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 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 PIECES 
 
 O F 
 
 M. De SECONDAT, 
 
 BARON De MONTESQUIEU,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 PIECES 
 
 O F 
 
 M. De second at. 
 
 BARON De MONTESQUIEU. 
 
 TRANSLATED 
 
 From the New Edition of his Works ia 
 Quarto printed at Paris. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for D. Wilson and T. Durham, 
 in the Strand. M DCC LIX.
 
 ?9 
 
 ZOII 
 
 /\'l!W4. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE Publick is here prefented 
 with a Colledlion of M. De 
 Montefquieu^ fmall Pieces, tranflated 
 into Englijh from the laft fplendid 
 and correct Edition publifhed at Pa- 
 ris. They who have Tranflations of 
 his great Works, on the Spirit of 
 Laws, on the Caufes of the Grandeur 
 and Declenfion of the Ro7nans^ with 
 his Perfian Letters, by purchaiing this 
 Volume, will have a complete Sett of 
 nil that great Man's Works in Engljjh. 
 
 'Tis an Obje6t worthy of Attention, 
 to follow fo profound a Genius froni 
 his deepeft Speculations to his more 
 airy Flights and lefs finifhed Compo- 
 litions. In fome of thefe little Pieces 
 Pleafure is the Subjedl-, but he treats 
 of it in fuch a Manner as can have no 
 
 Ten-
 
 [vi] 
 
 Tendency to debauch the Mind, 5r to 
 corrupt the Heart. 'Twould, how- 
 ever, be fuperfluous to give a Cha- 
 rader of the Pieces here publiflied, or 
 of his other Works, fince the Reader 
 will find it, at the Beginning of this 
 Volume, fo judicioufly and elegantly 
 done by Monfieur D'Alembert\ an 
 Article which, 'tis hoped, will make 
 this Colledlion the more valuable, as 
 an Account of the Life and Writings of 
 fuch a Genius as Baron DeMontefquieu^ 
 wrote by fo able a Man, and one who 
 knew Him {o well, as M. D' Alembe7^t^ 
 cannot fail of being acceptable to thofe 
 who have any Curiofity, or would wifh 
 to be acquainted with the Hiftory of 
 one of the wifeft and beft Men that 
 ever appeared upon Earth. 
 
 CON-
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 M 
 
 D'Alembert'j Eulogiiim on Baron 
 de Montefquieu Page i 
 
 T!he Analyfis of the Spirit of Laws, by M. 
 D'Alembert ^^ 
 
 An Oration delivered, January 24, 1728, by 
 the Baron de Moniefquieu, when he was 
 received into the French Academy in the 
 room of the late M de Sacy 82 
 
 An Effay on Tafie 89 
 
 Eleven new Perlian Letters 131 
 
 T^he 'temple of Gnidus 159 
 
 Lyfimachus 225 
 
 A Defence of the Spirit of Laws j to which 
 are added fome explanations 235 
 
 A N
 
 A N 
 
 E U L O G I U M 
 
 O N 
 
 Prefident Montefquieu, 
 
 B Y 
 
 MONSIEUR D'ALEMBERT. 
 
 (Inferted in the Encyclopedia.) 
 
 THE intercft which good citizens are 
 pleafed to take in the Encyclopedia, and 
 the great number of men of letters, who 
 confecrate their labours to it, feem to permit 
 us to regard this Work as one of the mofl pro- 
 per monuments, to preferve the grateful fenti- 
 ments of our country, and that refpecfl which 
 is due to the memory of thofe celebrated men 
 who have done it honour. Perfuaded, however, 
 that M. De Monteifquieu had a title to exped: 
 other panegyrifts, and that the publick grief 
 deferved to be defcribed by more eloquent pens, 
 we would have concealed within our own 
 breafts our jufl: concern, and refpedt for his 
 memory 3 but the acknowledgment of what 
 B we
 
 [2] 
 
 wc owe him wc hold too dear to permit ns to 
 leave the care of it to others. While a bene- 
 fador to mankind by his writings, he alfo 
 condefcended to be fo to this work, and our 
 gratitude pretends to no more but only to trace 
 Out a few lines at the foot of his ftatae. 
 
 Charles de Secondat, Baron of La 
 Brede and of Montefquieu, late prefident a^ 
 Mortier of the parliament of Bourdeaux, 
 memberof the French academy, of the royal 
 academy of fciences and Belles Lettres of Pruf- 
 lia, and of the royal fociety of London, was 
 born at the cafile of La Brede, near Bourdeaux, 
 the eighteenth of January 1689, of a noble fa- 
 mily of Guyenne. His great great giandfather, 
 John de Secondat, fteward of the houniold to 
 Henry the fecond King of Navarrej and after- 
 wards to Jane daughter of that King, who 
 married Antony of Bourbon, purchafed thecflate 
 of Montefquieu for the fum of 10,0:0 livres, 
 which this princefs gave him by an authentic 
 deed, as a reward for his probity and ferviccs. 
 
 Henry the third King of Navarre, after- 
 Wards Henry the fourth King of France, 
 ereded the Lands of Montefquieu into a barony,' 
 In favour of Jacob de Secondat, fon of John, firil 
 one ofthe gentlemen in ordinary of the bedcham- 
 ber to this prince, and afterwards colonel of the 
 
 rc"!-
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 regiment of Chatillon. John Gaflon de Sc- 
 condat, his fecond Ton, having married a 
 daughter of the firft prefident of the parHament 
 of Bourdeaux, purchafed the office of prefident 
 a Mortier in this fociety. He had feveral 
 children, one of whom entered into the fervice, 
 diftinguiflied himfelf in it, and quitted it very 
 early in life. This was the father of Charles 
 de Secondat, author of the Spirit of Laws. 
 Thefe particulars may perhaps appear mif- 
 placed, at the beginning of the Eloge of a phi 
 lofopher, whofe name ftands fo little in need 
 of anceftors ; but let us not envy their memory 
 that eclat which this name refleds upon it. 
 
 The early marks of his genius, a prefage 
 fometimes fo deceitful, was not fo in Charles dq 
 Secondat j he difcovered very foon what he one 
 day would be, and his father employed all his at- 
 tention to cultivate this rifing genius, the objc(5l 
 of his hope and of his tendernefs. At the age of 
 twenty, young Montefquicu already prepared 
 materials for the Spirit' of Laws, by a well di- 
 gefted extra(5l from thofe immenfe volumes, 
 which compofe the body of the civil law : thus 
 heretofore Newton laid in his early youth the 
 foundation of works, which have rendered him 
 immortal. The ftudyof juris-prudence, how- 
 ever, tho' lefs dry to M. dc Moptefquieu, than 
 
 B 2 to
 
 (4) 
 to the moft part of thofe who apply to it, be" 
 caufe he ftudied it as a philofopher, was not fuf- 
 ficient for the extent and adivity of his genius. 
 He inquired deeply at the fame time, into fub- 
 je(Sls flill more important and more delicate, * 
 and difculTed them in filence, with that wif- 
 dom, with that decency, and with that equity, 
 which he has fince difcovered in his works. 
 
 A BROTHER of his father, preM^ntaMor- 
 tier of tlie parliament of Bourdeaux, an able 
 judge and virtuous citizen, the oracle of his 
 own fociety and of his province, having loil 
 an only fon, and wanting to preferve in his 
 own corps, that elevated fpirit, which he had 
 endeavoured to infufe into it, left his fortune 
 and his office to M. de Montefquieu. He had 
 been one of the counfellors of the parliament of 
 Bourdeaux fince the 24th of February 17 14, 
 and was received prefident a Mortier the 13th 
 of July 1716. 
 
 Some years after, in 1722, during the king's 
 minority, his fociety employed him to prefent 
 remonftrances upon occafion of a new impoft. 
 
 * It was a work in the form of letters, the purpofe oF 
 which was to prove that the idolatry of moll gf the 
 Pagans did not appear to deferve eternal damnation. 
 
 Place
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 Placed between the throne and the people, Ive 
 filled, like a refpedful fubjedt, and couragious 
 magirtrate, the imployment, To noble, and fo 
 little envied, of making the cries of the unfor- 
 tunate reach the Sovereign : the publick mifcr^s 
 reprefented with as much addrefs, as force of 
 argument, obtained thatjuftice which it de- 
 manded. This fuccefs, 'tis true, much more 
 unfortunately for the ftate than for him, was 
 of as fhort continuance, as if it had been un^ 
 juft. Scarce had the voice of the people ceafed 
 to be heard, but the import, which had been 
 fuppreffed, was replaced by another : but thQ 
 good citizen had done his duty. 
 
 He was received the 3d of April 17 16 into 
 the academy of Bourdeaux, which was then only 
 beginning. A tafte for mufick, and for works 
 of pure entertainment, had at firft affcmbled 
 together the members who compofed it. M. 
 de Montefquieu believed, with reafon, that the 
 riling ardour and talents of his friends might 
 be imployed with ftill greater advantage in 
 phyfical fubjeds. He was perfuaded that na- 
 ture, fo worthy of being beheld every where> 
 found alfo in all places eyes worthy of viewing 
 her ; that, on the contrary, works of tafte, 
 not admitting of mediocrity, and the metro- 
 B 3 polls,
 
 (6) 
 
 polls, being the center of men of abilities and 
 opportunities of improvement in this way, it 
 was too difficult to gather together at a dif- 
 tance from it, a fufficient number of diflin- 
 guiOied writers. He looked upon the focieties 
 for Belles Lettres, fo ftrangely multiplied in our 
 provinces, as a kind, or rather as a (hadovv of 
 literary luxury, which is of prejudice to real 
 opulence, without even prefenting us with the 
 appearance of it. Luckily the Duke de la 
 Force, by a prize which he had juft founded 
 at Bourdeaux, feconded thefe rational and juft 
 defigns. It was judged that an experiment 
 properly made would be preferable to a weak 
 difcourfe or a bad poem s and Eourdeaux got 
 an academy of fciences. 
 
 M. DE Montesquieu, not at all eager to 
 fhew himfelf to the public, feemed, according 
 to the expreffion of a great genius, to wait 
 for an age ripe for writing. It was not till 
 1^21, that is to fay, at 32 years of age, that 
 he publiflied the Perfian Letters. The Siamoisi 
 and the ferious and comic arraifemerds, mlglit 
 have furniihed him with the idea of it 5 but he 
 excelled his model. The defcription of orien- 
 tal manners, real or fuppofed, of the pride 
 and phlegm of Afiatic love, is but the fniaileil: 
 
 obicd:
 
 (7) 
 
 objel of thefe letters ; it only ferves, fo to 
 fpcak, as a pretence for a delicate fatire upon 
 our manners, and for treating of feveral impor- 
 tant fubje6ts, which the author v/ent to the 
 bottom of, while he only appeared to glance at 
 them. In this kind of moving pidture, Ulbec 
 chiefly expofes, with as much genteel eafinefs as 
 energy, whatever amongft us mofl ftruck his 
 penetrating eyes; our way of treating the 
 mofl illly things ferioufly, and of turning the 
 moft important into a joke j our converfations 
 which arc fo bluftering and fo frivolous ; our 
 impatience even in the midfl of pleafure itfelf ; 
 our prejudices and our actions perpetually in 
 contradidtion with our underftandings ; fo much 
 loveof glory joined with fo much refped: for the 
 idol of court favour ; our courtiers fo mean and 
 fo vain ; our exterior politenefs to, and our real 
 contempt of ilrangers, or our affedled regard 
 for them ; the fantafticknefs of our taftes, than 
 which there is nothing lower, but the eagernefs 
 of all Europe to adopt them ; our barbarous 
 difdain for the two mod rcfpedable occupa- 
 tions of a citizen, commerce and magiftracy ; 
 our literary difputes fo keen and fo ufelefs j our 
 rage for writing before we think, and for judg- 
 ing before we undcrftand. To this pidure> 
 which is lively but without malice, he oppofes, 
 
 B 4 in
 
 ( 8) 
 
 in the apologue of the Troglodites the de- 
 fcription of a virtuous people, become wife by 
 misfortunes. A piece worthy of the portico. 
 In another place, he reprefents philofophy, 
 which had been a long time fmother'd, 
 appearing all of a fudden, regaining, by a rapid 
 progrefs, the time which he had loft; pene- 
 trating even amongft the Ruffians at the voice 
 of a genius which invites her; while, among 
 other people of Europe, fupsrftition, like a 
 thick atmofphere, prevents that light which 
 furrounds them on all hands from reaching 
 them. In fine, by the principles which he 
 has eftablifl'ied concerning the nature of ancient 
 and modern government, he prefents us with 
 the bud of thofe bright ideas, which have been 
 fince developpcd by the author in his great 
 work. 
 
 These different fubjeds, deprived at prefent 
 of the graces of novelty which they had when 
 the Perfian Letters firft appeared, will for ever 
 prefervc the merit of that original character 
 which the autr.or has had the art to give them : 
 A merit by fo much the more real, that in this 
 cafe, it proceeds alone from the genius of the 
 writer, and not from that foreign vail with 
 which he covered himfelf: for Uibec acquired, 
 
 durincr
 
 (9 ) 
 
 <3uring his abode in France, not only fo perfed: 
 a knowledge of our morals, but even fo ftrong 
 a tindure of our manners, that his (lyle makes 
 us often forget his country. This fmall defedt 
 in point of probability was perhaps not without 
 delign and addrefs : when he was expofing 
 our follies and vices, he wanted without doubt 
 alfo to do juftice to our advantages. He was 
 fully confcious of the infipidity of a dired pane- 
 gyric; he has more delicately praifed us, by Co 
 often afTuming our own air to fatyrifc us more 
 agreeably. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fuccefs of this 
 work, M. de Montefquieu did not openly de- 
 clare himfelf the author of it. Perhaps he 
 thought that by this means he would more 
 eafily efcape that literary fatire, which fpares 
 anonymous writings the more willingly, be- 
 caufe 'tis always the perfon and not the work 
 which is the aim of its darts. Perhaps he was 
 afraid of being attacked on account of the pre- 
 tended contraft of the Perfian Letters with the 
 gravity of his office ; a fort of reproach, faid 
 he, which critics never fail to make, becaufe 
 it requires no effort of genius. But his fecret 
 was difcovered, and the Public already pointed 
 him out to the French academy. The event 
 
 demon-
 
 (10 ) 
 
 demonftrated how prudent M. de Montef- 
 quieu's filence had been. Ufbec exprefies hini- 
 felf fometimes freely enough, not concerning 
 the fundamentals of chriftianity, but about 
 matters which too many people affedt to con- 
 found with chriftianity itfelf ; about the fpirit of 
 perfecution with which fo many chriftians have 
 been animated ; about the temporal ufurpations 
 of ecclefiaftic power j about the exceffive multi- 
 plication of monafteries, which deprive the ftatc 
 of fubjeds, without giving worfiiippers to 
 God j about fome opinions which have in vain 
 been attempted to be eftablifhed as principles ; 
 about our religious difputes, always violent and 
 always fatal. If he appears any where to touch 
 upon more delicate queftions, and which 
 more nearly interefl the chriftian religion, his 
 refledtions weighed with juflice, are in fad 
 very favourable to revelation j becaufe he only 
 fhows how little human reafon left to itfclf, 
 knows concerning thefe fubjedis. In a word, 
 among the genuine letters of M. de Montef- 
 quieu the foreign printer had infertcd fome by 
 another hand : and they ought at lead, befoi-e 
 the author was condemned, to have diftinguifh- 
 ed which properly belonged to him. With- 
 out regard to thefe confiderations, on the one 
 hand, hatred under the name of zeal, and on the 
 
 other,
 
 ( ' ) 
 
 other, zeal without difcernment or underftand- 
 ing, rofe and united themfelvesagainll the Perji^ 
 an letters. Informers, a fpecies of men dangerous 
 and bafe, which even in a wife government 
 are unfortunately fometimes Uftened to, alarm- 
 ed, by an unfaithful extradl, the piety of the 
 miniftry. M. de Montefquicu, by the advice of 
 his friends, fupported by the public voice, ha- 
 ving offered himfelf for that place in the 
 French academy vacant by the death of M. 
 de Sacy, the minifter wrote a letter to the 
 academy that his majeily would never agree 
 to the elecftioii of the author of the Perfian 
 Letters : that he had not read the book ; but 
 that perfons in whom he placed confidence 
 had informed him of their poifonous and dan- 
 gerous tendency. M. de Montefquicu per- 
 ceived what a ilroke fuch an accufation might 
 be to his perfon, his family, and the tranquillity 
 of his life.- He neither put fo high a price 
 upon literary honours, either keenly to feek 
 them, or to afFe6t to difdain them when they 
 came in his way, nor in a word to regard the 
 fimple want of them as a misfortune : But 
 a perpetual cxclufion, and efpecially the motives 
 of that exclufion, appeared to him to be an in- 
 jury. He faw the minifler, declared to him 
 that for particular reafons he did not own the 
 
 Perfian
 
 ( '2 ) 
 
 Perfian Letters j but that he would be flill far- 
 ther from difowning a work for which he be- 
 lieved he had no reafon to biuiii ; and that he 
 ought to be judged after a reading, and not up- 
 on an information : at laft the minifier did 
 what he ought to have begun with -, he read 
 the book, loved the author, and learned to 
 place his confidence better. The French aca- 
 demy was not deprived of one of its greateft 
 ornaments ; and France had the happinefs to 
 * preferve a fubjed; which fuperfiition or calum- 
 ny was ready to deprive her of : For M. de 
 Montefquieu had declared to the government, 
 that after that kind of affront which thev were 
 about to put upon him, he would go among fo- 
 reigners, who with open arms offered to receive 
 him, in queftof thatfafety, that repcfe, and per- 
 haps thofe rewards, which he might have ]^:oped 
 for in his own country. The nation would 
 have deplored this lofs, and the difgrace of 
 it would nctwitliRanding have fallen upon it. 
 
 The late marflml D' Eftrees, at that time 
 dlredor -of the French academy, conduded 
 himfelf upon this occafion like a virtuous cour- 
 tier, and a perfon of a truly elevated mind: he 
 was neither afraid of abufing his credit, nor of 
 endangering its he fupported his friend and 
 
 jufii-
 
 ( 13 ) 
 
 juftified Socrates. This a<5l of courage, fodear 
 to learning, fo worthy of being imitated at 
 prefent, and fo honourable to the memory of 
 marlhal D' Eftrees, ought not to have been for- 
 got in his panegyric. 
 
 M. DE Montesquieu was received the 
 24th of January 1728. His difcourfe is one 
 of the befl: which has been pronounced upon a 
 like occaflon : its merit is by fo much the 
 greater, that thofe who were to be received, till 
 then confined by thofe forms and by thofe Eh- 
 ges which were in ufe, and to which a kind of 
 prefcription fabjedted them, had not as yet 
 dared to flep over this circle to treat of other 
 fubjedts, or had not at leaft thought of com- 
 prehending them in it. Even in this flatc of 
 conftraint he had the happinefs to fucceed. 
 Among feveral flrokes with which his * dif- 
 courfe fhines we may eafily diftingulfli the deep 
 thinking writer by the fingle portrait of Cardi- 
 nal Richlieu, who taught France the fccret of 
 its flrength, and Spain that of its ivcabhfs j ivho 
 freed Germany from her chains ^ and gaz'e her 
 new ones. We muft admire Monfieur de 
 Montefquieu for having been able to overcome 
 
 'Tis printed at the end of this Elogc. 
 
 the
 
 ( H) 
 
 the difficulty of his fubjed:, and we ought to 
 pardon thofe who have not had the fame 
 fuccefs. 
 
 The new academician was by (o much the 
 more worthy of tliis title, that he had not long 
 before renounced every other bulinefs to give 
 himfelf entirely up to his genius and tafte. 
 However important the place which he oc- 
 cupied was, with whatever judgement and 
 integrity he might have fulfilled its duties, he 
 perceived that there were objedts more worthy 
 of employing his talents ; that a citizen is ac- 
 countable to his country and to mankind for 
 all the good which he can do 3 and that he 
 could be more ufeful to the one and the other, 
 by inftrudiDg them with his writings, than he 
 could be by determining a few particular dif- 
 putes in obfcurlty. All thefe reflediions deter- 
 mined him to fell his ofiice. He was no lon- 
 ger a magiflrate, and was now only a man of 
 letters. 
 
 But to render himfelf ufeful by his works 
 to different nations, it was neceffary that he 
 fhould know them: 'twas with this view that 
 he undertook to travel : his aim was to examine 
 every where the natural and moral world, to 
 
 ftudy
 
 ( 15 ) 
 
 (ludy the laws and conftitution of every coun- 
 try ; to vifit the learned, the writers, the cele- 
 brated artifts ; every where to feek for thofe 
 rare and fingular geniufes, whofe converfation 
 fometimes fupplics the place of many years 
 obfervation and refidence. M. de Montefquieu 
 might have faid, like Democritus ; " I have for- 
 " got nothing to inftrudl myfelf : I have quit- 
 ** ted my country and travelled over the uni- 
 " verfe, the better to know truth : I have CcGti 
 " all the illuftrious perfonages of my time.'* 
 But there was this difference between the French 
 Democritus and him of Abdera, that the firfl 
 travelled to inilruft men, and the fecond to 
 laue;h at them. 
 
 He firft went to Vienna, where he often 
 faw the celebrated prince Eugene. This hero, 
 fo fatal to France (to which he might have been 
 fo ufefui) after having given a check to the for- 
 tune of Lewis XIV. and humbled the Ottoman 
 pride, lived during the peace without pomp, 
 loving and cultivating letters in a court, where 
 they are little honoured, and fetting an ex- 
 ample to his mailers how they fliould protect 
 them. M. de Montefquieu thought that he 
 could difcover in his converfation fome remains 
 Oi" auedion for his ancient country. Prince 
 
 Eugene
 
 ( >6) 
 
 Eugene efpeclally difcovered it, as much as an 
 enemy could, when he talked of the fatal confe- 
 quences of that inteftine divifion which has fo 
 long troubled the church of France : the ftatef- 
 man forefaw its duration and efFeds, and fore- 
 told it like a philofopher. 
 
 M. DE Montesquieu left Vienna to vifit 
 Hungary, an opulent and fertile country, inha- 
 bited by a haughty and generous nation, the 
 fcourge of its tyrants, and the fupport of its 
 fovereigns. As few perfons know this country 
 well, he has written with care this part of his 
 travels. 
 
 From Germany he went to Italy : he fawat 
 Venice the famous Mr. Law, who had nothing 
 remaining of his grandeur but projecls fortu- 
 nately deftined to die away in his own head, 
 and a diamond which he pawned to play at 
 games of hazard. One day the converfation 
 turned on the famous fyflem which Law had 
 invented j an epoch of fo many calamities and 
 fo many great fortunes, and efpecially of a re- 
 markable corruption in our morals. As the 
 parliament of Paris, the immediate depofitory 
 of the laws during a minority, had made fome 
 refiftance to the Scotch minifter on this occafion, 
 M. de Montefquieu afked him why he had 
 
 never
 
 t 17 ] 
 
 rtever try'd to overcome this refiftance by t 
 method almoft always infallible in England, by 
 the grand mover of human adions, in a v^^ord, 
 by money. Tbefe are not^ anfwered Law, Ge- 
 nt ufes fo ardent and fo generous, as my country ^ 
 men ; but they are much more incorruptible. We 
 fliall add, without any prejudice of national 
 vanity, that a fociety which is free for fome /hort 
 limited time, ought to refift corruption more, 
 than one which is always fo : the firil when 
 it fells its liberty lofes it j the fecond, fo to 
 fpeak, only lends it, and exercifes it even when 
 it is doing fo. Thus the circumftances and 
 nature of government give rife to the vices and 
 virtues of nations. 
 
 Another perfon no lefs famous, whom 
 M. de Montefquieu faw ftill oftner at Venice, 
 was Count de Bonneval. This man, fo known 
 by his adventures which were not yet at an end, 
 and flattered with convcrfing with fo good a 
 judge, and one fo worthy of hearing them, often 
 related to him the remarkable circumflances 
 of his life, recited the military adlions in vchich 
 he had been engaged, and drew the characters 
 of thofe generals and minifters'whom he had 
 known, M. de Montefquieu often recalled to 
 C mind
 
 [ .8 ] 
 
 mind thefe converfations, and related different 
 ftrokcs, of them to his friends. 
 
 He went from Venice to Rome. In this 
 ancient capital of the world, which is ftill fo in 
 fome refpedts, he applied himfelf chiefly to 
 examine that which diflinguiflies it mofl at 
 prefentj the works of Raphael, of Titian, and 
 of Michael Angelo. He had not made a par- 
 ticular ftudy of the fine arts > but that ex- 
 preiHion, which fliines in the mafter-pieces 
 of this kind, infallibly ftrikes every man of 
 genius. Accuftomed to ftudy nature, he knew 
 her again when well imitated, as a like pourtrait 
 flrikes all thofe who are familiarly acquainted 
 with the original. Thofe produdions of art 
 tnuft indeed be wretched whoijb whole beauty 
 is only difcernible by artifts. 
 
