Chapter IX: Part 9

XX. The injustice of this opinion, and the evils arising from it, are most visible in the other sex. A woman by being chaste, thinks she has complied with, and fulfilled all the duties appertaining to virtue, and that, in consequence of her possessing this single good quality, she may without impeachment of her conduct, be allowed to commit every other vice with impunity. Thus having established the proofs of her chastity, she concludes she has a right to be arrogant, envious, passionate, and proud; and there even are women, whom the confirmation of their fame in point of chastity has made savage and insufferable. What plagues are such to their poor husbands, for they sell them that fidelity at an exorbitant price, which they owe to them as a just debt. Some authors have assigned this, as the motive of Paulus Æmilius having procured himself to be divorced from his first wife, the noble, chaste, beautiful, and prolific Papiria. Plutarch tells us of a Roman, who, when his friends blamed him for having got himself divorced from a chaste woman of great endowments, both of body and mind, pulled off one of his shoes, and shewing it to them, said, _You see this shoe is new, handsome, and well made; but perhaps that is the very reason why it wrings and pinches my foot_. By which he meant to insinuate, that the accomplishments of his wife made her proud and insufferable.

XXI. I must confess, that I have no patience with the distinction the world makes between vices appertaining to the same species, only because of the different methods which are used in the execution of them. He is not only esteemed a thief, but a most vile and base man, who clandestinely enters another’s house, and robs it of money and goods; and why does not he deserve to be stigmatized with the same epithets, who by making an unjust demand, or by using frauds, usurps another’s property. The trader, for instance, who takes more than a fair profit on his goods, or deceives with regard to the quality of what he sells; or the man in office, who demands or receives more than his due, or than his trouble deserves; and, above all, the judge who suffers himself to be bribed; I say, what difference is there between this first and last class of people? They are all cheats and robbers; and God will punish them all in the same manner, not regarding the means they used to impose on, but in proportion to the injury they did their neighbours. Notwithstanding all this, vast numbers of these people pass for very good christians; and not only so, but if they pray much, and count over many rosaries, hear mass every day, and have the insolence to frequent the sacraments, they are venerated as illustrious patterns of virtue.

XXII. But for all these may appear an heterogeneous or monstrous compound of virtue and vice, there is nothing belonging to them, which may not be supposed conformable to nature. Virtues and vices have the same root or origin, that is, the temperament or constitutions of mankind. Thus as there is no soil so inhospitable as to produce nothing but poisonous plants, neither is there any disposition so vitiated as to nourish nothing but perverse inclinations. In no individual is nature such an enemy to reason, as to oppose it in every thing. This man is urged by gluttony, but not incited by incontinence. Another burns with impatience to be rich, and knows no other happiness than that of possessing vast treasure. A third is swayed by pride and vain-glory; and provided he receives the homage he expects, no other passion disturbs him.

XXIII. To this we may add, that vice being very ugly and deformed, every one abhors those vices, that do not correspond, or fall in with his own inclinations, and is consequently led to admire those virtues with which they are contrasted. From hence it is common for men to be reciprocally offended and scandalized with the actions of each other. We see the faults of others in their proper shape and colours, and our own in the delusive form in which our appetites represent them to us. In the first we view the horrible, in the second the delectable. The picture which passion draws of vice, resembles that which was painted by Apelles of Antigonus. That monarch had but one eye, and the ingenious painter, to hide the blemish, drew him in profile, and exhibited only that part of his face in which there was no defect. Thus passion exposes to our view the flattering side only of our own vices; and conceals the deformed, but takes a quite opposite method in inspecting those of other people.

XXIV. I contemplate sometimes, but not without emotions of laughter, how the covetous man appears disgusted with, and to nauseate the incontinent one; and how the incontinent man, looks with horror and abomination on the avaricious one. All this happens, by the first not being stimulated by carnal desires; and the second not being diseased with the dropsical thirst of gold. Every man has his strong and his weak side, or may be said to be made of brass in one part, and glass in another; but every man, by excusing himself on the pretext of hiss own fragility, is not aware, that all others have the same right to disculpate themselves in the same manner; and if we were to make the proper reflection on this matter, we should not be such severe critics on the actions of our neighbours. Envy would be converted to compassion, and that which at present inflames hatred, would beget charity.

