gives me to understand he has a library, I wish to see it. I call on
this gentleman, and at the very foot of the stairs I almost faint with
the smell of the Russia leather bindings of his books. In vain he
shouts in my ears, to encourage me, that they are all with gilt edges
and hand-tooled, that they are the best editions, and he names some of
them one after another, and that his library is full of them, except a
few places painted so carefully that everybody takes them for shelves
and real books, and is deceived. He also informs me that he never reads
nor sets foot in this library, and now only accompanies me to oblige
me. I thank him for his politeness, but feel as he does on the subject,
and would not like to visit the tan-pit which he calls a library.
Some people immoderately thirst after knowledge, and are unwilling to
ignore any branch of it, so they study them all and master none; they
are fonder of knowing much than of knowing some things well, and had
rather be superficial smatterers in several sciences than be well and
thoroughly acquainted with one. They everywhere meet with some person
who enlightens and corrects them; they are deceived by their idle
curiosity, and often, after very long and painful efforts, can but just
extricate themselves from the grossest ignorance.
Other people have a master-key to all sciences, but never enter
there; they spend their lives in trying to decipher the Eastern and
Northern languages, those of both the Indies, of the two poles, nay,
the language spoken in the moon itself. The most useless idioms, the
oddest and most hieroglyphical-looking characters, are just those
which awaken their passion and induce them to study; they pity those
persons who ingenuously content themselves with knowing their own
language, or, at most, the Greek and Latin tongues. Such men read all
historians and know nothing of history; they run through all books, but
are not the wiser for any; they are absolutely ignorant of all facts
and principles, but they possess as abundant a store and garner-house
of words and phrases as can well be imagined, which weighs them down,
and with which they overload their memory, whilst their mind remains a
blank.
A certain citizen loves building, and had a mansion erected so
handsome, noble, and splendid that no one can live in it.[696] The
proprietor is ashamed to occupy it, and as he cannot make up his mind
to let it to a prince or a man of business, he retires to the garret,
where he spends his life, whilst the suite of rooms and the inlaid
floors are the prey of travelling Englishmen and Germans, who come
to visit it after having seen the Palais-Royal, the palace L ... G
...[697] and the Luxembourg. There is a continual knocking going on at
these handsome doors, and all visitors ask to see the house, but none
the master.
There are other persons who have grown-up daughters, but they cannot
afford to give them a dowry, nay, these girls are scarcely clothed and
fed; they are so poor that they have not even a bed to lie upon nor a
change of linen. The cause of their misery is not very far to seek; it
is a collection crowded with rare busts, covered with dust and filth,
of which the sale would bring in a goodly sum; but the owners cannot be
prevailed upon to part with them.
Diphilus is a lover of birds, he begins with one and ends with a
thousand; his house is not enlivened, but infested by them; the
courtyard, the parlour, the staircase, the hall, all the rooms,
and even the private study are so many aviaries; we no longer hear
warbling, but a perfect discord; the autumnal winds and the most rapid
cataracts do not produce so shrill and piercing a noise; there is
no hearing one another speak but in those apartments set apart for
visitors, where people will have to wait until some little curs have
yelped, before there is a chance of seeing the master of the house.
These birds are no longer an agreeable amusement for Diphilus, but a
toilsome fatigue, for which he can scarcely find leisure; he spends
his days—days which pass away and never come back—in feeding his
birds and cleaning them; he pays a man a salary[698] for teaching his
birds to sing with a bird-organ, and for attending to the hatching of
his young canaries. It is true that what he spends on the one hand
he spares on the other, for his children have neither teachers nor
education. In the evening, worn out by his hobby, he shuts himself
up, without being able to enjoy any rest until his birds have gone to
roost, and these little creatures, on which he dotes only for their
song, have ceased to warble. He dreams of them whilst asleep, and
imagines he is himself a tufted bird, chirping on his perch; during the
night he even fancies he is moulting and brooding.
