserve to be put in the number of the heroes. Certainly, had it not been for that fierceness, he would not have recovered to the church the best part of her patrimony.”124 Paul Jovius affirms that Julius II died having a vast design upon the kingdom of Naples. It was said that the title of deliverer of Italy, with which he suffered himself to be flattered, was but an empty name while the Spaniards were possessed of Naples: “If God let me act,” answered he, striking his stick upon the ground, “this shall not last long. Ad quod Pontifex quassato scipione quo innixus pavimentum infrendendo pertundebat, responds brevi futurum, ut Neapolitani non iratis superis externum jugum excuterent."Julius was a lover of wine and women, and he is accused even of the unnatural sin; and there is no sort of crime but he is charged with, in a dialogue it is feigned he had with St Peter at the gate of Paradise. We are told of an exclamation of the emperor Maximilian: “Good God! what would become of the world, if thou didst not take a particular care of it under the reign of such an emperor as I am, who am but a poor hunter, and under that of so wicked and drunken a pope as Julius II.” Some historians observe that this pope invented a new name to accuse the French of drinking too much wine, and discharging it immediately by urine, and they add that this was his great vice. “He gave the French the general appellation of Micturovini, thus adding a new word to the Roman language, implying that they were immoderate drinkers of wine, which was afterwards to be discharged, of which vice he himself was very guilty." It is said that one of his officers, a Norman by nation, told him one day, “Faith, holy father, you are then a true
Frenchman, for you are one of the greatest Micturovini upon earth.”His hatred against France, where he had found a good sanctuary under the pontificate of Alexander VI, was so excessive, that he ordered that all the French which could be met with, should be killed, and promised a recompense to whomsoever should execute his order. We are not to believe that the wine and hams which he sent to the king of England, were the true cause of the war of the English against France. Spondanus has been so unjust as to insinuate this, and to jest upon it; and he pretends that Polydore Virgil said nothing of it, to save at once the honour of Italy and England. Polydore was an Italian and lived in England; he was therefore concerned in the glory of both these nations. Now he thought it unworthy of Italy to win people by such allurements, and unworthy of England to suffer itself to be caught by such a bait. These are the words of the annalist:125 “It is a merry story which Guicciardini relates, that a ship belonging to the pope, laden with Falernian wine, cheeses, and Westphalia hams, arrived at that time in England, which being made a present of in the pope’s name to the king, nobles, and prelates, was received by them all with wonderful applause; and that the common people, whom trifles affect no less than things of moment, flocked to see that ship with great pleasure, boasting that they had never before seen in that island, any ship with Papal colours. Guicciardini tells us that nation was fond of wine and high-seasoned meats, by which the Pope knew he should easily draw them to his party, as they say Narses once enticed the Lombards into Italy, sending them all kinds of fruit and other delicacies with which Italy abounds, that they might be induced to leave their own native poverty, and take possession of a
country full of all sorts of riches. Now whereas Polydore Virgil has not inserted in his history of England this memorable fact, so highly acceptable to the king, nobles, prelates, and people, I take the reason to be, because being an Italian and residing in England, he had regard to the gravity of both nations.” Mezerai comes much nearer the truth, for he observes that the pope spurred on Henry VIII with the ambition of protecting the true church. “The English,” says he, “were upon the point of breaking with the king; for the pope had made them drunk with the vain-glory of defending the holy see, and with the flavour of delicious wines of all sorts, with which he had sent them a great ship laden, together with hams, sausages, and spices to make them relish the better.” According to Varillas it was from a motive of religion that an English bishop sounded an alarm for war the day after the feast given by Henry VIII, where the chief members of the parliament were treated with the good wines and excellent cheeses which the pope’s ship had brought to London. This prelate represented that Lewis XII was a persecutor of the church, and that it “would be an eternal disgrace to the English nation to live in peace with the persecutors of the holy see.” Varillas should have a little better explained all the reasons of this prelate, and not have been contented to give us to understand that some political reasons were added to those religious motives. The English prelate urged no doubt that Lewis XII would depose the pope only to create another in bis room, who would permit him to conquer Italy. This certainly was the true spring that put Henry VIII in motion; he plainly perceived that if no opposition were made to it, Lewis XII would reap all the glory of deposing Julius II the scourge of Christendom, and of creating a new pope devoted to him, and of subduing all Italy. Human policy and jealousy do not suffer a prince to consent to such an aggrandizing of the glory and power of his neighbours; and for this reason Lewis XII saw the forces of England, Switzerland, and Spain against him.The history of Venice written by Cardinal Bembo, is sufficient to shew the passion, treachery, and prodigious ambition of Julius II, though this historian is less prolix upon it than Guicciardini. Bandelli tells a story that is pleasant enough: “The Germans,” says be, having asked the Pope leave to eat flesh upon St Martin’s day when it should fall on a fish day; Julius would not flatly deny them that favour, but granted it on condition they should drink no wine the same day.” This was the same thing as a refusal, there being more to be lost than gotten by such a favour. In the year 1511, Julius II interdicted the whole kingdom of France except Brittany.
Art. Julius II.
Leo X.
Leo X, elected pope the 11th of March, 1513, was called John de Medicis. He had been honoured with a cardinal’s hat at fourteen years of age by Pope Innocent VIII, and a long time after, with the dignity of legate by pope Julius II. He discharged the functions of it in the army which was beaten by the French near Ravenna, in the year 1512. Here he was taken prisoner; and during his confinement he made a wonderful experiment of the force of superstition, even over the minds of common soldiers. The soldiers who had vanquished him expressed so great a veneration for him, that they humbly begged pardon for their victory, beseeched him to give them absolution, and promised never to bear arms more against the pope: this I learn from Cardinal Palavicino. It is thought that nothing contributed more to his elevation to the popedom, than the wounds he had received
in the combats of Venus. I have so often given the reason why I choose rather to cite Catholic than Protestant writers on such occasions, that without farther preamble, I shall here produce the words of a French historian, and a bitter enemy to the Protestants.— “Three months had not passed since the return of cardinal de Medicis to Florence, when the death of pope Julius II obliged him to leave that town and go to Rome. He was carried in a horse litter by reason of an imposthume in those parts which modesty will not allow us to name, and travelled so slowly that the pope’s obsequies were over, and the conclave sitting, when he arrived there. The conclave had not ended so soon as it did, the young and old cardinals persisting in contrary opinions with equal obstinacy if an odd accident had not brought them to agree. The cardinal de Medicis being extremely hurried by the number of visits he made every night to the cardinals of his faction, his ulcer broke, and the scent proved so offensive that all the cells, which were separated only by slight partitions, were perfectly poisoned by it. The old cardinals, whose constitutions were less capable of bearing the malignancy of a corrupted air, consulted the physicians of the conclave to know what they should do; these physicians, who had seen cardinal de Medicis, and judged of his state more by the ill humours which flowed from his body, than by that strength of nature which drove them out, answered, being first gained by the promises of Bibiana, that cardinal de Medicis had not a month to live. Their passing this sentence of death upon him was the cause of his being chosen pope; the old cardinals, who thought to outwit the young, agreeing to give them a satisfaction which could not, as they presumed, last very long. They waited upon them and let them know that they at last yielded to their obstinacy, on condition they would remember to do the like for them another time. Thus cardinal de Medicis was elected pope, upon a false information, being not full thirty-six years old; and, as joy is one of the most sovereign remedies, he soon recovered so perfect a state of health, that the old cardinals had occasion to repent of their being over credulous.”Not to conceal any thing, I am obliged to acquaint my reader that Paul Jovius does not place this ulcer in the place where Varillas does, but in the fundament, which would suppose a disgraceful cause: and with the same sincerity I add, that this pope ascended the throne with a great reputation of chastity, if we believe Guicciardini, and was reckoned very continent from his youth, if we credit Paul Jovius. Whence we must conclude that the papal dignity was that which ruined Leo the Tenth’s good morals: he grew vicious, when he should have grown virtuous; and lastly, I observe, that the sense in which I allege Varillas’s words, and which Seckendorf gives them, is gathered only from consequences, and such as do not necessarily follow from them.