 After having travelled over Italy, M. de 
 Montefquieu came to Switzerland. He care- 
 fully examined thofe vaft countries which are 
 watered by the Rhine. There was nothing 
 more for him to fee in Germany, for Frederic 
 DID NOT YET REIGN. He flopt afterwards 
 fome time in the United Provinces ^ an admirable 
 monument what human induflry, animated by 
 
 a love
 
 [ '9] 
 
 a love of liberty, can do. At h{k he Went ta 
 England, where he ftaid three years. Worthy 
 of vifitirtg and entertaining the grcatefl of 
 men, he had nothing to regret but that he had 
 not made this voyage fooner. Newton and 
 Locke were dead. But he had often the ho- 
 nour of paying his refpedls to their proteiflrcfs, 
 the celebrated queen of England, who culti- 
 vated philofophy upon a throne, and who 
 properly cfteemed and valued M. de Montef- 
 quieu. He was no lefs well received by the 
 nation, which, however, was not obliged to 
 follow the example of its fuperiors on this occa- 
 fion. He formed at London intimate friendfhips 
 with men aecuftomed to think, and to prepare 
 themfelves for great adions by profound 
 fludies J with them he inftrudled himfelf in 
 the nature of the government, and attained to 
 a thorough knowledge of it. We fpeak here 
 after the public teftimonies which have been 
 given him by the Englifh themfelves, fo jea- 
 lous of our advantages, and fo little difpofed 
 to acknowledge any fuperiority in us. 
 
 As he had examined nothing either with 
 
 the prejudice of an enthufiafl, or the auftcrity 
 
 of a cynic, he brought back from his travels, 
 
 neither a faucy difdain for foreigners, nor a 
 
 C 2 Ml
 
 [ 20 ] 
 
 ftill more mifplaced contempt for his own 
 country. It was the refult of his obfervations, 
 that Germany was made to travel in, Italy to 
 fojourn in, England to think in, and France 
 to live in. 
 
 After his return to his own country, M. 
 de Montefquieu retired for two years to his 
 eftate of la Brede. He there enjoyed in peace 
 that folitude which our having viewed the 
 tumult and hurry of the world, ferves to ren- 
 der more agreeable : he lived with himfelf, 
 after having fo long lived in a different way : 
 and, what interefts us moft, he put the laft 
 hand to his vi^ork on the Caufe of the Grandeur 
 ind Declenjion of the Romans^ which appeared 
 in 1734. 
 
 Empires, like men, muft encreafe, decay, 
 and be extinguished. But this neceffary revo- 
 lution has often hidden caufes, which the vail 
 of time conceals from us, and which my fiery or 
 their apparent minutenefs has even fometimes 
 hid from the eyes of contemporaries. 
 
 Nothing in this refpefl refembles modern 
 hiflory more than ancient hiftory. That of 
 the Romans however deferves, in this relpedt, 
 
 to
 
 [ 21 ] 
 
 to be made an exception of; it prefents us 
 with a rational policy, a connedled fyftem of* 
 aggrandizement, which does not permit us 
 to attribute the fortune of this people to obfcure 
 and inferior fprings. The caufes of the Ro- 
 man grandeur may then be found in hillory ; 
 and 'tis the bufinefs of the philofopher to dif- 
 cover them. Befides, there are no fyftems in 
 this ftudy as in that of phyfic ; thefe are almoft 
 always overthrown, becaufe one new and un- 
 forefeen experiment can overturn them in an 
 inftant ; on the contrary, when we carefully 
 colled: the fads which the ancient hiftory of 
 a country tranfmits to us, if we don't always 
 gather together all the materials which we can 
 defire, we can at leaft hope one day to have 
 more of them. A careful ftudy of hiflory, a 
 ftudy fo important and fo difficult, confifts in 
 combining in the moft perfed manner thefe 
 defective materials : fuch would be the merit of 
 an archited, who, from feme curious learned 
 remains, fliould trace in the mofl: probable man- 
 ner, the plan of an ancient edifice ; fupplyinnr^ 
 by genius, and happy conjcdurcs, what was 
 wanting in thcfc unformed and mutilated ruins. 
 
 It is in th'S point of view that we onqlit to 
 
 confider the work of M. dc Montefquicii. He 
 
 C 3 finds
 
 [22 ] 
 
 finds the caufes of the grandeur of the Romans 
 in that love of liberty, of labour, and of their 
 country, which was inftillcd into them during 
 their infancy ; in thofe inteftine divifions, 
 which gave an adivity to their genius, and 
 which ceafed immediately upon the appear- 
 *nce of an enemy 3 in that conftancy after 
 jnisfortunes, which never defpaired of the 
 republic j in that principle they adhered to of 
 never making peace but after victories ; in the 
 honour of a triumph, which was a fubjedl of 
 emulation among the generals j in that protec- 
 tion which they granted to thofe people who re- 
 belled againft their kings ; in the excellent po- 
 licy of permitting the conquered to preferve their 
 religion and cuftoms j and that of never having 
 two enemies upon their hands at once, and of 
 bearing every thing of the one, 'till they had 
 defl-royed the other. He finds the caufes of 
 their declenfion in the aggrandizement of the 
 {late itfelf i in thofe diftant wars, which, ob- 
 liging the citizens to be too long abfent, made 
 them infeniibly lofe their republican fpiritj 
 in the privilege of being citizens of Rome 
 granted to fo many nation?, which made the 
 Roman people at laft become a fort of niany 
 headed monfterj in the corruption intro- 
 duced by the luxury of Afia j in the prolcrip- 
 
 ticns
 
 [23 ] 
 
 Gons of Sylla, which debafed the genius of the 
 nation, and prepared it for flavery; in that 
 neceffity which the Romans found themfelves 
 in of having a mafter, while their liberty was 
 become burthenfome to them ; in diat necef- 
 fity they were obliged to of changing their 
 maxims when they changed their government ; 
 in that feries of mon'fters who reigned, almoft 
 without interruption, from Tiberius to Nerv^, 
 ind from Commodus to Conftantinej in a 
 word, in the tranflation and divifion of the 
 empire, which periftied firft in the Weft by 
 the power of barbarians, and which, after 
 having languifhed feveral ages in the Eaft, 
 under weak or cruel emperors, infenfibly 
 died away, like thofe rivers which difappear in 
 the fands. 
 
 A VERY fmall volume was enough for M. 
 de Montefquieu, to explain and unfold fo 
 interefting and vaft a pidure. As the author 
 did not infift upon the detail, and only fcized 
 on the moft fruitful branches of his fubjedl, he 
 has been able to include in a very fmall fpace, 
 a vaft number of objedts diftindly perceived, 
 and rapidly prefented, without fatiguing the 
 reader. While he points out a great deal to 
 C 4 us,
 
 US, he leaves us flill more to refle6b upon ; 
 and he might have intitled his book. ^ Roman 
 Hijlory for the uje of Statefmen and Philofophers, 
 
 Whatever reputation M. dc Montefquleu 
 had acquired by this laft work, and by thofe 
 which had preceded it, he had only cleared 
 the vi^ay for a far grander undertaking, for 
 that which ought to immortalize his name, and 
 render it refpedable to future ages. He had 
 long ago form.ed the defign : and had medi- 
 tated for twenty years upon the execution of it ; 
 or, to fpeak more properly, his whole life had 
 been a perpetual meditation upon it. He had 
 firft made himfelf in fome refpedt a ftranger 
 in his own country, better to underftand it at 
 kfl : he had afterwards travelled over allEurope, 
 and profoundly fludied the different people 
 who inhabit it. The famous ifland, which 
 glories fo much in her laws, and which makes 
 fo bad a ufe of them, had been to him in 
 this long tour, what the iile of Crete had 
 formerly been to Lycurgus, a fchool where he 
 bad known well how to inftrudl himfelf with- 
 out approving every thing : in a word, he 
 had, if we may fo fpeak, examined and 
 judged thofe celebrated nations and men v/ho 
 
 oiilv
 
 r 25 ] 
 
 Only exift at prefent in the annals of the world. 
 It was thus that he attained by degrees to the 
 nobleft title which a wife man can deferve, 
 that of legillator of nations. 
 
 If he was animated by the importance of his 
 fubjedl, he was at the fame time terrified by its 
 extenfivenefs ; he abandoned it, and returned 
 to it again at feveral intervals. He felt more 
 than once, as he himfelf owns, his paternal 
 hands fail him. At laft, encouraged by his 
 friends, he coUeded all his flrength, and pub- 
 liflied the Spirit of Laivs. 
 
 In this important work, M. de Montefqaleu, 
 without infifting, after the example of thofe 
 who preceded him, upon metaphyfical dif- 
 cuffions relative to the nature of man, fuppofed 
 in an abftradl ftate ; without confining him- 
 felf, like others, to confider certain people in 
 certain particular relations or circuuiflances, 
 takes a view of the inhabitants of the v/orld in 
 the adual flate in v/hich they are, a:id in all 
 the relations v/hich they can fland in to one 
 anotlicr. The moft put of other writers in 
 tb.is way are almoft alwass cither f.mplc mo- 
 ralills, or iimple lawyers, or even fonietinics 
 fiinplc theologlfis. Ab fur \\.ir\, a citizen of all 
 
 CGuntric,
 
 t 26 1 
 
 countries, and of all nations, he is lefs em- 
 ployed about what our duty requires of us, 
 than about the means by which we can ht 
 obliged to fulfil itj about the meraphyfi^l 
 perfection of laws, than about that which 
 human nature renders man capable of ; about 
 laws which have been made, than about thofc 
 which ought to have been made j about thfe 
 laws of a particular people, than about thoffe 
 of all nations. Thus, when comparing him- 
 felf to thofe who have run before him in this 
 noble and grand career, he might fay, with 
 Corregio when he had feen the works of his 
 rivals, And I alfoy I am a Fainter, 
 
 Filled and penetrated with his fubjed, 
 the author of the Spirit of Laws comprehends 
 in it fo great a number of materials, and treats 
 them with fuch brevity and depth, that an 
 affiduous and iludious reading of it can make 
 us alone perceive the merit of this book. 
 This will efpecially ferve, we venture to fay, 
 to make that pretended want of method with 
 which fome readers have accufed M. de Mon- 
 tefquieu difappear ; an advantage which they 
 ought not flighdy to have accufed him of 
 having negledted in a philofophical fubjedl, 
 and in a work of twenty years. Real want 
 
 of
 
 t*7t 
 
 of order ought to be diftingui{hed from that 
 which is only apparent. Diforder is when 
 the analogy and connexion of ideas is not ob- 
 lerTcd ; when conclufions arc fct up as prin- 
 ciples, or precede them; when the reader 
 after innumerable windings finds himfelf at 
 the point whence he fet out. Apparent dif- 
 order is when the author, putting in their true 
 place the ideas which he makes ufe of, leaves 
 it to the readers to fupply the intermediate 
 ones : and 'tis thus that M. de Montefquiea 
 believed that he might and ought to make ufe 
 of them in a book dcfigned for men who 
 thought, whofe genius oU^ht to fupply voluntary 
 and reafonable omiffions. 
 
 The order which is perceivable in the 
 
 grand divifions of the Spirit of Laws, takes place 
 
 no lefs in the fmaller details ; we believe that 
 
 the more profoundly the work is ftudied, the 
 
 more one will be convinced of it. Faithful to 
 
 his general divifions, the author refers to each 
 
 thofe objeOs which belong to it exclufively ; 
 
 and, with refpect to there which, by different 
 
 branches, belong to fcvcral fubie(fts at once, 
 
 he has placed under each divifion, that branch 
 
 which properly belongs to it. By this Vv-e 
 
 cafily perceive, and witliout ccnfiifion, the in-
 
 [28 ] 
 
 fluence which the different parts of the fubjed 
 have upon each other ; as, in a tree or 
 lyflem of human knowledge well underftood, 
 we may perceive the mutual relation of fciences 
 and arts. This comparifon is by fo much the 
 more juft, that it is the fame thing with 
 refped to a plan which we may form to our- 
 felves for examining laws philofophically, as 
 of that order which may be obferved in a 
 tree comprehending all the fciences : there 
 will always remain fometbing arbitrary in it ; 
 and all that can be required of an author is, 
 that he follow Aridly, without deviating from 
 it, that fyftem which he has once formed 
 to himfelf. 
 
 We may fay of that obfcurity, which is 
 allowable in fuch a work, the fame thing as 
 of want of order. What may be obfcure for 
 vulgar readers is not fo for thofe whom the 
 author had in his view. Belides, obfcurity 
 which is voluntary, is not properly obfcurity. 
 M. de Montefquieu being fometimes obliged 
 to prefent to us truths of great importance, 
 the abfolute and direct avowal of which might 
 have fliocked without doing any good, has had 
 the prudence to cover them ; and, by this in- 
 nocent artifice, he has concealed them from 
 
 thofe
 
 [29] 
 
 thofe to whom they might have been hurtful, 
 without making them lofl to men of faga- j 
 city. 
 
 Among thofe works which have fome- 
 times furnifhed him with afliflance, and fome- 
 times with clearer views for his own, we 
 may perceive that he has efpecially profited 
 from two hiftorians who have thought the 
 moft, Tacitus and Plutarch: but, tho' a phi- , 
 lofopher who has read thefe two authors might 
 have difpenfed with a grfeat many others, he 
 did not believe that he ought to negledl or 
 difdain any thing in this way which could be 
 of ufe to his fubjedt. That reading which we 
 muft fuppofe neceflary for the Spirit of Laws is 
 immenfe ; and the rational ufe which the 
 author has made of fuch a prodigious multi- 
 tude of materials, will appear ftill more fur- 
 prifing, when it is known that he was almofl: 
 entirely deprived of fight, and obliged to have 
 recourfe to eyes not his own ; this prodigious 
 reading contributes not only to the utility, but 
 to the agreeablenefs of the work. Without 
 derogating from the majcfly of his fubjccl, 
 M. de Montefquieu has known how to foften 
 its auflcrity, and procure the reader fomc mo- 
 ments of repofc, whctlicr by fa^fls which are 
 
 fiivj;ular
 
 [ 30 ] 
 fingular and little known, or by delkate allii- 
 iions, or by thofe ftrong and brilliant touches 
 of the pencil which paint by one ftroke ca- 
 tions and men. 
 
 In a word, for we won't here play the part! 
 of Homep's eortMnentators, there are, without 
 doubt, faults in the Spirit of Laws, as^ there are 
 in every work of genius whofe author firft 
 dared to clear out for himfclf a new rout. 
 M. de Montefquieu has been amongft us for 
 the fludy of laws, what Defeases was. for that 
 of philofophy : lie often inftructs us, and is 
 fbmetimes miftaken j and, even when he 
 miftakes, he inftru6ls thofe wha know how to 
 read him. The laft edition of his works demon- 
 ftrates, by the corredlions and additions which 
 he has made, that, if he has now and then made 
 a flip, he has been able to find it out and to rife 
 again. By this he will acquire at leaft a 
 title to a new examination, in thofe places 
 where he was not of the fame opinion with 
 his cenfurers ; perhaps indeed what he ima- 
 gined ftood moft in need of corredlion has en- 
 tirely efcaped them ; fo blind commonly is the 
 inclination to do hurt. 
 
 But that which is within the reach of all 
 6 the
 
 [ 31 1 
 
 the world in the Spirit of Laws, that which, 
 ought to render the author dear to all nations, 
 that which would ferve to cover far greater 
 faults than arc in it, is that fpirit of patriotifm 
 which di<5tated it. The love of the public good, 
 a dclire of feeing men happy, difcovers itfelf in it 
 every where j and, had it no other merit but this, 
 which is fo rare and (o valuable, it would b 
 worthy, on this account alone, to be read by na- 
 tions and kings. We already perceive, by happy 
 experience, that the fruits of this work are 
 not confined to ufelefs fentiments in the minds 
 of its readers. Though M. de Montefquieu 
 furvived the publication of the Spirit of Laws 
 but a (hort while, he had the fatisfa(flion ia 
 fome meafure to forefee thofe effeds which it 
 begins to produce amongft us^ the natural 
 love of Frenchmen for their country, turned 
 towards its true object ; that tafte for com- 
 merce, for agriculture, and for ufeful arts 
 which infenfibly fpreads itfelf in our nation ; 
 that general knowledge of the principles of go- 
 vernment, which renders people more attached 
 to that which they ought to love. Thofe who 
 have fo indecently attacked this work, perhaps 
 owe more to it than they imagine. Ingrati- 
 tude, befidcs, is the fmalkfl reproach which 
 
 we
 
 [ 32 J 
 
 we have to make to them. 'Tis not with- 
 out regret, and without blu{hing for the age 
 we Hve in, that we proceed to expofe them ; 
 but this hiftory is of too much confequence to 
 the glory of M. de Montefquieu, and advan- 
 tage to philofophy, to be palTed over in filence. 
 May that reproach which at lafl covers his 
 enemies be of ufe to them ! 
 
 Scarce had the Spirit of Laws appeared, 
 but it was eagerly fought after on account 
 of the reputation of its author : but tho' M. 
 de Montefquieu had wrote for the good of the 
 people, he ought not to have had the vulgar 
 for his judge. The depth of his fubjedl was a 
 necefTary confequence of its importance. How- 
 ever, the flrokes which were fcattered up 
 and down the work, and which would have 
 been difplaced if they had not arifen naturally 
 from the fubjecft, made too many people 
 believe that it was wrote for them. People 
 fought for an agreeable book, and they only 
 found an ufeful one ; the whole fcheme and 
 particular details of which they could not 
 comprehend without fome attention. The 
 Spirit of Laws was treated with a deal of light 
 wit J even the title of it was made a fubjecft 
 
 of
 
 (33 ) ' 
 of pleafantry ; in a word, one of the fine/l 
 literary monuments which our nation ever pro- 
 duced, was at firrt: regarded by it with much 
 indifference. It was requidte that the true 
 judges fhouid have time to read it: they very 
 foon correded the errors of the multitude, 
 always ready to change its opiiiion. That 
 part of the public which teaches, dictated to 
 that which liflens to hear how it ought to 
 think and fpeak ; and the fuffrages of men of 
 abilities joined to the echoes which repeated 
 them, formed only one voice over all Europe. 
 
 'TwAs then that the open and fecret ene- 
 mies of letters and philofophy (for there are 
 of both kinds) united their darts againfl this 
 work. Hence that multitude of pamphlets 
 which were aimed againft him from all parts, 
 and which we {hall not draw out from that 
 oblivion in which they have funk. If thofc 
 authors had not- taken proper meafurcs to be 
 unknown to pofterity, it might be believed tlv.it 
 the Spirit of Laws \va? wrote amidil a nation 
 of Barbarians. 
 
 M. DE MoNTEsoiJiEU cafily dcfpifed tr.e 
 
 dark criticifms of thofe weak authors, wlio, 
 
 whether out of a iealoufy wliich thev had !;;> 
 
 i) ' titia
 
 ( 34 ) 
 title to have, or to fatisfy the public ill-nature, 
 which loves fatyre and contempt, outrageoufly 
 attack what they can't attain to j and more 
 odious on account of the ill which they want to 
 do, than formidable for that which they actually 
 do, don't fucceed even in this kind of writing, 
 the facility of which, as well as its objedl, ren 
 der equally mean. He placed works of this kind 
 on the fame level with thofe weekly news- 
 papers of Europe, the encomiums of which 
 have no authority, and their darts no efFed: ; 
 which indolent readers run over without 
 giving credit to, and in which fovereigns 
 are infulted without knowing it, or without 
 deigning to revenge it. But he was not equally 
 indifferent about thofe principles of irreligion 
 which they accufed him of having propagated 
 in the Spirit of Laws. By defpifing fuch re- 
 proaches, he would have believed that he de- 
 ferved them ; and the importance of the ob- 
 jed:, made him fliut his eyes at the real mean- 
 nefs of his adverfaries. Thofe men, who really 
 v/ant zeal as much as they are eager to make 
 it appear that they have it, afraid of that light 
 which letters diffufe, not to the prejudice of 
 religion, but to their own difadvantage, took 
 different ways of attacking him j fome by a 
 ftratagem which was as puerile as pufillani- 
 
 mo us,
 
 (30 
 
 tiious, had wrote to himfelfj others, after 
 having attacked him under the made of anony- 
 mous writers, had afterwards fallen by the 
 ears among themfelves. M. de Monttfquieu, 
 tho' he was very jealous of confounding them 
 with each other, did not think it proper to lofc 
 time, which was precious, in combating them 
 one after another ; he contented himfelf with 
 making an example of him who had moft figna- 
 lized himfelf by his extravagance. 'Twas the 
 author of an anonymous and periodical paper, 
 who imagined that he had a title to fucceed 
 Pafcal, becaufe he has fucceeded to his 
 opinions 3 a panegyrift of works which no 
 body reads, and an apologirt of miracles which 
 the fecular power put an end to whenever it 
 wanted to do it ; who calls the little intereft 
 which people of letters take in his quarrels 
 impious and fcandalous j and hath by an ad- 
 drefs worthy of him, alienated from himfelf that 
 part of the nation whofe affcdions he ou'^ht 
 chiefly to have endeavoured to keep. Thellrokcs 
 of this formidable champion were Vv-ortliy of 
 thofe views which infpired h\iv, -, he atcufed M. 
 de Montcfquieu of Spinofifm and dciTm (two 
 imputations'which are incompatible;) of having 
 followed the iyfteni of Pope [oi' which there 
 is not a v;ord in hh works) of iiavin;^ quoted
 
 ( 36 ) 
 
 Plutarch, who is not a Chriftian author ; of 
 not having fpoken of original fin and of grace. 
 In a v/ord, he pretended that the Spirit of Laws 
 was a prodadion of the conflitution Unigejiitus ; 
 an idea which we may perhaps be fufpefted of 
 fathering on the crilic out of deriiion. Thofe 
 who have known M. de Montcfquieu, and who 
 underhand his work, and that of Clement XI. 
 may judge by this accufation of the rert. 
 
 The unfuccefsfulnefs of this writer ought 
 greatly to difcourage him : he wanted to attack 
 a wife man in that place which is moft fen- 
 fible to every good citizen, but he only pro- 
 cured him an addition of glory as a man of 
 letters : the Defence of the Spirit of Laws ap- 
 peared. This work, on account of that mode- 
 ration, that truth, -lut delicacy of ridicule 
 which abound in it, ought to be regarded as a 
 model in this way. M. de Montefquieu, 
 charged by his adverfary with atrocious im- 
 putations, m!;aht eiifily have rendered him 
 odious J he diJ better, he made him ridiculous. 
 If v/e are beho'den to an ag'-effor for that good 
 which he has done us without wanting to do 
 it, we owe him eternal thanks for having pro- 
 cured us this maftcr-picce. i3iit what adds ftill 
 more to the merit of this precious little piece is 
 
 6 this,
 
 ( 37 ) 
 this, that the author without thinking of it has 
 there drawn a picfture of himfelf: thofe who 
 knew him think they hear him j a!:d pofterity 
 will be convinced, when reading his Defence^ 
 that his converfation was not inferior to his 
 writings ; an encomium which few great men 
 have deferved. 
 
 Another circumftance gave him plainly 
 the advantage in this difpute. The critic, who, 
 as a proof of his attachment to religion, attacks 
 its minifters, loudly accufed the clergy of 
 France, and efpecially the faculty of theology, 
 of indifference for the caufe of God, becaufe 
 they did not authentically profcribe fo perni- 
 cious a work. The faculty had a title to de- 
 fpii'e the reproach of a mimelcfs writer: but 
 religion was in the queflion ; a commendable 
 delicacy made it refolve t) examine the Spirit 
 of Laws. Tho' it has been tmploi'ed aboi!t it 
 fcveral years, it has not y^^t proiiounced any 
 thins: ; and if Tome llis^ht inalvcrtaiicic:, -.vhicii 
 are almoft inevitable in lo vc'l a carrj.r, fl:!Guld 
 have efcaped M. de MonciOjUien, t'u Kip,;^ and 
 fcrupulous attention which ti'ioy wovild have 
 required from the moll ei-.'i^v'-'-i'^'d br.::v or" 
 the church, might prc-vc at L-afl: how c.\jii- 
 lable they are. But this boJy, f:;il uf r-ru- 
 ^ 3 ' dJn.^,
 
 ( 38 ) 
 
 dence, will do nothing rafhly in fo important 
 an affair. It knows the grounds of reafon and 
 of faith : it knows that the work of a man of 
 letters ought not to be examined like that of a 
 theologift } that the bad confequences, which 
 odious interpretations may draw from a pro- 
 pofition, don't render the proportion blameable 
 in itfelf J that befides we live in an unlucky 
 age, in which the interefts of religion have 
 need of being delicately managed ; and that 
 it may do hurt to weak people to throw an 
 ill-timed fufpicion of incredulity upon geniufes 
 of the firH: rank ; that, in a word, in fpite of 
 this unjuft accufation, M. de Montefquicu was 
 always efteemed, vilited and well received by 
 the greatefi and moll: refpedable charaders in 
 the church. Would he have preferved among 
 men of worth that efteem which he enjoyed, 
 if they had regarded him as a dangerous 
 writer ? 
 