Who can describe all the different kinds of hobbies? Can you imagine
when you hear a certain person speak of his “Panther Cowry,” his “Pen
Shell,” and his “Music Shell,”[699] and brag of them as something very
rare and marvellous, that he intends to sell these shells? Why not? He
has bought them for their weight in gold.
Another is an admirer of insects, and augments his collection every
day; in Europe he is the best judge of butterflies, and has some of
all sizes and colours.[700] What an unfortunate time you have chosen
to pay him a visit! He is overwhelmed with grief, and in a fearful
temper, which he vents on his family; he has suffered an irreparable
loss; draw near him and observe what he shows you on his finger; it is
a caterpillar, but such a caterpillar, lifeless, and but just expired.
(3.) Duelling is the triumph of fashion, which it sways tyrannically
and most conspicuously. This custom does not allow a coward to live,
but compels him to go and be killed by a man of more valour than
himself, and to be mistaken for a man of courage. The maddest and
most absurd action has been called honourable and glorious; it has
been sanctioned by the presence of kings; in some cases it has even
been considered a sort of duty to countenance it; it has decided the
innocence of some persons,[701] and the truth or falsity of certain
accusations of capital crimes; it was so deeply rooted in the opinion
of all nations, and had obtained such a complete possession of the
feelings and minds of men, that to cure them of this folly has been one
of the most glorious actions of the greatest of monarchs.[702]
(4.) Some persons were formerly in high repute for commanding armies,
for diplomacy, for pulpit eloquence, or for poetry, and now they are no
longer fashionable. Do certain men degenerate from what they formerly
were, and have their merits become antiquated, or is our liking for
them worn out?
(5.) A fashionable man is not long the rage, for fashions are
ephemeral; but if he happens to be a man of merit, he is not totally
eclipsed, but something or other of him will still survive; he is as
estimable as he formerly was, but only less esteemed.
Virtue is fortunate enough to be able to do without any help, and can
exist without admirers, partisans, and protectors; lack of support
and approbation does not harm it, but, on the contrary, strengthens,
purifies, and perfects it; whether in or out of fashion, it is still
virtue.
(6.) If you tell some men, and especially the great, that a certain
person is virtuous, they will say to you, “they trust he may long
remain so;” that he is very clever, and above all, agreeable and
entertaining, they will answer you, “that it is so much the better
for him;” that he is a man of culture and knows a great deal, they
will ask you “what oʼclock it is, or what sort of weather we have?”
But if you inform them that a Tigellinus[703] has been gulping down a
glass of brandy,[704] and, wonderful to relate, that he has repeated
this several times during his repast, they will ask where he is, and
tell you to bring him with you the next day, or that same evening, if
possible. We bring him with us, and that very man, only fit for a fair
or to be shown for money, is treated by them as a familiar acquaintance.
(7.) Nothing brings a man sooner into fashion and renders him of
greater importance than gambling;[705] it is almost as good as getting
fuddled.[706] I should like to see any polished, lively, witty
gentleman, even if he were Catullus himself or his disciple,[707] dare
to compare himself with a man who loses eight hundred _pistoles_[708]
at a sitting.
(8.) A fashionable person is like a certain blue flower which grows
wild in the fields, chokes the corn, spoils the crops, and takes up the
room of something better; it has no beauty nor value but what is owing
to a momentary caprice, which dies out almost as soon as sprung up.
To-day it is all the rage, and the ladies are decked with it; to-morrow
it is neglected and left to the common herd.[709]
A person of merit, on the contrary, is a flower we do not describe by
its colour, but call by its name, which we cultivate for its beauty
or fragrance, such as a lily or a rose; one of the charms of nature,
one of those things which beautify the world, belonging to all times,
admired and popular for centuries, valued by our fathers, and by us in
imitation of them, and not at all harmed by the dislike or antipathy of
a few.
(9.) Eustrates is seated in his small boat, delighted with the fresh
air and a clear sky; he is seen sailing with a fair wind, likely to
last for some time, but a lull comes on all of a sudden, the sky
becomes overcast, a storm bursts forth, the boat is caught by a
whirlwind, and is upset. Eustrates rises to the surface of the waters
and exerts himself; it is to be hoped he will at least save himself and
get hold of the boat; but another wave sinks him, and he is considered
lost: a second time he appears above the water, and hope revives, when
a billow all of a sudden swallows him up; he is never more seen again,
he is drowned.
