piety[736] suit him, but with this trifling difference, that he
neglects those who are declining in years, and courts the young, and
amongst these is only attracted by the best looking and the finest
shape; he goes where they go, and returns when they return, and if they
stay anywhere he stays there also; he has the consolation of seeing
them at all times and places, and nobody needs be shocked about this,
for they are devout, and so is he. Onuphrius is sure to make the best
use he can of his friendʼs cecity and of his prepossession; sometimes
he borrows money of him; at other times he acts so artfully that his
friend offers to lend him some; people are very angry with him because
he does not apply to his other friends when he needs money; now and
then he refuses to receive a small sum unless he gives his note of hand
for it, though he is quite certain never to take it up; at another time
he says, with a certain air, he is not in want of anything, and that
is, when he only needs a trifling amount; and on a certain occasion he
publicly extols the generosity of his friend, on purpose to induce him
to give him a considerable sum. He does not expect to succeed to the
whole of the real estate of his friend, nor to get a deed of gift of
all his property, especially if the son, the right and lawful heir, has
to be set aside.[737] A pious man is neither a miser, nor prejudiced,
unjust, nor selfish; and, though Onuphrius is not a pious man, he
wishes to be thought one, and perfectly to imitate piety, though he
does not feel it, in order secretly to forward his interests; he,
therefore, would never aim at robbing the direct heirs of any family,
nor insinuate himself where there is a daughter to portion, and a son
to establish;[738] he knows their rights are too strong and inviolable
to be upset without loud clamours, which he dreads, and without such
an undertaking coming to the ears of the prince,[739] from whom he
conceals his intrigues for fear of his true character being discovered.
He selects collateral heirs, whom he can attack with greater impunity,
and is the terror of male and female cousins, nephews and nieces, and
of the flatterers and professed friends of all rich uncles; he gives
himself out to be the legitimate heir of every wealthy old man who dies
without issue, and who will have to disinherit him, if he wishes his
relatives to get possession of his estate. If Onuphrius does not find
means[740] to deprive them of the whole, he will, at least, rob them of
a good share of it; a trifling calumny or even the slightest slander
are sufficient for this pious purpose, and, indeed, Onuphrius is a
perfect master of the art of slandering, and considers it sometimes
his duty not to let it lie dormant, for there are men and women whom,
according to him, he must decry for conscienceʼ sake; and these are
the people he does not like, whom he wishes to harm, and whose spoils
he desires to get hold of. He compasses his ends without so much as
opening his mouth; some persons talk to him of Eudoxus, he smiles or he
weeps; they ask him why he does so, and they ask him again and again,
but he does not reply; and he is right, for he has said quite enough.
(25.) “Laugh, Zelia,[741] be gay and frolicsome as you used to be.
What has become of your mirth?” “I am wealthy,” you reply, “I can do
as I please, and I begin to breathe freely.” “Laugh louder, Zelia, and
louder still; what is the use of more riches if it makes you thoughtful
and sad? Imitate the great, who are born in the lap of luxury; they
laugh sometimes, and yield to their inclination; follow therefore
yours, and do not let it be said that a new place, or a few thousand
_livres_ a year more or less, drive you from one extreme to another.”
“I only value favour because I can be thoughtful and sad,” you answer.
“I thought so, Zelia; but, believe me, do not leave off laughing, and
smile on me, when I pass, as you did formerly: fear nothing; I shall
not have a worse opinion of you and your post; I shall as firmly
believe that you are wealthy and a favourite as well.” “I have decided
religious opinions,” you answer. “Thatʼs quite enough, Zelia; and I
ought to remember that persons whose conscience is at rest no longer
care to show a calm and joyful countenance; gloomy and austere feelings
are in the ascendancy and outwardly displayed; but such feelings
proceed still further, and we are no longer surprised to observe that
piety[742] makes a woman still more proud and disdainful than beauty
and youth.”
(26.) Arts and sciences have been greatly improved during this
century, and have become highly refined; even salvation has now
been reduced to rule and method, and to it have been added the most
beautiful and sublime inventions of the human understanding. Devotion
and geometry have each their own phraseology, or what are called
“artistic expressions,” and a person who ignores them is neither devout
nor a mathematician. The first devout men, even those who were taught
by the apostles, did not know them; those simple-minded people only had
faith, practised good works, merely believed, and led righteous lives.