 While infe6ls plagued him in his own 
 country, England ereded a monument to his 
 glory. In 1752, M. d'i\.frier, celebrated for 
 the medals which he has ftruck in honour of 
 feveral illuftrious men, came from London to 
 Paris to ftrike one of him. M. de la Tour, 
 
 an
 
 ( 39 ) 
 
 an artifl: of fuch fuperior talents, and fo re- 
 fpedable for his difintereftednefsand greatnefs of 
 mind, had ardently defired to give a new luftre 
 to his pencil, by tranfmitting to pofterity the 
 portrait of the author of the Spirit of Laws ; 
 he only wanted the fatisfadtion of painting 
 him ; and he deferved, like Apelles, that this 
 honour (liould be referved for him : but M. de 
 Montefquieu, as fparing of M. de la Tout's 
 time as he himfelf was free of it, conftantly and 
 politely refufed his preffing follicitations. M. 
 d'Aflier at firft bore with fuch difficulties. 
 " Do you believe, faid he at lad to M. de 
 " Montefquieu, that there is not as much 
 *' pride in refufing my oifcr, as in accepting 
 *' of it ?" Overcome by this pleafantry, he per- 
 mitted M. d'Affier to do whatever he would. 
 
 The author of the Spirit of Laws, in fine, 
 was peaceably enjoying his glory, when he fell 
 fick at the beginning of February : his health, 
 naturally delicate, began to decay for fome 
 time pall, by the flow and almoil infallible 
 ciTccft of deep ftudy, by tiic unealii^efs which 
 they had ci^ideavoured to give him on account 
 of his work; in a \V()i\i, by that kind of life 
 which he was obliged to lead at Pari^', which 
 he felt to be fatal to hiin. But the cagernefs 
 D 4 witli
 
 (4) 
 
 with which his company was faught after was 
 too keen, not to be fometimes indifcreet ; they 
 would, without perceiving it, enjoy him at 
 the expence of himfelf. Scarce had the news 
 of the danger in v/hich he was in fpread abroad, 
 but it became the objedl of the cenverfation 
 and anxiety of the public. His houfe was 
 never empty of perfons of all ranks who came 
 to enquire about his health, fome out of 
 real afFedion, others to have the appearance 
 of it, or to follow the croud. His majefty, 
 penetrated with the lofs which his kingdom 
 was about to fufcain, enquired about him fe- 
 veral tinges j a teftimony of goodnefs and juftice 
 which does equal honour to the monarch and 
 the fubjedt. M. de Montefquieu's end was 
 not unworthy of his life. OpprelTed with 
 cruel pains, far from a family that was dear to 
 him, and v^/hich had not the comfort of cloiing 
 his eyes, furroundcd by fome friends, and a 
 great croud of fpedators, he preferved, to his 
 lair moments, a calmnefs and tranquiliitv of 
 foul. In a word, after having performed with 
 decencv every duty, full of conhdence in 
 the e'Crnal bein^J!; wliom he v/as about to be 
 reunited with, he died wkh the tranquillity of 
 a man of worth, who had neve: conlecrated his 
 talents but to the improvement of virtue and 
 
 hu:n::nitv.
 
 ( 4' ) 
 
 humanity. France and Europe loft him the 
 loth of February 1755, aged fixty- fix. 
 
 All the public news-papers publlflied this 
 event as a niisfortune. We may apply to M. 
 de Montclquieu what was formerly faid of 
 an illuftrious Roman j that no body, when 
 told of his death, (howed any joy at it ; that 
 no body even forgot him when he was no 
 more. Foreigners were eager to demonftrate 
 their regrets : my lord Cherftcrfield, whom 
 it is enough to name, caufed to be publiflicd in 
 one of the public London papers, an article to 
 his honour, an article vv()rl:hy of tlie ciie and 
 of the other j 'tis the portrait of An-ixagoras 
 drawn by Pericles *'. The royal academy of 
 
 * See this cnccmium inEngi!ni,as we read it in the paper 
 called the Evening .'oIl. " f -r. the loth of this month, 
 died at Paris, univerhiKy and fmcercly regretted, Charles 
 Secondat, baron of .\ lontefquic-u, and prelident a iVIortier 
 of the parliament of liourdeaux. His virtues did honour 
 to human nature, his writings juflice. A friend to man- 
 kind, he afTerttd their un loubted and unalienable rights, 
 with freedom, even in his own country, whofe prejudices 
 in niattcrs of religion and governmer.t (ivci/rji i ananner 
 'tis fin Enj.'ijhnian iibo ipeaki} he had long lamented and 
 endeavoured 'rot without (omc kicoefs) to remove. He 
 well knew .uid ju'llv admired the iiappy conUitution of 
 thi coi.':;tr\', v.'hrre fixed and kiiowii laws equal 1 v rcftraia 
 monareh,- troni tvra:niy, ^nd Iiheitv torn liceniioiilnefs. 
 !:<!> v.or.vS v.ill ii:v;:'tr;;te i:is n.'.'ne, and furvive him, as 
 1. '!'.:: ci.^ li.'h* i''.i: .-I, ir.c'al i;V.i;^':;';'.;;, ant! the tiuc Spirit 
 ol Laws; iL.ii! be underlljud, i;';..\tcJ, z'aA maint.uned." 
 
 Iciciices
 
 (40 
 
 fcienccs and belles letters of Pruflia, tho' it 
 is not its cuftom to pronounce the eloge of 
 foreign members, thought themfelves bound to 
 do him an honour, which it had not before 
 done to any one but the illuftrious John Ber- 
 nouilli. M. de Maupertuis, notwithftanding 
 he was at that time indifpofed, performed him- 
 felf this laft duty to his friend, and would not 
 permit an office fo dear and fo melancholy to 
 fall to the fhare of any other perfon. To fo 
 many honourable fuffrages in favour of M. de 
 Montefquieu, we believe we may add, with- 
 out indifcretion, thofe praifes which Vv^ere given 
 him, in prefence of one of us, by that very 
 monarch to whom this celebrated academy 
 owes its luftre, a prince made to feel thofe 
 lofles which Philofophy fuftalns, and at the 
 fame time to comfort her. 
 
 The feventeenth of February, the French 
 academy, according to oudom, performed a 
 folemn fervice for him, at which, notwith- 
 ftanding the rigour of the feafon, almoft all 
 the learned men of this body, who were not 
 abfent from Paris, thought it their duty to afTiil:. 
 They ought, at this melancholy ceremony, to 
 have placed the Spirit of Laws upon his coffin, 
 as heretofore they expofed, oppofite to that of 
 
 Raphael,
 
 (43 ) 
 
 Raphael, bis lad picture of the Transfiguration. 
 This fimple and affeding ornament would have 
 been a fine funeral oration . . 
 
 Hitherto we have only confidered M. dc 
 Montefquieu as a writer and philofopher : it 
 would be to rob him of the half of his glory, to 
 pafs over in filence his agreeable perfonal qua- 
 lities. 
 
 He had, in company, a fweetnefs and gayety 
 of temper always the fame. His converfa- 
 tion was fpirited, agreeable, and inftrudtivc, 
 by the great number of men and of nations 
 whom he had known. It was, like his ftyle, 
 concife, full of wit and Tallies, without gall, and 
 without fatire. Nobody told a flory in a more 
 lively manner, more readily, or with more grace 
 and Icfs affectation : he kncvv that the conclufion 
 of an agreeable ftory is always the point in 
 view J he therefore made difpatch to come at 
 it, and produced the effect, without having 
 long promifed it. 
 
 Ills frequent ab fence of mir.d onlv rendered 
 him more amiable : lie alwavs awaked from 
 it by foine unexped:cd llroicc wiiicii rcar.i- 
 niated tl:c languiihing coi.vcilautri ; bcfuics, 
 
 thcfe
 
 ( 44 ) 
 thefe were never either frolickfome, fliocking, 
 or troublefome. Ti:ie fire of his genius, the 
 great number of ideas with which it was fur- 
 ni(hcd, gave rife to them ; but this never hap- 
 pened in the middle of an interefting or ferious 
 converfation : the defire of pleafing thofe in 
 whofe company he was, made him attentive to 
 them without affedtation and without con- 
 ftraint. 
 
 The agreeablenefs of his converfation, not 
 only rcfembled his charader and his genius, 
 but even that kind of method which he ob- 
 ferved in his ftudy. Tho' capable of deep 
 and long continued meditation, he never ex- 
 haufled his ftrength ; he always left off appli- 
 cation, before he felt the leafl: fymptom of 
 fatigue -f, 
 
 f The author of the anonymous and periodical paper 
 which we mentioned above, pretends to find a manileft 
 contradiflion, between what we fay here, and that which 
 we had faid before, that M. de Montefquieu's health was 
 impaired by the flow and almoft infaHible effect of deep 
 fiudy. But why when he was comparing the two places, 
 has he fiipprefTed tiiefe words, S'oco and id'.:'''>t ir,fnlli-/.e, 
 which he had under his eyes ? 'Tis evidently becaiife he 
 perceived, that an i:^&zi which is {:ow, is not a hit lei's 
 real for being not felt immediately; and that, confc- 
 quently, thefe words deflroy that appearance of contra- 
 didtion which he pretends to point out. Such is the fide- 
 lity of this author in trifles^ and for a frronger reaibn in 
 more ferious matters. 
 
 He
 
 (45) 
 
 He was fenfible to glory ; but he did not 
 wifli to attain to it, but by deferving it. He 
 never endeavoured to augment his own by thofe 
 underhand practices, by thofe dark and fhame- 
 ful methods, which difhonour the charad;er 
 of the man without adding to that of the au- 
 thor. 
 
 Worthy of every diftindion, and of every 
 reward, he arlked nothing, and he was not 
 furprifed that he was forgot : but he has ad- 
 ventured, even in delicate circumftances, to 
 protedl at court men of letters who were per- 
 fecuted, celebrated, and unfortunate, and has 
 obtained favours for them. 
 
 Tho' he lived with the great, whether out 
 of nccefiuy, or propriety," or tafte, their com- 
 pany was not ncceffary to his happinefs. He 
 retired whenever he could to his eflate in the 
 country ; he there again, with joy, met his 
 philofophy, his bocks, and his repofe. Sur- 
 rounded, at his leifure hours, with country 
 people, after having fludied man, in the com- 
 merce of the world, and in the hiftory of 
 nations, he (ludied iiim alio in thofe fxmple 
 people whom nature alone lias inflruded, and 
 
 he
 
 (46) 
 
 he could from them learn fomething : he cori- 
 Verfed chearfully with them ; he endeavoured, 
 like Socrates, to find out their genius ; he ap^ 
 peared as happy when converfing with them, 
 as in the moft brilliant aflemblies, efpecially 
 when he made up their differences, and com- 
 forted them under their diftrefs by his bene- 
 ficence. 
 
 Nothing does greater honour to his me- 
 mory than the method in which he lived, 
 which fome people have pretended to blame as 
 extravagant in a proud and avaricious age, ex- 
 tremely unfit to find out, and ftill lefs to feel 
 theireal benevolent motives of it. 
 
 M. DE Montesquieu would neither make 
 encroachments upon the fortune of his family, 
 by thofe fupplies Vi^hich he gave the unfortu- 
 nate, nor by thofe confiderable expences, which 
 his long tour of travelling, the weaknefs 
 of his fight, and the printing of his v/orks 
 had expofed him to. He tranfiuitted to 
 his children, without diminution or augmen- 
 tation, the eftate which he received from his 
 anceftors j he added nothing to it but the 
 glory of his name, and the example of his 
 life. He had married in 17 15, dame Jane 
 
 de
 
 (47) 
 
 de Lartigue, daughter of Peter de Lartlgue, 
 lieutenant colonel of the regiment of Mo-. 
 levrier : he had two daughters and one fon 
 by her, who by his charader, his morals, and 
 his works, has fliewn himfelf worthy of fuch a 
 father. 
 
 Those who love truth and their country, 
 will not be difpleafed to find fome of his 
 maxims here : he thought. 
 
 That every part of the flate ought to be 
 equally fubjed: to the Laws, but that the pri- 
 vileges of every part of the ftate ought to be 
 refpedted when their effedts have nothing con- 
 trary to that natural right which obliges every 
 citizen equally to concur to the public good: 
 that ancient pofTeffion was in this kind the 
 firft of titles and the moft: inviolable of rights, 
 . which it was always unjuft, and fometimes 
 dangerous, to want to fhake. 
 
 That magiflrates, in all circumflances, and 
 notwithftanding whatever advantage it might be 
 to their own body, ought never to be any thing 
 but magiftrates without partiality and without 
 paflion, like the laws which abfolve and punidi 
 without love and hatred. 
 
 In
 
 (48) 
 
 In a word, he faid, upon occafion of thofe 
 ccclefiaftical difputes which have fo much 
 employed the Greek emperors and Chriflians, 
 that theological difputes, when they are not 
 confined to the fchools, infallibly difhonour a 
 nation in the eyes of its neighbours : in fadt, 
 the contempt in which v/ife men hold thofe 
 quarrels, does not vindicate the character of 
 their country ; becaufe fages making every 
 where the leafb noife and being the fmalleft 
 number, 'tis never from them that the nation is 
 judged of. 
 
 The importance of thofe works which we 
 have had occafion to mention in this panegyric 
 has made us pafs over in filence lefs confiderable 
 ones, which ferved as a relaxation to our au- 
 thor, and which in any other perfon would 
 have merited an encomium. The mofl: re- 
 markable of them is the temple of Gnidus, 
 which was very fooh publiflied after the Per- 
 lian Letters. M. de Montefquieu, after having 
 been Horace, Theophraftus and Lucian in 
 thofe, was an Ovid and Anacreon in this new 
 effay. 'Tis no more the defpotic love of the 
 Eaft which he propofes to panit ; 'tis the deli- 
 cacy and iimplicity of pafcoral love, fuch as it 
 
 is
 
 r 49 J 
 
 is in an unexperienced heart which the com- 
 merce of the world has not yet corrupted. The 
 author, fearing perhaps that a pi<5ture fo oppo- 
 lite to our manners fhould appear too languid 
 and uniform, has endeavoured to animate it by 
 the moft agreeable images. He tranfports the 
 reader into inchanted fcenes, the view of which, 
 to fay the truth, little interefts the lover in his 
 happiefl moments, but the defcription of which 
 ftill flatters the imagination, when the paiTions 
 are gratified. Infpired by his fubjecSt, he hath 
 adorned his profe with that animated, figura- 
 tive, and poetic fllle, which the romance of 
 Telemachus gave the firfl example of amongft 
 us. We don't know why fome cenfurers of 
 the temple of Gnidus have faid upon this oc- 
 cafion, that it ought to have been wrote in verfe. 
 The poetic flile, if we underfland, as we 
 ought by this word, a ftile full of warmth 
 and images, does not (land in need of the uni- 
 form march and cadency of verfification to be 
 agreeable : but if we only make this ftile to 
 confift in a ditftion loaded with aeedlefs epi- 
 thets, in the cold and trivial defcriptions of the 
 wings and quiver of love, and of fuch objeds, 
 verfification will add nothing to the merit of 
 thefe beaten ornaments; in vain will we look 
 for the life and fpirit of it. However this be, 
 E the
 
 [5] 
 
 the temple of Gnidus being a fort of poem in 
 profe, it belongs to our celebrated writers to 
 determine the rank which it ought to hold : it 
 is worthy of fuch judges. 
 
 We believe at leaft the defcriptions in this 
 work may with fuccefs ftand one of the prin- 
 cipal tefts of poetic defcriptions, that of being 
 reprefented on canvafs. But what we ought 
 chiefly to obferve in the temple of Gnidus, is 
 that Anacreon himfelf is always the obferver 
 and the philofopher there. In the fourth can- 
 to the author appears to defcribe the manners 
 of the Cyberites, and it may eafily be perceived 
 that thefe are our own manners. The preface 
 efpecially bears the mark of the author of the 
 Perfian Letters. When he reprefents the 
 Temple of Gnidus as a tranllation from a Greek 
 manufcript, a piece of wit which has been fo 
 much disfigured fince by bad imitators, he 
 takes occafion to paint by one ftroke of his pen 
 the folly of critics, and the pedantry of tranf- 
 lators. He concludes with thefe words, which 
 defer ve to be repeated : ' If ferious people re- 
 ' quire fome other work of me of a lefs frivo- 
 e lous nature, I can eafily fatisfy them ; I have 
 been labouring thirty years at a work of 
 * twelve pages, which will contain all that we 
 
 ' know
 
 [5'1 
 
 * know of metaphyfics, politics, and morality, 
 
 * and all that the greateft authors have forgot 
 
 * in the volumes which they have publifhed 
 ' on thefe fciences/ 
 
 We look upon that particular intereft which 
 M. de Montefquieu took in the Encyclopae- 
 dia, as one of the moft honourable rev*'ards of 
 our labour : this work, till the prefent time, 
 has only been fupported by the courage and 
 emulation of its authors. All men of letters 
 ought, as he thought, eagerly to concur in the 
 execution of this moft ufeful undertaking. Pie 
 gave an example of it, with M. de Voltaire, 
 and feveral other celebrated writers. Perhaps 
 the oppofition which this work has met with, 
 and which reminded him of what had happen- 
 ed to himfelf, interefted him the more in our 
 favour. Perhaps he was fenfible, without per- 
 ceiving it, of that juftice which we dared to do 
 him in the firft volume of the Encyclopaedia, 
 when no body as yet ventured to fay a word in 
 his defence. He prepared for us an article ///>- 
 on tajle^ which has been found impcrfe(5l a- 
 mong his papers. We fliall give it to the pub- 
 lic in that condition, and treat it with the 
 lame rcfpcd that antiquity formerly fliowed to 
 
 E 2 the
 
 [ 5^3 
 
 the laft words of Seneca. Death prevented him 
 from giving us any farther marks of his benefit 
 cence ; and joining our own griefs with thofe 
 of all Europe, we might write on his tomb. 
 
 Finis vitce ejus nobis luBuofus, pair tee trips, 
 extraneis etiam ignotifque nonfine curafuit. 
 
 Tacit, in Agric. 
 
 THE
 
 THE 
 
 ANALYSIS 
 
 O F 
 
 The SPIRIT of LAWS. 
 
 By M. D'ALEMBERT. 
 
 TH E greateft part of men of letters who 
 have mentioned the Spirit of Laws, hav- 
 ing rather endeavoured to criticize it than to 
 give a juft idea of it j we fhall endeavour to 
 fupply what they ought to have done, and to 
 explain its plan, its nature, and its obje(5]:. Thofe 
 who may think this Analyfis too long, will 
 perhaps be of opinion, after having read it, that 
 there was no other method but this alone of 
 making the author's method properly under- 
 ftood. Befides, It ought to be remembered, 
 that the hiftory of celebrated writers Is no 
 more than that of their thoughts and their 
 works ; and that this part of their hiftory is the 
 moft eflential, and moft ufcful. 
 
 E 3 M^
 
 [ 54] 
 
 \J 
 
 r 
 
 MeiN in the ftate of nature, abftra<5ting from 
 all religion, in thofe difputcs which they may 
 have, knowing no other law but that of all 
 animals, the right of the ftrongeft, the efta- 
 bli{hment of fociety ought to be regarded as a 
 kind of treaty againft this unjuft title; a treaty 
 deftined to eftablifli a fort of balance between 
 the different divifions of the human race. 
 
 But it happens in the moral, as in the phy- 
 fical equilibrium; it is feldom perfect and du- 
 rable, and the treaties of mankind are, like 
 treaties among our princes, a perpetual fource 
 of difputes. Intereft, neceffity, and pleafure, 
 made men aflbciate together. The fame mo^\ 
 tives purti them continually to want to en- 
 joy the advantages of fociety without bearing 
 the burdens of it ; and it is in this fenfe that 
 we may fay with our author. That men, from 
 the time they enter into fociety, are in a ftate of j 
 war. For war fuppofes in thofe who make it,' 
 if not an equality of ftrength, at leafl an opi- 
 nion of this equality ; whence arife the mutu- 
 al defire and hope of conqueft. Now, in a 
 flate of fociety, if the balance among men is 
 never perfect, neither is it, on the other hand, 
 too unequal. On the contrary, they would 
 
 either
 
 r 55 ] 
 
 dthcr have nothing to difpute about in the ftate 
 of nature J or if neceility obliged them to it, 
 nothing would be feen but weaknefs flying be- 
 fore force, oppreffors meeting with no refift- 
 ance, and thofe who were opprefled, tamely 
 fubmitting. 
 
 Behold then men, united and armed at the 
 fame time, embracing each other on one lide> 
 if we may fpeak fo j and endeavouring on the 
 other mutually to wound each other. Laws 
 are the chains, more or lefs efficacious, which 
 are deftined to fufpend or to reftrain their 
 blows. But the prodigious extent of the globe 
 which we inhabit, the different nature of ths 
 regions of the earth, and of the people who are 
 fpread over it, not permitting that all mankind 
 fliould live under one and the fame govern- 
 ment, the human race was obliged to divide it- 
 felf into a certain number of dates, diilinguiili- 
 ed by the difference of thofe laws to which 
 they are fubjed:ed. One (ingle government 
 would have made the human kind to have been 
 no more than one extenuated and languifliing 
 body, extended without vigour over the furface 
 of the earth. The different governments are To 
 many robuft and adive bodies, which, by mu- 
 tually affilling each other, form one whole, 
 E 4. 2nd
 
 [ 56 1 
 
 and whofe reciprocal adion maintains and 
 keeps up motion and life every where. 
 
 We may diftinguifli three forts of govern- 
 ments, the repubhcan, the monarchical, the 
 dcfpotic. In the republican, the people in a 
 body poflefs the fovereign power. In the mo- 
 narchical, one fingle perfon governs by funda- 
 mental laws. In the defpotic, no other law is 
 known but the will of a mafter, or rather of a 
 tyrant. This is not to fay, that there are In 
 the univei fe only thefe three kinds of govern- 
 ment ; 'tis not even to fay, that there are ftates 
 which belong only and ftridly to fome one of 
 thefe forms; the greateft part of them are mixed 
 or (haded the one with the other. Here, monar- 
 chy inclines to defpotifm ; there, the monar- 
 chical government is combined with the repub- 
 lican ; elfewhere, 'tis not the whole people, 'tis 
 only a part of them, which make the laws. 
 But the preceding divifion is not on that ac- 
 count the lefs juft and exa<fL. The three 
 kinds of government, which it includes, are fo 
 diftinguifhed that they have properly nothing 
 in common ; and belides, all the governments 
 which we know participate the one of the 
 other. It was then neceffary to form particu- 
 lar clafles of thefe three kinds, and afterwards 
 
 to
 
 [57 J 
 
 to detemiine the laws which are proper for 
 each ; it will be eafy afterwards to adapt thofe 
 Jaws to any particular government, accord- 
 ing as it may belong more or lefs to thofe dif- 
 ferent forms. 
 
 In different ftates, the laws ought to be re- 
 lative to their nature, that is to fay, to that 
 which conftitutes them; and to tht'ir pr if idple, 
 that is to fay, to that which fupports them, and 
 puts them in motion : an important diftindion, 
 the key of an infinite number of laws, and 
 from which the author draws many confe- 
 quences. 
 
 The principal laws relative to the nature of 
 democracy are ; That the people be in fome 
 refpeds the monarch, and in others the lub- 
 jedt ; that it eled: and judge its magiflrates, 
 and that the magiftrates on certain occafions 
 decide. The nature of monarchv requires. 
 That there be between the monarch and the 
 people one body to whom the laws are entruft- 
 ed, and which ought to be a mediator between 
 the fubje(ft and the prince. The nature of de- 
 fpotifm requires. That the tyrant exercifc his au- 
 thority, either by himfelf alone, or by one who 
 rcprcfents himv 
 
 As
 
 t J8 ] 
 
 As to the principle of the three governments ; 
 that cff democracy is the love of the republic* 
 that is, of equality. In monarchies whete one 
 iingle perfon is the difpenfer of diftindtions and 
 revj^ards, and where they are accuftomed to con- 
 found the ftate vi^ith this fingle man, th 
 principle is honour, that is, ambition, and the 
 love of efteem. Laftly, under defpotifm, 'tis 
 fear. The more vigorous thefe principles are, 
 the more fixed the government is j the more 
 thefe are altered and corrupted, the more it 
 tends to its deftrud:ion. When the author 
 fpeaks of equality in democracy, he does not 
 mean an extreme, abfolute, and confequently 
 chimerical equality. He means that happy 
 equilibrium which renders all the citizens 
 equally fubjedt to the laws, and equally inter- 
 cfled to obferve them. 
 
 In every government the laws of education 
 ought to be relative to its principle. We un- 
 derftand here by education that which they re- 
 ceive when they are entering upon the world j 
 and not that of parents and of fchool-mafters, 
 which is often contrary to it, efpecially in fome 
 ftates. In monarchies, education ought to 
 have for its object politenefs and reciprocal civi- 
 lities :
 
 [ s^} 
 
 lities : in defpotic ftates, terror, and the debaf- 
 ing the fpirits of men. In republics they have 
 occafion for all the force of education : it 
 ought to infpire a fentiment which is noble, but 
 hard to be attained, that difregard to our own 
 intereft from whence the love of our country 
 arifes. 
 