His expenses were excessive on the day of his coronation. He would be crowned upon the same day on which he lost the battle of Ravenna and his liberty the year before and rode the same Turkish horse which he rode on the day of that battle; he ransomed him from the French; and, as he loved him mightily, he had him very carefully kept and pampered to an extreme old age. “Vectus est etiam in pompa illo eodem equo Thracio in quo ad Ravennam captus fuerat, quern ab hostibus pecunia redemptum ita adamavit, ut postea usque ad extremam senectutem summa cum indulgentia alendum curarit.126 And as his head was filled with the magnificence of ancient Rome, and the triumphant days of the ancient consuls, he endeavoured to revive those fine shows, and was so well served in this design, that since the irruption of the Goths, there never was seen in Rome any thing more
magnificent than his coronation. See the description of it in Paul Jovius, who agrees with Guicciardini, that the expense of it amounted to a hundred thousand ducats. He led a life little suitable to a successor of the apostles, and perfectly voluptuous. He took too much pleasure in hunting, and it is said his eye at this sport was surprisingly quick. He had such a violent passion for it that he understood and observed the laws of it much better than those of the gospel. He could not bear that any one should disturb his sport; and had no mercy on those who, through imprudence or otherwise, occasioned the escape of the game, to whom he gave all manner of ill language. He was so much out of humour when the chace did not succeed, that nobody durst then ask him a favour; but transported with joy, if it ended luckily; and these were the favourable moments for obtaining whatever was desired of him.As to his sight, here is a passage which I take from a book of the Sieur des Accords.127 “Pope Leo from having these numeral letters to be written, to signify the year of his pontificate, they were thus interpreted, MCCCCLX. Multi Cardinales cæci crearunt cæcum Leonem decimum. Now I must say, by the way, that I do not know why he should be called blind since by the help of glasses he could see hawks, vultures, and eagles, at the highest soar; but on the other hand, whenever he read, he clapped the paper to his nose, and even then could hardly distinguish a letter, as Lucius Gauricus informs us, in his Schematibus Celestibus; which puts me in mind of a certain honest curate who cannot read the church books of the fairest character, without spectacles, and yet shall distinguish the smallest dice, and is never to be deceived.” Paul Jovius confirms this but in part; for he says, that Leo read the smallest print with great ease, when he brought the
paper near his eye. Let us cite Gauric, and admire the impertinence of his attributing to the planets the different qualities of the right and left eye of this pope.128 “The sun, with nebulous stars, entirely dimmed the sight of his right eye, with many transverse lines. The moon, in the sixth house, in Gemini, applying to the quartil of Mars, impaired likewise the sight of his left eye, insomuch that he could read nothing without a large crystal glass; yet he did not wholly want the sight of it, because the salutary star Jupiter was in trine to the moon; and thus he read letters by bringing them near his nose and eyes; and, by the help of a crystal glass, he distinguished hawks and eagles, in their highest flight, much better than other sportsmen; besides, he often hunted hares, goats, and foxes, and had a clear sight of them, when caught by the hounds or mastives.”As Leo had been taught by preceptors, who instructed him thoroughly in the Belles Lettres, he loved and protected men of wit and learning. He favoured the poets in a particular manner, and that without always preserving the gravity which his character required. The pleasures he allowed himself with them, sometimes degenerated into buffoonry. Quernus, who had been solemnly crowned, and promoted to the honour of poet Lauréat, was little better than a merry-andrew. He used to come to Leo the tenth’s dinner, and eat at the window, the morsels which were conveyed to him from hand to hand. They gave him the pope’s wine plentifully, but upon condition, that he would make extempore verses on the subjects that were given to him. He was obliged at least to furnish a distich; and if he failed, or if his verses were good for nothing, he was condemned to drink a great deal of water with his wine. Sometimes also the pope made extempore verses with his
arch-poet, which set all the company a laughing. What want of gravity was this! One day a poet presented him with some Latin verses in rhime; the pope, to divert himself, gave him no other recompence than an extempore flight, containing an equal number of verses in the same rhymes. The poet, vexed to see that Leo gave him nothing, returned the following distich:Si tibi pro numeris numeros fortuna dedisset,
Non esset capiti tanta corona tuo.
Had fortune thus thy verse with verse repaid,
The triple crown had not adorn'd thy head.
Hereupon the pope extended to him his usual liberality, and by this we may see, that he turned every thing to his diversion. But here is a passage that clearly discovers the buffooning spirit, which then reigned in the pope’s palace. A man having something to ask of Leo X, and finding himself amused for several days with ungrateful delays, which made him despair of being introduced, bethought himself of this stratagem. He acquainted Leo’s great chamberlain, that he had the most admirable verses to shew the pope, that ever were made. The chamberlain, transported with joy, goes immediately to the pope, and tells him, he had alighted on the very top of fools, and the fittest thing alive to divert him. It was the way of Leo’s courtiers, to find out such as were half crazy, and complete the disorder of their brains, for the diversion of the head of the church. But they were the dupes of the pretended poet I speak of; for when he was admitted to the pope’s presence, he let him know the true reason which induced him to counterfeit a crack-brained poet, and declared his real business. This spirit appeared even in the privileges which he granted to Ariosto. Was it keeping the decorum of the papacy to expedite a bull so favourable to the poems of Ariosto? “Almost
at the same time, that he thundered his anathemas against Martin Luther, he was not ashamed to publish a bull in favour of the prophane poems of Lewis Ariosto, threatening those with excommunication who found fault with them, or hindered the profit of the printer.”129 We shall see elsewhere130 that he was a great admirer of burlesque pieces. He had not the same relish for theological studies. Cardinal Palavicino could not deny it; he honestly confesses, that Leo X valued those more, who understood mythology, the ancient poets, and profane learning, than those who understood divinity, and ecclesiastical history. His words which are more frank, and have less of the bias than usual, are these.131 “Father Paul objects, that he was better acquainted with profane letters, than with sacred or religious learning; which I do not deny. God had endowed Leo with a great genius, and a singular industry; and being yet but a youth, he saw himself placed in the supreme senate of the church, but he neglected that part of literature, not only the most noble, but most suitable, to his station; and this neglect increased, when, at the age of thirty-seven years, being appointed head and master of religion, he not only continued to give himself up to the curiosity of profane studies; but for the regulating of the said religion, did rather call to him those who were acquainted with the fables of Greece, and the delights of the poets, than those who knew the history of the church, and the doctrine of the fathers. He nevertheless favoured scholastic divinity, in honouring with the purple Tommaso di Vio, Ægidio da Viterbo, and Adriano Florenzio, his successor, and in appointing Silvester da Prierio, master of the sacred palace; who, by their writings, have acquired an immortal glory, in illustrating that sacred science. But he did not converse with the divines, as he did with the poets; nor encouraged the sacred erudition, as the profane; leaving the church in the same want, he found her, of learned men, who, after the unhappy ignorance of many ages, should revive the former as they did the latter.” It were to be wished, that these two historians always agreed so well.I will not vouch for this story that he ridiculed the whole Christian doctrine, as a mere fable. The tradition is, that secretary Bembo alleging something from the gospel, he answered him, “it is well known of old, how profitable this fable of Jesus Christ has been to us. Quantum nobis nostrisque ea de Christo fabula profuerit fatis est omnibus seculis notum.” This story is found in the Mystery of Iniquity, and in abundance of other books: but still without being supported by citations, or having any other foundations than the authority of Bale; so that three or four hundred authors, more or less, who have said this, copying one another, ought to be reduced to Bale’s single testimony; a testimony manifestly exceptionable, since he wrote in open war against the pope, and against the whole Romish church. No tribunal in the world would receive the depositions of such a witness, swearing that he has seen or heard so and so, for when once the person appears to be his enemy against whom he deposes, the challenges of the accused party are declared valid. Since books of controversy then are pieces which the parties produce in a suit pleaded before the public, it is certain that the testimony of a Protestant disputant, upon a fact which reflects upon the pope, or the testimony of a popish disputant, on a fact reflecting on the reformers, ought to be reckoned as nothing. The public, which is judge of the process, ought to reject all these testimonies, and have
no more regard to them, than to things which never happened. Private persons are permitted, if once persuaded of the probity of Bale, to believe what he affirms; but they ought to keep their persuasion to themselves, and not produce it to public view, as a juridical proof against their adversaries; which, in my opinion, is a thing not sufficiently observed.They tell another story, which lies open to the same battery as the former. It is said, that Leo hearing two men dispute, one whereof denied, and the other affirmed, the immortality of the soul, pronounced, that the affirmative seemed true, but that the negative was more proper to give a man a cheerful countenance. Luther is the man who says this. We may, if we please, believe he spoke truth, but we ought not to allege his testimony; he is a person at war with the pope; he is an enemy persecuted and anathematized; the judicial practice requires, that his testimony should be rejected and even his oath not admitted; he ought either to prove what he says, or say nothing. Leo had the industry to ruin the council, which the emperor and the king of France had set up against Julius II, and he made the council of Lateran triumph; for he obtained of Lewis XII all the submissions he could desire. He obtained of Francis I a much more solid advantage by the concordat, concluded between them in the year 1515. This did not make him more favourable to France. He formed leagues against her, and took that affair so much to heart, that having received the news of the misfortunes of the French, he died, it is said, of joy. He did not always behave in a manner agreeable to the emperor Maximilian. “Having rekindled the war between the emperor Charles and the king of France, in order to drive the French out of Italy, the news was brought him, at one of his country seats, called Maliagno, of the taking of Milan and Parma from them, which
gave him such an excess of joy, that he was seized with a slight fever that very night, of which he died a few days after.132” These are Du Plessis’s words. All historians agree, that Leo X received this good news with a wonderful satisfaction, but I do not find many who say, that this pleasure caused his death; and though they should affirm it, I should not believe it; for they who die of joy, die suddenly, oppressed, according to all appearance, by too great an effusion of blood into the ventricles of the heart. If the. first impressions of a violent joy be withstood, as was done by the pope, a man is better afterwards, instead of being seized with a dangerous fever when other reasons do not occasion it. John Crespin’s account seems much more probable, who supposes that Leo the tenth’s death was sudden, but not of that sudden kind which is occasioned by an excess of joy. “Hearing that the French were beaten at Milan by the emperor’s forces, and driven out of Italy, which indeed was not done without his help: as he was drinking and making merry, and wonderfully rejoiced at the news, it is said that he suddenly gave up the ghost, he who believed neither a heaven nor hell after this life.” Sannazar’s distich, alleged by this author, favours the supposition of sudden death; but yet it is certain, that the distemper Leo died of, lasted some days. Strada has given two relations of this pope’s death, one in Livy’s stile, the other after the way of Tacitus. They are fine and well wrought.I have already said that he did not always please the emperor Maximilian. The latter had conceived good hopes of Leo X, but when he was informed of this pope’s correspondence with the French, he said, “If this pope had not deceived me, he would have been the only pope, whose honesty I should have had
reason to commend.” The sordid traffic to which he reduced the distribution of indulgences, gave birth to Luther’s reformation, as every body knows. They made it a kind of monopoly, and indulgences were let out to farm; the commissioners appointed for the collection of the sums, bought their commissions of the pope, after which they stuck at no kind of exaction, and observed decorum so little, that the powers for releasing souls out of purgatory were played for in the taverns, as we are assured by Guicciardini. The discontent of the people grew greater, when it was known to what use these sums were designed: almost all the money that was raised by them in Germany, being converted to the use of the pope’s sister.Some say he spoke honourably of Luther in the beginning. This particular had hardly been known, if Colomiés had not mentioned it: Mr de Seckendorf133 learnt it from him, being told by a counsellor of Spires, that it was to be found in Colomiés’ Opuscula: the passage is this. “When the Lutheran sect began to appear, several gentlemen being in the house of our worthy Scipione Attellano, and discoursing about divers things, some of them very much blamed Pope Leo X, for not having taken timely care, when Silvester Prierio master of the sacred palace, shewed him some heretical doctrines which friar Martin Luther had vented in his book concerning indulgences; but indiscreetly answered that friar Martin had a fine genius, and that these surmises were monkish jealousies. Words which Sleidan would not have failed placing in the front of his history, if he had known them.”134
I do not find that Guicciardini abuses this pope so much as Mr Varillas insinuates. These are Guicciardini’s words.—“A prince who was endowed with
several good and bad qualities, and deceived the expectation they had of him when he was raised to the papal chair; for he showed more wisdom, but less goodness, than was expected by the world.” When this historian speaks of Leo the tenth’s election, he does it in a manner very much to the glory of this pope. He owns he was free from simony, and all other evil suspicions, and that the reputation of the elected cardinal stood very well in point of morality.Paul Jovius’s apology to me seems trifling. The methods this author takes to justify Leo X may be reduced to four. He pretends that “it was not from a vicious nature, but a gentle, easy, and magnificent temper, that this pope, beset by a voluptuous crew, engaged a little too far in pleasures.” Paul Jovius observes, in the second place, “that if Leo be compared with his predecessors, he will be found very chaste. Si aliqua ex parte eo nomine sugillari inclyta virtus potuit, Leo certe cum superiorum principum fama comparatus æstimatione rectissima continentiæ laudem feret.” This excuse is no better than the former. He says, “that this pope, having a good reputation as to continence, precautioned himself afterwards against the attacks of impurity, by renouncing high food and by regular fastings.” This is better than all the rest. Lastly, he asserts, “that we ought to make a great difference betwixt the vices which belong to a sovereign, as such, and those which belong to him as a man: and he alleges the emperor Trajan so beloved of the Roman people, that it was the height of their wishes that the succeeding emperors should reign as well as he; and yet no one was ignorant of the drunkenness of Trajan.” His meaning is, that Leo the tenth’s vices were not repugnant to the qualities of a good sovereign, but to those of a good Christian only, and therefore the irregularities of his youth ought to be pardoned, since they did not hinder his being a good prince.