(27.) It is a delicate thing for a prince to reform his court and to
introduce piety;[743] for knowing to what extent courtiers will carry
their complaisance, and that they will make any sacrifices to advance
their interests, he manages them with prudence, bears with them and
dissembles, lest they should be driven to hypocrisy or sacrilege; he
expects that Providence and time will be more successful than his zeal
and his activity are.
(28.) Already in ancient times courts granted pensions and bestowed
favours on musicians, dancing-masters, buffoons, flute-players,
flatterers, and sycophants; they possess undoubted merits, and their
talents are recognised and well known, for they amuse the great and
give them a little breathing-time during the intervals of grandeur. It
is well known that Fabien is a fine dancer, and that Lorenzani[744]
composes beautiful anthems; but who can tell if a pious man be really
virtuous? There is no pension to be got for him from the kingʼs
private purse, nor from the public treasury; and this is quite right,
for piety is easy to counterfeit; and if it were rewarded, it would
expose the prince to honour dissimulation and knavery, and to pension a
hypocrite.
(29.) It is to be hoped the piety of the court, such as it is, will at
least oblige prelates to reside in their dioceses.[745]
(30.) I am convinced that true piety is the source from which repose
flows; it renders life bearable and death without sting; hypocrisy does
not possess such advantages.
(31.) Every hour in itself, and in respect to us, is unique; when once
it is gone, it is entirely lost, and millions of ages will not bring it
back again; days, months, and years, are swallowed up and irrevocably
lost in the abyss of time; time itself shall be destroyed; it is but a
point in the immense space of eternity, and will be erased. There are
several slight and frivolous periods of time which are unstable, pass
away, and may be called fashions, such as grandeur, favour, riches,
power, authority, independence, pleasure, joy and superfluities. What
will become of such fashions when time itself shall have disappeared?
Virtue alone, now so little in fashion, will last longer than time.
[Illustration]
XIV.
OF CERTAIN CUSTOMS.
(1.) Certain people want a fortune to become ennobled.[746]
Some of these would have been ennobled[747] if they could have put off
their creditors half a year longer.
Others, again, are commoners when they lay down, and rise noblemen.[748]
How many noblemen are there whose relatives are commoners?
(2.) Some man disowns his father, who is known to keep an office or a
shop, and only mentions his grandfather, who has been dead this long
time, is unknown and cannot be found now; he enjoys a large income,
has a grand post, great connections, and wants nothing but a title to
become a nobleman.
(3.) Formerly the words “granting letters of nobility” were considered
good French and habitually employed, but now they have become
antiquated and out of date, and the courts of justice use the word
“rehabilitation.”[749] To rehabilitate supposes a wealthy man to be
of noble descent,—for it is absolutely requisite he should be so,—and
also his father to have forfeited the title by ploughing, digging, by
becoming a pedlar, or by having been a lackey; it also supposes that
the son only desires to be restored to the rights of his ancestors, and
to wear the coat of arms his family always wore, though, perhaps, one
of his own invention, and quite different from that on his old pewter
ware; thus the granting of letters of nobility does not apply to his
case, for they only confer an honour on a commoner, that is, on a man
who has not yet discovered the secret of becoming rich.
(4.) A man of the people, by often affirming he was present when some
prodigy happened, persuades himself that he has really seen it;
another person, by concealing his age, comes to believe at last he is
as young as he would be thought; and thus a commoner, who habitually
asserts he is descended from some ancient baron, or from some noble
lord, has the ideal pleasure of fancying himself of such illustrious
descent.
(5.) What man is there, however meanly born, who having acquired some
fortune, can be in want of a coat of arms, and with this coat, heraldic
devices of the highest rank, a crest, supporters, a motto, and perhaps
a war-cry? What is become of the distinction between head-pieces and
helmets? They are no longer in use and not even mentioned; it does no
more matter if they are worn in front or profile, open or closed, and
with more or less bars; such niceties are out of date; coronets are
worn, which is far simpler, for people think they deserve wearing them,
and, therefore, bestow them on themselves. Some of the better sort of
citizens have still a little shamefacedness left which prevents them
using the coronet of a marquess, and they content themselves with an
earlʼs, whilst a few do not even go a long way for their coat of arms,
but take it from their signboards to put it on their carriages.[750]
(6.) Provided a person is not born in a city, but in some lonely
thatched house in the country, or in some ruins in the midst of
marshes, dignified with the name of castle, he will be taken for a
nobleman upon his own affirmation.