 The laws which the legiflator makes ought 
 to be conformable to the principle of each go- 
 vernment : in a republic, to maintain equality 
 and frugality ; in monarchy, to fupport the 
 nobility without ruining the people ; in a def- 
 potic government, to lilence and equally to 
 keep under fubjedtion thofe of every condition. 
 M. dc Montefquieu ought not to be accufed 
 of having pointed out to fovereigns the prin- 
 ciples of arbitrary power, the very name of 
 which is fo odious to jufl princes, and flill 
 more fo to a wife and virtuous citizen. 'Tis 
 to labour to deftroy it, to point out what is 
 neceflary to maintain it : the perfedion of this 
 government is its ruin, and an exadt fyftem of 
 the laws of tyranny, fuch as our author de- 
 fcribes it to us, is at the fame time a fatyr up- 
 on, and the mofl formidable fcourge of ty- 
 rants. With refped to other governments, they 
 
 have
 
 [6o] 
 
 liave each their advantages : the republicjlh is 
 more proper to fmall, the monarchical to great 
 ftates J the repubUcan is more fubjeded to ex- 
 cefles, the monarchical to abofes ; the repub- 
 lican executes the laws after more mature de- 
 liberation, the monarchical wit-h more promp- 
 titude* 
 
 The difference of the principles of the three 
 governments muft produce many differences 
 in the number and objecfi of lavi^s, in the forms 
 of judgments, and the nature of ptmifhments* 
 The conftitution of monarchies, being inva^ 
 riable and fundamental, requires more civil 
 laws and tribunals, that juftice may be admii 
 niftred in the moft uniform and leaft arbitrary 
 manner. In moderate governments, be they 
 monarchical or republican, there cannot be too 
 many formalities in criminal laws. Puni/h- 
 ments ought not only to be in proportion to 
 the crime, but alfo as gentle as poffible, efpe-* 
 cially in a democracy : the opinion attached to 
 puni(l:iments will often have more effcOi than 
 their feverity. In republics, judgment muft 
 be given accordino^ to law, becaufe no indi- 
 vidual has the power to alter it. In mo- 
 narchies, the clemency of the fovereign can 
 
 fometimes
 
 [ 6i ] 
 
 fometimes foften the law : but crimes ought 
 never to be judged there but by magiftrates ex-r 
 prefsly intruded with that office. In a word, 
 'tis principally in democracies that the laws 
 ought to be fevere againft luxury, loofenefs of 
 morals, and debauching of women. Their 
 very foftnefs and weaknefs render them fit 
 enough to govern in monarchies ; and hiftory 
 proves, that they have often wore a crown with 
 glory. 
 
 M. DE Montesquieu having thus run over 
 each government in particular, afterwards ex- 
 amines them in the relation which they may 
 have with each other, but only in the moll ge- 
 neral point of view, that is to fay, under that 
 which is only relative to their nature and their 
 principle. Viewed in this light, ftates can 
 have no relations, but that of defending them- 
 felves, or of attacking. Republics by their na- 
 ture, fuppofnig their {late to be fmall, cannot 
 defend themfelves without alliances ; but it is 
 with republics that they ought to ally them- 
 felves. The defenfive force of monarchy i^on- 
 fifls principally in having frontiers fecured from 
 infults. States, like men, have a right to at- 
 tack for their own prefervation : from the right 
 of war that of conqucft is derived j a right ne- 
 
 ccflary.
 
 _ [ 62] 
 
 ceiTary, lawful, calamitous, which always lays' an 
 immenfe debt upon us, if we would difcharge what 
 en that account becomes due from us to human na^ 
 ture, and the general law of which is to do as lit- 
 tle harm as pofTible to the conquered. Repub- 
 lics can conquer lefs than monarchies : immenfe 
 conquefls fuppofe defpotifm already in a ftate, 
 or render its approach certain. One of the 
 great principles of the fpirit of conqueft ought 
 to be, to render the condition of the conquer- 
 ed as much better as poffible : this is to fulfil, 
 at once, the law of nature, and a maxim of 
 ftate. Nothing is more noble than that treaty 
 of peace which Gelo made with the Carthagi- 
 nians, by which he forbad them to facrince for 
 the future their own children. The Spaniards, 
 when they conquered Peru, ought in the fame 
 way to have obliged the inhabitants no more to 
 have facriiiced men to their Gods ; but they 
 thought it more advantageous to facrifice thefe 
 people themfelves. There remained nothing 
 to them as a conqueft but a vaft defert j they 
 were obliged to depopulate their own country, 
 and ' for ever weakened it by their own con- 
 queft. It may fometimes be neceflary to 
 change the laws of the conquered people 3 it can 
 never be fo to deprive them of their manners, 
 or even of their cufloms, which arc often all 
 
 thcv
 
 [63] i^^^' 
 
 they have for manners. But the fureft way of / 
 preferving a conqueft, is to put, if 'tis poflible, 
 the conquered on a level with the conquerors, 
 to grant them the fame rights and the fame 
 privileges : this the Romans often did, and 
 thus efpecially Cssfar aded with refpedt to the . / 
 Qauls. J 
 
 Hitherto, when confidering government, 
 as well in itfelf as in its relation to others, we 
 have neither taken notice of what ought to be 
 common to them, nor of thofe particular 
 circumftances which arife either from the na- 
 ture of the country, or from the genius of the 
 people. 'Tis this which we muft now ex- 
 plain. 
 
 That political liberty which every citizen 
 ought to enjoy, is the common law of all go- 
 vernments, at lead moderate governments, and 
 confequently juft ones. This liberty is not an 
 abfurd licence of doing every thing we wifli to 
 do, but the power of doing every thing that 
 the laws permit. It may be confidered either 
 in its relation to the conftltution, or in its rela- 
 tion to the citizen. There are in the conftitq- 
 tion of every ftate two forts of power>, the le- 
 gillativc aod the executive > and this laft has
 
 [64] 
 two obje<fts, the internal police, and its relat'ion 
 to foreign interefts. 'Tis from the legitimate 
 diftribution and proper fubdivifion of thefe dif- 
 ferent powers, that the greateft perfedion of 
 political liberty with relation to the conftitution 
 depends. M. de Montefquieu briftgs as a proof 
 of this the conftitution of the Roman republic, 
 and that of England. He finds the principle . 
 of the laft in that fundamental law of the go- 
 vernment of the ancient Germans, that affairs 
 of fmall importance were determined by the 
 chiefs, and that great affairs were brought be- 
 fore the tribuuai of the nation, after they had 
 been fir ft debated by them. M. de Mon- 
 tefquieu does not examine whether the Englifh 
 enjoy adlually or not that high political liberty 
 which their conftitution gives them ; 'tis 
 enough for him that it is eftablifhed by their 
 laws. He is ftill farther from writing a fatire j 
 upon other ftates : he believes on the contrary> 
 that an excefs even of good is not always defi^ 
 rable ; that extreme liberty, like extreme fla- 
 very, has its inconveniences j and that in gene- 
 ral human nature is moft adapted to a middling^) 
 , ftate of freedom. 
 
 i- ' '' 
 
 Political liberty, considered with relation 
 
 to a citizen, confifts in that fccurity in which he 
 
 ^" ' A lives
 
 r 65 ] 
 
 lives under flielter of the laws ; or at leafl iti 
 an opinion of this fecurity which makes no one 
 citizen entertain any fear of another. 'Tis prin- 
 cipally by the nature and proportion of punifh- 
 ments, that this liberty is eftablifhed or deftroy-^ 
 ed. Crimes againft religion ought to be pu- 
 nifhed by a privation of thofe advantages which 
 religion procures ; crimes againft morality, 
 by niamc j crimes againft the public tranquillity, 
 by imprifonment or baniftiment j crimes againft 
 its fecurity, by more grievous puniftiments. 
 Writings ought to be lefs puniflied than ac- 
 tions; fimple thoughts ought never to be fo. Ac- 
 cufations which are not according to the forms 
 of law, fpies, anonymous letters, all thofe re- 
 fources of tyranny which are equally difgraceful 
 to fuch as are the inftruments of them, and to 
 thofe who make ufe of them, ought to be pro- 
 fcribed in every good monarchical government. 
 No body ought to be permitted to accufe but in 
 face of the law, which always punifhes either 
 the accufed perfon or the calumniator. In 
 every other cafe, thofe who govern ought to 
 fay, with the Emperor Conftantius : JVe can^ 
 not fufpeB a man againji "whom no accufcr ap^ 
 feared^ ivhcn at the fame time he did not want an 
 eJiemy. 'Tis a very fine inftitution by which a 
 public oflicer charges himfclf, in name of the 
 
 F ftute.
 
 [ 66 ] 
 ftate, with the profecution oBi crimes ; as this 
 anfwers all the good purpofes of informers 
 without being expofed to thofe fordid interefts, 
 thofe inconveniencies, and that infamy, which 
 attend them. 
 
 The greatnefs of taxes ought to be in a di- 
 redt proportion, with public liberty. Thus, in 
 democracies they may be greater than elfe- 
 where, without being burdenfome j becaufe 
 every citizen looks upon them as a tribute 
 which he pays to himfelf, and which fecures 
 the tranquillity and fortune of every member 
 of it. Befides, in a democratical ftate, an un- 
 iuft application of the public revenue is more 
 difficult ; becaufe it is eafier to find it out, and 
 to puniih it, he who is intrufted with it being 
 obliged to give an account of it, fo to fpeak, to 
 the firH: citizen who requires it of him. 
 
 In every government, of whatever fort, the 
 leafl; burdenfome kind of tax is that which 
 is laid upon merchandize ; becaufe the citi- 
 zen pays without perceiving it. An excef- 
 live number of troops in time of peace is only 
 a pretence to load the people with taxes, a 
 means of enervating the flate, and an inftru- 
 ment of ilavery. 
 
 That
 
 16?] 
 
 That adminiftration of the revenues which 
 makes the whole produce of it enter into the 
 public treafury is beyond comparifon leaft 
 chargeable to the people, and confequently 
 more advantageous when it can take place than 
 the farming out of thefe taxes, which always 
 leaves in the hands of private perfons part of 
 the revenue of the ftate. But above all, every 
 thing is ruined (thefe are the author's own 
 words) when the profeffion of a farmer of the 
 revenues becomes honourable j and it becomes 
 fo, when luxury is at a great height. To 
 permit fome men to acquire vafl fortunes out 
 of what belongs to the public, to plunder them 
 in their turn, as was formerly pradtifed in cer- 
 tain flates, is to repair one injuftice by another, 
 and to commit two ills inftead of one. 
 
 Let us now come, with M. de Montefquieu, 
 tothofe particular circumftances which are in- 
 dependant of the nature of government, and to 
 which laws ought to be adapted. The cir- 
 cumftances which arife from the nature of the 
 country, are of two forts ; the one has a rela- 
 tion to the climate, the other to the foil. No 
 body doubts but that the climate has an influ- 
 ence upon the habitual difpofition of the bodies, 
 F 2 and
 
 t 68 1 
 
 and confequentlyupon the charadcrs of men; on 
 which account laws ought to be framed agree- 
 able to the nature of the clime in indifferent 
 things, and, on the contrary, to refift its bad 
 effeds. Thus, in countries where the ufe of 
 wine is hurtful, that law which forbids it is a 
 very good one : in countries where the heat of 
 the climate inclines people to lazinefs, that law 
 which incourages labour is a very proper one. 
 The government can then correcft the effedis 
 of the climate ; and this is enough to obviate 
 that reproach which has been thrown upon the 
 Spirit of Laws, as if it attributed every thing to 
 cold and heat : for, befides that heat and cold 
 are not the only circumftances by which cli- 
 mates are diftlnguKhed, it would be as abfurd 
 to deny certain effects of climate, as to attri- 
 bute every thing to it. 
 
 The pradlice of having flaves, eflablifhed in 
 the warm countries of Afia and America, and 
 rejeded in the temperate climates of Europe, 
 affords our author an opportunity of treating of 
 flavery in a ftate. Men having no more right 
 over the liberty, than over the lives of each o- 
 ther, it follows that llavery, generally fpeak- 
 ing, is againft the law of nature. In effed:, 
 the right of llavery cannot arife from war, be- 
 
 caufe
 
 169] 
 
 caufc it could not then be founded on any 
 thing but the redemption of one's life, and 
 nobody has a right over the life of one who no 
 longer attacks him ; nor from that fale which a 
 man may make of himfelf to another, fince 
 every citizen, being accountable for his life to 
 the ilate, is ftill more fo for his liberty, and 
 confequently has no title to fell it. Befides, 
 what could be a proper price for fuch a fale ? 
 It cannot be the money given to the feller, be^ 
 caufe the moment he fells himfelf every thing 
 that belongs to him becomes the property of 
 his mafter : now a fale without a price is as 
 chimerical, as a contracl without a condition. 
 There could never be but one juft law in fa- 
 vour of flavcry; this was that Roman law 
 which made a debtor become the flave of a 
 creditor : and even this law, to be equitable, 
 ought to limit the flavery, both with refped: to 
 its degree, and time of duration. Slavery can' 
 only be tolerated in defpotic ftates, where free- 
 men, too weak againftthe government, endea- 
 vour to become, by their ufefulnefs, the fiaves 
 of thofe who tyrannife over the flate ; or in 
 thofe Climates, where heat fo enervates the bo- 
 dy and weakens the courage, that men cannot 
 be incited to a laborious talk but by the 
 fear of punifhment. Near to civil flavery 
 F 3 may
 
 [7] 
 
 may be placed domeflic flavery, that is, that 
 in which women are kept in certain countries. 
 This can take place in thofe countries of Ada 
 where they are in a condition to live with 
 men before they can make ufe of their reafon ; 
 marriageable by the law of the climate, child- 
 ren by that of nature. This fubjedlion be- 
 comes ftill more neceffary in thofe countries 
 where polygamy is eftablifhed : a cuftom 
 which M. de Montefquieu does not pretend to 
 juftify, in fo far as it is contrary to religion ; 
 but which, in places where it is received, and, 
 only fpeaking politically, may have a founda- 
 tion to a certain degree, either from the nature 
 of the climate, or the relation which the num- 
 ber of women bears to that of men. M. dc 
 Montefquieu fpeaks upon this occalion of re- 
 pudiation and divorce ; and he {liows, from 
 good reafons, that repudiation once admitted 
 ought to be permitted to women as well as 
 to men. 
 
 If the climate has fo much influence on do- 
 meflic and civil flavery, it has no lefs on poli- 
 tical flavery ; that is, upon what fubjeds one 
 nation to another. The people in the north 
 are fl:ronger and more courageous than thofe of 
 the fouth : thefe muft then in general be con- 
 
 queredj
 
 [71 ] 
 
 quered, thofe conquerors ; thefe ilavcs, thofe 
 free. And hiflory confirms this : Afia has 
 been eleven times conquered by the people of 
 the north j Europe has fuifered many fewer 
 revolutions. 
 
 With refped: to lav?s relative to the nature 
 of the foil, 'tis plain, that democracy agrees 
 better than monarchy to barren countries, 
 where the earth has occafion for all the induftry 
 of men. Liberty, befides, in this cafe, is a fort 
 of recompence for the difficulty of labour. 
 More laws are neceffary for a people which 
 follows agriculture, than for one which tends 
 flocks; for thi5, than for a hunting people; for 
 a people which makes ufe of money, than for 
 one that does not : in a word, the particular 
 genius of a nation ought to be attended to. 
 Vanity, which augments objecfts, is a good 
 fpring for government ; pride, v/hich under- 
 values them, is a dangerous one. The legif- 
 lator ought to refped:, to a certain degree, pre- 
 judices, pallions, abufes. He ought to imitate 
 Solon, who gave the Athenians not thofe laws 
 which were beft in themfelves, but the beft 
 which they were capable of receiving : the 
 gay charadcr of this people required gentle, the 
 auflere charadcr of the Lacedemonians, feverc 
 F 4 laws.
 
 [72] 
 
 laws. Laws are a bad method of changing 
 the manners and cuftoms ; 'tis by rewards and 
 example that we ought to endeavour to bring 
 that about. 'Tis however true at the fame time, 
 that the laws of a people, when they don't 
 grofsly and diredly afted to {hock its man- 
 ners, muft infenfibly have an influence upon 
 them, either to confirm or change them. 
 
 After having in this manner deeply confi- 
 dered the Nature and Spirit of Laws with rela- 
 tion to different kinds of climates and people, 
 our author returns again to coniider ftates in 
 that relation which they bear to each other. 
 At firfl, when comparing them in a general 
 manner, he could only view them with refped: 
 to the prejudice which they can do each other : 
 here he confiders them with refpeft to thofe 
 mutual fuccours which they can give. Now 
 thefe fuccours are principally founded on com-. 
 "inerce. If the fpirit of commerce naturally 
 produces a fpirit of intereft, which is different 
 from the fublimity of moral virtues, it alfo ren- 
 ders the people naturally jufl, and averfe to 
 idlenefs and living en plunder. Free people 
 "who live under moderate governments, muft be 
 more given to it, than enflaved nations. No 
 jQation ought ever to exclude from its com- 
 merce
 
 [73 ] 
 merce another nation without great reafons.' 
 Befides, liberty in this way is not an abfolute 
 privilege granted to merchants to do what they 
 will ; a power which would be oft prejudicial 
 to them. It confifts in laying no reflraints on 
 merchants but for the advantage of commerce. 
 In a monarchy, the nobility ought not to apply 
 to it, and ftill lefs the prince. In a word, there 
 are fome nations to which commerce is difad- 
 vantageous ; but they are not fuch as fland 
 in need of nothing, but fuch as fland in need 
 of ever thing ; a paradox which our author 
 renders intelligible by the example of Poland, 
 which wants every thing except corn, and 
 which, by that commerce which it carries on 
 with it, deprives the common people of the 
 necefTaries of life, to gratify the luxury of the 
 nobility. M. de Montefquieu takes occafion, 
 when treating of thofe laws which commerce 
 requires, to give us an hiftory of its different 
 revolutions : and this part of his book is neither 
 the leaft interefling, nor the leaft curious. He 
 compares the impoveriiliment of Spain by the 
 difcovery of America, to the fate of that weak 
 prince in the fable, ready to perifli for hunger, 
 bccaufe he had afked the Gods that every 
 thing that he touched fliould be turned into 
 pold. The ufe of mcnty beins: one confiJcra- 
 
 b!c
 
 [74] 
 
 bk part of the objed: of commerce, and its 
 principal inftrument, he was of opinion that 
 he ought, in confequence of this, to treat of 
 the different operations with refpedl to money, 
 of exchange, of the payment of public debts, 
 of lending out money for intereft, the rules and 
 limits of which he fixes_, and which he diftin- 
 guifhes accurately from that excefs fo juftly 
 condemned as ufury. 
 
 Population and the number of inhabitants 
 have an immediate connexion with commerce ; 
 and marriages, having population as their ob- 
 jedl, under this article M. de Montefquieu goes 
 to the bottom of this important fubje(5t. That 
 which favours propagation moft is general chaf- 
 tity : experience proves, that illicit amours con- 
 tribute very little, and even fometimes are pre- 
 judicial to it. The confent of fathers has with 
 juftice been required in marriages : neverthelefs 
 fome reftridions ought to be added j for the 
 law ought in general to favour marriage. That 
 law which forbids the marriage of mothers 
 with their fons, is, indepcndendy of the pre- 
 cepts of religion, a very good civil law 5 for, 
 without mentioning feveral other reafons, the 
 parties being of very different ages, thefe fort 
 of marriages can rarely have propagation as 
 
 their
 
 [75] 
 
 their objed. That law which forbids th 
 marriage of a father with a daughter is found- 
 ed upon very different reafons. However 
 (only fpeaking in a political fenfe) it is not fo 
 indlfpenfibly neceffary to the objedl of popula- 
 tion as the other, becaufe the power of propa- 
 gating continues much longer in men ; and 
 the other cuftom has, befides, been eflablifhed 
 among certain nations which the light of 
 chriftianity had not inllghtned. As nature of 
 herfelf prompts to marriage, that muft be a 
 bad government which is obliged to encourage 
 it. Liberty, fecurity, moderate taxes, banifh- 
 ing of luxury, are the true principles and fup- 
 ports of populoufnefs. However laws may, 
 with fuccefs, be made to encourage marriage, 
 when, in fpite of corruption, there is ftlll fome- 
 thing remaining in the people which attaches 
 them to the love of their country. Nothing is 
 finer than the laws of Auguftus, to promote 
 the propagation of the fpecles. Unfortunately 
 he made thofe laws in the decline, or rather 
 after the downfal of the republic ; and the dif- 
 pirited citizens muft have forefeen, that they 
 would no longer propagate any thing but 
 flaves : and indeed the execution of thofe laws 
 was very faint during all the time of the Pagan 
 Emperors. At laft Conftantinc aboliflicd them 
 
 when
 
 [76] 
 
 when he became a chriftian ; as if chrlftlanity 
 had had in view to difpeople the world when 
 it recommended the perfedion of celibacy to a 
 fmall number. 
 
 The eftablifliment of hofpitals, according to 
 the different fpirit of thefe foundations, may be 
 hurtful or favourable to population. There 
 may, and indeed there ought to be, hofpitals in 
 a flate where the mofl part of the citizens are 
 maintained by their induftry; becaufe this in- 
 duftry may fometimes be unfuccefsful j but 
 that relief which thofe hofpitals give ought to 
 be only temporary, not to encourage beggary 
 and idlenefs. The people are firfl to be made 
 rich, and then hofpitals to be built for unfore- 
 feen and preffing occafions. Unhappy are thofe 
 countries where the multitude of hofpitals and 
 of monafteries, which are only a kind of perpe- 
 tual hofpitals, makes all the world live at eafe 
 but thofe who v/ork ! 
 
 M. DE Montesquieu has hitherto only 
 fpoke of human laws ; he now proceeds to 
 thofe of religion, v/hich, in almofl all ftates, 
 compcfe fo eilential an objed of government. 
 Every where he breaks forth into praifes of 
 chrlftianity 3 he points out its advantages and 
 
 its
 
 [77] 
 its grandeur ; he endeavours to make it be lo- 
 ved J he maintains, that it is not impoflible, as 
 Bayle has pretended, that a fociety of perfe(3: 
 chriftians fliould adually form a durable ftate. 
 But he alfo thought that he might be permit- 
 ted to examine what different religions, hu- 
 manly fpeaking, might have fuitable or unfui- 
 table to the genius and fituation of thofe people 
 which profefs them. 'Tis in this point of 
 view that we muft read all that he has wrote up- 
 on this article, and which has been the fubjedt 
 of fo many unjuft declamations. It is efpecl- 
 ally furprifing that, in an age which prefumes 
 to call fo many others barbarous, what he has 
 faid of toleration fhould be objected to him as 
 a crime ; as if approving and tolerating a re- 
 ligion were the fame j as if the gofpel itfelf did 
 not forbid every other way of propagating it, 
 but that of meeknefs and perfuafion. Thofc 
 in whofe heart fuperftition has not extinguifh- 
 ed every fentiment of compaffion and juftice, 
 will not be able to read, without being moved, 
 the Remonftrance to the Inquifitors, that 
 odious tribunal, which outrageoufly affronts 
 religion when it appears to avenge it. 
 
 In a word, after having treated in particular 
 
 of the different kind of laws which men can 
 
 I have,
 
 [78] 
 have, there renlains nothing more than to 
 compare them all together, and to examine 
 them in their relation with thofe things con- 
 cerning which they prefcribe rules. 
 
 Men are governed by different kinds of 
 laws 5 by natural law, common to each indivi- 
 dual ; by the divine law, which is that of reli- 
 gion ; by the ecclefiaftical law, which is that 
 of the policy of religion ; by the civil law, 
 which is that of the members of the fame fo- 
 ciety ; by the pohtical law, which is that of 
 the government of that fociety j by the law of 
 nations, which is that of focieties with refpedt 
 to each other. Thefe laws have each their 
 diftindt objecfts, which are carefully not to be 
 confounded. That which belongs to the one 
 ought never to be regulated by the other, left 
 diforder and injuftice {hould be introduced into 
 the principles which govern men. In a word, 
 thofe principles which prefcribe the nature of 
 the laws, and which determine their objeds, 
 ought to prevail alfo in the manner of compo- 
 ng them. A fpirit of moderation ought, as 
 much as poffible, to didate all their different 
 difpofitions. Laws that are properly made 
 will be conformed to the intention of the legif- 
 
 lator,
 
 f 79] 
 
 lator, even when they appear to be in oppo- 
 fition to it. Such was the famous law of So- 
 lon, by which all who fhould not take fomc 
 part in the public tumults were declared infa- 
 mous. It prevented feditions, or rendered 
 them ufeful by forcing all the members of the 
 republic to attend to its true interefts. Even 
 the oftracifm was a good law ; for, on one 
 hand, it was honourable to the citizen who was 
 the objedt of it, and prevented, on the other, 
 the effects of ambition : befides, a great num- 
 ber of fuffrages was neceflary, and they could 
 only banifli every fifth year. Laws, which 
 appear the fame, have often neither the fame 
 motive, nor the fame effedt, nor the fame 
 equity. The form of government, different 
 conjunctures, and the genius of the people, 
 quite change them. In a word, the ftyle of 
 laws ought to be fimple and grave. They 
 may difpenfe with giving reafons, becaufe the 
 reafon is fuppofed to exift in the mind of the le- 
 giflator ; but when they give reafons, they ought 
 to be built upon evident principles : they ought 
 not to refemble that lav/ wliich, prohibiting 
 blind people to plead, gives this as a reafon, be- 
 caufe they can't fee the ornaments of magif- 
 tracy. 
 