XXV. It is a common error, to apply to determined or particular species of sins only, the excuse of the frailty of human nature. This frailty as transcendent in all the passions, intervenes in all kinds of slips. There is no vice, which has not its natural fermentation in the complexion of the individual. The disorders which are the most distant from, or opposite to the reasonable faculties, find their patronage in the sensible ones. I confess I cannot comprehend, how in our nature, there can be contained geniuses so perverse, that they should take pleasure in doing mischief to other people, when by the act, no sensible good can result to themselves. With all this, it is certain that there are such people, and it is also certain, they behave in this manner, because they are under the dominion of this villainous disposition. But observe of what this frailty is compounded. If their malignant conduct did not afford them some considerable delight, they would not for the sake of indulging it run the hazard of incurring the public hatred.

XXVI. But it is proper to remark, that these men of whom we have been speaking, and who are compounded of virtue and vice, are not what they seem to be by their outside appearance. I mean, that even the virtues they are supposed to possess, will upon enquiry be found not so properly to deserve the name of virtues, as that of the mere want or absence of vices. Observe Chrysantus: he abstains from all commerce with the other sex; and you may be led to think, this abstinence proceeds from virtue; but you would mistake, for it is the effect of insensibility; he has no stimulus which incites him to desire women, and therefore we may conclude, there is no more merit in his continence, than may be imputed to the trunk of a tree. If his abstinence had been the effect of his fear of God, he would not have been so inattentive to his conscience in other respects. Observe Aurelius: he is very sparing and moderate in his diet, both with regard to eating and drinking. You may conclude this proceeds from temperance; no such thing: Aurelius wants an appetite; the case of him, in this respect, is like that of a man in a fever, who forbears to eat, because he is not able; but you see, he is capable of swallowing all the goods and money he can lay his hands on; from whence we may suppose, that if his stomach was as voracious as his heart, he would be another Heliogabalus.

XXVII. These are hypocrites by constitution; and temperament compleats in them, what study does in other people; theirs is not virtue, but only the semblance or image of it, although it is an image which is not formed by art, but nature.

XXVIII. I have heard it said, that in the court of Rome, when they deliberate about the canonization of a saint, the point they examine with, the greatest caution and nicety, is that of disinterestedness, but when the proof of this excellence is once established, they are not so prolix in their other enquiries; but abstracted from whether this is, or is not their mode of proceeding, it appears to me a very rational one on two accounts; the first is, that disinterestedness does not depend, or depends very little and remotely, on constitution; and therefore we should conclude, this good quality is more an acquisition of virtue, than a gift of nature. The second is, because this excellence may be supposed to imply or contain in it many others. The reason is, money being the means with which men gratify all their passions, it may be said to serve as an auxiliary and assistant to every kind of vice; and a man’s not being greedy of money, is a token that he is of greatly under the dominion of vice. Avarice is under the controul of, and made the hackney implement of all other vices. The incontinent man seeks money to indulge his carnal desires; the glutton to satiate his intemperate and beastly appetite; the ambitious man to attain promotion; and the vindictive one to revenge himself of, and destroy his enemy. The same may be said of all other things. He then who is not anxious for money, we may conclude, is not tainted with those vices; or we may at least take disinterestedness, to be the best and most certain indication of virtue.

XXIX. Those who are idolizers of applause, are not good, but great spirits. Enamoured with the beauty of human glory, they either are not diseased or infected with the other passions, or disdain to subject themselves to their controul. In the republic of vices also, there are distinctions of classes, and some usurp to themselves, without any just pretension to it, the rank of nobility. This presumption produces the utility, of their disdaining to mix with others of inferior order. As one of this last sort we may reckon avarice, and thus the vain-glorious man will always be upon his guard to avoid falling into this meanness.

XXX. I am persuaded, that if we were to investigate nicely, the cause or origin, of all the heroic actions that are to be met with in the profane annals, we should find many more children of vice, than of virtue among them. The anxious hope of reward, has been the occasion of winning more battles, than the love we bear to our country. How many triumphs have been owing to emulation and envy! Alexander was stimulated by the glory of Achilles, Cæsar by that of Alexander; and Pompey, when he gave battle, had his attention more fixed on the victories of Cæsar, than the troops of the enemy. Many have done great things, from much more criminal incitements; for they have made their obsequies a ladder, wherewith to ascend to tyranny. How many have served a state, with a view of making the state subservient to themselves, and have first made it victorious, in order afterwards to enslave it! This was frequent and common among the most celebrated men of Greece. For this reason, eminent services to the republic became so suspicious in Athens, that they devised the law of ostracism to punish them as crimes; and they condemned to banishment, those who distinguished themselves by their great and conspicuous actions.