Generally speaking, this author’s maxim is true: it is very possible for a prince to be an honest man, and at the same time but a poor king; that is, a king who cannot maintain the vigour of the laws, nor remedy the disorders of the state. On the other hand, it is very possible for a prince to be an ill observer of those rules of morality which prescribe the duties of private persons, and yet be a good king, that is, a king who maintains order in his state, and wisely distributes punishments and rewards, without being burthensome to his people by imposts, and pecuniary edicts. But it is very rare that a voluptuous and prodigal prince, such as Leo X was, is a good prince; to supply his expences, he must be burdensome to his subjects, and commonly he distributes his favours, according to the humour of the ministers of his pleasures, and consequently to unworthy persons, whose evil administration he has not time to punish, being too much taken up with his pleasures to allow the functions of royalty that application which they demand. It were easy to show, that Leo the tenth’s subjects were sufficiently loaded. Besides, it is not considered, that Leo’s principal dignity was of a sacred and ecclesiastical nature. So that, to know whether he discharged his duty, the great question is, not whether he has done what his temporal dignity demanded, it being impossible to justify him, without showing that he diligently acquitted the duties of his other dignity, that is, observed the precepts of the Gospel, and omitted nothing to recommend the practice of them to others. This was his principal function, and here his apologist is forced to forsake him. “As to divine matters, his character has suffered not a little: for he was so lavish of indulgences (those old instruments by which the popes get money) that he seems to have lessened the credit of the holy authority.”
I must upon this occasion say, that this blending
the temporal with the ecclesiastical authority, in the same person, is generally the ruin of the evangelical spirit. This combination had place among the Pagans, and was not unserviceable to the temporal good of religion.Rex Anius Rex idem hominum Phœbique sacerdos.”
Virgil, Æn. lib. iii, ver. 80.
Anius, at once a king, and Phoebus’ priest.
It has remarkably served the same ends in Christianity; but has produced an extreme corruption of manners. The ecclesiastical character ought to prevail, and be predominant, since the other dignity is only an accessory; and yet it is almost always swallowed up by its colleague. The joining these two together, is like the joining a dead carcase to a living body; a fatal conjunction, where the dead communicates corruption to the living body, and receives no vital influence therefrom.
The author of the Critique Générale, mentioning the distinction, between a pope speaking ex cathedra and the same pope speaking in another manner, has related the witty saying of a peasant in the electorate of Cologne. I had a long time thought that this witty saying was preserved only by tradition, but I was mistaken; it has been printed in grave books for above an age. Duaren has inserted it in one of his books, and copied it from Fulgosius. Here is the whole story; it is true, that an elector of Cologne is not expressly named in it. “There goes a pleasant story of a German husbandman, who being at work in his field, saw his bishop pass by, attended by a train more becoming a prince, than one who calls himself the successor, or deputy of an apostle; being highly scandalized at it, he could not forbear laughing, and laughed so loud, that the reverend gentleman would needs know the reason of it. The husbandman answered in bis natural way, that is, as a true and
plain person; I laugh when I think of St Peter and St Paul, and see you in such an equipage. How is that, said the bishop? Do you ask how, says the clown? Why they were ill advised to walk alone on foot throughout the world, when they were the heads of the Christian church, and lieutenants of Jesus Christ, the king of kings, and thou, who art only our bishop, go so well mounted, and have such warlike attendance, that thou resemblest more a prince, than a pastor of the church. To this his reverence replied, but, my friend, thou dost not consider, that I am both a count and a baron, as well as thy bishop. At which the rustic laughed more than before; and the bishop asking him the reason of it, he answered yea sir, when the count and baron, which you say you are, shall be in hell, where will the bishop be? This confounded the right reverend, who proceeded on his journey without answering a word.”I shall produce a long passage from Varillas’ Anecdotes, containing in short a pretty just character of Leo X. We find it in the preface of this book, and is as follows. “Guicciardini represents this Pope as an accomplished model of modern policy, and the greatest statesman of his age. He sets him above king Ferdinand the Catholic, and makes him triumph in his youth over all the artifices of this old usurper. It is to him he attributes the secret of getting all his designs seconded by the councils of Spain, whether they would or not. After having established these wonderful principles, there are no shining virtues, but what heighten the picture of Leo X. He forms at twelve years of age, when he was made cardinal, those vast projects, which he executed afterwards, when he was exalted to the chair of St Peter. He negotiates with the states of Venice to save the ruins of his house, which had not power to withstand the fortune of our Charles VIII. He changed not his resolution upon seeing his brother lost in the
passing of a river. He bad no other thoughts than the educating the only son which this brother had left in the cradle; upon which he returns to Rome, where his intrigues recommended him to the favour of pope Julius II, and occasioned his being chosen legate in the army designed to drive the French out of Italy. He is taken prisoner at the battle of Ravenna, but makes his escape in a lucky conjuncture for him, Julius happening just then to die: he enters into the conclave, where he takes such advantage of the caprice of the young cardinals, who were obstinately bent on making a pope of their own age, that he procured their votes in favour of himself. He joins with the Spaniards, and manages their friendship, as long as it is useful towards re-establishing his family in the principal functions of the magistracy of Florence; but as Soon as fortune turns her back upon them, and he finds they are not inclined to see him usurp the duchy of Urbino, and invest his nephew with it, he treats with the French upon that condition; he draws up the famous Concordat, in which he baffles the stratagems and long experience of the chancellor Du Prat; he caresses Francis I, as long as that king is in a condition of doing him service; but no sooner obtains of him all he desired, than he quits him to reconcile himself with Charles V. He projects a new league with him, to re-establish the Sforzas in the duchy of Milan. He succeeds in it better than he expected, and conceives a joy on the news of his success, which occasioned his death.”Men of letters, of what religion or nation soever, are bound to praise and bless the memory of this pope, for the care he took to recover the manuscripts of the ancients; he spared neither pains nor cost in searching for them, and procuring very good editions. I have two anecdote letters, which are a proof of this, and which the reader will undoubtedly be glad to find here:
Venerabili Fatri Alberto Moguntin. et Magdeburgen. Archi-Episcopo, Administrated Halberstaten. Principi Electori ac Germaniæ Primati.
LEO PP. X.