 M. DE
 
 1 80] 
 
 M. DE Montesquieu, to point out by e^t- 
 amples the application of his principles, has 
 chofen two difierent people, the moft celebra- 
 ted in the world, and thofe whofe hiftory mofl 
 interefts us j the Romans and the French. 
 He does not dwell but upon one point of the 
 jurifprudenc^ of the firft, that which regards 
 fuccelTion. With regard to the French, he 
 enters into a greater detail, concerning the ori- 
 gin and revolutions of their civil laws, and the 
 different ufages abolifhed or flill fubiifting, 
 which have been the confequences of them. 
 He principally enlarges upon the feudal laws, 
 that kind of government unknown to all anti- 
 quity, which will perhaps for ever be fo to fu- 
 ture ages, and which has done fo much good 
 and fo much ill. He efpecially confiders thefe 
 laws in the relation which they have with the 
 eilablifhment and revolution of the French mo- 
 narchy. Fie proves, againft the Abbe du Bos, 
 that the Franks adtually entered as conquerors 
 among the Gauls j and that it is not true, as 
 this author pretends, that they had been called 
 by the people to fucceed to the rights of the 
 Roman Emperors v^ho oppreffed them : a 
 detail profound, exad: and curious, but in 
 which it is impoiTibie for us to follow him. 
 
 Such
 
 [8iJ 
 
 Such is the general analyfis, but a very im- 
 perfea: one, of M. de Montefquieu's work 
 We have feparated it from the reft of his 
 E/oge, not too much to interrupt the thread 
 of our hiftory. 
 
 G AN
 
 AN 
 
 O R A T I O N 
 
 Pronounced the 24th of January, 1728. 
 By Prefident MONTESQUIEU: 
 
 When he was received into the French Academy, 
 in room of the late M. de Sacy. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 BY beftowing upon me the place of Mr. 
 DE Sacy, you have not fo much taught 
 the public what I am, as what I ought to be. 
 
 It was not your intention to compare me 
 with him, but to point him out to me as a 
 model. 
 
 Formed for fociety, he was amiable, he was 
 ufeful in it : his manners were eafy and agree- 
 able J his morals were {\.n^ and fevere. 
 
 To a fine genius he joined a ftill more ex- 
 cellent heart : the qualities of his head held 
 
 only
 
 r S3 1 
 
 only the fecond place in him ; they were an 
 ornament to his merit, but not its principal 
 fource. 
 
 He wrote to inftrud j and while inftrucjt- 
 ing, he always made himfelf be beloved. 
 Every thing in his works breathes a fpirit of 
 candor and probity. They make us feel and 
 confefs the goodnefs of his heart : we never 
 difcover the great man, but along with the 
 man of honour. 
 
 He followed virtue from natural inclination) 
 he was ftill more attached to it by his ftudies. 
 He was of opinion that having wrote upoa 
 morality, it became him to be more {\:r\t\ in 
 his conduct than others ; that there could be 
 no excufe for him, fince he had laid down 
 the rules of duty ; that it would be ridiculous 
 if he himfelf could not do what he believed 
 all men capable of doing ; that it would be an 
 abandoning of his own maxims ; and tliat he 
 would at the fame time have had reafon to 
 blufl-j for what he had done, and for what he 
 had laid. 
 
 In what a noble manner did he cxcrcife his 
 profcffion ? All who flood in need of his uf- 
 
 G 2 fiftance
 
 [ 84] 
 fiftancc became his friends. At the end of 
 each day, he hardly met with any other re- 
 ward but that of fome additional good anions : 
 always lefs rich, and always more difinterefted,he 
 hath left his children fcarce any thing more than 
 the honour of having had fo illuftrious' a father. 
 
 Gentlemen, you love virtuous men ; you 
 don't overlook even in the fineft genius any ill 
 quality of the heart j and you look upon ta- 
 lents, without virtue, as fatal prefents, only pro- 
 per to add ftrength to our vices, or to render 
 them more confpicuous. 
 
 And by this you are indeed worthy of thofc 
 great protedtors who have intrufted you with 
 their glory, who have wiflied to be tranfmitted 
 down to pofterity, but who have wiflied to be 
 fo along with you. 
 
 Many orators and poets have celebrated 
 them; but it is only you who have been efta- 
 blifhcd to render them, fo to fpeak, a perpetual 
 homage. 
 
 Full of zeal and admiration for thofe great 
 men ; you are always a recalling them to our re- 
 membrance. You are continually celebrating 
 
 them;
 
 [85] 
 
 them ; and yet fo furprifing is the effe(fl of 
 your art, your eulogiums appear always new. 
 
 You always excite our admiration and won- 
 der, when you celebrate that great minifter, 
 who out of chaos reduced the rules of monar- 
 chy to a regular fyftem ; who taught France 
 the fecret of her ftrength, Spain that of her 
 weaknefs j freed Germany from her chains, 
 gave her new ones ; broke every power tn its 
 turn, and deftined, fo to fpeak, Lewis the 
 Great for the great adions which he after- 
 wards performed. 
 
 You never refemblc each other in your Elo- 
 ges of that Chancellor, who neither abufed the 
 confidence of kings, nor the obedience and fub- 
 miflion of the people ; and who, in the exer- 
 cifc of magiftracy, was without paflion like the 
 laws, which abfolve and punifh without love or 
 hatred. 
 
 But above all we are charmed to behold 
 you with emulation ftrive to draw the portrait 
 of Lewis the Greats that portrait every day be- 
 gun and never finished, every day more advan- 
 ced and more difficult. Hardly can we con- 
 ceive the wonders of that reign which you ce- 
 G 3 lebrate.
 
 [86 ] 
 
 lebratc. When you reprefcnt to us fciences 
 every where encouraged, arts proteded, belles 
 lettres cultivated, we imagine we hear you 
 talking of a reign of peace and tranquillity. 
 When you fing of wars and vidiories, you feem 
 to us to be relating ;the hiftory of fome nation 
 rufhing from the north to change the face of 
 the earth. Here we fee the king, there the 
 hero. 'Tis thus that a majeftic river is turned 
 into a torrent that deflroys every thing that op- 
 pofes its pafTage : 'tis thus that the iky appears 
 to the huibandman clear and ferene, whilft, in 
 the neighbouring country, it is covered over 
 with fire, lightning and thunder. 
 
 Gentlemen, you have afTociated me with 
 yourfelves in your labours, you have raifed me 
 to your own dignity 3 and I return you thanks 
 for permitting me to know you better, and 
 more nearly to behold and admire you. 
 
 I RETURN you thanks for giving me a par- 
 ticular right to write the adtions of our young 
 monarch. May he delight to hear thofe enco- 
 miums which are given to pacific princes ! May 
 that immenfe power which is put in his hands, 
 be a pledge of the happinefs of all ! May all 
 the earth repofe itfelf under his throne ! May 
 
 he
 
 [ 8/ 1 
 
 he be the king of one nation, and the protec- 
 tor of every other ! May every people love 
 him 5 may his fubjed:s adore him -, and may 
 there not be one fingle perfon in the univerfe 
 who fhall grieve at his happinefs, or dread his 
 profperity ! May thofe fatal jealoulies, which 
 render men the enemies of rtien, at laft: perifti ! 
 May human blood, that blood which always 
 pollutes the earth, be fpared ! And that this 
 great object may be obtained, may that minif- 
 ter who is neceffary to the world, who is fuch a 
 one as the people of France fhould have alked 
 of Heaven, continue to give counfels which 
 penetrate the heart of a prince always ready to 
 do every good aftion that is propofed to him> 
 or to repair that ill which he was not the au- 
 thor of, and which time has produced ! 
 
 Lewis has fliewn, that as people are fub- 
 je(fted to the laws, princes are fo to their pro- 
 mifes, which are facred : That great kings who 
 can't be fo by any other power, are invincibly 
 bound by thofe chains which they make for 
 thcmfelves, like tliat God whofc reprefenta- 
 tives they are, who is always independent, 
 and always faithful to his promifes. How 
 many virtues does a faith, fo rcligioufly obferv- 
 G 4 cd,
 
 [88] 
 edy prefage! Such fhall be the deftlny of 
 France, that after having been agitated under 
 the Valoisy fettled und^tr Henry, aggrandized un- 
 der his fuccelTor, vidorious or invincible under 
 Lewis the Great, it {hall be perfedly happy 
 under him who {hall not be obliged to con- 
 quer, and who {hall place all his glory in go- 
 verning. 
 
 AN
 
 A N 
 
 fe s s A Y 
 
 UPON 
 
 TASTE, 
 
 In Subjeds of Nature, and of AR-f. " . 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 ACCORDING to the prefent conftitution of 
 our being, the foul enjoys three forts of 
 pleafure. That derived from its very exiftence; 
 that which refults from its union with the bo- 
 dy ; and that founded upon the turn and pre- 
 judices it has received from certain inflitutions, 
 cufloms, and habits. 
 
 'Tisthe different pleafuresof the Soul which' 
 form the objeds of Tafte ; as, the Beautiful, 
 the Good, the Agreeable, the Simple, the De- 
 licate, the Tender, the Graceful, the inex-* 
 prclliblc charm, the Noble, the Grand, the 
 Sublime, the Majeftic, &c. For example, 
 whf-n we receive pleafure from the view of 
 
 n what
 
 [9] 
 
 what we perceive to be ufeful to ourfelves, we 
 fay that it is Good j when we feel pleafure in 
 beholding it, without perceiving any prefent 
 advantage, we call it Beautiful. 
 
 This the antients did not properly diftin- 
 guifli ; they confidered all the relative qualities 
 of the mind as merely pofitive : hence thofe 
 dialogues in which Plato makes Socrates rea- 
 fon, thofe dialogues fo much admired by the 
 antients, are at prefent infupportable, becaufc 
 they are founded upon a falfe philofophy j for 
 all reafonings drawn from the Good, the Beau- 
 tiful, Perfea, Wife, Foolifh, Hard, Soft, Dry, 
 Wet, when treated as Things pofitive, are now 
 of no weight. 
 
 The fources of the Beautiful, the Good, the 
 Agreeable, &c. are then in ourfelves ; and to 
 inquire into their caufes, is to inquire into the 
 caufes of our mental Pleafures. 
 
 Let us then examine the Mind j let us 
 ftudy it in its Adions, and in its Paflions j let 
 us feck for it in its Pleafures, 'tis there where 
 it (hews itfelf moft. Poetry, Painting, Sculp- 
 ture, Architecture, Mufic, Dancing, the dif- 
 ferent kinds of games, and in a word the 
 
 Works
 
 [ 91 ] 
 
 Works of Nature and Art, can give It pleafure: 
 let us fee why, how, and when, they give it ; 
 let us endeavour to account for our fenfations : 
 this may contribute to forni the Tafte j which 
 is nothing elfe but an ability of difcovering, 
 with delicacy and quicknefs, the degree of 
 pleafure which every thing ought to give to 
 man. 
 
 H 2 OF
 
 r 
 
 - O F T H E 
 
 PLEASURES 
 
 O F T H E 
 
 SO U L. 
 
 TH E Soul, independently of thofe Plea- 
 fures it derives from the fenfes, has 
 fome which it would have without them, and 
 are proper to itfelf. Such are thofe it derives 
 from Curiofity, the Ideas of its own Grandeur 
 and Perfe(5tions, the Idea of its Exiftence, op- 
 pofed to the thought of Annihilation, the Plea- 
 fure of embracing the whole of a General Idea, 
 that of viewing a multiplicity of objedls at once, 
 and that of comparing, joining, and feparating 
 Ideas. Thefe Pleafures are, from the nature 
 of the Soul, independent of the fenfes, becaufe 
 they belong to every being that thinks : and it 
 is of fmall confequence to examine here, whe- 
 ther the Soul has thefe Pleafures, as a fubftance 
 united to the body, or as feparated from it, be- 
 caufe italways has them, and they are the objeds 
 of Tafte : on which account we fhall not dif- 
 
 tinguifli
 
 [93l 
 
 tinguifh here the Pleafures that flow from the 
 nature of the Soul, from thofe that refult from 
 its union with the body; thefe wefhall call natu- 
 ral Pleafures, and diftinguifli them from thofc 
 which the Soul creates to itfelf, by certain af- 
 fociations with thefe natural Pleafures ; and in 
 the fame manner, and for the fame reafon 
 we (hall diftinguifh natural and acquired , 
 Tafte. 
 
 It is proper we fhould know the fources of 
 thofe Pleafures of which Tafte is the judge. 
 The knowledge of natural and acquired Plea- 
 fures may fcrve to redtify our natural and ac- 
 quired Tafte. We muft begin with confidering 
 the nature of our being, and know what its 
 Pleafures are, to be able at laft to meafure thofe 
 Pleafures, and even fometimes to feel them. 
 
 If the Soul had not been united to the body^ 
 it would have had clear intelligence, and it is 
 probable that it would have loved what it fully 
 undciftood; at prcfent we fcarcely love any 
 thing that wc arc thoroughly acquainted with. 
 
 Our manner of exifting is intirely arbi- 
 trary J wc might have been made as we are, or 
 ri 3 other-
 
 [ 94 ] 
 
 otherwife : but if we had been made other wife, 
 we fhould have had . different feelings j one 
 organ, more or lefs, in our machine, would 
 have given rife to another kind of eloquence, 
 another kind of poetry j a different contexture 
 of the fame organs would have flill produced 
 another fort of poetry: for example, if the con- 
 flitution of our organs had rendered us capable 
 of a longer attention, all the rules about pro- 
 portioning the difpofition of a fubjed to the 
 meafureof our attention, would have been at 
 an end ; if we had been made capable of more 
 penetration, all the rules founded upon the de- 
 gree of our penetration, would have fallen to 
 the ground. In a word, all the lavv^s formed 
 from the contexture of our machine would be 
 different if our machine was not form.ed in that 
 manner. 
 
 If our fight had been weaker, and more con- 
 fufed, fewer mouldings, and greater unifor- 
 mity, would have been neceffary in the parts of 
 architedture 5 if it had been more dif- 
 tind:, and the mind capable of embracing more 
 things at once, more ornaments would have 
 been proper in architecture : if cur ears had 
 been made as thofe of certain animals, our 
 
 mulical
 
 [ 95 ] 
 
 rnufical Inftruments muft have been much al- 
 tered. I am very fenfible, that the relations 
 which things have among themfelves would 
 have fublifted ; but the relation which they 
 have with us being changed, things which at 
 prefent have a certain efFed: upon us, would 
 have it no more : and as the perfe6tion of art 
 confifts in prefenting things to us in fuch a way 
 as to give us the greateft Pleafure pofliblcj 
 there muft have been a change made in the arts, 
 becaufe there muft have been one made in the 
 manner moft proper to give us Pleafure. 
 
 We are at firfl: ready to believe that the know- 
 ledge of the diffcrrent fources of our Pleafures is 
 fufficient to conftitute Tafte; and that when we 
 know what philofophy has told us on the Sub- 
 jed:, we have Tafte, and may boldly judge of 
 works. But natural Tafte is not a theoretical 
 knowledge ; 'tis a quick and exquifite appli- 
 cation of rules which we don't even know. 
 It is not necelTary to know, that the Pleafure, 
 v/e receive from any thing we think beautiful, 
 arifes from lurprize ; 'tis enough that it does 
 furprifc us, and that it furprifcs us as much as 
 it ou''ht, and that neither more nor lefs. 
 
 Thus
 
 [96] 
 
 Thus what may here be faid, and all the 
 precepts that might be given to form the 
 Tafte, can only relate immediately and dired- 
 ly to that which is acquired, though it may 
 have an indire<fl relation to natural Tafte : for 
 the acquired Tafte affedts, changes, augments, 
 and diminifties the natural Tafte ; as the natu- 
 ral Tafte aftedis, changes, augments, and di- 
 minifties that which is acquired. 
 
 The moft general definition of Tafte, with-, 
 out confidering whether it be good or bad, juft 
 or not, is that arifing from fenfation 3 but this 
 does not prevent its being applied to things that 
 are intelledlual, the knowledge of which gives 
 fuch pleafure to the Soul, that by fome philo- 
 fophers it was confidered as the only felicity. 
 The Soul underftands by its Ideas, and by its 
 Scnfations; it receives Pleafure by thofe Ideas, 
 and thofe Senfations : for tho' we oppofe Idea 
 to Senfation, yet while it fees a thing, it feels it; 
 and there are^no objeds fo intelledual, that it 
 does not fee, or believes it fees, and confe- 
 quently that are liot felt. 
 
 Of
 
 [97] 
 
 Of the Mental Faculties.* 
 
 Among the faculties of the mind are genius, 
 goodfenfe, difcernment, juftnefs, capacity, and 
 tafte. 
 
 The exigence of thefe faculties confifts in 
 having the organs well conflituted relatively to 
 the things to which thefe faculties are applied. 
 If this difpofition of mind is very particular, it is 
 named a Talent or Capacity for any thing ; if 
 it has an intimate connection with certain deli- 
 cate Pleafures, it is called Tafte ; if it is a dif- 
 pofition or turn peculiar to a people, it is call- 
 ed their Spirit^ as the art of war and agricul- 
 ture among the Romans, hunting among the 
 favageSj &c. 
 
 Of C U R I O S I T Y. 
 
 The Soul is made to think, that is, to per- 
 ceive ; now fuch a being muft have Curiofity ; 
 
 * The title of this article is, De VEfprlt^ a word 
 which includes not only the Mind, but almoft all its facul- 
 ties. Indeed thediflcrencc of the two languages rejiders it 
 perhaps iinpofllbls to dojufticc :o our author in trar.flaciiig 
 this Lflav. 
 
 for
 
 [98] 
 
 ibr as all things are in a chain, where every 
 idea precedes one, and is followed by another, 
 we cannot like to fee one thing, without defiring 
 to fee another ; and if we had no defire for this, 
 we could have no pleafure in that. Thus, 
 when a part of a pidlure is flicwed us, we wifli 
 to fee the part that is concealed from us, in 
 proportion to the Pleafure which that part we 
 have i'een has given us. 
 
 *Tis then the Pleafure which one cbjedt 
 gives us that incites us to follow another j 'tis 
 on this account that the Soul is always in pur- 
 fuit of novelty, and is never at reft. 
 
 Thus, we fhall always be certain ofplcaling 
 the Mind, by making it fee a great many 
 things, or more than it had hoped to fee. 
 
 By this we may explain the reafon why we 
 behold with Pleafure a very regular garden, 
 and at the fame time arc pleafed when we view 
 a rural uncultivated fcene : 'tis the fame caufe 
 which produces thcfe cifedts. 
 
 As we love to fee a great many objeds, we 
 wifli to extend our view, to be in different places 
 and to enlarge our profpcds j in fljort, the 
 
 mind
 
 [ 99 ] 
 
 mind ftretches beyond all bounds, and wiflies, 
 if I may ufe the expreflion, to extend the fphcre 
 of its prefence : hence arifes the pleafure of 
 viewing diftant objeds. But how is this to be 
 done? in cities our profped: is confined by 
 houfes J and in the country, by a thoufand ob- 
 ftaclcs ; fcarce can we fee a few trees. But here 
 Art comes to our afliftance and difcovcrs Na- 
 ture who feeks to be concealed ; hence we arc 
 in love with Art, and admire her more than 
 Nature, that is, than Nature concealed from our 
 fight: but when we find beautiful fituations,when 
 the eye, left at liberty, can range far over the 
 meadows, the rivulets, the hills, and thofe 
 difpofitions of nature, which are in a manner 
 created on purpofe to captivate the eye, we are 
 quite otherwife enchanted than when we view 
 the gardens of Le Notre ; becaufe Nature is 
 always an original, and Art only copies her. 
 Thus in painting we are better pleafed with a 
 rural landfkip, than with the moH: beaLitiful 
 garden upon earth j becaufe painting chufes 
 Nature only where (he is moft beautiful, where 
 the eye can extend its view as far as it can 
 reach, and where fhe may be (qqu with mo(t 
 pleafure. 
 
 That which commonly conftitutes a great 
 idea, is, when fomething ib laid, that makes
 
 [ ioo ] 
 us perceive a great many others, and difcovers 
 to us all at once what we could not have ex-' 
 pcdled but after a great deal of reading. 
 
 Florus in a few words reprefents to us all 
 Hanibai's faults : " When he might, fays he, 
 *' have made ufe of his vidory, he chofe ra- 
 " ther to enjoy it :" Cum viBoria pojfet uti,frui 
 tnaluit. 
 
 He gives us an idea of the whole Macedo^ 
 nian war, when he fays, *' To have entered in - 
 " to it was vidory :" Introijfe 'vi&oriafuit. 
 
 He gives us a viev>^ of the whole life of Sci- 
 pio, when, fpeaking of his youth, he faySj 
 " This will be that Scipio, who grows up ioi' 
 '' the deftrudion of Africa :" Hie crit Scipio 
 qui in exitium Africct crefcit. You think you 
 fee a child who increafes and grows up like a 
 giant. 
 
 In a word, he makes us fee the great cha- 
 radler of Hanibal, the ftate of the world, and 
 all the grandeur of the Roman people, when 
 he fays, *' Hanibal, a fugitive from Africa, 
 " fought over all the world an enemy to the 
 *' Roman people:" ^//, projiigiis ex Africa^ 
 hoftem populo Romano queer eh at.
 
 [ lOI ] 
 
 Of tlie Pleasures of ORDER. 
 
 It is not enough to prefent a great many ob- 
 jedts to the Soul ; they muft be prefented with 
 Order : for then we remember what we have 
 feen, and we begin to imagine what we fhaU 
 fee J our mind congratulates itfelf on its own 
 extent and penetration : but in a work where 
 there is no Order, the Mind, every moment, 
 finds that Order, into which it wifhes to put 
 things, quite embroiled. The feries which the 
 author has formed, and that which we make to 
 ourfelves, clalli together; the Mind retains no- 
 thing, forefees nothing ; it is mortified by the 
 confufion of its ideas, by the ignorance in 
 which it remains ; it is in vain fatigued, and 
 can enjoy no pleafiire : on which account, 
 when the defign is not to exprefs or fliew con- 
 fufion, they always put a fort of Order in con- 
 fufion itfelf: thus painters make a groupe of 
 their figures ; thus thofe who paint battles, 
 place, upon the moft confpicvious place of the 
 pi6ture, thofe objects which the eye ought to 
 diftinguidi, and what is difordered and con- 
 fufed in the mofl: remote and leaft obvipus 
 place. 
 
 H 3 Of
 
 [ 102 1 
 
 Of the Pleasures of VARIETY. 
 
 But if Order in obje6:s is neceffary, Variety 
 is fo alfo: without this the Soul grows lan- 
 guid J for objeds, which refemble each other, 
 appear to it to be the fame ; and if one part of 
 a pidture, which is {hewn us, Should refemble 
 another which we have feen, this objedt would 
 be new without appearing to be fo, and would 
 afford us no Pleafure. And, as the beauties 
 of the Works of Art confifl in the Pleafures 
 which they afford us, they ought to be made 
 as fit as poflible to vary thofe Pleafures ; the 
 Mind ought to be fhewn objeds which it has 
 not feen ; the fentiment it is infpired with 
 ought to be different from that which it had 
 before. > 
 
 'Tis thus that hiflories pleafe us by the Va- 
 riety of relations 3 romances, by the Variety of 
 prodigies j theatrical pieces, by the Variety of 
 paffions 3 and that they, who know properly 
 how to inflrudt us, vary, as much as they can, 
 the uniform flrain of inflrudion. 
 
 A LONG uniformity renders any thing infup- 
 portable j the fame order of periods, a great 
 
 >vhile
 
 f ^03 ] 
 while continued, quite fatigues us in an ora* 
 tion ; the fame numbers, and the fame caden- 
 ces, make a long poem extremely tirefome. 
 If it be true that they have finifhed the famous 
 road from Mofcow to Peterjhurg^ the traveller 
 muft be tired to death, fhut up between the 
 two rows of that alley j and one, who fhould 
 travel a long time upon the Alps, would come 
 down from them difgufted with iituations the 
 moft agreeable, and points of view the mofl: 
 charming. 
 
 The Soul loves Variety ; but it does not 
 love it, as we have faid, but becaufe it is form- 
 ed to know and to fee : it mufl then be pofli- 
 ble for it to fee, and the Variety muft permit 
 it to do fo J that is to fay, an objeift muft be 
 iimple enough to be perceived, and varied 
 enough to be perceived with Pleafure. 
 
 There are fome things which appear va- 
 ried, and are not fo ; and others which appeaf 
 uniform, and are much varied. 
 