XXXI. You see the same thing happen with regard to services done to private people, that you do in those rendered to a state, which is, that we frequently attribute to motives of fidelity and affection, what the person employed, executed only with an eye to his own interest; but when the dependence ceases, the real or true motive immediately displays itself.

XXXII. So that upon making it just estimate of things, we shall find, that the world is full of hypocrites; some who wear the deceitful appearance of particular virtues, and others who are dissemblers with respect to all of them. The emperor Frederic the third said, as we are told by Æneas Silvius, that there was not any man whatever, who had not a spice of the hypocrite in his composition.

XXXIII. We should not approve, or adopt so severe a judgment; but it would be necessary in my opinion, that all princes should partake of the doubt or distrust of Frederic; for they are those who are most abused by, and the least aware of hypocrites. There is scarce any one, who lays himself quite open when he is before them. The same who are free and unreserved among their equals, are hypocrites in the presence of their superiors; and there is hardly a man, who, prior to his appearing before the person who commands him, does not daub his soul all over with washes, and give false colourings to his spirit, in the same manner, that a strumpet paints her face before the goes abroad, and exhibits herself to public view. Momus wished there was a window in the breast of man, whereby to discover the secrets of the bosom; but I should be contented with a door, of which the owner should keep one key, and his superior the other. These however are all flights of fancy. What reason dictates is, that the works of God are perfect.

SECT. IV.

XXXIV. It would affect me much, if, because I proceed to take off the mufflings and coverings of vice, the world should think me one of those suspicious geniuses, who will not give any person credit for acting from good motives, and who am always endeavouring to put sinister interpretations on the causes of other peoples conduct. Those who are intimate with me, well know, that my spirit is not diseased with that truly malignant malady; and some have remarked in me a contrary defect, to wit, that of too benevolent and charitable a criticism on the behaviour of other men. Perhaps the experience of the deceits and impositions that have been put upon me, from my easiness in crediting the appearances of virtue, have made these few reflections more obvious to me; which nevertheless, shall always rest with me in mere theory; for I am persuaded that in the practice, my natural genius, and disposition would ever prevail over them, as also my remembrance, that in the moral, it is better to err through compassion, than to do right from motives of spite and envy. I would wish to conduct my pen so delicately, that it should wound hypocrisy, without offending charity; and I would expose the artifices of hypocrites in such a way, as should not alarm or disturb the quiet of the innocent and simple.

XXXV. I will also acknowledge, that as time has helped me to discover in some people many vices, which I could not have believed; it has also assisted me to discern many virtues in others, which I had no conception of. Thus the judgment of a good-intentioned man being poised in equilibrio between reason and experience, it is easy to imagine, that his genius and disposition will incline the balance to the charitable side.

XXXVI. I have taken notice of a thing which is a little remarkable, and that is, that great virtues are less perceptible than small ones. This is derived from the exercise of them not being so frequent, and the value of them, not being generally understood. The going regularly to church, exterior modest deportment, taciturnity and fasting, are virtues, which strike the eyes of every one, because they are daily practised, and every body knows them. There are other virtues, that are more substantial, and which spring from more noble roots, that the vulgar are unacquainted with, because they are carried about by those who are masters of them, like ladies who go abroad _incog._ without the ostentatious parade and show of equipage. There are men (would to God there were more of them!) who with an open carriage, and the free correspondence and intercourse of an ordinary life, and who do not seem the least sensible or affected with mysterious niceties, that nourish within their breasts, a robust virtue and solid piety, impenetrable to the most furious batteries of the three enemies of the soul. Let Sir Thomas More, that just, wise, and prudent Englishman, whom I have always regarded with profound respect, and a tenderness approaching to devotion; I say let this man serve as an example to all men, and stand as a pattern to future ages, of all the virtues and excellencies I have been describing.