Venerabilis Frater, Salutem et Apostolicam benedictionem. Mittimus dilectum filium Joannem Heytmers de Zonvelben, Clericum Leodiensis diœceseos, nostrum et Apostolicæ sedis Commissarium ad inclitas Nationes, Germaniæ, Daniæ, Suetiæ, Norvegiæ et Gothiæ, pro inquirendis dignis et antiquis libris qui temporum injuria periere, in qua re nec sumptui nec impensæ alicui parcimus, solum ut sicut usque a nostri Pontificatus initio proposuimus, quod altissimo tantum sit honor et gloria viros quovis virtutum genere insignitos præsertim literates, quantum cum Deo possumus, foveamus, extollamus ac juvemus. Accepimus autem penes Fraternitatem Tuam, seu in locis sub illius ditione positis esse ex dictis antiquis libris, præsertim Romanarum Historiarem non paucos qui nobis cordi non parum forent. Quare cum in animo nobis sit tales libros, quotquot ad manus venire potuerint in lucem redire curare pro communi omnium literatorum utilitate, Fraternitatem Tuam ea demum qua possumus affectione hortamur, monemus et enixius in Domino obtestamur, ut si rem gratam unquam facere animo proponit, vel eorundem librorum omnium exempla fideliter, et accurate scripta, vel quod magis exoptamus ipsosmet libros antiquos ad nos transmittere quanto citius curet, illos statim receptura, cum excripti hic fuerint juxta obligationem per Cameram nostram apostolicam factam, seu quam dictes Joannes Comissarius noster præsentium later ad id mandatum sufficiens habens nomine dictæ Cameræ denuo duxerit faciendam. Et quia dictus Joannes promisit nobis se brevi daturum trigesimum tertium librum Titi Livii de bello Macedonico, illi commisimus ut eum ad manus Tuæ Fraternitatis daret, ut ipse quam primum
posset per fidum nuntium ad nos, vel dilecto Filio Philippo Beroaldo Bibliothecario Palatii nostri Apostolici mittat. Quoniam vero eidem Joanni certain summam pecuniarium hic in urbe enumerari fecimus pro expensis factis et fiendis, et certain quantitatem debemus, volumus, et ita Fraternitati Tuæ committimus et mandamus ut postquam acceperit prædictum librum Titi Livii ipsi Joanni solvat seu solvi faciat centum quadraginta septem ducatos auri de Camera ex pecuniis indulgentiarum concessarum per illius Provincias in favorem fabricæ Basilicæ Principis Apostolorum de urbe; quam quidem pecuniarum summam in computis Tuæ Fraternitatis cum Camera Apostolica admittemus, prout in præsentia per præsentes admittimus et admitti mandamus. Juvet præterea eundem Joannem salvis conductibus litteris et auxiliis, et illi per Provincias suas assistât pro libris extrahendis, et pro illo etiam fide jubeat, si opus est, pro dictus libris intra certum tempus a nobis restituendis et ad sua loca remittendis. Quod si Fraternitas Tua fecerit, ut omnino nobis persuademus, et ingens nomen apud Viros literatos consequetur, et nobis rem gratissimam faciet. Datum Romæ apud S. Petrum sub annulo Piscatoris die XXVI Novembris MDXVII. Pontificatus nostri anno quinto.Ja. Sadoletus.
To our Venerable Brother, Albert, archbishop of Mentz and Magdeburg, administrator of Halberstadt, electoral prince and primate of Germany.
LEO PP. X.
Venerable Brother, Health and Apostolical Benediction. We send our beloved son John Heytmers de Zonvelben, ecclesiastic of the diocese of Liege, commissary of the Apostolical see to the illustrious nations of Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Gothland, to search for valuable and ancient books that have been lost through the injury of time, in
which business we spare no expence, only that, as we have determined from the very beginning of our Pontificate, solely with a design to promote the honour and glory of the Most High, we may, by God’s assistance, cherish, promote, and serve famous men of all sorts, especially the learned. We have been informed, that, of the said ancient books, there are not a few, in possession of your fraternity, or in the places subject to your jurisdiction, especially relating to the Roman history. Wherefore, intending to procure the publication of as many such books as can come to our hands, for the common good of all learned men, we affectionately exhort your fraternity and earnestly entreat you in the Lord, that, if you ever propose to do a grateful action, you would transmit to us as soon as possible fair and correct copies of all those books, or which we rather wish, the books themselves, which shall be returned to you, as soon as transcribed here, according to an obligation drawn up by our apostolical chamber, or such as the said John our commissary, bearer of these presents, sufficiently instructed for that purpose, shall think fit to be drawn up in the name of the said chamber. And because the said John has promised in a short time to give us the thirty-third book of Livy of the Macedonian war, we have commissioned him to give it into your fraternity’s hands, to be transmitted as soon as possible by a faithful messenger to us, or our beloved son Philip Beroaldus, librarian of our apostolical palace; but because we have ordered to be paid here in the city to the said John, a certain sum of money, and are indebted to him a certain quantity for expenses already made and to be made, we will, and authorize, and command your fraternity, after he shall have received the said book of Livy, to pay, or cause to be paid to the said John, 147 gold ducats of the chamber, out of the money arising from indulgences granted through those provinces in favour of the royal fabric of the prince of the apostles, which sum we will allow in the accounts between your fraternity and the apostolic chamber, as at present we do allow and order to be allowed. You are likewise to assist the said John with safe conducts, letters, and aids, and help him through your provinces in coming at books, and if occasion be, engage your word for him that the books shall be returned within a certain time, and sent back to their places; which if your fraternity shall do, as we are fully persuaded you will, you will acquire a great reputation among learned men, and perform a thing the most acceptable to us. Given at Rome, at St. Peter’s, under the fisherman’s ring, November 26, 1517, in the fifth year of our pontificate. Ja. Sadolet.This is the first of the two letters, here is the second. There is something in it which may incline us to think that the entire history of Livy was then in being. Mr de Seidel has been credibly informed that it is believed that a canon of Magdeburg, who was one of the ministers of state to the marquis Joachim Frederick, administrator of that archbishopric, took an advantage of the confusion things were then in, and carried away several manuscripts out of the public library, particularly this Livy, to enrich his own. His heirs preserved it, but they concealed the manuscripts because they had come unjustly by them. At last the whole was destroyed when the town was pillaged in the year 1631.
Venerabili Fratri nostro Alberto Archiepiscopo Moguntin. Principi Electori et Germanise Primati.
LEO PP. X.
Dilecti filii135 salutem et apostolicam benedictionem. Rettulit nobis dilectus filius Joannes Heytmers de
Zonvelben Clericus Leodiensis diœceseos quem nuper pro inquirendis antiquis libris, qui desiderantur ad inclitas nationes Germanise, Daniæ, Norvegiæ, Suetiæ et Gothiæ nostrum et apostolicæ sedis specialem nuncium et commissarium destinavimus, a quodam, quem ipse ad id substituent, accepisse literas, quibus ei significat in vestra Bibliotheca reperisse codicem antiquum, in quo omnes decades Titi Livii sunt descriptæ, impetrasseque a vobis illas posse exscribere cum originalem codicem habere fas non fuerit. Laudamus profecto vestram humanitatem et erga sedem apostolicam obedientiam. Verum dilecti filii, fuit nobis ab ipso usque pontificates nostri initio animus, viros quovis virtutis genere exornatos, præsertim literates, quantum cum Deo possumus, extollere ac juvare. Ea de causa hujuscemodi antiquos et desiderates libros, quotquot recipere possumus, prius per viros doctissimos, quorum copia Dei munere in nostra hodie est curia, corrigi facimus, deinde nostra impensa ad communem eruditorum utilitatem diligentissime imprimi curamus. Sed si ipsos originales libros non habeamus, nostra intentio non plane adimpletur, quia hi libri, visis tantum exemplis, correcti in lucem exire non possunt. Mandavimus in Camera nostra apostolica sufficientem præstare cautionem de restituendis hujuscemodi libris integris et illæsis eorum Dominis, quam primum hic erunt exscripti, et dictes Joannes, quem iterum ad præmissa commissarium deputavimus, habet ad eandem cameram sufficiens mandatum, illam obligandi ad restitutionem præ- dictam, modo et forma quibus ei videbitur. Tantum ad commodum et utilitatem virorum eruditorum tendimus; de quo etiam dilecti filii abbas et conventus monasterii Corviensis ordinis S Benedicti Padebornensis diœceseos nostri locupletissimi possunt esse testes, ex quorum bibliotheca cum primi quinque libri historiæ Augustæ Cornelii Taciti qui desiderabantur, furto subtracti fuissent illique per multas manus ad nostras tandem pervenissent, nos recognitos prius eosdem quinque libres et correctes a viris prædictis literatis in nostra curia exsistentibus, cum aliis Cornelii prædicti operibus, quæ extabant nostro sumptu imprimi fecimus. Deinde vero, re comperta, unum ex voluminibus dicti Cornelii, ut præmittitur, correctum et impressum, ac etiam non inordinate ligatum, ad dictes Abbatem et Conventum Monasterii Corwiensis remisimus, quod in eorum bibliotheca loco subtracti reponere possent. Et ut cognoscerent ex ea subtraction potins eis commodum quam incommodum ortum, misimus eisdem pro ecclesia Monasterii eorum indulgentiam perpetuam. Quocirca vos et vestrum quemlibet, ea demum qua possumus affectione in virtute sanctæ obedientiæ monemus, hortamur, et sincera in Domino caritate requirimus, ut si nobis rem gratam facere unquam animo proponitis, eundem Joannem in dictam vestram bibliothecam intromittatis, et exinde tarn dictum codicem Livii, quam alios qui ei videbuntur per eum ad nos transmitti permittatis, illos eosdem omnino recepturi, reportaturique a nobis prœmia non vulgaria. Datum Romæ apud S. Petrum, sub annulo piscatoris, die prima Decembris MDXVII Pontificates nostri anno quinte.Ja. Sadoletus.
To our venerable brother Albert, archbishop of Mentz, electoral prince and primate of Germany.
LEO PP. X.