 The Gothic architedture appears extremely 
 varied, but the confufion of its ornaments fa- 
 tigues us by their fmallnefs ; which makes it 
 impoflible for us to diftinguifti thcra from eacli 
 
 H .J. th?r,
 
 [ 104 ] 
 other, and their number prevents the eye frorti 
 fixing upon any one of them : fo that it dif- 
 gufts us by thofe very parts which were in- 
 tended to render it agreeable. 
 
 A BUILDING of the Gothic order is a kind 
 of riddle to the eye which beholds it -, and the 
 Mind is embarrafled in the fame way as when 
 an obfcure poem is prefented to it. 
 
 The Grecian archite(9;ure, on the contrary, 
 appears uniform, but as it has as many divifions 
 as it ought, and as are proper to make the Mind 
 fee precifely as much as it can without being fa- 
 tigued, and at the fame time enough to give it 
 employment, has that Variety which makes 
 it be beheld with Pleafure. 
 
 Great objefts ought to have great parts j 
 large men have large arms, great trees have 
 great branches, huge mountains are divided in- 
 to other mountains bigger and lefs in propor- 
 tion j tis the nature of things which does this. 
 
 The Grecian architedure, which has few 
 divifions and grand ones, imitates the nature of 
 things ; the Soul is flruck v/ith a certain ma- 
 jefly, which every where abounds in it. 
 
 Tis
 
 [ 'OS ] 
 
 'Tis thus that painting divides, into groupes 
 of three or four figures, what it reprefents in a 
 pidture J it imitates Nature ; a numerous troop is 
 alwaysf divided into platoons ; 'tis thus too that 
 the painter makes grand divifions of his light 
 and fhade. 
 
 Of the Pleasures of SYMMETRY. 
 
 I HAVE faid that the Mind loves Variety ; 
 however, in mofl things, it loves to fee a cer- 
 tain Symmetry. This feems to imply a fort of 
 contradidion : I thus explain it. 
 
 One of the principal caufes of the Pleafurc 
 of our Soul, when it perceives objedts, is the fa- 
 cility with which it perceives them ; and the 
 reafon that makes proportion pleafe the Mind, 
 is, that it faves it trouble, that it gives it eafe, 
 and that, fo to fpeak, it cuts the work into 
 halves. 
 
 From this a general rule is derived ; every 
 where that Symmetry is ufeful to the Soul, and 
 can afTift its fundlions, it is agreeable to it ; but 
 wherever it is ufelefs to it, it is infipid becaufe 
 it takes away Variety. Now thofe things which 
 
 wc
 
 [ io6 ] 
 we fee in fucceffion ought to have Variety, for 
 our Mind has no difficulty to perceive them ; 
 thofe, on the contrary, which we perceive ail 
 lait once, ought to have Symmetry. Thus, as 
 yjt perceive with one glance of our eye the 
 front df a building, a parterre, a temple, they 
 are with propriety proportioned -, which pleafes 
 the Mind by that facility which it gives it 
 of embracing all at once the whole objedt. 
 
 As it is neceflary that an objed, which wc 
 ought tp fee all at once, fhould be fimple, it is 
 jieceilary too that it be one, and that all its parts 
 have a relation to the principal object : 'tis for 
 this reafon alfo that we love Symmetry, it 
 makes an united whole. 
 
 'Tis according to Nature, that a whole be 
 compleat, and the Mind, which fees this 
 whole, wiihes that it may have no part imper- 
 fedt. 'Tis on this account alfo that we love 
 Symmetry ; there muft be a fort of poizing or 
 balancing j and a building with one wing, or 
 one wing fliorter than another, is as unfinifhed, 
 as a body with one arm, or one arm top 
 ihort. 
 
 Qi
 
 t 7 1 
 Of CONTRASTS, 
 
 The Soul loves Symmetry, it alfq loves Con- 
 trafts ; this requires to be a good deal explained. 
 For example : if Nature requires of painters 
 and fculptors to proportion the parts of their 
 figures, it requires alfo that they contraft 
 their different attitudes. One foot placed like 
 another, one member extended like another, 
 are infupportable ; the reafon of it is, becaufe 
 this Symmetry makes the attitudes be almoft 
 always the famej which we may obferve in 
 Gothic figures, which by this almoft always re- 
 femble each other ; thus there is no more vari- 
 ety in the Works of Art. Befides, Nature has 
 not made us thus, and, as (he has given us mo- 
 tion, (he has not formed us in our actions and 
 manners like Pagods ; and if men thus ftiff and 
 conftrained are intolerable, what muil it be in 
 ^he produd:ions of Art. 
 
 The attitudes muft then be contrafted, efpe- 
 cially in works of fcuipture, which, naturally 
 languid, cannot be animated but by the force of 
 Contraft and fituation. 
 
 But,
 
 [ lo8 ] 
 
 But, as we faid that the Variety which they 
 have endeavoured to give the Gothic, has made 
 k quite uniform ; it has often happened, that 
 that Variety, vv^hich they have endeavoured to 
 give us by the means of Contrafts, has become 
 a vicious Symmetry and Uniformity. 
 
 This is not perceived in certain v^orks of 
 painting and fculpture only, but alfo in the 
 ll:y!e of feme writers, who, in every phrafe, 
 contraft the beginning with the end by perpe- 
 tual antithefes ; fuch as St. Augiijiine and o- 
 ther authors of the low Latin, and fome of our 
 moderns, as St. Evremont. The turn of the 
 phrafe alwavs the fame, and always uniform, 
 difpleafes extremely; this perpetual Contraft 
 becomes Symmetry, and this oppoiition always 
 ftudioufly fought for becomes Uniformity. 
 
 The Mind finds fo little Variety in it, that 
 when you have feen one part of the phrafe, 
 you guefs at the other : you fee words oppofed 
 to each other, but oppofed always in the fame 
 manner : you fee a turn of phrafe, but it is 
 always the fame. 
 
 Many
 
 [ 109 ] 
 
 Many painters have fallen into this fault, of 
 putting Contrafts every where, and without 
 Art : fo that when one fees one figure, the 
 difpolition of thofe next it can eafily be divi- 
 ned : this continual diverfity becomes fome- 
 thing of a refemblance. Befides, Nature, 
 which places every thing in diforder, never 
 difcovers an affectation of a perpetual Contraft ; 
 without adding further, that (he does not put 
 all bodies in motion, and in a forced motion ; 
 fhe is more various than to do this ; fhe pla- 
 ces fome in reft, and gives to others different 
 kinds of movement. 
 
 If the intelligent part of the Soul loves Va- 
 riety, the fenfitive part of it is no lei's fond o 
 it ; for the Soul cannot long bear the fame fi- 
 tuatlon, becaufe it is joined to a body which 
 can't endure it. That our Soul may be ex- 
 cited, the fpirits muft flow in the nerves : but 
 there are in this two things, a laflitude in the 
 nerves, and an intermiffion of fpirits which 
 flow no more, or are dilTipatcd from thofe pla- 
 ces where they run. 
 
 Thus at length every thing fatigues us, ef- 
 pecially great Pleafures : wc quit them always 
 
 with
 
 i no 3 
 
 With as much Pleafure as we began them 5 for 
 the fibres, which were the organs of them, 
 have need of reft ; we muft make ufe of others 
 more proper to be of fervice to us, and, fo to 
 fpeak, make a proper divifion of our toil. 
 
 Our Soul grows tired with enjoyment; not to 
 perceive any pleafure at all is to fall into a ftate of 
 lifelefs infenfibility, which quite oppreffes it. We 
 find a remedy for all this by varying its modi- 
 fications : it feels, and it does not grow tired. 
 
 Of the Pleasures of SURPRIZE. 
 
 This difpofition of the Soul, which carries 
 it always to different objects, makes it relifh all 
 the Pleafures which flow from Surprize ; a 
 fentiment which pleafes the Soul by the objed: 
 which it beholds, and by the fuddennefs of 
 the adtion ; for it perceives or feels fomething 
 which it does not expedt, or in a manner which 
 it did not exped:. 
 
 A THING may furprife us as wonderful, and, 
 at the fame time, as new, and alfo as unexpect- 
 ed ; and, in thefe laft cafes, the principal fen- 
 timent is united to this accelTory one, that the 
 
 thing is new orunexpefled. 
 
 'Tis
 
 - [ III ] 
 
 'Ti.s by this that games of hazard intereft 
 us ; they prelent us with a continued feries of 
 unexpedled events: Vis by this that fecial 
 games pleafe us j they too are a fet of unfore- 
 feen events, brought about by addrefs joined 
 to chance. 
 
 'Tis by this alfo that we are plea fed with 
 tlieatrical pieces ; they are unraveled by de- 
 grees, the events are concealed till they hap- 
 pen, new fubjeds qf Surprize are always pre- 
 pared for us, and they often afford us a fenfi- 
 ble pleafure, by (hewing the events to be fuch 
 as we ought to have forefeen they would 
 be. In a word, works of genius are com- 
 monly read for no other reafon but becaule 
 they procure an agreeable Surprize, and make 
 amends for the inlipidity of co.iverfations that 
 have not this cffedt. 
 
 Surprize may be produced either by the 
 objed, or by the manner of producing it: for 
 v^'e fee an objedt greater or lefs than it is in 
 f.i(5t, or different from what it is ; or we fee the 
 fjn^>c objed, but with an additional idea which 
 furprifes us. Such, in any thing, is the accef- 
 fory idea ot the difficulty of making it, or the 
 perlbn who made it, or the time when it was 
 
 made,
 
 [ 112 ] 
 
 made, or the manner how it was made, or 
 feme other circumftance conned:ed with it. 
 
 Suetonius defcribes the crimes of Nero 
 with a coolnefs of blood which furprifes us, by 
 making us almoft believe that he does not feel 
 fufficient horror for what he defcribes ; but he 
 fuddenly changes his flyle, and fays, " The 
 " univerfe having fuffered fuch a monfter 
 '* fourteen years, at laft abandoned him :" Tale 
 monflrujn per qiiatuordecim annus perpejfus ter- 
 rariim orbis tandem dejiitiiit. This produces 
 in the Mind different kinds of Surprize : we 
 are furprifed at the author's change of flyle ; 
 at the difcGvery of his different manner of 
 thinking ; at his method of relating in fo few 
 words one of the greatefl revolutions that ever 
 happened : thus the Soul finds a vafl number 
 of different fenfations that concur to move it, 
 and to infpire it with Pleafure. 
 
 Of Different Causes that produce 
 SENSATION. 
 
 We ought carefully to obfcrve, that one 
 Senfation has commonly more than one Caufe 
 in the Mind. 'Tis, if I dare venture to make 
 
 ule
 
 [ "3 ] 
 
 life of the term, a certain dofe produced by 
 
 Force and Variety. Genius coniifts in know- 
 ing how to ftrike fcveral organs at once ; and 
 if we examine different writers, we fliall per- 
 haps perceive, that the bed of them, and thofe 
 who have pleafed moft, are thofe who have 
 excited in our Mind moft Senfations at one 
 time. 
 
 Pray obfcrve the multiplicity of Caufes. 
 We like to view a garden finely laid cut, better 
 than a confulion of trees, i. Becaufe our 
 profpedl, which would be confined, is not fo. 
 2. Every walk is one, and forms one grand ob- 
 je(ft; whereas, amidft confufion, every tree is 
 one objecfl, and a little one. 3. We fee an ar- 
 rangement which we were not accuftomed to 
 fee. 4. We are pleafed with the pains which 
 has been taken. 5. We admire the care thev 
 take perpetually to refift Nature, which by 
 fpontaneous produdllons would put everything 
 in confufion. This is fo true, that a garden 
 quite negledted is intolerable. Sometimes the 
 difficulty of a work, fometimes the eahnefs of 
 it, pleafes us ; and, as in a magnificent garden 
 we admire the grandeur and cxpence of its 
 owner, we obferve fometimes with delight, 
 
 i that
 
 [ iH ] 
 that they have had the art to pleafe us with 
 fmall expence and labour. 
 
 Gaming pleafes us, becaufe it fatisfies our 
 avarice, that is, our hope of pofleffing more : 
 it flatters our vanity by an idea of that prefer- 
 ence which fortune gives us, and the notice 
 which others take of our luck : it fatisfies our 
 curiofity by prefenting a fort of fhew to us. 
 In a word, it gives us all the different Pleafures 
 of Surprize. 
 
 Dancing pleafes us by its nimble adivity ; 
 by a certain grace ; by the beauty and variety 
 of attitudes ; by its harmony with the mufic, 
 the perfon who dances being, as it were, an in- 
 flrument which accompanies it : but, above all, 
 it pleafes us by a particular difpofition of our 
 brain, by which it is fo conftituted that it re- 
 fers and aflbciates the idea of all the motions 
 to certain other motions, and the greateft part 
 of the attitudes^ to other attitudes. 
 
 Of SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Things almoft always pleafe and difpleafe 
 us in different refped;s. For example, Italian 
 eunuchs ought to give us little Pleafure. i. Be- 
 caufe
 
 [ "5] 
 
 caufe it is not furprifing that, * tfim'd as they 
 are, they fliould fing well j they are like an in- 
 flrument from which the workman has cut off 
 wood, to make it produce founds. 2. Becaufe 
 the paffions which they ad: are too much fuf- 
 peded of being falfe. 3. Becaufe they are 
 neither of the fex we love, nor of that which 
 we efteem. On the other hand, they may 
 pleafe us, becaufe they preferve a long time the 
 air of youth ; and alfo becaufe they have a voice 
 extremely flexible, and which is peculiar to 
 themfelves. Thus every thing gives us a 
 Feeling which is compofed of a great many 
 others, which fometimes weaken and counter- 
 ad: each other. 
 
 The Soul often forms reafons to itfelf of its 
 Pleafure; and it fucceeds in this principally by 
 thofe aflbciations of ideas which it conneds 
 with certain objeds. Thus, any thing which 
 has pleafed us, pleafes us flill for that very rea- 
 fon that it has pleafed us, becaufe we join the 
 new to the old idea : thus, an adrefs who has 
 pleafed us on the flage, pleafes us too in a pri- 
 vate room ; her voice, her adion, the remem- 
 brance of having feen her admired, what do I 
 
 Accommodcs. 
 
 I 2 lav'
 
 [ n6] 
 
 fay ? the idea of the Princefs joined to that of 
 herfelf ; all this makes a fort of compofition, 
 which forms and produces a Pleafure. We 
 are all full of acceflbry ideas : a lady who (hould 
 happen to have a great chara<fler, and a trif- 
 ling defecft, might make this be regarded as a 
 beauty, and bring it into fafhion. The great- 
 eft part of thofe ladies, whom we love, have 
 nothing for them but the prepoffeflion of their 
 birth or their fortune, the honours or efteem 
 of certain people. 
 
 Of D E L I C A C Y. 
 
 People of Delicacy are thofe who, to every 
 idea or to every Tafte, join a great many ac- 
 ceflbry Ideas and Taftes. Indelicate people 
 have only one ideaj their Mind can neither 
 compound nor diminifh ; they neither add nor 
 take away from what Nature has given : while 
 people cf Delicacy when in love form to them- 
 felves the greateft part of the Pleafures of love. 
 
 PoLYXENA and Apicius brought to table a 
 
 great many Senfations unknown to us vulgar 
 
 eaters ; and thofe whojudge with Tafte of the 
 
 works of wit have, and have formed to thcm- 
 
 5 felves
 
 ["7] 
 
 fclves an infinite number of Senfatlons which 
 other men have not. 
 
 Of the Je NE scAis ^01. 
 
 There is fometlmes in perfons and things a 
 certain invifible charm, a jiatural grace, which 
 cannot be defined, and which we have been 
 obliged to call the 1 dont know what. It ap- 
 pears to me, that it is an effed principally de- 
 rived from Surprize. We are ftruck with this, 
 that a perfon pleafes us more, than it appeared 
 to us at firft that (he ought to have done, and 
 we are agreeably furprifed that (he has known 
 how to overcome thofe defe(5ts which our eyes 
 pointed out to us, and which the heart no 
 more believes {he had : you fee the reafon why 
 ordinary women have very often graces, and 
 the handfome ones feldom have them : for a 
 beautiful perfon commonly produces the con- 
 trary effed from that which we expeded of 
 her J {he becomes lefs lovely in our eyes, after 
 having furprifed us with what is fine, fhe fur- 
 prifes us with what is not fo ; but the impref- 
 fion of what is good is old, that of what is bad 
 is new j thus handfome people rarely produce 
 {Irong pa{rions, which are almo{l conftantly 
 referved for thofe who have graces, that is x.% 
 I 3 fay,
 
 [ i>8 ] 
 
 fay, charms which we did not exped:, and 
 which we had no reafon to exped. Rich 
 drefles are feldom graceful, thofe of fhepherd- 
 efles often are fo. We admire the majefty of 
 the draperies of Paul Veronefe ; but we are 
 touched with the fimplicity of Raphaely and 
 the purity of Corregio. Paul Veronefe promifes 
 us a great deal, and pays what he promifed : 
 Paphael and Corregio promife little, and pay a 
 great deal 5 and this pleafes us more. 
 
 Graces are more commonly found in the 
 Mind, than the countenance : for a beautiful 
 face appears immediately, and conceals no- 
 thing ; but the Mind does not (hew itfelf but 
 by little and little, when it chufes it, and 
 as much as it chufes j it can conceal itfelf to 
 appear again, and produce that fort of Surprize 
 which conftitutes Grace. 
 
 Grace is feldomer found in the face than in 
 the manner j for our manner is produced 
 every moment, and can create Surprize : in a 
 word, a woman can be beautiful but one way, 
 {he can be graceful a thoufand. 
 
 The law of the two fexes has eftabliflied, 
 among civilized and favagQ nations, that men 
 
 iLould
 
 [ "9] 
 fhould afk, and women only grant : hence it 
 happens, that Grace is more peculiarly attached 
 to the women. As they have all to defend, 
 they have all to conceal ; the leaft word, the 
 Icaft geflure, every thing which, without Shock- 
 ing the firft of duties, (hews itfelf in them, 
 every thing which appears at liberty becomes a 
 grace ; and fuch is the wifdom of Nature, that 
 that which would be nothing without the law 
 of modefty, becomes of infinite value after that 
 happy law which conftitutcs the felicity of fo- 
 ciety. 
 
 As conftraint and affedation cannot furprifc 
 us, Grace is neither found in conftraincd nor 
 affcdted manners, but in a certain freedom or 
 eafe which is between the two extreme?, and 
 the Mind is agreeably furprifed to perceive, 
 that they have kept clear of two rocks. 
 
 It would fecm that our natural manners 
 ought to be the moft eafy, they are the leaft fo 
 of any: for education, which conftrains us, 
 makes us always lofe our natural manner 3 we 
 are then charmed to fee it return. 
 
 Nothing plcafes us fo much in drefs, as 
 
 when it appears in that negligence, or even in 
 
 I 4 that
 
 [ 120 ] 
 
 that diforder, which conceals from us thofc 
 pains which neatnefs does not require, and 
 which vanity alone could have made us take $ 
 and one's wit is never graceful, but when what 
 is faid appears to be hit off, and not ftudied. 
 
 When you fay things which have coft you 
 pains, you may indeed {how that you have wit, 
 but not a graceful wit. To make this appear, 
 you muft not fcem to perceive it yourfelf j that 
 others, who from fomething naturally unaffect- 
 ed and fimple in you, did not expedt it of you, 
 may be agreeably furprifed by perceiving it. 
 
 Thus Graces are not acquired ; to have 
 them, one mui\ be fimple aitd unaffeied', but 
 how can one fludy to be fo ? 
 
 One of the mofl beautiful fictions of Ho- 
 mer is that of the girdle, which gave Venus the 
 power of pleafing. Nothing is more proper to 
 make us conceive that magic and power of the 
 Graces, which feem to be given to a perfon by 
 an invifiblc power, and are diflinguifhed from 
 beauty itfelF. Nov/ this girdle could not be 
 given but to Venus ; it could not agree with the 
 majel^ic beauty of Juno ; for majefty requires 
 a certain gravity, that is, a conflraint oppofite 
 
 to
 
 ['21] 
 
 to the (impliclty of the Graces : it could not 
 
 agree with the proud beauty of Pallas ; for pride 
 is contrary to the fweetnefs of the Graces, and 
 may often be fufpeded of affedlation. 
 
 The Progression of S U R P R I Z E. 
 
 That which conflitutcs great beauties, is, 
 when a thing is fuch, that the Surprize at firft 
 is inconliderable, that it fupports itfelf, in- 
 creafes, and at laft leads us to admiration. 
 The works of Raphael ftrike little at firft fight; 
 he imitates Nature fo well, that one is no more 
 at firft furprifed than when one fees the objedt 
 itfelf, which would caufe no Surprize at all : 
 but an uncommon expreflion, the ftrong co- 
 louring or odd attitudes of an inferior painter 
 ftrike us at firft, becaufe we have not been ac- 
 cuftomcd to fee them elfewhere. We may 
 compare Raphael to Virgil, and the Venetian 
 painters, with their conftrained attitudes, to Lu- 
 can. Virgil, more natural, ftrikes us at firft 
 ids, to ftrike us more afterwards : Lucan 
 llrikes immediately, to ftrike us afterwards lefs. 
 
 The exadl proportion of the famous church 
 of St. Peter makes it appear at firft not (o great 
 as it is ; for we don't know immediately where 
 
 to
 
 [ 122 ] 
 
 to begin to judge of its greatnefs. If it had 
 been narrower, we would have been ftruck 
 with its length -, if it had not been fo long, we 
 would have been ftruck with its breadth. But, 
 in proportion as we examine it, the eye per- 
 ceives it grow larger, our aftonifhment in- 
 creafes. We may compare it to the Pyrenees, 
 where the eye, which at firft thought it could 
 meafure them, difcovers mountains beyond 
 mountains, and always lofes itfelf more and 
 more. 
 
 It often happens that our Mind feels a 
 Pleafure from a Sentiment which it cannot 
 quite explain j and when a thing appears to it 
 to be abfolutely different from what it knows it 
 to be, this gives it a Sentiment of Surprize out 
 of which it cannot extricate itfelf. For exam- 
 ple : the dome of St. Peter's is immenfe ; 'tis 
 known, that Michael Angelo, viewing the 
 Pantheon, which was the largeft temple of 
 Rome, faid, that he would make one like it-, 
 but that he would lituate it in the air. He 
 made then after this model the dome of St. 
 Peter's ; but he made the pillars fo ftrong, that 
 this dome, which is like a mountain over our 
 heads, appears light to the eye which obferves 
 it. The Mind remains uncertain between 
 
 what
 
 [ 123 1 
 
 what It fees, and what it knows to be the cafe, 
 and is aftoniflied to fee a mafs fo enormous, and 
 fo Hght at the fame time. 
 
 Of BEAUTIES which refult from an 
 EmbanafTment of the Soul, 
 
 The Mind is often furprifed, bccaufe it can- 
 not reconcile what it fees with what it has feen. 
 There is in Italy a great lake which they call 
 the Greater Lake-, 'tis a little fea, the banks of 
 which fhew nothing but what is wild. Fif- 
 teen miles in the lake there are two illands, a 
 quarter of a mile in circumference, which they 
 call the Borromees, which is, in my opinion, 
 the moft inchanting abode in the world. The 
 Mind is aftonifhed at the romantic Contrail, 
 and recalls with Pleafure the wonders of ro- 
 mance, where, after having pafled over rocks 
 and barren countries, you find yourfelf in fairy 
 land. 
 
 All Contrafts flrlke us, becaufe the oppofitc 
 objcds heighten each other. Thus, when a 
 little man is near a tall one, the little one 
 makes'the other appear taller, and the great one 
 makes the other feem lefs. 
 
 These 
 2
 
 [ 124 ] 
 
 These kinds of Surprizes conftltute the 
 Pleafure which we find in all Beauties of Op- 
 pofition, in Antithefes, and fuch figures. When 
 Florus fays, " Sora and Algidum, who would 
 *' believe it ! were formidable to us ; Satricum 
 " and Corniculum were provinces ; we under- 
 " value the Boritians, the Verulians, yet we 
 *' gloried in triumphing over them ; Prsnefte, 
 " where our pleafure-houfes now are, v/as the 
 *' fubje^t of vows which we went to make at 
 " the capitol :" this author, I fay, points out 
 to us, at the fame time, the grandeur of the 
 Romans and the fmallnefs of their beginnings, 
 and our aftoniOiment is raifed by both thefe. 
 
 We may remark here how great a difference 
 there is between antithefes of ideas and antithe- 
 fes of expreffion. The antithefis of expreffion 
 is not concealed ; that of ideas is fo : the one 
 always affumes the fame appearance ; the 
 other changes it as it pleafes : the one is varied 5 
 the other not. 
 
 The fame Florus, fpeaking of the Samnites, 
 fays, " that their cities were deftroyed in fuch 
 " a way that it was difficult to find out at pre- 
 " fent what could have been the fubjed: of fo 
 
 '* many
 
 r 125 1 
 
 ** many triumphs :*' Ut non facile apfareat ma^ 
 teria quatiior & viginfi triumphorum : and by 
 the fame words which point out to us the def- 
 trudion of this people, he makes us perceive 
 the greatnefs and obftinacy of their courage. 
 