XXXVII. If we view the exterior part of the life of Sir Thomas More, we only see an able politician, simple in his manners, engaged in a department of the state, and attentive to the affairs of the king and kingdom, always suffering himself to be wafted by the gale of fortune, without soliciting honours, and without refusing to accept of them; in private life, open, courteous, gentle, cheerful, and even fond of a convivial song, frequently partaking in the halls of mirth, of the jovial relaxations of the mind, and in the circulation of wit and pleasantry; always innocent, but never shewing the least symptom of austerity. His application in literature was directed, indifferently and alternately, to the study of sacred and profane learning, and he made great advances in both the one and the other. His great application to, and proficiency in the living languages of Europe, represent him as a genius desirous of accommodating himself to the world at large. His works, except such as he composed in prison during the last year of his life, seemed more to savour of politics than religion. I speak of the subject of them, not of the motive with which he wrote them. In his description of Utopia, which was truly ingenious, delicate, and entertaining, he lets his pen run so much on the interests of the state, as makes it seem as if he was indifferent about the concerns of religion.

XXXVIII. Who, in this image or description of Sir Thomas More, would recognize that glorious martyr of Christ, and that generous hero, whose constancy to the obligations of his religion could not be bent or warped, neither by the threats or promises of Henry VIII. nor a hard imprisonment of fourteen months, nor the persuasions and intreaties of his wife, nor by the sad prospect of seeing his family and children reduced to misery and beggary, nor by the privation of all human comfort, in taking from him all his books, nor finally by the terrors of a scaffold placed before his eyes? So certain is it, that the qualities of great souls are not to be discovered, but by the touch-stone of great occasions and hard trials, and may be compared to large flints, which only manifest their smooth or shining surfaces by the execution of hard blows.

XXXIX. Sir Thomas More was the same while he was a prisoner of state, as when he was High Chancellor of England; the same in adverse, as in prosperous fortune; the same ill treated, as in high favour; the same in the prison, as seated at the head of the Court of Chancery; but adversity, manifested and made visible his whole heart, of which the greatest and best part had before lain hid. This great man, used to give to his own virtues an air of humanity and condescension, which in the eyes of the vulgar abated their splendour; but in proportion as it obscured the lustre of them to their view, it augmented it in the sight of all men of discernment and penetration. It once happened when he was High Chancellor, that a gentleman, who had a suit depending before him, made him a present of two silver bottles: it was inconsistent with his dignity or integrity to accept the present; and how did Sir Thomas conduct himself? Did he fall into a passion against the suitor for having offered an affront to his reputation? Did he punish the criminal audacity of the man, for attempting to corrupt and make venal the functions of his duty? Did he manifest before his domestics any disinterested delicacy, or appear scandalized at the temptation? No; he did none of all this, because nothing of this sort was correspondent to the nobleness or generous turn of his mind. He received the bottles with a good grace, and immediately gave orders to one of his servants to fill them with the best wine he had in his cellar, and carry them back to the gentleman, together with this courteous message, _That it gave him great pleasure to have an opportunity of obliging him, and that any sort of wine he had in his house was much at his service_. Expressing, by this prudent seeming insensibility or want of apprehension, that he supposed that was the purpose for which the gentleman sent the bottles. In this manner, he joined integrity to gentleness of reproof, and correction with courteous behaviour; and by so much the less parade he made of his own purity, by so much the more was the confusion of the gentleman diminished.

XL. It is clear, that the heroic constancy with which he supported his adherence to his religion, was not the effect of a strained violence on his nature, but proceeded from innate virtue, which acts in all things, and on all occasions, according to the habitual dispositions of the mind; for always, to the very crisis of his suffering, he preserved the native cheerfulness of his disposition. He did not appear less festive, nor less tranquil in chains, than he had before appeared in the banquet room. During the time of his trial he was all composure, and when it was drawing near a conclusion, and those iniquitous judges, who had already sacrificed their consciences to the will of their sovereign, were on the point, to please and flatter him, of delivering that innocent man, as a victim to his resentment, the barber came to shave him, and just as he was going to begin his work, Sir Thomas recollected himself, and said _Hold, as the King and I at present are contending to whom this head belongs, in case it should be adjudged to him, it would be wrong for me to rob him of the beard, so you must desist_. Being about to ascend the scaffold, and finding himself feeble, he begged one who was near to aid him in getting up the ladder, saying to him at the same time, _Assist me to get up, for be assured I shan’t trouble you to help me down again_. O eminent virtue! O spirit truly sublime, who mounted the scaffold with the same festive cheerfulness, that he would sit down to a banquet! Let men of little minds and narrow souls contemplate this example, and learn to know, that true virtue does not consist in the observance of forms and scrupulous niceties.