(7.) A man of noble descent wishes to pass for a small lord, and he
compasses his end; a great lord pretends to be a prince, and employs so
many precautions that, thanks to some fine appellations, quarrels about
rank and precedence, and a genealogy not recognised by DʼHozier,[751]
he at last is allowed to be a petty prince.
(8.) In everything great men mould themselves, and follow the example
of people of higher rank, who, on their side, that they may have
nothing in common with their inferiors, willingly abandon all honorific
appellations and distinctions with which their rank is burdened, and
instead of their slavery prefer a life of more freedom and ease.[752]
Those who follow their steps vie already to observe the same simplicity
and modesty. And thus, through a feeling of pride, all will condescend
to live naturally and as the people do. How horribly inconvenient they
must feel!
(9.) Some people are so fond of names that they have three for fear
of wanting some; one for the country, another for the town, and a
third which they use when on duty or in their office; others have a
dissyllabic name which they ennoble by the particle “du” or “de” as
soon as their circumstances improve; some, again, by suppressing a
syllable make a name illustrious which was before obscure; by changing
one letter of his name another person disguises himself, and he who
formerly was Syrus becomes Cyrus.[753] Many suppress their whole names,
though far from ignominious, to adopt others which sound better, and by
which they get nothing but to be always compared to the great men from
whom those names are borrowed. Finally, there are some, who, though
born within the walls of Paris, pretend to be Flemish or Italian, as if
every country had not its commoners, lengthen their French names, and
give them a foreign termination, as if names were the better for being
far-fetched.[754]
(10.) The want of money has reconciled the nobility to the commoners,
and put an end to all disputes about the quartering of escutcheons.[755]
(11.) How many persons would be gainers by a law which should decree
that nobility can be inherited from the motherʼs side, but how many
more would be losers by it.[756]
(12.) There are few families but who are related to the greatest
princes as well as to the common people.
(13.) There is nothing lost by being a nobleman; those who have a
title neither want franchises, immunities, exemptions, privileges. Do
you think it was purely for the pleasure of being ennobled that certain
monks have obtained a title? They are not so foolish; it is only for
the advantages they receive from it. It is, after all, much better than
to get money by having an interest in farming the salt tax, and that
not alone for every individual of the community, for it is against
their vows, but even for the community itself.[757]
(14.) I here declare openly and desire all men to take notice of it,
that none may hereafter be surprised: if ever any great man will think
me worthy of his patronage, if ever I happen to make my fortune, I
then shall claim descent from a certain Godfrey de la Bruyère, whom
all chronicles of France mention as one of the many French noblemen of
the highest rank who followed Godfrey of Bouillon to conquer the Holy
Land.[758]
(15.) If nobility be virtue, a flagitious man loses his title; and if
it be not virtue, is a very trifling thing.
(16.) Certain things are astonishing and incomprehensible if we
consider their principles and why they were established. Who could
imagine, for example, that these _abbés_ who dress and are as
effeminate and vain as any man or woman of rank can well be, and who
vie for the ladiesʼ favours with a marquess or a financier, and defeat
them both, were originally and etymologically the fathers and heads of
holy monks and humble anchorites to whom they should be exemplars. How
powerful, how absolute, how tyrannical is custom! And, not to mention
greater irregularities, is it not to be feared that one day or other
some young _abbés_ will figure in grey-flowered velvet dresses like a
certain cardinal, or will paint and wear patches like women?[759]
(17.) That the obscenities of the gods, the Venus, the Ganymede, and
all the other nudities of Carracci are represented on pictures painted
for certain princes of the Church who style themselves successors of
the apostles, may be proved by visiting the palace of the Farnese.[760]
(18.) A thing, however handsome, loses somewhat of its beauty by being
out of place; decorum adds a certain perfection and is based on reason;
thus we never behold a jig danced in a chapel,[761] or hear stagey
elocution in the pulpit; whilst no profane imagery is seen in churches,
nor a crucifix and a picture of the Judgment of Paris[762] in these
same holy places, nor the dress and retinue of a military man in a
churchman.[763]
(19.) Shall I freely declare my thoughts about what the world calls a
fine morning choral service, decorations often profane, places reserved
and paid for, books distributed as in the theatre,[764] frequent
assignations and interviews, deafening murmurings and talk, a certain
person mounted in the pulpit, who holds forth in a familiar and jejune
manner, without any other ambition than to get the people together and
to amuse them until an orchestra begins to play, and, shall I say it,
until singers are heard who have rehearsed for a considerable time?