Beloved sons, health and apostolical benediction. Our beloved son John Heytmers de Zonvelben, ecclesiastic of the diocese of Liege, whom we lately appointed special nuncio and commissary from us and the apostolical see, to the illustrious nations of Germany, Denmark, Sweden and Gothland, to search after ancient books, has informed us that he has received letters from a certain person whom he had appointed for that purpose, in which he acquaints him
that he had found in your library an ancient book containing all the decads of Livy, and that he had obtained your leave to transcribe them, not being allowed to have the original book. We commend your humanity and obedience to the apostolical see; but my beloved sons we resolved from the very beginning of our pontificate, to promote and favour, with God’s assistance, all men of merit, especially learned men. With this view we procure this kind of ancient books so much wanted, as many as can come to our hands, to be first corrected by very learned men, of which there are many, by the gift of God, in our court, and afterwards to be carefully printed for the common benefit of the learned; but if we have not the original books themselves, our design will not be fully answered, because these books, the copies only being seen, cannot be published correctly. We have given orders in our apostolical chamber, that a sufficient security be given that these books shall be restored whole and uninjured to their owners, as soon as they shall have been here transcribed; and the said John whom we have again deputed as commissary for the aforesaid purpose, has a sufficient order to the same chamber to oblige it to the said restitution in the manner and form he shall think proper. We only aim at the benefit and advantage of learned men, of which our beloved sons the abbot and convent of the monastery of Corvey, of the order of St Benedict of Paderborn, are ample witnesses; out of whose library when the five first books of the Roman history of Cornelius Tacitus were stolen, and through many hands came at last into ours, we took care to have them first corrected by the aforesaid learned men residing in our court, and were at the expense of printing them with the rest of the works which were extant of the said Tacitus. Afterwards, the matter being discovered, we sent one of the volumes of the said Tacitus corrected, printed, and handsomely bound, to the said abbot and monastery of Corvey, to be placed in their library in the room of that which was stolen; and that they might know that this theft turned rather to their advantage than disadvantage, we sent them a perpetual indulgence for the church of their monastery. Wherefore with the utmost affection, and in virtue of holy obedience, we exhort and with sincere charity in the Lord, require you and any of you, that if you ever intend to oblige us, ye would admit the said John into your library, and suffer him to transmit to us from thence, both the said book of Livy and others that he shall think proper, which shall be returned to you by us, together with no common reward. Given at Rome, at St Peter’s, under the Fisherman’s ring, Dec. 1, 1517, in the fifth year of our pontificate. Ja. Sadolet. Art. Leo X.Julius III
Julius III, created pope the seventh of February 1550, was called John Maria del Monte. He was of low extraction and a true soldier of ecclesiastical fortune; he rose up step by step till he came to be president of the council of Trent; he was a very voluptuous man, and passionately loved a young boy very ugly and of very mean birth. When he was made pope he gave him his cardinal’s cap, and made a pleasant answer when the unworthiness of the person was represented to him. Some said it was his son, others .denied it, and told how cardinal del Monte having found this lad playing tricks with a monkey in the streets, took him into his service because there was nobody but he that durst play with that creature. This was the foundation of a kindness which afterwards grew a disorderly passion, although this lad had nothing in him but what was loathsome, only he had gotten a habit of buffoonery. Thomas Erastus relates this fact, and these are his words:—“He has a boy a black, filthy, insolent brute; silly, ignorant,
and quite a fool, except that he can play the buffoon a little; upon the whole he is a monster both in body and mind. Who he is and whence he sprung, no one knows; some think him his son, and those who deny it ingeniously come off by saying he found him in the streets, and brought him up from a child, because of his playing with an ape which no one else dared to do: the cardinal (or bishop then) was so pleased they say with the sight, that he took him for his own. He is the fondest imaginable of this boy, as indeed he exceeds all others in pederasty.” Thuanus says a thing which confirms part of this; as first, that this boy was called the monkey, even when he had obtained the cardinal’s cap. In the second place, that he had his name because of his employment with the cardinal his master, which was to look after a monkey. “Soluti ad omnem licentiam animi homo they are the words of this great historian, which give a very ill character of pope Julius III.—“Being addicted to every kind of pleasure, he was no sooner created pope than he discovered to everyone his disposition; for it being an ancient custom that the new pope gives his hat to whom he pleases, he gave it to a certain youth whose name was Innocentius, and who, because he had the care of a monkey in the family, retained the name of Simia, giving him his name and marks of honour.” Erastus, whom I have already cited, gives us a more particular account. This boy was left at Bologna, so that Julius III who would not bring him to Rome before he had made him a cardinal, and who wanted a little time to make that promotion relished, was very uneasy at his absence, and endeavoured to find a remedy for it. He was never gay and pleasant but when he heard of his Innocent, and enquired after him of all those who could give an account of him. He ordered him to come near Rome that he might have an opportunity to go and see him; and having sent for him once secretly into the city, he expected him at the windows with all the impatience of a man to whom his mistress has promised a night. He was heard to say that the chief reason why he rejoiced for being pope was, because it gave him an opportunity of being a benefactor to Innocent; and that he thought himself less indebted to the cardinals for making him pope, than for having consented to the promotion of Innocent to a cardinal’s hat. He appointed him his principal minister and intercessor for all those that would obtain favours of him. Some satires were published at Rome, in which it was said that this favourite as ugly as he was, was a new Ganymede. The pope made no mystery of it; but sometimes told the cardinals some stories of this boy’s lascivious tricks. “Romæ fama, erat, et libellus quoque prescriptum fuit, à Jove Ganymedum foveri, licet deformem: sed nec ipse Pontifex hoc ad reliquos Cardinales dissimulare, et per jocum fertur aliquando commemorare, quam sit lascivus adolescens et importunus.”136 The discourses of Julius had but little gravity in them, as appears from the reflection he one day made upon the answer of two cardinals. They found him in the court of his palace in a very indecent posture; for by reason of the heat he had put off his clothes and was walking in his drawers. He obliged them to do the like, and afterwards asked them what the people would say of them should they go and shew themselves in that figure in the field of Flora and the streets of Rome? “They would take us,” answered they, “for idle rogues, and would throw stones at us;” “Therefore,” replied he, “it is to our clothes we are obliged for not being thought idle rogues: how much then are we indebted to our clothes?”The want of gravity was not the greatest fault of Julius: his discourse proceeded sometimes to profaneness and blasphemy, as when he excused his passion by instancing the anger that God expressed against Adam for an apple. During the
conclave in which he was elected, some of his letters were intercepted, which made it conjectured that this future pope would be a lewd man, for those letters were stuffed with the most extravagant obscenities. It is thought his money frustrated the election of cardinal Pole which had been concluded on, and the publication whereof was only deferred because they were afraid it would be an ill omen to notify it in the night. The medal which he ordered to be struck after the death of Edward king of England, had for its motto a sentence of the holy scripture, the application whereof proved false in a little time. They expressed an extraordinary joy at Rome for the death of king Edward, because the princess Mary who succeeded him, restored England to the obedience of the pope; but the reasons of that joy ceased in a little time. Queen Elizabeth re-established the reformation, and rendered that island one of the most flourishing kingdoms in Christendom; so that the prediction of the medal was a mere chimera.—“Julius arrived to such a pitch of madness, that he ordered a medal to be struck to perpetuate the memory of the king; on one side of which was a figure with three horns, and on the reverse this inscription:137 ‘ The people and kingdom which will not serve thee, shall perish foolishly arrogating to himself what Isaiah said of Christ. But the joy lasted not long.” This pope died the twentieth of February, 1755, being about sixty-eight years of age. He pretended to be sick, and the better to deceive the world he reduced himself to a course of physic, which brought upon him a real disease of which he died. It is said that there was so great an intimacy betwixt him and cardinal Crescentio, that they had mistresses in common, and that they maintained the children they had by them at a common charge, for want of knowing who was the true father. Each of them also paid his quota for the maintenance of these women. Cardinal Pallavicino extenuates as much as he can the faults of this pope, but he does not confute what father Paul says of them. He owns that Julius loved to divert himself, but he adds that he equally loved application to business; he grants that he died being little esteemed and loved, but he pretends that his too free and familiar way of acting was the cause of it; because not getting the public veneration, he made it believed that he was not a good pope. He adds that this judgment was unjust, and that if the faults of Julius III were more conspicuous than his good qualities, they were not perhaps of so much consequence as his virtues. As to the promotion of the young lad, he is contented to say that it dishonoured the first days of his papacy. He acknowledges that the birth of this boy was so obscure that it was still unknown; but he pretends the affection cardinal del Monte had for him was founded upon this, that he looked upon him as the son of his judgment; the meaning whereof is this: whilst the cardinal was legate at Piacenza, he was pleased with the pretty carriage of a little boy who often came near his table; he took this for a sign of wit, and resolved to raise this young plant at his own charge, and seeing the boy improving, he loved him more and more. He applauded himself for his happy conjecture, he looked upon him as the son of his judgment, a sort of creature which we set a greater value upon than upon a child of our body. He would have his brother to adopt him, and when he was pope he raised hint to the dignity of a cardinal, the thirtieth day of May, 1550. He had made him stay till then in a village a day's journey from Rome. He gave him an income of twelve thousand crowns; but did not then entrust him with the administration of affairs. This new cardinal was scarcely seventeen years of age; he showed himself wholly unworthy of this honour, and it was necessary under the following pontificate to punish him for his debaucheries. This is all that Palavicino observes: he has cautiously forborne to criticise on father Paul, whom he does not accuse of malicious slanders, but is contented to say that he is mistaken as to the time of the adoption, and as to the place where this young man first began to make himself acceptable. The court of France offered to this pope’s nephew a princess of the blood; but this alliance was refused. The pope answered that marriages between persons of so different a rank could not be happy; and as he acknowledged the royal house of France to be the noblest in the world, he acknowledged his own to be the meanest upon earth. However he did not give the true reason of this refusal; for that which induced him to refuse so glorious an alliance, was, the desire of marrying his nephew to the great duke’s daughter, which was more useful to him for the execution of what he was projecting in favour of his family. Observe, that one of the daughters of Cosmo duke of Florence, was betrothed to Fabian del Monte, who was Baudouin’s son, and not yet marriageable. See Thuanus, book xiii. Palavicino, in the place above cited, observes, that' Fabian was Baudouin’s bastard.138—Art. Julius III.(Alexander VII.)
Fabio Chigi born at Sienna, the sixteenth of February 1599, was Pope under the name of Alexander VII. His family, seeing him a hopeful young man, sent him early to Rome, where he contracted a very useful friendship with the marquis Pallavicino; for that marquis recommended him in such a manner to Pope Urban VIII, that, in a little time, he procured him the place of inquisitor at Malta. Chigi, having shewed in that employment, that he was capable of greater things, was sent to Ferrara in the quality of vice-legate, and afterwards nuncio into Germany.