SECT. V.

XLI. O how many antipodes in morality to Sir Thomas More are to be found in every state! for both in the east and the west, you will meet with many of those ridiculous scarecrows, who lead a kind of hermetic life, and are called sanctified or holy men; but those of this day do not mortify themselves so much, but offend other people more, than those of former times were used to do. With a displeasing gravity, and forbidding look that amounts to sour sternness; a conversation so opposite to the cheerful, that it borders on the extreme of clownish surliness; a zeal so harsh and severe, that it degenerates into cruelty; a scrupulous observance of rites and ceremonies, that approaches to superstition; and by the mere want or absence of a few vices; I say, that with the help of these appearances, they, without more cost or trouble, set themselves up as patterns or images of ultimate perfection; and they are truly images in the strict sense of the word, for their whole value consists in their external shape and figure; and I besides call them images, because they are not endued or informed with a true, but with the sham semblance of a spirit. I repeat again that they are images, because they are hard as marble, and insensible and unfeeling as the trunks of trees. In the morality that directs them, gentleness of manners, affability, and pity, are blotted out of the catalogue of virtues. I have not even yet said enough. Those two sensible characteristics of charity, pointed out by St. Paul, that is to say, patience and benevolence, are so foreign to their dispositions, that they are inclined to consider them as signs of relaxation of discipline, or at least of lukewarmness. They assume the figure of saints, without possessing more sanctity than the stock or stone images of such, and would number themselves among the blessed, wanting the requisites which the gospel expresses to constitute them such, and make them deserving of being inserted in that catalogue, which are meekness, compassion, and a conciliatory spirit. _Beati mites, beati misericordes, beati pacifici._

XLII. It is also certain, that virtue is tinctured with, or wears a different hue, according to the genius or disposition of the subject in whom it exists, and on this account, in different individuals it appears in different colours. Notwithstanding this, we ought in the mixture or combination, to distinguish what is derived solely from virtue, and what is produced by the intervention of constitution. There are men of a harsh, choleric, unpleasant cast of mind, who at the same time are virtuous; but their virtue on this account is not harsh, choleric, and displeasing, but rather in its operations, by means of its innate good qualities, corrects those defects. The misfortune is, that these defects of temper, confound the understanding and pervert the judgment; and in consequence of this perversion of the judgment, virtue is prevented from amending the defects of the genius. A virtuous man, who is of an impetuous, violent disposition, and inclining to the morose, when placed in command, is easily brought to think; he finds himself in circumstances where prudence dictates that he should use rigour; whereas one of an excessive gentle and mild genius, can never persuade himself that contingent is arrived. Both one and the other discharge and preserve their consciences, and the public are the sufferers by their mistakes, but in a very different degree, according to the diversity of the employments or destinations of such people. The very gentle man is most pernicious in external policy, and the rigorous in internal. An excess of clemency, and forbearing to put in execution criminal laws, in cases where the offences committed are injurious to the public at large, is a very great evil. In matters that concern the reformation, or internal amendment of souls, rigour is not only useless, but prejudicial, because the fear of temporal punishment does not make penitents, but hypocrites; it only removes the external execution of vice, and concentrates the evil intention within the soul, where it produces a new sin, in the hatred it excites against the judge.

SECT. VI.