(10.) Voiture and Sarrazin[710] just suited the age they lived in,
and appeared at the right time, when it seems they were expected; if
they had not made such haste they would have come too late; and I
question if, at present, they would have been what they were then.
Light conversation, literary society, delicate raillery, lively and
familiar epistolary interchange, and a select circle of friends, where
intelligence was the only passport of admittance, have all disappeared.
To say that these authors would have revived them is too much; all I
can venture to admit in favour of their intellect is, that perhaps
they might have excelled in another way. But the ladies of the present
time are either devotees, coquettes, fond of gambling, or ambitious,
and some of them all these together; court favour, gambling, gallants,
and spiritual directors, have taken their places, and they defend them
against men of culture.[711]
(11.) A coxcomb, who makes himself ridiculous as well, wears a tall
hat, a doublet with puffs on the shoulders, breeches with ribbons or
tags, and jackboots; at night he dreams what he shall do to be taken
notice of the following day. A wise man leaves the fashion of his
clothes to his tailor; it shows as much weakness to run counter to the
fashion as to affect to follow it.
(12.) We blame a fashion that divides the shape of a man into two
equal parts, and takes one of it for the waist, whilst leaving the
other for the rest of the body; we condemn the fashion of making of a
ladyʼs head the basis of an edifice of several heights, the build and
shape of which change according to fancy; which removes the hair from
the face, though Nature designed it to adorn it; and ties it up and
makes it bristle so that the ladies look like Bacchantes; this fashion
seems to have been intended to make the fair sex change its mild and
modest air for one much more haughty and bold. People exclaim against
certain fashions as ridiculous; but they adopt them as long as they
last, to adorn and embellish themselves, and they derive from them
all the advantages they can expect, namely, to please. Methinks the
inconstancy and fickle-mindedness of men is to be admired; for they
successively call agreeable and ornamental things directly opposed to
one another; they use in plays and masquerades those same dresses and
ornaments which, until then, were considered as denoting gravity and
sedateness; a short time makes all the difference.[712]
(13.) N ... is wealthy; she eats and sleeps well; but the fashion of
head-dresses alters, and whilst she does not think anything at all
about it, and believes herself quite happy, her head-dress has quite
grown out of fashion.
(14.) Iphis attends church, and sees there a new-fashioned shoe;
he looks upon his own with a blush, and no longer believes he is well
dressed. He only comes to hear mass to show himself, but now he refuses
to go out, and keeps his room all day on account of his foot. He has a
soft hand, which he preserves so by scented paste, laughs often to show
his teeth, purses up his mouth, and is perpetually smiling; he looks
at his legs and surveys himself in the glass, and no man can have a
better opinion of his personal appearance than he has; he has adopted a
clear and delicate voice, but fortunately lisps;[713] he moves his head
about and has a sort of sweetness in his eyes which he does not forget
to use to set himself off; his gait is indolent, and his attitudes are
as pretty as he can contrive them; he sometimes rouges his face, but
not very often, and does not do so habitually. In truth, he always
wears breeches and a hat, but neither earrings nor a pearl necklace;
therefore I have not given him a place in my chapter “Of Women.”
(15.) Those very fashions which men so willingly adopt to adorn
themselves are apt to be laid aside when their portraits are taken,
as if they felt and foresaw how crude[714] and ridiculous these would
look when they had lost the bloom and charm of novelty; they prefer
to be depicted with some fancy ornaments, some imaginary drapery,
just as it pleases the artist, and which often are as little suited
to their air and face as they recall their character and personage.
They affect strained or indecent attitudes, harsh, uncultivated, and
foreign manners, which transform a young _abbé_ into a swaggerer, and
a magistrate into a swashbuckler, a Diana into a woman of the town,
an amazon or a Pallas into a simple and timid woman, a Laïs into a
respectable girl, and a Scythian, an Attila,[715] into a just and
magnanimous prince.