He had the most favourable opportunity that a man of that character could desire, to shew his intriguing genius; for he was mediator at Munster, during the long conferences that were held there for the peace of Europe, and acted his part very well. Before he went to Munster, he had the nunciature of Cologne, and exercised it some years after the conclusion of the peace. He held it in 1651, when cardinal Mazarin fled to the elector of Cologne; and he was ordered to complain, in the name of Pope Innocent X, a great enemy of that cardinal, that that elector permitted his eminence to raise troops. Cardinal Mazarin bore some resentment for it against Fabio Chigi, who was soon after promoted to the cardinalship, and to the office of secretary of state, by Innocent X; but that resentment was sacrificed to politic interests, at the election of a pope in 1655. Cardinal Sacchetti, a good friend of cardinal Mazarin, seeing no likelihood to obtain the papacy, by reason of the great obstacles of the Spanish faction, advised the latter to consent to the exaltation of Fabio Chigi, and his request was granted. When the dispositions of France were known in the conclave, all the partizans of that crown united their voices in favour of Chigi; on which the flying squadron, who looked upon him as their master, resolved to be favourable to him. The faction of the Medicis and Spaniards had their particular reasons to choose him; insomuch that he was created pope by the voices of all the sixty-four cardinals that were in the conclave. There are but few examples of such a unanimity in the election of popes.It being known the day before the election, what choice the Holy Ghost had resolved to inspire the next day, the cardinals went to congratulate his eminence, who answered them at first only with sighs and tears in his eyes, desiring them to make a better choice: but afterwards he took courage, and thanked
them for their good-will. After the election, he was carried, according to custom, to St Peter’s church, to receive the adoration of the cardinals on the great altar. He would not be placed in the middle of that altar, but on one of the corners of it; because, as he said, he did not think himself worthy of the place held by his predecessor. During all the ceremony of the adoration, he continued prostrate on the ground with great humility, with a crucifix in his arms. Being come to his apartment at the Vatican, before thinking of any thing else, he ordered his coffin to be made, wherein his body was to be laid after his death, and to be placed under his bed, to excite him the more to holiness by a continual idea of death. When they clothed him with his pontifical habits, they found a hair cloth under his shirt. He continued to fast twice a week, as he had done when he was cardinal. The day after his election, he repulsed Signora Olympia rudely, who was come to wish him joy, saying to her, that it was not decent for a woman to set her foot in the palace of the head of the church. He also forbad his relations to come to Rome without his leave; but his subsequent behaviour shewed, that this was only dissimulation and cunning; and many Roman Catholics made no scruple to complain of his artifices. Afterwards he became civil and obliging to his nephews, and no pope better deserved the pasquil, et homo factus est, nor took more advantage of the privileges of Nepotism than he. It is said (I know not how truly) that he had sworn never to receive his relations in Rome, and that, being perplexed with the sacredness of his oath, he knew not how to satisfy the affection he had for his family; that father Pallavicino removed those scruples, by advising him to go and meet his relations, some leagues from Rome, and made him understand, that his holiness’s oath did not forbid him to receive his relations on the road from Sienna to Rome, but only to receive them at Rome; that the pope, assured by this ingenious distinction, went to meet his family, and received it upon the road, in the very high way. Afterwards he poured dignities and benefices on his relations. His brother, Don Mario, was made governor of the Ecclesiastical State; Flavio Chigi, the son of Don Mario, was made cardinal Patron; Sigismund Chigi, the orphan son of another of the pope’s brothers, was gratified with several good pensions, till he came to be of age to be made a cardinal with some decency. Augustin Chigi, designed to be the pillar of the family, was married to a very rich niece of prince Borghese; a very great match, with a fortune of an hundred thousand ducats, and twenty thousand doubloons over and above, instead of jewels, and lastly, sixty thousand doubloons delivered up into the hands of the husband. One of the sons of the pope’s sister was made a cardinal; the other, who was a knight of Malta, was made general of the gallies. Donna Berenice, the wife of Don Mario, and her daughters, had also rich presents. Flavio Chigi, who was cardinal Patron, and who was sent legate à latere into France, to make satisfaction concerning the business of the Corsicans, made himself much spoken of. He died the 13th of September, 1693, at 63 years of age, loaded with riches and titles. Vice-dean of the sacred college, bishop of Porto, arch-priest of St John of Lateran, prefect of the signature of justice, &c. He made his nephew Don Livio Chigi his chief heir, and left ten thousand crowns, and the enjoyment of the estate, which he had at Sienna, to his brother-in-law the Marquis Zandedari, whom he charged to take the name and the arms of the house of Chigi.All this was a sad disappointment to the famous antagonist of father Paul. I mean father Sforza Pallavicino, author of a history of the council of Trent, designed for the refutation of father Paul,
and which was rewarded with a cardinal’s hat. He prefixed a pompous eulogy of Alexander VII to his book, wherein he had very much praised the design, which the holy father had persisted in, not to suffer his relations to come to Rome. Every body sees, that many fine things may be said on that subject, and that it affords noble matter for an excellent panegyric in the hands of a good orator. But it fell out unluckily for father Pallavicino, that the pope altered his resolution, and desired to aggrandize his relations, according to the practice of Nepotism: nay, it is said, that that father was obliged to remove the scruples of his conscience. After all, it was more advantageous to please the pope and his family, than to be fond of a prologue already printed, though the panegyric, which it contained, was never so fine. Nevertheless, this was not agreeable to an author; but there was no help for it; he was forced to suppress what was already come out of the press, and to adjust things as well as he could.For the curiosity of the thing, I shall observe, that there are some printed books, wherein it is asserted, that Alexander VII had a mind to abjure his religion, and to turn Huguenot. The Dutch gazettes praised him much, and informed the public, that he did not approve of the violences, which were committed against the Vaudois in Piedmont. What he said to some Protestant gentlemen, who came to kiss his feet, has been much talked of. Sorbiere, being to answer a letter, wherein somebody had written to him, that his journey to Rome would make him return again to the reformed church, declared, that he had seen nothing at Rome, but what edified him, “and that the Roman court, notwithstanding its pomp, had a great deal of affability and modesty. For my part,” he goes on, “I can assure you, sir, that I could not observe so much haughtiness in any of the cardinals, whom I had the honour to approach,
as there is in some ministers of our acquaintance; and, in all the audiences that I have had of our holy father, I spoke to him with the same liberty as I converse with you, his goodness requiring it so from all those who approach him. I shall tell you a remarkable particular on this occasion, that you will not be displeased to know. A little before my departure, some English gentlemen, who had a mind to be witnesses of what I tell you of his holiness, got in among those, who went to pay their respects to him on their knees. He asked them what countrymen they were, and, afterwards, if they were not Protestants, which they owned. Whereupon his holiness replied, with a smiling countenance, " Rise therefore, I will not have you to commit an idolatry, according to your opinion. I shall not give you my blessing, since you do not believe me to be what I am; but I pray God to make you fit to receive it.”It has been said, in other books, (not without finding some mystery in it) that he was related to the grand signior Mahomet IV. I have not the book, wherein this is proved, so that I can only serve my reader with these words of Heidegger:—“He was akin to Mahomet, at that time emperor of the Turks, in the fifth degree, by Alanc Moruglius, the common stem and ancestor of the fathers, both of the pope and the grand Turk, as Pastorius, in Henninge redivivo, has demonstrated.”139 I have since met with a book, which sets forth in a table the parentage of Alexander VII and the great Turk. It is pretended, that Margaret Marsili, daughter of Nani Marsili, a noble Sienese, was the wife of Soliman, and the mother of Selim II, whose son Amurath III was the father of Mahomet III. The latter was the father of Achmet I, who was the father of Amurath IV, whose son Ibrahim was the father of
Mahomet IV. On the other side, Leonard Marsili, brother of Margaret had a son, whose name was Cesar Marsili, who was the father of Alexander Marsili, and of Laura Marsili, the mother of Fabio Chigi, who was pope by the name of Alexander VII. The author, whom I cite, alleges the account, which Francis Niger gives of the taking of a castle in the territory of Sienna. The Turkish pirates, who plundered that castle about the year 1525, found Margaret Marsili there, and, because she was very handsome, they kept her for Solyman.Alexander VII was an author. The finest edition of his Latin poems is that of the Louvre, in folio, in the year 1656. It consists of heroic, elegiac, and lyric verses: the last exceed the other in number. There is also a tragedy, intitled Pompey. The author made it in the country, in the year 1621. Seneca was his model, both for the disposition of the piece, and the measure of the verses. A letter, prefixed before this collection, inform us, that he unwillingly consented to the printing of his poems, and that he would not suffer his name to be put to them, nor any other title, than that which discovers, that they are only the fruits of his younger years.140 But there are many pieces in it, that he composed when a man, and if all the praises, which the authors of the Poetical Acclamations141 have bestowed upon this pope’s verses were true, he was the most accomplished of all the poets; but, because those authors flourished at Rome under this pontiff, their eulogies are not much to be relied upon. He loved literature, and to discourse of poetry, history, and politics, with learned persons. He loved stately buildings; and it was not his fault, that the whole city of Rome did not become equally magnificent and regular as to the
streets, squares, and houses. The mischief was, that these expenses exhausted the apostolic chamber, and that, by ordering the demolishing of many houses, which were not according to the rules of symmetry, he ruined the proprietors. There is something great in the design of the college della Sapienza, the building whereof he finished, and which he adorned with a very fine library. The consistorial advocates raised him a pompous inscription on that subject. He died the twenty-second of May 1667, much more lamented by the Jesuits, than by the Jansenists.—Art. Chigi.Innocent XI.
Innocent XI, created pope the 21st of September 1676, was of Como in Lombardy, and called Benedict Odescalchi. His first profession was that of a soldier. He left it to devote himself to the ecclesiastical state, and went to study at Naples; where he received his doctor’s degree, after which he retired to Rome, in the pontificate of Urban VⅢ, who made him first apostolical secretary. He discharged so well the duties of that place, that he was made president of the chamber, and afterwards apostolical commissary, and governor of Marca di Roma. He obtained a cardinal’s cap, the 6th of March 1645, and the legation of Ferrara some time after, and after that the bishoprick of Novora. The French give out that his liberality and courtliness procured him the cardinalship, by the interest of Donna Olympia. See the Mercure Galant; in which you will find that our Benedict Odescalchi, the son of a rich banker of Como, played with Donna Olympia, and lost his money on purpose, in complaisance to this lady. This puts me in mind of a passage in the Menagiana: “Pope Innocent XI was the son of a banker; he was elected on St Matthew’s day. Pasquin said, invenerunt hominem sedentum in telonio.”