XLIII. I have observed, that for the sincere conversion or turning of mens hearts, benignity and gentle treatment has done miracles, in cases where rigour has been found ineffectual. Two illustrious examples of this sort, which in different ages have been exhibited on the theatre of France, occur to me at present. The first is that of Peter Abelard, a most subtle logician, and famous broacher of heresies in the twelfth century. The adventures of this man were extraordinary, and he for the most part experienced adverse fortune. He suffered many persecutions, some of which were unjust ones; but neither the just nor the unjust were capable of subduing his mind, or mitigating the contentious vivacity of his spirit. His errors, after innumerable debates, were condemned by the council of Sens, at which St. Bernard assisted. He appealed from the sentence to Pope innocent the Second, who confirmed the decision of the council; and added to it, that his books should be burnt, and the author imprisoned for life. Abelard had an infinite number of enemies, many of whom were not so from their zeal to religion, but from many other very different motives. As an augmentation of his misfortunes, there was scarce any one who did not exclaim against him, and cry aloud for the execution of the sentence. In this deplorable situation of Abelard, there was only one man who had generosity enough to take the favourable side of the question, and interest himself on his behalf. This was that most pious and wise person St. Peter the Venerable, abbot of the great monastery of Cluny, who solicited and obtained of the Pope, Abelard’s pardon. He also reconciled him with St. Bernard, which amounted to the same thing as indemnifying him against the public hatred. Besides this, as a remedy for all his reverses of fortune, he offered him an asylum in his monastery of Cluny, which monastery received him in its arms like a loving father, and gave him the habit of a monk.

It will be proper to observe here, that Eloisa, a sensible, beautiful, and noble French lady, was in her youth in love with, and beloved by Abelard, to such an excess, that their love broke through all the fences of honour. Historians relate a very singular circumstance of this woman, which is, that Abelard being desirous of marrying her, she, notwithstanding her prodigious fondness for him, rejected the proposal, and chose rather to continue his concubine than be his wife, alledging as her motive for this conduct, that she would not, by her marriage, deprive the church of the great lustre that might be reflected on it by the sublime genius of Abelard, although in the end, she, by the importunities and threats of her friends and relations, was prevailed on to espouse him. She afterwards took the veil, and became an exemplary religious. She always maintained a very tender and affectionate correspondence with Abelard, but at the same time in very chaste terms, and such as were conformable to the rules of virtue and decorum. As soon as she was informed of Abelard’s death, she begged of St. Peter the Venerable, that he would let her have his body, that she might bury it in the convent where she was prelate; and the pious abbot granted her request. It appears by the epistles of Abelard, that Eloisa was universally beloved and respected for her virtue and discretion. He says, the bishops loved her as a daughter, the abbesses as a sister, and the seculars a mother.

The effect which this generous benignity of St. Peter the Venerable had upon Abelard, was admirable. He not only became a monk, but a most exemplary one, and a shining pattern of all kinds of virtues, of which St. Peter the Venerable gives irrefragable testimony in his letter to Eloisa on the occasion of his death, which letter is filled with the highest eulogiums on the virtues of Abelard. He says in one part of it, that he does not remember to have seen a man so humble as him; and in another, that it was matter of admiration, to observe a person so famous and of so great a name, have so lowly an opinion of himself. In another, he says, his understanding, his tongue, and his works, were always employed on celestial objects. And in another, he compares him to the great Gregory in the following words: _Nec (sicut de magno Gregorio legitur) momentum aliquod præterire sinebat, quin semper aut oraret, aut legeret, aut scriberet, aut dictaret_. These eulogiums are confirmed, and if possible exceeded, in the Chronicle of the Monastery of Cluny, which says, that, from the time of his taking the habit of a monk, his thoughts, words, and actions, were always divine: _Et deinde mens ejus, lingua ejus, opus ejus, semper divina fuere_.

XLIV. So that this man, who could not be made to bend to the most learned men of France, who were engaged in continual controversies with him; nor to the force of the civil power, exerted against him various times at the instance of his enemies; nor to the ecclesiastical prelates, nor to the authority of a council, nor to the zeal and learning of a St. Bernard: This man, I say, on whom all these exertions had no influence, submitted to the gentle, compassionate, and benevolent spirit of St. Peter the Venerable. The estimation and tenderness, with which this saint always regarded Abelard after his conversion, was very great, as is evident from two epitaphs he wrote to grace his tomb. I shall insert a part of each of them here, by which may be seen the high opinion he entertained of the learning and wisdom of this eminent man.

First Epitaph.

_Gallorum Socrates, Plato maximus Hesperiarum,_
_Noster Aristoteles, Logicis, quicumque fuerunt,_
_Aut par, aut melior, studiorum cognitus orbi_
_Princeps, ingenio varius, subtilis, & acer._

Second Epitaph.