Such is our giddiness, that one fashion has hardly destroyed another,
when it is driven away by a newer one, again to make way for its
successor, which will not be the last. Whilst these changes are going
on, a century elapses, and all these gewgaws are ranked amongst things
of the past, and exist no longer. Then the oldest fashion becomes again
the most elegant, and charms the eye the most, it pleases as much in
portraits as the _sagum_ or the Roman dress on the stage, as a long
black veil, an ordinary veil, and a tiara[716] do on our hangings and
our pictures.
Our fathers have transmitted to us the history of their lives as well
as a knowledge of their dresses, their arms,[717] and their favourite
ornaments; a benefit for which we can make no other return than by
doing our posterity the same service.
(16.) Formerly a courtier wore his own hair, breeches, and doublet, as
well as large canions,[718] and was a freethinker;[719] but this is no
longer becoming; now he wears a wig, a tight suit, plain stockings,
and is devout. All this because it is the fashion.
(17.) Any man who, after having dwelt for a considerable time at court,
remains devout, and contrary to all reason, narrowly escapes being
thought ridiculous, can never flatter himself with becoming the fashion.
(18.) What will not a courtier do for the sake of advancing his
interests? Rather than not advance them he will turn pious.[720]
(19.) The colours are all prepared, and the canvas is stretched, but
how shall I fix this restless, giddy, and variable man, who adopts so
many thousand different shapes? I depict him as devout, and I think
I have caught his likeness; but I have missed it, and he is already
a freethinker. Let him remain even in this bad position, and I shall
succeed in portraying his irregularity of heart and mind so that he
will be known; but another fashion is in vogue, and again he becomes
devout.
(20.) A man who thoroughly knows the court is well aware what virtue
and what piety is;[721] there is no imposing upon him.
(21.) To neglect going to vespers as obsolete and not fashionable; to
keep oneʼs place for morning service; to know all the ins and outs of
the chapel at Versailles, and who sits in the seats next[722] to the
royal tribune, and what is the best place where a man can be seen or
remain unobserved; to be thinking at church of God and business; to
receive visits there; to order people about and send them on messages
or wait for answers; to trust more to the advice of a spiritual
director than to the teachings of the Gospel; to derive all sanctity
and notoriety from the reputation of our director; to despise all
people whose director is not fashionable, and scarcely allow them to be
in a state of salvation; to like the word of God only when preached at
home or from the mouth of our own director; to prefer hearing a mass
said by him to any other mass, and the sacraments administered by him
to any others, which are considered of less value; to satiate ourselves
with mystical books, as if there were neither Gospels, Epistles of the
Apostles, nor morals of the fathers; to read or speak a jargon unknown
in the early centuries;[723] to be very circumstantial in amplifying
the sins of others and in palliating our own; to enlarge on our own
sufferings and patience; to lament our small progress in heroism as a
sin; to be in a secret alliance with some persons against others; to
value only ourselves and our own set; to suspect even virtue itself;
to enjoy and relish prosperity and favour, and to wish to keep them
only for ourselves; never to assist merit; to make piety subservient to
ambition; to obtain our salvation through fortune and dignities; these
are, at least in our days, the greatest efforts of the piety of this
age.
A pious person[724] is one who, under an atheistical king, would be an
atheist.
(22.) Devout people know no other crime but incontinence, or, to speak
more exactly, the scandal and appearance of incontinence. If Pherecides
passes for a man who is cured of his fondness for women, or Pherenicia
for a wife who is faithful to her husband, they are quite satisfied;
allow these devotees to continue a game that finally will be their
undoing; it is their business to ruin their creditors, to rejoice at
the misfortunes of other people and take advantage of it, to idolise
the great, to despise their inferiors, to get intoxicated with their
own merit, to pine away with vexation, to lie, slander, intrigue, and
do as much harm as they can. Would you like them to usurp the functions
of those honest men[725] who avoid pride and injustice as well as the
more latent vices?