The following words are also to be found in a little book printed at Avignon for John Bramereau in the year 1652, with this title: La juste balance des Cardinaux vivans. “After the death of Urban VIII Odescalchi made his court to Donna Olympia, niece to pope Innocent X, and having treated her several times, she began zealously to espouse his interest; and especially for a thing, which this prelate did, that is worthy to be taken notice of. Going to see her in the beginning of the pontificate of her uncle Innocent X, it happened that a goldsmith came to shew her a noble and rich chest of silver drawers, which he had to sell. Donna Olympia having taken a view of it in the presence of Odescalchi, and many lords, after observing in their hearing, that it was a noble piece of plate, but that being a poor widow, she could not lay out so much money, retired into her chamber. Immediately Odescalchi called the goldsmith, asked for the price of the chest, and bargained with him for 8000 crowns; after which without saying any more, he ordered it to be presented in his name to Donna Olympia, who seeing such a present, was perfectly astonished at so extraordinary a generosity. Upon this she went to the pope, and begged the office of clerk of the chamber, as a pure gift to this prelate, and afterwards a cardinal’s cap, which he obtained likewise by the mediation of cardinal Palotta.”
They cannot however deny that Innocent appeared very remote from a voluptuous pope, but was of rigid morality, and looked upon as a devout man. He was much more favourable to the Jansenists than his predecessors had been; which was the reason why the Jansenists more zealously adhered to the cause of the popes, than they had done before. He offended abundance of people by the suppression of an office of the immaculate conception, and also by that of several indulgences. There was nobody in
France, besides the Jansenists, that was edified with this; they dispersed those two decrees, and added some notes to them. I do not believe that every body approved his forbidding to honour the name and bones of Anthony Cala. A veneration had been a long time paid to this man in the kingdom of Naples, on account of his having been a holy hermit: but Innocent XI, in 1680, commanded all this worship to be abolished, and Antony Cala’s bones to be carried into the common church-yard, to be there mixed with others, and never to be taken up again. He enjoined also that his images, his habits, and all his other relics, should be removed from all consecrated places. Innocent expressed so inflexible a stiffness in his quarrel with France, that he has convinced the world, that in point of revenge, there are no men comparable to those who pretend to be rigid moralists. It is thought that a voluptuous pope who could have sacrificed his passions to political interests would have been more useful to the Catholic religion. The court of France under Lewis XIV, and the court of Rome under Innocent XI, were actuated with the same spirit of haughtiness and inflexibility, whereby they afforded all Europe instances of that spirit for a long time. They strove on both sides to carry revenge as far as ever they could; but at last the world was forced to yield to the church. The pope has shewn that it is not for nothing that he calls himself the vicegerent of God on earth; of God I say, who reserves vengeance to himself, and who has declared that it is he to whom it belongs, and that he will pay it. The pope, as the vicegerent of the God of vengeance, has admirably maintained the rights of his deputation. I will not adopt the thoughts of those satirical wits, who pretend that in point of revenge, the laity are novices in comparison of the clergy; but we have scarcely seen any quarrels between the church and the world, in which the popes have not at last had the better in point of revenge: they are the vicegerents of God, who has reserved vengeance to himself, and that is saying all. If I well remember, the protection that was granted by Innocent XI to some bishops of France, persecuted for not consenting to the extension of the Regale, was the first step that provoked the court of France; because the briefs of Innocent XI in favour of those bishops were expressed in very strong and vigorous terms. This haughtiness put the court of France upon the most effectual ways to vex him. The clergy declared their opinion about the authority of the church, and formed four propositions thereupon, which reduced the power of the pope to such bounds as were very odious to the court of Rome. This was not at the bottom a new doctrine; the clergy decided nothing but what was agreeable to the maxims of the Gallican church, and what the Sorbonne had taught a hundred times; so that one might have thought that another pope would not have taken exceptions at it, and that Innocent XI would perhaps dissemble his resentment: but to put him under a necessity of confessing that he had received a very great affront, the decisions of the clergy were proposed by royal authority, as a doctrine that no body was allowed to oppose, and which was to be maintained by all those who would take their licences in divinity and the civil-law, and be advanced to a doctor’s degree. They studied all the formalities that might give the greatest lustre to the king’s declarations upon this affair. These doctrines were maintained by the rector of the university of Paris, in a disputation wherein the archbishop of Paris presided, and in which the respondent was invested with all the marks of his rectorship, that it might appear that it was the whole body of the university, represented by their head, that maintained these decisions. The thesis was posted upon the door of the nuncio’s house, notwithstanding the oppositions he threatened to make against it. The pope expressed his resentment against the clergy; he answered harshly the letter he had received from them, and would never grant his bulls to those who assisted at the assembly of 1682. He abolished the franchises of the ambassador of France, like those of others, and would never receive the marquis de Lavardin, who was sent ambassador to him. France did then a very remarkable thing, this ambassador entered Rome almost by main force, and having taken possession of his quarters, he set a guard about it, as if it had been a fortified town. The pope, without being astonished, revenged himself by a surprising blow; he cast an interdict upon the church of St Louis, because the marquis de Lavardin had been admitted into it, and excommunicated this ambassador, and obstinately refused to acknowledge him.Things were at this pass, when his most Christian Majesty, perceiving that the continuation of these differences would be prejudicial to him, secretly dispatched a trusty man to whom he gave a letter of his own writing as a credential to his holiness. This man was to discover to the pope the most secret intentions of the king; but the pope would neither receive the letter, nor give him any audience. Hereupon the king wrote a letter to cardinal d'Estrée, which was communicated to the cardinals. He complained in it of the pope’s conduct, and showed in particular the prejudice that Europe and the church might suffer, from what the pope had already done against cardinal Furstenberg. He ascribed to this partiality the intrigues that were forming against king James, in favour of the protestant religion, &c. This letter, dispersed in Rome, was perhaps a new motive which induced the pope to countenance more and more prince Clement of Bavaria, to the prejudice of cardinal Furstenberg. Now by the exclusion of this cardinal, he revenged himself a hundred-fold for all the affronts he had received. He
deprived the king of France of being the arbitrator of peace and war, and involved him necessarily in a war with almost all Europe. He quickly saw the effect of this conduct; and if he lived not long after so terrible a revenge, he lived long enough to have the satisfaction of seeing France attacked by so many enemies, that according to the general conjectures, she was to sink the very first campaign. Tell me now whether the church did not obtain the victory over the world, in a long dispute, where both parties contended in point of revenge. If Alexander the Great had been a Catholic, he would have had much ado to draw out of the pope’s mouth what he did from the priestess of Delphi, “My son, thou art invincible.”Those who do not love this pope say, that he was well enough acquainted with the general affairs to know that, in the state they were in when cardinal Furstenberg sued for the electorate of Cologne, he might have saved the king of England, and enabled France to execute all her projects; for with the assistance of such a cardinal, who would have succeeded to all that his predecessor possessed, she would have tied the arms of the princes of Germany that were ill affected to her. She experienced it in the year 1684, when she desired a truce. Now it is certain that the victories of this crown would have extended the catholic religion, and strangely weakened the protestant—whence comes it then that the pope was so contrary to that cardinal? It is, say they, because he hated the king of France, and chose rather to renounce the advantages of the Catholic religion, than the pleasure of crossing his enemy, or the sweetness of revenge. These same persons add, that he knew very well there was a league forming, of which the Protestants would be the chief directors, and which might be able in its turn to oppress the catholic religion almost all over Europe; and that the most effectual means to prevent this league, was to put the whole succession of the late
elector of Cologne into the hands of a cardinal, who would never join with heretical princes. Why then was Innocent XI so contrary to the interest of this cardinal? Because, say they, he was overjoyed to expose the French monarchy to the greatest dangers: and provided he could revenge himself of the court of France, he cared but little for the losses of the popedom. This is what is said by his enemies; but it is not too much to be relied on; their passion ought to make their conjectures suspected. It is perhaps much more reasonable to say, that being very intent upon the reformation of manners, and pious exercises, he was neither capable of knowing what was useful to his religion, nor of preferring the profitable before the honest part. Now he believed he was bound in justice to prefer the duke of Bavaria’s brother before the cardinal candidate. Some apply to Innocent XI what was said of Hadrian VI: he was an honest man, but did not understand politics. It was the good fortune of the Protestants, that in the year 1688, the see of Rome was possessed by a pope who did not well understand his own interests, or was was too stiff to take advantage of the present juncture, to the prejudice of his particular passions.But after all, who can assure us, that Innocent XI did not in some respects behave himself like a good politician? Has the court of Rome nothing to fear from the too great power of princes, that are most violent against the sects separated from her communion? Did not Sixtus V who so well understood politics, choose rather to countenance Henry IV and queen Elizabeth, than to suffer the king of Spain to grow too powerful? Who can affirm that Innocent XI was not moved by some such spring, when he entered upon measures so contrary to the interests of France, and so useful to the Protestants?