_Petrus in hac petra latitat, quem mundus Homerum_
_Clamabat, sed jam sidera sidus habent._
_Sol erat hic Gallis, sed eum jam fata tulerunt:_
_Ergo caret Regio Gallica sole sua._
_Ille sciens quidquid fuit ulli scibile, vicit_
_Artifices, artes absque docente docens._

XLV. The second example, which is still more striking and illustrious than the first, is that of the Huguenots in the reign of Charles the ninth, in the diocese of Lisieux in Normandy. The learned Dominican John Henuyer, who had been confessor to Henry the second, was bishop of that diocese, when orders came from the king to the governor of Normandy, to put to the sword all the Huguenots of that province. The venerable prelate opposed the execution of the order as far as it related to his own diocese efficaciously, by declaring that he would sooner submit his own throat to the knife, than consent to the death of those heretics, whom he had always considered as sheep of his flock, although they had gone astray; and used such other arguments, as prevailed on the governor to suspend the execution of the orders; and the king, moved with the firmness and zeal of the pious bishop, revoked the decree with respect to the Huguenots of that bishopric. The hand of Omnipotence heaped blessings on the paternal affection which bishop Henuyer manifested to his flock, and on the pious exertion he made to save their lives at all events; and (O wonderful to relate!) in none of the other parts of France, where rivers of Huguenot blood had been spilt in the execution of the king’s orders, was the heresy extinguished; but on the diocese of Lisieux only, did God confer this great blessing. The experience of the paternal bowels and feeling of their prelate for them, made such an impression on the hearts of the Huguenots of that district, that they all, without a single exception, became converts to the catholic faith. Thus does benignity triumph over the most stubborn hearts, when managed and conducted with a pious zeal and consummate prudence.

SECT. VII.

XLVI. But to return to our subject, as all that was introduced in the preceding section was by way of digression: I say, that among the groupe of those severe saturnine geniuses, of whom we were just before speaking, are to be found the worst species of hypocrites. I speak of those censurers of other people’s conduct and behaviour, who pretend to do it out of zeal, and to promote the welfare of those they fall upon. These act as if they were ministers vested with full powers from Hell, or were a _quid pro quo_ of the Devil, because their whole occupation is pointing out the sins of mankind; a race so diabolical, that they are at variance with their neighbours, and friends with their vices. They pretend they love the first, and abhor the last, but it is quite the reverse. They are always busied in throwing biting reflections on their neighbours, and at the same time licking their chops with a longing desire to taste of their sins. There is no news so pleasing to them, as this or that person having made such and such a slip. This is their favourite little aliment, because it affords pabulum to feed and nourish their malevolence.

They exclaim furiously, and with all their might, against sinful and sensual practices, and wreck their inventions for hyperboles to exaggerate the wickedness of them; and after they have glutted their revenge on a miserable individual they have been abusing, they direct the rage of their thunder against the public at large, and cry out, The people are all going the high road to perdition: God defend us, sure the like never was seen! Their daily text is the _O tempora! O mores!_ of Cicero. The matter of their ordinary conversations is truly and properly matter, as it is all putrefaction and corruption; for they talk of nothing but turpitudes and uncleanness. They reserve for their own use and purposes Satan’s Gazette, where the news is distributed in articles and paragraphs received from different quarters; as for example: “We hear by an express arrived from such a street, dated such a day of the month, which was brought by an herb woman, that Mr. A---- has made great advances in his negotiations with Madam B----; and although in the beginning he met with some difficulties, by proposing more advantageous and agreeable terms, was at last admitted to a private audience.” In this manner it proceeds to give an account of various other matters, and always, as is customary, tells us something about the court; as for instance; “His majesty Pluto and all his family, although they cannot fail to be incommoded with the excessive heats which prevail in his territories, continue for all that to pass their time very jollily, by the entertainment they find in hunting all sorts of sins, which is a game that is found in great abundance in every quarter of his infernal majesty’s dominions.” But to be serious: Those who blazon or aggravate the vices that are most frequent or prevailing in a place or town, do a great injury which they are not aware of, which is removing from many a certain impediment, which withholds or restrains them from falling into those very vices. When speaking of the vice of incontinence for example, a man exclaims, “The city in this respect is in a total state of depravity; that the dissoluteness which pervades it is horrid and unbridled; that already, with a little reserve, or without any at all, you can scarce find a man that is continent, or a woman that is chaste; and truly this is the vice, against which they most frequently make such declamations.” Some hear this, who till then had entertained no such idea of the thing, and who were continent from the apprehension of being exposed, and the fear of being repulsed by this or that woman. This, to those who are withheld from being incontinent, principally or solely by the shame of being remarked, or that of being ignominiously repulsed, takes away in part, or removes totally, the chief impediment which retrained them from rushing into criminal amours. If all, says each of these to himself, or nearly all the men in the town, are guilty of this vice, my share of disgrace by falling into it will be but small, as I shall only bear my proportion as one among so large a number; and if all, or nearly all the women, are disposed to be lewd and wanton, it will rarely happen that I shall meet with one that will not yield to my solicitations. Some, from not foreseeing the inconvenience, are betrayed into this absurdity by their zeal, and commit the mistake with the best intentions. I have many times heard preachers exclaim with great fervour, that the town is filled with scandals and turpitudes; that there is scarce a house, which in every corner of it is not burning with the infernal fire of lust. I entreat most earnestly all those who exercise this sacred function, and God is the judge of the sincerity and pious intention with which I make the request, that they would abstain from such-like declamations, for the mischief they produce, is greater than the benefits which are derived from them.