(23.) When a courtier shall be humble, divested of pride and ambition,
cease to advance his own interests by ruining his rivals, be just and
relieve the misery of his vassals, pay his creditors, be neither a
knave nor a slanderer, shall abandon luxurious feasting and unlawful
amours, pray not only with his lips, and even when the prince is not
present, shall not be morose and inaccessible, not show an austere
countenance and a sour mien, shall not be lazy and buried in thought,
reconcile a multiplicity of employments by conscientious application,
shall be able and willing to devote his whole mind and all his
attention to those great and arduous affairs which especially concern
the welfare of the people and of the entire state; when his character
shall make me afraid of mentioning him in this paragraph, and his
modesty prevent him from knowing himself, if I should not give his
name; then I shall say of such a man that he is devout, or rather that
he is a man given to this age as an example of sincere virtue as well
as to detect hypocrites.[726]
(24.) Onuphriusʼ bed[727] has only grey serge valances, but he sleeps
on flock and down; he also wears plain but comfortable clothes, I mean,
made of a light material in summer, and of very soft cloth in winter;
his body-linen is very fine, but he takes very good care not to show
it; he does not call out for his “hair-shirt and scourge,”[728] for
then he would show himself in his true colours, as a hypocrite, whilst
he intends to pass for what he is not, for a religious man; however,
he acts in such a way that people believe, without his telling it
them, that he wears a hair-shirt and scourges himself. Several books
lie about his apartments, such as the “Spiritual Fight,” the “Inward
Christian,” the “Holy Year;”[729] his other books are under lock and
key; if he goes along the streets and perceives from afar a man to whom
he ought to seem devout, downcast looks, a slow and demure gait, and a
contemplative air are at his command; he plays his part. If he enters
a church, he observes whose eyes are upon him, and accordingly kneels
down and prays, or else, never thinks of kneeling down and praying; if
he sees an honest man and a man of authority approach him, by whom he
is sure to be perceived, and who, perhaps, may hear him, he not only
prays but meditates, has outbursts of devotion, and sighs aloud; but as
soon as this honest man is gone, he becomes calm, and does not say a
single word more. Another time he enters a chapel, rushes through the
crowd, and chooses a spot to commune with himself, and where everybody
may see how he humbles himself;[730] if he hears any courtiers speaking
or laughing loud, and behave in chapel more boisterously than they
would in an ante-chamber,[731] he makes a greater noise than they
to silence them, and returns to his meditations, in which he always
disdainfully compares those persons to himself, to his own advantage.
He avoids an empty church where he could hear two masses one after
another, as well as a sermon, vespers, and compline, with no one
between God and himself, without any other witnesses, and without any
one thanking him for it; but he likes his own parish, and frequents
those churches where the greatest number of people congregate, for
there he does not labour in vain and is observed. He chooses two or
three days of the year to fast in or to abstain from meat, without any
occasion; but at the end of the winter he coughs; there is something
wrong with his chest, he is more or less splenetic,[732] and feels
very feverish; people entreat him, urge him, and even quarrel with
him to compel him to break his fast as soon as it has begun, and he
obeys them out of politeness. If Onuphrius is chosen as an umpire by
relatives who have quarrelled, or in a lawsuit amongst members of one
and the same family, he always takes the side of the strongest, I mean
the wealthiest, and cannot be convinced that any person of property can
ever be in the wrong. If he is comfortable at the house of a rich man
whom he can deceive, whose parasite he is, and from whom he may derive
great advantages, he never cajoles his patronʼs wife, nor makes the
least advances to her, nor declares his love;[733] but rather avoids
her, and will leave his cloak behind,[734] unless he is as sure of her
as he is of himself; still less will he make use of devotional[735]
cant to flatter and seduce her, for he does not employ it habitually,
but intentionally, when it suits him, and never when it would only make
him ridiculous. He knows where to find ladies more sociable and pliable
than his friendʼs wife; and very seldom absents himself from these
ladies for any length of time, if it were only to have it publicly
stated that he has gone into religious retirement; for who can doubt
the truth of this report, when people see him reappear quite emaciated,
like one who has, not spared himself?