 When we want to hinder ourfelves from 
 laughing, our laughter increafes, on account 
 of that Contraft which is between the fitua- 
 tion in which we find ourfelves, and that in 
 which we ought to be : in the fame way as 
 when we perceive in a face a very great faulty 
 as, for example, a very large nofe, we laugh 
 becaufe we fee a Contraft with the other fea- 
 tures of the face, which ought not to be. 
 Thus Contrafts are the caufe of faults, as well 
 as beauties. When we perceive that they are 
 without any reafon, that they heighten or dif- 
 cover another fault, they are the great caufcs of 
 uglinefs, which, when it ftrikes us fuddenly, 
 can excite a certain joy in our foul, and make 
 us laugh. If our Mind views it as a misfortune 
 in the perfon who pofTefTes it, it can excite 
 pity : if it views it with the idea of what may 
 hurt us, and with an idea of comparifon with 
 what ufed to move us and excite our dcfircs, 
 it views it with a fentiment of averfion. 
 
 U
 
 [ 126 ] 
 
 In the fame way, our thoughts, when they 
 contain an oppolition contrary to good fenre> 
 when this oppofition is common and eafily 
 found out, don't pleafe us, and are faults, be- 
 caufe they occafion no Surprize ; and if, on 
 the contrary, they are too much ftudied, they 
 don't pleafe us neither. In a work, we ought 
 to be itruck with them becaufe they are there, 
 and not becaufe the writer has laboured to fhew 
 them J for then we are only furprized at the 
 folly of the author. 
 
 One of the things which pleafes us moft is 
 the Simple j but 'tis alfo the moft difficult ftyle 
 to acquire : the reafon of which is, becaufe it 
 is precifely betwixt the Noble and the Low, 
 and it is very difficult to be always going by 
 it without falling into it. 
 
 Musician's have acknowledged, that the 
 mufic, which is eafieft fang, is moil difficult 
 to compofe ; a certain proof that our Pleafures, 
 and that Art which fupnlies us with them, 
 have certain limits. 
 
 To read the pompous verfes of Cornell le, 
 and the eafy natural ones of Racine, who 
 
 would
 
 [ 127 ] 
 would imagine that Corneille compofed with 
 eafe, and Racine with a great deal of trouble? 
 
 What is low, is the Sublime of the vulgar, 
 who are pleafed to fee a thing made for them, 
 and adapted to their capacity. 
 
 The ideas which occur to thofe who are 
 well educated, and have great minds, are either 
 fimple, or noble, or fublime. 
 
 When a thing is pointed out to us with 
 circumftances which add to its grandeur, this 
 appears noble to us : this is efpecially perceiv- 
 ed in comparifons, where the Mind ought al- 
 ways to gain, and never to lofe : for they 
 ought always to add fomewhat to make the 
 thing appear greater, or, if grandeur be not the 
 objedt, finer and more delicate ; but particular 
 care muft be taken not to point out any con- 
 nexion it may have with what is low j for the 
 Mind would have concealed this if it had dif- 
 covered it. 
 
 As the aim is to reprefent things in a deli- 
 cate way, the Mind likes better to compare a 
 manner to a manner, an adion to an adlion, 
 
 than
 
 [ '38 ] 
 
 than a thing to a thing, as a hero to a lion, a 
 woman to a Har, a fwift man to a flag. 
 
 Michael Angelo is the greatefi: mafler for 
 giving a noblenefs to all his fubjedis. In his fa- 
 mous Bacchus he does not do like the Flemiili 
 painters, who reprefent to us a figure almoft fall- 
 ing, and, fo tofpeak, in the air. This would be 
 unworthy of the majefty of a God. He paints 
 him firm upon his legs, but he fo happily gives 
 him the gay air of one who is drunk, and fuch 
 a pleafure in viewing the liquor, which he 
 pours into his cup, that there is nothing fo 
 admirable. 
 
 In that picfture of the Paflion which is in 
 the gallery of Florence, he has painted the 
 Virgin ftanding, who beholds her crucified 
 fon, without grief, without pity, without re- 
 gret, without tears. He fuppoles her inftruc- 
 ted in this great myflery, and by that makes 
 her bear with grandeur the view of his death. 
 
 There are none of Michael Angelo's works 
 in which he has not put fomething noble. 
 We find even the Great in his flietches, as in 
 thofe verfes which Virgil has not finiihed. 
 
 Julio
 
 [ '^9] 
 
 Julio Romano, in the Chamber of Giants 
 at Mantua, where he has reprefented Jupiter 
 thundring, makes all the Gods appear terri- 
 fied ; but Juno is near Jupiter, (he points out 
 to him, with an undaunted air, a giant at 
 whom he /hould dart his thunder : by this he 
 gives her an air of grandeur which the other 
 Deities have not : the nearer they are to Jove, 
 the bolder they are, and this is very natural ; 
 for in a battle, fear ceafes near him who has 
 the advantage ******** 
 
 K NEW
 
 NEW 
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 Added to tlie Last Edition 
 C) F 
 
 Pi cfident M O N T E S QJJ 1 E U ' s 
 
 W O R K S. 
 
 K 2
 
 [ 133 ] 
 
 r 
 
 NEW 
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS, ^c. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 The First Eunuch to Jaron the Black 
 Eunuch at Erzeron. 
 
 MAY Heaven again bring thee fafe to 
 thefe parts, and guard thee from every 
 danger ! Tho' I have fcarce ever known that 
 engagement which is called friendfliip, and 
 have wrapped myfelf quite up in myfelf, yet 
 thou haft made me feel that I have a heart ; 
 and while I was as brafs to all the other flavcs 
 who were under my command, I with plea- 
 fure beheld thy infancy grow up. 
 
 The time came when my maftcr caft his 
 eyes upon thee. Nature had not yet whifper- 
 ed its didatcs, when the cruel iron fcparated 
 thee from what was natural. I will not fay 
 whether I lamented thee, or whether I felt a 
 K 3 fecret
 
 [ M4 ] 
 
 fecret pleafure In beholding thee elevated even 
 to my own condition. I appeafed thy tears 
 and thy cries. Methought I faw^ thee born a 
 fecond time, and quit a ftate of flavery where 
 thou mufl alw^ays have obeyed, to enter upon 
 one where thou oughteft always to command. 
 I took care of thy education. Severity, always 
 infeparable from giving inftrudlions, kept thee a 
 long time from knowing that thou waft dear to 
 me. Thou waft fo hov/ever : and I will tell 
 thee, that Iloved thee as a father loves his fon, 
 ifthefe names cf father and fon could be fuit- 
 able to our deftiny. 
 
 Thou art about to pafs through countries 
 inhabited by Chriftians, who have never be- 
 lieved. It is impofiible but that thou muft 
 there contrad; fome impurities. How can the 
 Prophet propitioufly behold thee in the midft 
 of fo many millions of his enemies. I wi(h 
 my mafter, when he returns, v/ould make a 
 pilgrimage to Mecca. You would both pu- 
 rity yourfelves in the land of angels. 
 
 From the Seraglio at Ifpahan, the icth 
 of the Moon Gem madi, 171 1- 
 
 LET-
 
 [ 135 ] 
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 
 Jaron to the First Eunuch. 
 
 IN proportion as Ufbek is removed from the 
 Seraglio, he turns his head towards thofe 
 women who are confecrated to him : he fighs, 
 he fheds tears: his grief increafes, his fufpi- 
 cions grow ftrong. He wants to augment the 
 number of their guardians : he is about to 
 fend me back, with all the Blacks that accom- 
 pany him. He fears nothing for himfelf ; he 
 is anxious for what is a thoufand times more 
 dear to him than himfelf. 
 
 I COME then to live under thy laws, and to 
 fhare thy toils. Great God ! how many things 
 are neccllary to render one man happy ! Na- 
 ture feemed at the fame time to have placed 
 women in a ftate of dependance, and to have 
 freed them from it. Diforder arofc among the 
 two fcxes, becaufe their rights were recipro- 
 cal. We have entered upon a new plan of 
 harmony : we have put hatred between the 
 women and us ; and love between men and 
 women. 
 
 K 4 My
 
 [ '3M 
 
 My brow is about to become fevere, I {liall 
 affume a gloomy air, joy fhall be banifhed 
 from my lips ; my external appearance fhall be 
 compofed, my mind unquiet and uneafy. 
 I (hall not wait for the wrinkles of old age, to 
 hew all its peeviflinefs. 
 
 I SHOULD have taken pleafure in following 
 my mafter to the weft ; but my will is his pro- 
 perty. He wants me to guard his women : I 
 will guard them with fidelity. I know how to 
 condud: myfelf with the fex, which, when it 
 is not permitted to be vain, becomes proud ; 
 and which it is lefs eafy to humble than to an- 
 nihilate. I proftrate myfelf in thy fight. 
 
 From Smirna, the 12th of the Moon 
 Zilcade, 171 j. 
 
 L E T-
 
 [ 137 ] 
 
 LETTER LXXVII. 
 Ibben to UsBEK at Paris, 
 
 MY dear Ufbek, it appears to me, that to 
 a true MufTulman misfortunes are not 
 fo much chaftifements as threatnings. Thofs 
 days are happy ones indeed which lead us to 
 expiate our offences. 'Tis the time of profpc- 
 rity which ought to be abridged. To what pur- 
 pofe does all our impatience ferve, but to dif- 
 cover that we want to be happy independently 
 of him who imparts felicity to us, becaufe he 
 is felicity itfelf. 
 
 If a being is compofed of two eflential 
 parts, and the neceffity of preferving their 
 union is the ftrongeft mark of fubmiffion to 
 the orders of the Creator, this may be made a 
 religious law. If this neceffity of preferving 
 their union is the befl furcty of the a<^ions of 
 men, it may be made a civil law -}-. 
 
 From Smirna, the lafl: day of the Moon 
 Saphar, 17 15. 
 
 t To underftand this Letter, it muft be obferved, that 
 jt is an anfwer to the 76th, in which Ufbck argues for the 
 lawfulnefs of filicide when a perfon is extremely unfor- 
 tunate. 
 
 L E T-
 
 1 138 ] 
 
 LETTER XCI. 
 
 USBEK to RUSTAN at IsPAHAN. 
 
 THERE has appeared here a perfon af- 
 fuming the charadler of Ambaflador 
 from Perfia, who infolently expofes to ridi- 
 cule the two greatefl Kings of the earth. He 
 brings to the French Monarch prefents, which 
 ours would not offer to a King of Irimett or 
 Georgia ; and by his low avarice he has dif- 
 honoured the majefly of two empires. 
 
 He hath rendered himfelf ridiculous before 
 a people which pretends to be the moil polite 
 of any in Europe, and made it be fald in the 
 weft, that the King of Kings reigns only over 
 
 Barbarians. 
 
 He hath received honours which he feemed 
 to willi had been refufed him : and as if the 
 Court of France had the Perfian grandeur 
 more at heart than he himfelf had, it has made 
 'him appear with dignjty before a people which 
 defpifes him. 
 
 Tell
 
 t 139 ] 
 
 Tell not this at Ifpahan ; fpare the head of 
 a wretch. I don't want that our minifters 
 fliould punifli him for their own imprudence, 
 and the unworthy choice which they have 
 made. 
 
 From Paris, the laft of the Moon 
 Gemmadi, 1715. 
 
 LETTER CXI. 
 
 UsBEK to * "* *. 
 
 THE reign of the late King was fo long, 
 that the end had made the beginning of 
 it be forgot. 'Tis the fafhion at prefent only 
 to be taken up about thofe events which hap- 
 pened during his minority, and no body 
 reads any thing now but the memoirs of thofe 
 times. 
 
 Here is a fpccch which one of the Gene- 
 rals of the city of Paris made in a council of 
 war ; and, 1 confefs, I can perceive very little 
 in it. 
 
 J " Gentle-
 
 [ HO I 
 
 *^ Gentlemen, tho' our troops have beea 
 " repulfed with lofs, I believe it w^on't be dif- 
 ** ficult for us to repair this misfortune. I 
 *' have compofed fix couplets of a fong ready 
 " to be publifhed, which, I'm perfuaded, will 
 ** reftore our affairs to an equilibrium. I have 
 ** made choice of fome excellent voices, which 
 " ifTuing from the cavity of certain ftrong 
 *' breafts, will wonderfully move the people. 
 " They are fet to an air which hitherto has 
 " had a fingular effedl. If this does not do, 
 " we'll publifli a print reprefenting Mazarin as 
 " hanged. 
 
 *' Luckily for us, he does not fpeak good 
 
 ' French, and fo murders it, that it is impof- 
 
 *' fible but that his affairs muft decline. We 
 
 *' don't fail to make it be taken notice of to the 
 
 *' people, with what a ridiculous accent he 
 
 " pronounces. A few days ago we fo much ri- 
 
 " diculed a blunder which he had made in 
 
 *' grammar, that it has been made a joke of in 
 
 " every ftreet. 
 
 " I HOPE, before eight days, the people will 
 " make the name of Mazarin a general word 
 " to exprefs all beafts of burden and carriage. 
 
 " Since
 
 [ 141 ] 
 
 ' Since our defeat, our mufic about original 
 ' fin has fo vexed him, that, not to fee his 
 ** party reduced to one half, he has been ob- 
 '' hged to fend back all his pages. 
 
 *' Recover your fpirits then, have courage 
 *' and affure yourfelves that we will drive 
 *' him over the mountains by the force of 
 ' ourhiffes." 
 
 From Paris, the 4th of the Moon 
 Chahban, 1718. 
 
 LETTER CXXIV. 
 
 UsBEK to Rhedi at Venice. 
 
 WHAT can be the motive of that im- 
 menfe liberality which Princes lavidi 
 upon their fubjeds ? Do they want to attach 
 them to them ? They have already gained 
 them as much as they can. And, befides, if 
 they gain fome of their fubjedts by bribing 
 them, they mufl: lofe an infinite number of 
 others by impoverifhing them. 
 
 WiirN
 
 [ H2 ] 
 
 When I reflcd on the fituatlon of Princes 
 always furrounded with avaricious and infati- 
 able men, I can't help pitying them ; and I 
 pity them ftill more, when they have not cou- 
 rage to refufe demands which are always bur- 
 denfome to thofe who afk nothing. 
 
 I NEVER hear people talk of the liberality 
 of Princes, of the favours and penlions which 
 they grant, without giving way to a thoufand 
 reflexions : a crowd of ideas prefent thcmfelves 
 to my mind : methinks I hear this decree pub- 
 liOied : 
 
 " The unwearied courage of fome of our 
 " fubjeds in alking penfions from us, having, 
 *' without ceafing, fatigued our royal magni- 
 *' ficence, we have at lafl yielded to the mul- 
 " titude of requefts prefented to us, which 
 " have hitherto been the greateft uneafinefs of 
 " the throne. They have reprefented to us, 
 *' that fince our acceffion to the throne, they 
 '' have never failed to be at our levee ; and 
 ' that as we pafled along, we have always feen 
 " them immoveable as pofts ; and that they 
 '' have raifed themfeives as much as poffible 
 " above the flioulders of the highefl:, that they 
 
 ^' might
 
 [143 ] 
 might behold our Serenity. We have alfo 
 <* received feveral petitions from fome of the 
 * fair fex, fupplicating us to obferve, that it h 
 < notorious that they arc of a very referved 
 *' converfation: and fome of them who are 
 " very antient, (baking their heads, have pray- 
 " cd us to remember that they have been the 
 " ornaments of the Courts of the Kings our 
 ' predcceflbrs ; and that if the Generals of their 
 " armies rendered the ftate formidable by 
 " their military adions, they rendered the 
 ** Court no lefs fo by their intrigues. Defiring 
 *' therefore to treat thefe fuppliants kindly, 
 " and grant them all their petitions, we have 
 *' commanded what follows : 
 
 *' That every labourer, having five child- 
 << ren, ihall daily retrench the fifth part of the 
 *' bread which he gives them. We alfo enjoin 
 *' fathers of families to make as exadl a dimi- 
 " nation from each in their houfe, ^as can be. 
 
 " We exprefsly forbid all thofe who apply 
 ^' thcmfclvcs to improve their ellatcs, or who 
 " let them out in farms, to make any repairs 
 *' in tiicm whatfoevcr. 
 
 Wi:
 
 I 144 1 
 
 *' We alfo order, that all perfons of low 
 ** trades, and mechanics, who have never been 
 " at the levee of our Majefty, (hall hereafter 
 '* purchafe no cloaths for themfelves, their 
 ** wives and their children, but once in everv 
 *' four years : further, flricflly forbidding them 
 *' thofe little rejoicings which they ufed to ce- 
 " lebrate in their families upon the principal 
 ** holidays of the year. 
 
 " And, forafmuch as we are informed, that 
 *' the greateft part of the citizens of our good 
 *' towns are intirely bufied in providing an 
 *' eflablifhment for their daughters, who have 
 *' rendered themfelves refpedlable in our ftate 
 *' only by a dull and joylefs modefly ; We 
 " order, that they delay marrying them, till fuch 
 *' time as their daughters, having attained to the 
 *' age appointed by the ordinances, may have 
 ** it in their power to force them to it. We 
 " charge our magiftrates not to take care of 
 f' the education of their children." 
 
 From Paris, the firft of the Moon 
 Chalval, 171 8. 
 
 LET'
 
 [ 145 3 
 
 LETTER CXLIV. 
 
 UsBEK to Rica. 
 
 I Met, a few days ago, in a houfe in the 
 country whither I had gone, with two learn- 
 ed men who are very celebrated here. Their 
 charadters appeared to me remarkable. The 
 converfation of the one, nicely weighed, might 
 be reduced to this : What I fay is true, be- 
 caufe I have faid it. The converlation of the 
 fecond had another aim : What I have not 
 faid is not true, becaufe I have not faid it. 
 
 I LiKEt) the firfl well enou2;h : for that a 
 man (hould be pofitive, is abfolutely nothing to 
 me ; but that he fliould be impertinent, is a 
 great deal. The iird defends his opinions j 
 *tis his property : the fecond attacks the opi- 
 nions of othcfb ; and this is the property of 
 all the world. 
 
 O MY dear Ufbck, how ill does vanity fcrve 
 thofc vvlio have a flrongcr djfe of it, tlian is 
 
 L ncc'.fl'-irv
 
 [ 146 1 
 
 neceffary for the prefervation of nature. Thefe 
 people feem to want to be admired by being dif- 
 agreeable to us. They want to be fuperior to, 
 and they are not even upon a level with, the 
 reft of the world. 
 
 Men of modefty, approach, that I may 
 embrace you ! You are the delight and joy 
 of focial life. You believe that you polTefs no 
 accomplifhments, and I tell you that you pof- 
 fefs every one. You imagine that you make 
 no body appear little ; and yet you make all 
 the world do fo. And when I compare you 
 in my mind with thofe imperious and conceit- 
 ed men whom I fee every where, I place them 
 at your feet. 
 
 From Paris, the 2 2d of the Moon 
 Chahban, 1720. 
 
 LET.
 
 [ H7] 
 
 LETTER CXLV, 
 
 USBEK to *" * *. 
 
 A Man of wit is commonly nice in 
 his choice of company. He hkes 
 few people : he grows tired and dull, when 
 he is with any of that vafh number of peo- 
 ple whom he is pleafed to call bad company j 
 it is impoffible but he muft make them at 
 leaft in fome degree perceive his difguft ; 
 all thefe then become his enemies. 
 
 Sure of pleaiing if he would, he often nc- 
 gle(fls to do it. 
 
 He is naturally inclined to criticife, becaufe 
 he perceives more things than others do, and 
 is more ftruck with them. 
 
 He almoH: always ruins his fortune, becaufe 
 his genius fupplics him with a vaft number oi 
 methods of doing it. 
 
 L 2 He
 
 [ h8] 
 
 He fails in his enterprizes, becaufc he rillcs 
 a great deal. His forefight, which is always 
 very great, makes him perceive objeds which 
 are at too vaft a diftanoe -, and, befides, in the 
 infancy of a project, he is lefs ftruck with the 
 difficulties which attend the thing itfelf, than 
 with thofe expedients which he finds out, and 
 which he draws from himfelf. 
 
 He negledls fmall details, upon which 
 however the fuccefs of almoft all great affairs 
 depends. 
 
 The man of middling abilities, on the con- 
 trary, makes an advantage of every thing : he 
 perceives clearly, that nothing ought to be loft 
 by negligence. 
 
 The public approbation commonly attends 
 the middling genius. People like to add to 
 the one, and are delighted to take away from 
 the other. While envy burfts upon the one, 
 and people excufe nothing in him j every 
 thing is overlooked in the other, vanity de- 
 clares for him. 
 
 A But
 
 [ 149 ] 
 
 But If a man of wit has (o many difadvan- 
 tages, what fhall we fay of the hard condition 
 of men of learning ? 
 
 I NEVER think of it, without recalling to 
 iny mind a letter of one of them to a friend 
 of his. Here it is : 
 
 Sir, 
 
 " I AM a man bufied every night in looking 
 " through telefcopes of thirty feet at thofe 
 *' great bodies which roll over our heads ; and 
 *^ when I want to refre(h myfelf, I take my 
 ** fmall microfcopes, and obfervc a little worm 
 ^' or a mite. 
 
 *' I AM not rich, and have only one cham- 
 " ber. I dare not even light a fire in it, be- 
 *' caufe I keep my thermometer there, and the 
 " unufual heat would make it rife. Laft win- 
 *^ ter I thought to have died of cold ; and 
 *' tho' my thermometer, which v/as at the 
 *' hightll degree, gave me warning that my 
 *' hands were about to freeze, 1 did not alter 
 *' my method ; and I have the comfort of 
 *' being exadlly informed of the mod infcn- 
 L 3 " fible
 
 [ '5 ] 
 
 ** fible alterations of the weather all the laft 
 " year. 
 
 " I KEEP very little company ; and of all 
 " the people that 1 fee, I don't know one. 
 " But there is one man at Stockholm, ano- 
 <* ther atLeipfick, another at London, whom 
 " I have never feen, and whom I fliall cer- 
 " tainly never fee, with whom 1 keep fo exacfl 
 *' a correfpondence, that I don't allow a pofl 
 " to pafs without writing to them. 
 
 ** But tho' I know no body in the neigh- 
 *' bourhood, I bear fo bad a charader in it, 
 '' that I'll be at laft obliged to change my 
 " place of refidence. About five years ago, 
 " I was rudely attacked by one of my neigh- 
 " hours for having diffed:ed a dog which, fhe 
 " pretended, belonged to her. A butcher's 
 " wife, who was prefent, joined her party; 
 " and while the one loaded me with reproach- 
 *' es, the other threw flones at me and Dr. * * 
 ** vi'ho was with me, and who received a ter- 
 " rible ftroke upon the Os frontal and occipital, 
 " by which the feat of his reafon got a great 
 " fiiock. 
 
 " SixNCE
 
 [ I^' ] 
 
 " Since that time, whenever a dog wan- 
 " ders from the ftreet, 'tis immediately de- 
 " cided that it has pafTed through my hands. 
 " A good woman, who had loft a fmall one, 
 " which fhe faid fhe loved better than her 
 ** children, came t'other day and fainted in my 
 *' chamber ; and, becaufe flie did not find 
 " her dog, carried me before a magiftrate. I 
 " believe I never (hall be freed from the ma- 
 *' lice of thofe importunate women, who, with 
 " their fhrill voices, perpetually ftun my ears 
 *' with the funeral orations of all the automa- 
 *' tons which have died thefe ten years. I 
 " am, Gfr." 
 
 All the learned were formerly accufed of 
 magic ; I am not furprifed at it. Every one 
 faid to himfelf, I have carried natural talents 
 as far as they can go, and yet a certain learned 
 man has advantages over me : there mull be 
 fomething devilifli in it. 
 
 At prcfent thefe kind of accufations have 
 
 fallen into difrepute. They have taken another 
 
 way : and a man of learning can hardly efcapc 
 
 the reproach of irrcligion or herefy. In vain 
 
 L 4 is
 
 [ '52 1 
 
 is he abfolved by the people ; the wound Is 
 made, it will never clofe up. 'Tis always a 
 tender place. An adverfary may come thirty 
 years after, and modeftly fay to him, " God 
 " forbid that I fhould affirm, that that of 
 " which you are accufed is true, but you have 
 " been obliged to defend yourfelf." 'Tis thus 
 that they turn even his juftification againft him. 
 
 If he has wrote fome hiflory, and difcover- 
 ed a noblenefs of genius, and uprightnefs of 
 heart, they flir up a thoufand perfecutions 
 againft him. They endeavour to inftigate the 
 magiflrate againfl him for a fad: which hap- 
 pened a thoufand years ago. And they would 
 at leaft have his pen be kept captive, if it be 
 not venal. 
 