This pope expressed great zeal against women who shewed their bosoms. “Finding he was not
able to prevail with the fair sex, by the many powerful means he used, not to shew their bosoms and their arms, and knowing withal that the terror which seized all Italy, when the Turks besieged Vienna, did did not put a stop to that disorder, had recourse to the last remedy; namely, excommunication. He published an order the thirtieth of November 1683, which enjoined all maids and women to cover their shoulders and breasts, up to their necks, and their arms down to their hands, with some thick and not transparent stuff, upon pain of being so fully excommunicated ipso facto, if they did not obey in six days time, that, except at the last hour, no one but the pope could absolve them; for it was declared, that the confessors who should presume to absolve them from that excommunication, should incur it themselves, and should be liable to such spiritual and temporal punishments as his holiness should think fit to inflict upon them: which temporal punishments, the fathers, husbands, masters, and other heads of families, by whose permission or connivance their daughters and wives act contrary to his ordinance, shall likewise undergo.142”I do not know what was the success of these terrible menaces; but I believe that as they were renewed from time to time under the predecessors of Innocent XI, there was occasion to renew them some time after. It is the fate of these sumptuary laws: luxury, and the desire of setting off beauty, quickly elude the wisest regulations. We may say of this disorder, what a grave historian has observed with respect to astrologers; they were always commanded to depart Rome, but they never went. King Lewis XIV has lately143 put out fine edicts against luxury: if he can command obedience upon that
head, it will be a more admirable thing than the power he has had to lessen very considerably in his kingdom the madness of duelling. The news-writers have told us lately, that the advocates of the parliament of Paris, have engaged to see this reformation of profuseness observed in their own houses. Time will inform us, whether by the concurrent authorities of the prince and the husbands, the reformation will be established for a continuance. These gentlemen have been told that as their wives as part of those that set up most for women of quality, would perhaps have a great repugnance to retrench any thing from their sumptuous habits, furniture, coaches, &c. as also from the superfluous number of their waiting-women, embroiderers, tapestry-workers, and footmen, which they have in their service, it had been resolved to oppose a licentiousness so little consistent with the state and quality of those ladies. The king’s intention was, that they should obey and reform themselves the soonest, without any distinction of birth and quality, and that they should begin immediately by not suffering their train to be borne up. It is added, that two famous advocates were charged to communicate this order to their brethren, and that the latter being overjoyed, expressed their acknowledgment for it, and unanimously resolved to thank the first president for procuring a regulation so just, so necessary, and so worthy of the king’s wisdom; and to assure him at the same time, that they would cause it to be observed in their own houses, with the utmost exactness; all of them looking upon it as the most effectual means to free them from infinite discontent, and to prevent the fruits of their laborious employments from continuing to be sacrificed to the extravagant ambition of their wives. It is very likely that they spoke as they meant; for indeed their fine, noble, and profitable employments are attended with great toil. They sometimes envy the happiness of a countryman, who can sleep all night.Agricolam laudat juris legumque peritus
Sub galli cantum consultor ubi ostia pulsat.
Horat. Sat. 1, lib. i, ver. 9.
The lawyer wak’d, and rising with the sun,
Cries, happy farmers that can sleep till noon.
Creech.
Is it not reasonable, that they should desire that a gain, which costs them so many watchings, should not be squandered away by superfluous expenses; and that the royal authority should enable them to remedy it, since otherwise they could never accomplish it?
I shall insert some verses of Mr de la Fontaine, which shew how freely they wrote against Innocent XI at Paris. We find amongst his posthumous works a letter, part of which I will transcribe:
Pour nouvelles de l'Italie,
Le pape empire tous les jours,
Expliquez, Seigneur, ce discours
Du costé de la maladie.
Car aucun Saint-Père autrement
Ne doit empirer nullement.
Celuy-ci véritablement
N’est envers nous ni Saint ni Père.
Nos soins de l’erreur triumphans
Ne font qu’augmenter sa colère
Contre l’Ainé de ses Enfans.
Sa santé toujours diminué,
L’avenir m’est chose inconnue,
Et je n'en parle qu’à tâtons;
Mais le gens de delà les Monts
Auront bientôt pleuré cet homme;
Car il deffend les Jannetons,
Chose très-nécessaire à Rome.
La Fontaine, œuvr. posthumes, pag. 182, Dutch edit.
From Italy, my lord, they say
The pope grows worse and worse each day,
But let me beg you to apply
This language to his malady;
Since it sounds oddly, in discourse,
To say the pope grows worse and worse.
But as ’tis true, I say it rather,
To us, nor holy he, nor father,
Our triumphs over error here
Only augment his spleen and fear,
And serve to egg his anger on,
Against the church’s eldest son:
Worse as he grows.... I cannot tell
Whether he will do ill or well,
On this howe’er I'll pawn my word,
His loss will not much grief afford
Beyond the Alps .... since he dismiss’d
Each girl who would be freely kiss’d,
And banish’d by, too harsh a doom,
The sweetest, slightest, sin in Rome.
Here are some verses of a freer strain, and taken from the same work:
Et tout le parti Protestant
Du Saint-Père en vain très-content.
J’ay là dessus un conte à faire.
L’autre jour touchant cette affaire
Le Chevalier de Sillery, En parlant de ce pape-cy,
Souhaitoit pour la paix publique,
Qu’il se fust rendu Catholique,
Et le Roy Jaques Huguenot.
Je trouve assez bon ce bon mot.
In vain the party Protestant
Are with our holy pope content.
But t’other day I heard a tale,
To make you laugh it scarce can fail.
The Chevalier de Sillery
Said for the public peace ’twould be,
If once the pope turn’d Catholic,
And good king James a Heretic.
However this odd change might hit,
His saying surely wants not wit,
Racine threw a dart at the pope, but not so openly;
however it was a dart. Innocent died on the 12th of August 1689.—Art. Innocent XI.Alexander VIII.
Peter Ottoboni, a native of Venice, was pope in the XVIIth century, under the name of Alexander VIII. Marc Ottoboni, his father, grand chancellor of Venice, bought a patent of nobility, which cost him a hundred thousand ducats, in 1646. Peter Ottoboni, having pursued his studies first at Venice and then at Padua, and taking the degree of Doctor of Law at the latter of those two places, went to Rome at the age of twenty. He had, under pope Urban VIII, the government of Terni, Rietti, and Citta-Castellana, and the post of auditor of the Rota. He received the cardinal’s cap under Innocent X, in the year 1652. Two years after, he was made bishop of Brescia. He was datary under Alexander VII, and was at last chosen pope, October the sixth, 1689, after the death of Innocent XI. The war which was kindled with such violence between the house of Austria and France, contributed not a little to the election of Ottoboni; for the neutral cardinals justly feared they should too much expose the Catholic religion by creating a pope born a subject to the king of Spain, as the late pope was, whose partiality against France had done infinite service to the Protestants. They thought therefore, that Ottoboni, who was qualified for the chair, would be a more proper person than any other in that juncture, in regard that he was a Venetian.
The only advantage which France reaped from this . election was, that Pope Alexander VIII did so strenuously animate the Venetians to wage war with the Turks, and encouraged them with such effectual assistance, that he quite frustrated all hopes of a peace, which the emperor was desirous of concluding 19 2
with the Porte, in order to employ all his troops against France. As for the rest, Alexander VⅢ thought of nothing but the aggrandizing of his family.What is commonly said of beasts, that they are never more dangerous than in their dying bites, may very properly be applied to Nepotism. As it stood upon its last legs under Alexander VIII, so it gathered together all its strength, to be the more capable of devouring. Mr Menage told a story that will come in here very à propos. “Alexander VIII,” said he, “being elected pope at seventy-nine years of age, and having preferred all his nephews in three weeks after, asked one of his domestics ‘ what people said of him?’ The domestic made answer, ‘ that people said he lost no time in the advancement of his family.’ ‘Oh, oh,’ said the pope, ‘ sono vinti tre hore e mezza,—I have but half an hour left out of the four and twenty.’ ” To behave himself as he did with respect to an abuse which his successor should have abolished, was giving it an honourable funeral. Perhaps pope Ottoboni’s great age was not the only reason that obliged him to such quick dispatch in loading his whole family with riches; he considered perhaps, that Rome had had time to forget in some measure the disorders of Nepotism, which had never appeared under the long reign of Innocent XI. Upon this consideration, the complaints of the people might be fainter, and he had to do with subjects who had enjoyed an interval of repose after their ancient fatigues. This calls to my mind the sharping tricks of flatterers, and the dexterity with which, like true jugglers, they pass backwards and forwards the most sacred things. But that this criticism, which does not arise from my own sources, may have more weight and authority, I shall give it from a book printed with licence at Paris. “Among the encomiums he144 bestows upon Innocent
XI, that which he is most full of is, his having kept his nephews in a private station, in imitation of our Saviour, who knew no other relations but those who did the will of his father. Alexander VIII, having had views exactly opposite to those of his predecessor, Palatio has found out a method to justify his solicitousness in loading his relations with riches and honours; and maintains, that in that point also, the pope imitated the example of our Saviour, who honoured his relations according to the flesh, with the participation of his priesthood, and intrusted them with the dispensation of his Gospel; so fertile is eloquence in inventions, when it is employed in flattering the passions of governors, and excusing the greatest irregularities in their conduct.”Alexander gave himself scarcely any manner of concern about the differences between France and the court of Rome; and yet that affair was of such consequence as to require a speedy conclusion, and if Alexander VIII had had as much zeal for the interests of St. Peter’s chair as for those of his family, his considering as he did of the short time he had to live, would have induced him much more to make haste in accommodating the difference with France, than in enriching his relations. By delaying it, he left to his successor the glory of re-establishing in France the authority of the pope upon the ancient footing; which it had been impossible to effect, had they waited till the king of France had been at peace with his neighbours. True policy required, that the court of Rome should make the best use of the entangled state of France; and in that Innocent XII did very dextrously. Some fanatics, who had conceived hopes that the league formed against France in 1688, would be fatal to the
papacy, and that the approaching ruin of Catholicism would begin with the reformation of the court of France, were very much out in their measures; for that league has made France more popish than it was in 1682 and 1688, and consequently occasioned the reparation of one of the breaches of popery.Cardinal Ottoboni was so old when he came to the chair, that it is no wonder his reign was short. He enjoyed the papal dignity but fifteen or sixteen months, dying on the first of February 1691.
Art. Ottoboni.
END OF VOL. II.
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