Does it become me to exclaim that I burn with zeal for the Lordʼs
house? and must I draw aside the slender curtain which covers those
mysteries, witnesses of such gross indecencies? What! must I call all
this the church service because they do not yet dance at the TT....[765]
(20.) We hear of no vows nor pilgrimages made to any saint, in order
to attain a higher degree of benignity, a more grateful heart, to be
more just and less evil-doing, and to be cured of vanity, restless
activity, and a propensity for buffoonery?
(21.) What can be more eccentric than for a number of Christians
of both sexes to meet on certain days in a large room to applaud
and reward a company of excommunicated persons, who are only
excommunicated for the very pleasure they give, and for which already
they have been paid beforehand? Methinks either all theatres should be
shut or a less severe anathema be fulminated against actors.[766]
(22.) On those days which are called holy a monk confesses, while the
vicar thunders from the pulpit against the monk and his followers.
A pious woman leaves the altar and then hears the preacher state in
his sermon that she has committed sacrilege. Has the church no power
either to make a clergyman hold his peace, or to suspend for a time the
authority of a Barnabite?[767]
(23.) The fees in a parish church are higher for a marriage than for a
christening, and amount to more for a christening than for confession;
people would think them a tax laid upon the sacraments, which seem to
be appreciated _ad valorem_; yet, after all, this is not the case; and
those persons who receive money for these holy things do not think they
sell them, whilst those who pay for them as little think they purchase
them. Such an appearance of evil might indeed be avoided as well for
the sake of the weak as for that of the scoffers.
(24.) A ruddy and quite healthy-looking parish priest,[768] wearing
fine linen and Venice lace, has his seat in church near the cardinals
and the doctors of divinity,[769] where he finishes to digest his
dinner, whilst certain Bernardine or Franciscan monks come out of their
cells or deserts to which decency and their own vows should confine
them, to preach before him and his flock, and to be paid for their
sermons as if they were vendible commodities. You will not let me
continue, and you remark: “That such a censure is novel and unexpected,
and that this shepherd and his flock ought not to be deprived from
hearing the Word of God and receiving the bread of life.” “By no means,
I would have him himself preach that word as well as administer that
bread morning and evening, in the churches, in the houses, on the
market-places, from the housetops, and have none assume such a grand
and laborious office but with intentions, capacities, and physical
strength deserving of the handsome offerings and wealthy emoluments
belonging to it. However, I am compelled to excuse the vicarʼs conduct,
for it is customary, and he found it already established and will
transmit it to his successors; but still I must blame this strange,
unreasonable, and unwarrantable custom, whilst I approve still less
the habit of his being paid four times for the same funeral, once for
himself, a second time as his fees, a third for his being present, and
a fourth for his officiating.”
(25.) Titus served the church these twenty years in a small living,
and is not yet held worthy of a better which becomes vacant; neither
his talents, knowledge, his exemplary life, nor the wishes of his
parishioners are sufficient to get him promoted; another clergyman
starts up, as it were, from underground, and he obtains the preference;
Titus is sent back and put off, but he does not complain, for custom
will have it so.
(26.) “Who,” asks the precentor, “will compel me to come to matins? Am
I not master of the choir? My predecessor never went there, and I am
as good a man as ever he was! Shall I allow my dignity to be debased
while I hold office, or leave it to my successor as I found it?” The
head of the school says: “I do not battle for my own interests, but for
those of the prebend; it would be hard indeed for a superior canon to
have to do duty with the choir, whilst the treasurer, the archdeacon,
the penitentiary, and the grand vicar think themselves exempt from it.”