XLVII. But to resume the thread of our discourse, what we have just finished saying being rather an addition to, or digression from, our main or principal subject. The hypocrites we mentioned last, are such as conceal their malice under the cloak or pretence of zeal; but there are others, who are such at their own expence, because in order to appear virtuous they punish themselves, by abstaining from many things their appetites prompt them to desire; whereas all the cost of the first sort, is defrayed at the expence of their neighbour’s honour. It is true that this rule admits of some exceptions, for there are those so malignant, who, to wound with certainty another’s fame, would many times commit a violence on their own inclinations. They would abstain from the external exercise of those vices which they point out in others, be it ever so painful to them, in order that they may censure them with the greater freedom. Unhappy passion! Detestable hypocrisy!

SECT. VIII.

XLVIII. There remains for us to say something on two particulars, by the intervention of which, vice is frequently reverenced as virtue: The first is the exterior resemblance of certain vices to certain virtues; for as every virtue is placed between two vicious extremes, many of these last wear the appearance of the first. Thus prodigality often passes for liberality, rashness for valour, obstinacy for firmness, cunning for prudence, and pusillanimity for moderation. It is also the same with respect to many other things.

XXIX. The second is, the material commission of an act, abstracted from the turpitude of the end it was done to answer. If we were to explore the motives that intervene in an infinite number of actions, which are right to outward appearance; we should perceive, they were derived from indirect principles, and performed to answer perverse purposes. It is very common for one vice to be an obstacle to the external operation or execution of another. This man is continent to avoid spending his money; that, because he is terrified by the danger of the enterprize. In the first, continence is the child of avarice; in the second, of pusillanimity. This one puts on the shew of humility, because he is a candidate for favour and promotion; another, to avoid the exposing himself to a quarrel. In the first, humility springs from ambition, in the second it is derived from cowardice. Much, more might be said on these two heads; but, as the subject matter of them has been largely treated of in various other books, we shall rest the thing here, and content ourselves with the slight observations we have already made.

END OF VOL. I.

ERRATUM.

P. 11. 1. 1. _read_ matter; for he declares, [Transcriber’s note: rather than “matter, he declares”].

FOOTNOTES.

[1] Feyjoo, in the supplement to his Teatro Critico, says, the relation of the Earl of Leicester’s being guilty of the horrid crime of murdering his wife in order to remove all impediments to his marrying Queen Elizabeth, which he had entertained hopes of doing, was taken from Nicholas Sanders, and another person whose name he has forgot; he says further, he has since found reason to doubt the truth of that accusation, and condemns the mistaken zeal of Sanders, who he owns was much addicted to give credit to any thing he heard against the enemies of the Catholic Religion. He declares that Protestants have the same right to natural justice as Catholics, and that they should not be positively and unjustly charged with crimes, upon false rumours, or dubious reports.

[2] The son of Pope Alexander the sixth.

Transcriber’s Notes

References to “Theatrico-Critico” corrected to “Teatro Critico”

The erratum is corrected in place.

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

Numbering errors/omissions from the original are left unaltered. As such there are missing/skipped section numbers and paragraph numbers in the text.

Italics are represented thus _italic_.