“It is my right,” argues the head of the chapter, “to claim my dues,
even if I should never come to prayers; for twenty years I slept every
night without being disturbed; I will go on as I began, and never act
derogatory to my dignity. Else, why should I be head of the chapter, if
my example should be of no importance?” Thus each strives not to praise
the Lord, and to show that, for a long time, it was neither customary
nor compulsory to do so; whilst the emulation not to repair to divine
service cannot be greater nor more fervent. The bells toll in the
stillness of the night, and the same sounds which awaken the choristers
and the singing-boys, lull the canons into a more sound and pleasant
slumber, interspersed by delicious dreams; they rise late, and go to
church to be paid for having slept.
(27.) Who would ever imagine, did not experience daily show it, how
difficult it is for people to resign themselves to their being happy;
and that there should be need of men dressed in a certain fashion,
who by tender and pathetic speeches prepared beforehand, by certain
inflexions of the voice, by tears and gestures, which make them
perspire and exhaust them, finally induce a Christian and sensible man,
who is desperately ill, not to be lost for ever but to ensure his own
salvation.
(28.) Aristippusʼ daughter lies dangerously ill; she sends for her
father, and is anxious to be reconciled to him and die happy. Shall so
wise a man, the oracle of the whole town, take such a sensible step of
his own accord, and persuade his wife to do the same? No! they will not
stir without the interference of a spiritual director.
(29.) If a mother does not yield to the inclinations of her daughter,
but induces her to become a nun, she takes upon herself the charge of
another soul beside her own, and is responsible for such a soul to God.
Such a mother will be lost for ever if the daughter be not saved.
(30.) A certain man gambles and is ruined, but nevertheless, when the
eldest of his two daughters gets married, he gives her as a dowry all
he has been able to rescue out of the clutches of some cheat;[770] the
younger will shortly become a nun, without any vocation for it, but
compelled by the losses of her father at play.
(31.) Certain maidens, virtuous, healthy, enthusiasts in religion, and
who feel they have a call, have not sufficient money to enter a wealthy
nunnery and to take the vows of poverty.
(32.) A woman who hesitates whether she shall enter an abbey or a
nunnery revives the old question about the advantages of a popular or a
despotic rule.[771]
(33.) To play the fool and marry for love is to marry Melita, a
handsome, sensible, thrifty, charming young woman who loves you, but is
not so wealthy as Ægina, whose hand is proposed to you, with a large
dowry, but who feels a strong inclination for spending it all, and your
own fortune as well.
(34.) Formerly it was considered no trifling affair to get married;
it was a settlement for life, a matter of importance which deserved a
great deal of consideration; for a man had to take a wife for all his
life, for better or worse; the same table and the same bed served them
both; there was no getting rid of one another by separate maintenance,
and a man with a household and children did not seem a rollicking
bachelor.
(35.) I commend the bashfulness of a man who avoids being seen with
a woman not his wife, and I can also understand his being loth to
frequent persons of bad reputation. But what an impertinence for a man
to blush being in the company of his own wife and being ashamed of
appearing in public with a lady whom he has chosen as his companion
for life, who should be his joy, his comfort, and his chief society;
whom he loves and esteems, who adorns his home, and whose intelligence,
merits, virtue, and connections reflect credit on him. Why did he not
begin being ashamed of his marriage?
I am well aware of the tyranny, of custom, how it sways the mind and
constrains the manners of men, even in things which are most senseless
and needless; but I feel, nevertheless, I could be bold enough to walk
on the Cours to be stared at in the company of the lady who is my
wife.[772]
(36.) It is not a fault in a young man to marry a lady advanced in
age, nor should he be ashamed of it, for he not seldom shows his
prudence and foresight by acting thus. But it is infamous to treat his
benefactress disgracefully, and to let her see she has been imposed
upon by a hypocrite and an ungrateful fellow. If dissembling be ever
excusable it is when it is done out of kindness; if deception is ever
to be allowed, it is when sincerity would be cruelty. No man should
behave cruelly even if his wife should live longer than he expected;
for he did not stipulate, when he married her, that she should give up
the ghost immediately after having made his fortune and paid his debts.
Has she no longer to draw breath, and has she to take a dose of opium
or hemlock after having performed such a fine stroke of business? Is
it a crime in her to live? And is she to be blamed if the man should
die before the woman, for whose funeral he had already made such nice
arrangements, and for whom he intended to have the biggest bells tolled
and the finest trappings brought out?