 More happy, however, than thofe bafe 
 men who abandon their fidelity for a fmall 
 penfion ; who, taking all their impoftures in 
 the detail, don't fell them for a farthing a- 
 piece ; who overturn the conflitution of the 
 Empire, diminifh the rights of one power, 
 augment thofe of another, give to Princes, 
 take away from the people, revive obfoletc 
 claims, flatter the faHiionable paffions of the 
 times, and the vices of the throne j impofing 
 
 upon
 
 [ 153 ] 
 
 upon pofterity by fo much the more unworth- 
 ily, as it has fewer means of deteding the 
 falfliood of their teftimony. 
 
 But 'tis not enough for an author to un- 
 dergo all thefe infults ; 'tis not enough for him 
 to have been in continual uneafinefs about the 
 fuccefs of his work. At laft that work which 
 coft him fo much appears. It leads him into 
 difputes from all parts. And how can he 
 avoid them ? He had an opinion j he fup- 
 ported it by his writings ; he did not know 
 that one at two hundred leagues diftance from 
 him had faid the dired contrary. However, 
 war is declared on this account. Befides, can 
 he expedl to acquire any confideration ? No j 
 he is at moil only efteemed by thofe who have 
 applied to the fame fcience that he himfelf 
 has. A philoropher has a fovereign contempt 
 for a man who has his head loaded with fads ; 
 and he in his turn is looked upon as a vifion- 
 ary by him who has a good memory. 
 
 As for thofe who make profeflion of a dif- 
 dainful ignorance, they would widi that all 
 the human race was buried in that oblivion in 
 which they thcmfelves will be. 
 
 A
 
 [ ^54 ] 
 
 A MAN who does not pofTefs a particular 
 talent fatisfies himfelf by defpifing it : he re- 
 moves this obftacle which ftands between him 
 and merit ; and by this he finds himfelf upon 
 a level with him whofe labours he is afraid 
 of. 
 
 In a word, a privation of pleafure, and a 
 lofs of health, mufl be joined to an uncertain 
 reputation. 
 
 From Paris, the 26th of the Moon 
 Chahbab, 1720. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ ^55 ] 
 
 LETTER CLVII. 
 Zachi to UsBEK at Paris. 
 
 OH heavens! a Barbarian has affronted 
 me even in his manner of punifhing 
 me ! He hath inflided upon me that punifli- 
 ment which begins by giving an alarm to mo- 
 defty J that punifliment which humbles one 
 to the greateft degree ; that punifhment which 
 carries one back, fo to fpeak, to infancy. 
 
 My foul, at firft annihilated with (hame, re- 
 affumed its confcioufnefs, and began to difdain 
 itfelf, when my cries made the walls of my 
 apartment refound. I was heard afking par- 
 don of the vilefl: of mankind, and trying to 
 move his companion, in proportion as he was 
 more inexorable. 
 
 Since this time, his infolent and fervile foul 
 hath got the afcendant over mine. His pre- 
 fcncc, his looks, his words, all misfortunes 
 combine to opprefs me. When I am alone, 
 I have at lead the confolation of flicdding: 
 
 tears
 
 I '56 ] 
 
 tears : but when he prefents himfelf to my 
 view, fury feizes me j I find it impotent, and 
 I fall into defpair. 
 
 The tyger dares to tell me, that thou art 
 the author of all thefe barbarities. He would 
 deprive me of my very love, and profane 
 even the fentiments of my heart : when he 
 pronounces to me the name of him I love, I 
 am able to complain no longer j I can only 
 die. 
 
 I HAVE fupported thy abfence, and I have pre- 
 ferved my love by the ftrength of this very love. 
 Nights, days, moments, all have been for thee ; 
 I was proud of my love itfelf, and thine made 
 
 me be refpeded here. But at prefent 
 
 no, I can no longer bear that humiliation into 
 which I am fallen. If I am innocent, return 
 to love me : return, if I am guilty, that I 
 may expire at thy feet. 
 
 From the Seraglio of Ifpahan, the Se- 
 cond of the Moon Maharram, 1720. 
 
 LET-
 
 lis?} 
 
 LETTER CLVIII. 
 
 Zelis to UsBEK at Paris. 
 
 AT the diftance of a thoufand leagues, 
 you condemn me as guilty. At a thou- 
 fand leagues diftance from me, you punifli 
 me. 
 
 What tho* a barbarous eunuch lays his 
 vile hands upon me j he adts by your order : 
 'tis the tyrant who injures me, and not he 
 who executes the tyranny. 
 
 You may, as your fancy di<flates to you, re- 
 double my cruel ufage. My heart is tranquil, 
 lince it can no more love you. Your foul de- 
 grades itfelf, and you become cruel. Be af- 
 iured that you arc not happy. Adieu. 
 
 From the Seraglio at Ifpahan, the Se- 
 cond oi' the Moon Maliarram. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ 158] 
 
 LETTER CLX. 
 
 SoLiM to UsBEK at Paris. 
 
 I Have taken my meafures : thy misfor- 
 tunes are about to difappear : I go to 
 punifh. 
 
 I ALREADY feel a fecret joy : my foul and 
 thine fhall foon be appeafed : We go to exter- 
 minate vice, and to make innocence tremble. 
 
 O YE v^^ho feem only to be made, that you 
 may be acquainted with no fenfual pleafure, 
 and to difdain your very delires ! eternal vic- 
 tims of modefty and fhame ! why can't I in- 
 troduce you, in vaft numbers, into this unhappy 
 feraglio, to aftonifh you with the blood I am 
 going to fhed ! 
 
 From the Seraglio at Ifpahan, the 8th 
 of the Moon Rebiab, 1720. 
 
 THE
 
 THE 
 
 TEMPLE 
 
 O F 
 
 G N I D U S. 
 
 -Non murmura vejlra, columh^e. 
 
 Brachia non beder^, non vincant ofcula conchce. 
 
 Fragment of an Epitkalamium of the Emperor Gallienus.
 
 THE 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 AN ambaffador of France at the Ottoman 
 Porte, known by bis tafte for literature, 
 having purchafed many Greek manufcripts, 
 brought them to France : and, fome of them 
 falling into my hands, I found among them the 
 work of which I here give a tranflation. 
 
 Few of the Greek authors have been hand- 
 ed down to us : they have either peri(hed in 
 the ruin of libraries, or by the negligence of 
 the families who have had them in their pof- 
 fefiion. 
 
 We, however, receive from time to time 
 fome pieces of thefe treafures. We have found 
 works even in the tombs of their authors ; and, 
 what is much the fame, this was difcovered 
 among the books of a Greek Bin:iop. 
 
 We know neither the name of the author 
 nor the time in which he lived. All that wc 
 M can
 
 [ I62 ] 
 
 can fay of him is, that he was not anterior ta 
 Sappho, lince he quotes her in his work. 
 
 As to my tranflation, it is a faithful one. 
 The beauties that were not in my author, I 
 fuppofed, did not deferve the name of beau- 
 ties ; and I have often chofen a lefs lively man- 
 ner of expreffion, in order the better to exprefs 
 his thought. 
 
 I HAVE been encouraged to undertake this 
 tranflation by the fuccefs which has attended 
 that of TalTo. He who performed it will not 
 be offended at my having followed his exam- 
 ple. He has there diftingulihed himfelf in 
 fuch a manner, as to be under no apprehenfions 
 from thofe whom he has infpired with the 
 warmeft fpirit of emulation. 
 
 This little romance is a kind of pidure in 
 which are felcifted the moft agreeable objedls. 
 The public will here find fmiling images, mag- 
 nificent defcriptions, and ingenuous fentiments. 
 
 It has the marks of an original ; which has 
 made the critics demand, after what model it 
 was formed. This mull greatly inhance its 
 
 merit,
 
 r 163 ] 
 
 merit, efpecially as the work is, in other rc- 
 
 fpeds, far from being defpicable. 
 
 Some of the learned have not difcovered in 
 it what they term art j and they alledge, that it 
 is not written according to the rules : but if 
 the work has pleafed, it is a proof that the 
 heart has not communicated to them all its 
 rules. 
 
 A MAN who attempts a tranflation, cannot 
 patiently bear that others (hould not efteem his 
 author as much as he does himfelf j and I con- 
 fefs that thefe gentlemen have often filled me 
 with a furious refentment : but I defire them 
 to leave the young men to judge of a book, 
 whichj in whatfoever language it was written, 
 was certainly wrote foe their ufe. I intreat 
 them, therefore, not to trouble themfelves v/ith 
 their decifions ; for none but the heads that are 
 well curled and powdered, can know all the 
 merit of the Teniple of Gnidus. 
 
 With refpcc^ to the fair fex, to whom I 
 
 owe the few happy moments I can reckon in 
 
 my life, 1 heartily v/ilh that this work may 
 
 pleafe them. I admire them flill ; and their 
 
 M 2 ' not
 
 [ i64] 
 not being more the fubjedt of my afliduitles is 
 a fource of regret. 
 
 If men of gravity (hould defire from me a 
 Icfs trifling work, I am able to fatisfy them. 
 Thefe thirty years have I laboured at a book of 
 no more than twelve pages, which is to contain 
 all we know of metaphyfics, politics, and mo- 
 rality, and all that very great authors have for- 
 gotten in the volumes they have publifhed on 
 thofe fciences. 
 
 1^ II K
 
 THE 
 
 TEMPLE 
 
 O F 
 
 G N I D U S. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 VENUS chufes to refide at Gnidus, ra- 
 ther than at Paphos and Amathus, 
 and never defcends from Olympus without 
 vifiting the Gnidians. So much has (he ac- 
 cuftomed thefe happy people to her fight, that 
 they no longer feel that facred horror infpired 
 by the prefence of the Gods. Sometimes ihe 
 covers herfelf with a cloud, and is known by 
 the divine odour that flows from her hair per- 
 fumed with ambrofia. 
 
 The city is in the midft of a country on 
 
 which the Gods have lavifhed their favours 
 
 with a liberal hand. The inhabitants enjoy an 
 
 eternal fpring ; the earth, happily fertile, pre- 
 
 M 3 vents
 
 [ i66 ] 
 
 vents all their wifhes j their flocks feed with- 
 out number ; the birds inceflantly fing, fo 
 that you would think the woods were vocal ; 
 rivulets murmur in the plains j a gentle heat 
 renders every thing blooming j and the air the 
 people breathe infpires only pleafure. 
 
 Near the city is the palace of Venus, the 
 foundations of which were hid by Vulcan ; 
 who laboured for his faithlefs fpoufe while he 
 ftrove to make her forget the cruel affront he 
 had given her before the Gods. 
 
 It would be impofliblc for me to give an 
 idea of the beauties of this palace 5 for none 
 but the Graces can defcrihe what they have 
 performed. Gold, azure, rubies, diamonds, 
 ihine on all fides j but here I paint only riches, 
 and not beauty. 
 
 The gardens are inchanting ; they are un- 
 der the care of Flora and Pomona, and are- 
 cultivated by the nymphs. Fruits fpring up 
 under the hand thatpluclcs them 5 and bloffoms 
 .fucceed the fruit. When Venus walks in 
 them furrounded by her Gnidians, you would 
 think that in their v/anton fports they would 
 
 deftroy
 
 [ i67 1 
 
 deflroy thefe delightful gardens ; but by a fe- 
 crct virtue every thing is inftantly repaired. 
 
 Venus loves to fee the fprighdy dances of 
 the girls of Gnidus. Her nymphs mingle with 
 them ; the Goddefs herfelf bears a part iH 
 their fports ; (he ftrips herfelf of her majefty, 
 lits in the mid ft of them, and fees joy and in- 
 nocence reign in their hearts. 
 
 At a diftance is difcovered a fpacious mea- 
 dow enamelled with flowers. The fhepherd 
 crimes to gither them, with his fhepherd- 
 e:s ; but that which (he finds is always the 
 moft b'jautiful, and it is believed that this 
 happens by the exprcfs defign of Flora. 
 
 The Cephifus waters this meadow, and 
 runs throiu;h it with a thoufand turnings. The 
 river God flops the fugitive fhepherdeifes, and 
 will oblige them to give him the tender kifs 
 they had promifed him. 
 
 When the nymphs approach his banks, he 
 ftops, and the waves which fly find tho(e that 
 are incapable of flying. But when one of 
 them bathes, he is ftili more amorous ; his 
 waters wind about her limbs ; he fometim^s 
 M 4 rifes.
 
 [ i68 ] 
 
 rires, the better to give her his embraces ; he 
 lifts her up j he flies j he takes her with him* 
 Her timid Companions begin to weep : but he 
 fupports her upon his waves, and charmed 
 with the precious burden, leads her over his li- 
 quid plain : at length loth to part with her> 
 he conduds her flowly to the bank, and ref- 
 tores comfort to her companions. 
 
 On the fide of the meadow is a myrtle 
 grove, where the paths make a variety of 
 turnings. The lovers there come to recount 
 their pains ; and Love, who amufes them, al- 
 ways conduds them through the moft fecret 
 paths. 
 
 Not far from thence Is an antlent and facred 
 wood, thro' which the light can with difficul- 
 ty enter. Oaks, that feem immortal, bear up 
 their heads to the heavens, which conceal them 
 from our view. We there feel a religious fear ; 
 you would fay that this was the abode of the 
 Gods, ere man had fprung from the earth. 
 
 On coming to afj opening where the day 
 ]:reaks in, the people afcend a little hill, on 
 which is the temple of Venus, than which 
 the uniyerfe has nothing more facred. 
 
 In
 
 [ i69] 
 
 In this temple Venus firfl faw her Adonis, 
 and the poifon thrilled through the heart of 
 the Goddefs. What ! faid (he, do I then love 
 a mortal ? Alas ! I find I adore him. Let 
 them no more addrefs their vows to me -, Ado- 
 nis is the only Deity at Gnidus. 
 
 It was in this place that (he aflembled the 
 Loves, when piqued with a radi diftruft, fhe 
 confulted them. She was in doubt whether 
 (lie fliould expofe herfelf naked to the view of 
 the Trojan fhepherd. She concealed her gir- 
 dle under her hair ; her nymphs fprinklcd her 
 with perfumes ; {he mounted her chariot 
 drawn by fwans, and arrived in Phrygia. The 
 fhepherd hefitated between Juno and Pallas ; 
 he faw her, and his lucks were fixed and 
 dying : the golden apple fell at the feet of the 
 Goddefs ; he attempted to fpcak, and his dif- 
 ordcr decided the difpute. 
 
 It was to this temple that the young Pfychc 
 came with her mother, when Cupid, who flew 
 about the golden cieling, was himfelf furprifcd 
 by one of her glances, and felt the pain he 
 had made others fuffer. Thus do I wound, 
 faid he, I can neither fupport my bow nor my 
 
 arrows.
 
 [ 170 ] 
 
 arrows. He then funk down on the breaft of 
 Pfyche, and cried, Oh ! I now begin to feel 
 that I am the God of Pleafure. 
 
 When the people enter this temple, they 
 perceive their hearts pofTefied by a fecret charm: 
 the foul is filled with that ravifhing delight, 
 which the Gods themfelves never feel, but 
 when they are in their celeftial abodes. 
 
 Whatever is moft fmiling in nature is 
 joined to every thing that art can invent as moft 
 noble, and moft worthy of the Gods. 
 
 A HAND, which was doubtlefs immortal, 
 has every where adorned the place with 
 paintings that feem to breathe. We there ice 
 the birth of Venus ; the rapture of the Gods 
 who faw her ; her embarraffmcnt at appearing 
 naked, and that modefty which is the filH of 
 the Graces. 
 
 We there fee the amours of Mars and that 
 Goddefs. The painter has reprefented the 
 God of War in his chariot, in which he ap- 
 pears fierce, and even terrible : Fame flies be- 
 fore him ; Fear and Death march, followed by 
 his horfes covered with foam : he enters the 
 
 throng,
 
 [ 171 ] 
 
 throng, and a thick dufl begins to hide him 
 from our view. In another place we fee him 
 laid languifhingly on a bed of rofes, fmiling on 
 Venus i and you would not know him, were 
 it not for fome traces of the divinity which ftill 
 remain. The Pleafures are employed in ma- 
 king wreaths and garlands, with which they 
 bind the two lovers j their eyes melt in foft- 
 nefs ; they figh, and only attentive to each o_ 
 ther, are regardlefs of the little Cupids that 
 play about them. 
 
 There is a feparate apartment, where the 
 painter has reprefented the marriage of Vul- 
 can and Venus : all the celeftial court are there 
 aflcmblcd : the God appears lefs gloomy, but 
 as penfive as ufual. The Goddefs looks with 
 an air of coldnefs on the common joy ; fhe 
 negligently gives him a hand which fhe feems 
 unwilling to refign : (he cafts another way 
 looks expreflive of pain, and turns towards the 
 Graces. 
 
 In another pl6lurc we fee Juno performing 
 the marriage-ceremony. Venus takes the cup 
 to fwcar an eternal fidelity to Vulcan : the 
 Gods fmilc, and Vulcan hears her with plea- 
 fure. 
 
 On-
 
 [ 172 ] 
 
 On the other fide we fee the impatient God 
 drawing along his divine fpoufe, who makes 
 fuch refiftance, that one would imagirie her to 
 be the daughter of Ceres, whom Plutb is going 
 to ravifb, if the eye that had feen Venus could 
 ever be deceived. 
 
 At fome diHance, we fee her carried away 
 towards the nuptial bed. The Gods follow 
 in crowds ; the Goddefs difputes, and endea- 
 vours to efcape, from the arms ofthofewho 
 hold her. Her robe flys from her knees ; the 
 linen flutters : but Vulcan repairs this beautiful 
 diforder, and is more attentive to conceal than 
 .ardent to feize. 
 
 In {hort, we fee her jufl: laid on the bed 
 prepared by Hymen ; Vulcan draws the cur- 
 tains, and thinks of keeping her there for ever. 
 The importunate throng retire j and he rejoi- 
 ces at feeing them go. The GoddefTes play 
 together : but the Gods appear dejeded ; and 
 Mars's melancholy has fomething gloomy, 
 like the pangs of jealoufy. 
 
 Charmed with the magnificence of her 
 temple, the Goddefs herfelf has eftabliflied the 
 
 worfiiip
 
 f 173 ] 
 
 worfhip performed there : fhe has regulated Its 
 ceremonies, inftituted feftivals, and is at the 
 fame time the deity and the prieftefs. 
 
 The wor{hip paid her, almoft over the 
 whole earth, is rather a profanation than a re- 
 Hgion. She has temples, in which all the 
 maids in other cities proflitute themfelves to 
 her honour, and acquire a portion from the 
 profits of proftitution. She has others where 
 every married woman goes once in her life to 
 give up herfelf to him who has fingled her 
 out, and where flie throws into the fand:uary 
 the money die has received. There are o- 
 thcrs again, where the courtezans of ail coun- 
 tries, more honoured than the matrons, go to 
 make their offerings. There is, in (liort, ano- 
 ther, where the men render themfelves eu- 
 nuchs, and drefs themfelves like women, in or- 
 der to ferve in the fandtuary, confecratirig them- 
 felves to the Goddefs, and thofe of her fcx. 
 
 But (he refolved, that the people of Gni- 
 dus (liould have a purer worfliip, and render 
 her honours more worthy her acceptance. 
 Her facrifices there are fighs, and her oltering-> 
 a tender heart. Every lover addreflcs his vov,> 
 to his miftrefs, and Venus receives tliem for her. 
 
 Wni;RE-
 
 [ 174 ] 
 
 Wherever beauty is found, they pay it 
 the fame adoration as to Venus ; for beauty, 
 like her, is divine. ' 
 
 With hearts inflamed with love they enter 
 the Temple, and embrace at the altars of Fi- 
 delity and Conflancy. 
 
 Those who are treated with cruelty come 
 there to vent their fighs : they feel their tor- 
 ments diminih, and find their hearts filled 
 with flattering hope. 
 
 Jealousy is a pafllon that may be felt, 
 though it ought to be concealed. A man there 
 adores in fecret the caprices of his miflrefs, as 
 they adore the decrees of the Gods, which be- 
 come more juft when we prefume to utter our 
 complaints. 
 
 Among the divine favours are reckoned the 
 fire, the tranfports of love, and even all its fu- 
 ry : for the lefs a perfon is mafler of his own 
 heart, the more is he devoted to the Goddefs. 
 
 Those who have not lofl: their hearts are 
 the profane, who are not admitted into her 
 
 Temple
 
 [ '75] 
 
 Temple. They at a diftance addrefs theif 
 vows to the Goddefs, and beg to be delivered 
 from that liberty, which is nothing more than 
 the incapacity of forming defires. 
 
 The Goddefs infpires the girls with mo- 
 defty ', and that virtue has fuch charms as to 
 fet an additional value on all the treafures 
 they conceal. 
 
 But never in thefe fortunate places do they 
 blufli at a lincere pafTion, an ingenuous fenti- 
 ment, a tender acknowledgement. 
 
 The heart becomes fixed from the moment 
 it has furrendered : but it is a profanation to fur- 
 render without love. 
 
 Cupid is attentive to the felicity of the 
 Gnidians ; he chufes the arrows with which 
 he wounds them. When he fees an afflidtcd 
 lover, whofe paffion meets with an unkind re- 
 turn, he takes an arrow dipped in the water of 
 forgetfulnefs. When he fees two lovers who 
 begin to feel the tender pafiion, he incellantly 
 lets fly againft them fredi arrows : and on fee- 
 ing one vvhufe love has declined, he makes it 
 fuddcnly revive or expire , for he fhortens the 
 4. dur?.tion
 
 f iy6 ] 
 
 duration of a languishing paffion, and will not 
 fuffer them to feel difguft before they ceafe to 
 love. Thus enraptured by the fweets of a 
 greater felicity, they forget the lefs. 
 
 Cupid took from his quiver the cruel ar- 
 rows with which he wounded Phedra and Ari- 
 adne J they were mixed with love and hatred, 
 and ferved to fhew his power, as thunder 
 makes known the empire of Jupiter. 
 
 In proportion as the God gives the pleafurc 
 of loving, Venus adds the happinefs of pleaf- 
 ing. 
 
 The girls every day enter the fanduary to" 
 offer their prayers to Venus. They there ex- 
 prefs the genuine fentiments of their hearts. 
 Queen of Amathus, faid one of them, my 
 flame for Thyrfis is extinguiflied ; I do not 
 intreat to have my love revived, but only that 
 Ixiphiles may love me. 
 
 Another foftly fays, Powerful Goddefs! 
 give me the power to conceal for fome time my 
 love to my (hepherd, in order to inhance the 
 value of the confeflion I intend to make to 
 him. 
 
 GOPDESS
 
 [ ^71 ] 
 
 Goddess of Cythera ! fays another, I fcek 
 folitude ; the fports of my companions no 
 longer pleafe me : perhaps I love. But if I 
 am indeed in love, let it be with none but 
 Daphnis. 
 
 At their feftivals the young muen and maids 
 go to repeat hymns in honour of Venus : and 
 often do they celebrate her praife in finging 
 their own amours. 
 
 A YOUNG Gnidian, taking his miftrefs by 
 the hand, fung thus : Cupid, when firft Pfyche 
 appeared to thy view, thou doubtleis wound- 
 edft her with the fame arrow as that with which 
 thou haft wounded my heart. Thy happinefs 
 was not different from mine j for thou felteft 
 my flames, and I feel thy pleafures. 
 
 For my part, I have feen what I defcribc. 
 I have been at Gnidus : I have iQ,tn Themira, 
 and I have loved : I faw her again, and I lovctl 
 her ftill more. With her I will fpcnd my life 
 at Gnidus, and I diall be the moft happy of all 
 mortals. 
 
 N \Vr,
 
 [ 178] 
 
 We will vifit the Temple ; and never fliall 
 a more faithful lover enter its walls. We will 
 go to the palace of Venus, and I will imagine 
 it to be the palace of my Themira. I will 
 walk to the meadow, and gather flowers, 
 which I will place in her bofom. Perhaps I 
 may conduct her to the grove where fo many 
 paths meet, and when fhe fliall have ftrayed 
 But Cupid, by whom I am infpired, forbids 
 my revealing his myfteries. 
 
 CAN-
 
 [ ^19 ] 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 THERE is at Gnldus another factcd 
 grove inhabited by the nymphs, where 
 the Goddefs delivers her oracles. The earth 
 fends forth no hollow found under your feet j 
 the hair is not raifed ered: upon the head ; and 
 there is no prieftefs as at Delphos, where 
 Apollo fills with convulfive agitations the trem- 
 bling Pythia : but Venus herfelf lends an ear 
 to the requefts of mortals, without fporting 
 with their hopes or fears. 
 
 A COQUETTE of the ifle of Crete came to 
 Gnidus ; fhe was furrounded by all the young 
 Gnidians \ (lie fmiled at one, whifpered to an- 
 other, threw her arm upon a third, and called 
 to two others to follow her. She was beau- 
 tiful, and adorned with art, and the found of 
 her voice was as deceitful as her eyes. O hea- 
 vens ! how were the faithful, the tender lovers, 
 among the fair, alarmed ! She prefented herfelf 
 before the Oracle with as much confidence as 
 a Goddefs : but fuddenly we heard a voice pro- 
 ceed from the fandluary : Perfidious wretch 1 
 N 2 how
 
 [ i8o ] 
 
 how darell: thou carry thy artifices even into 
 the places where I reign with candour and lin- 
 cerity ? Severely flialt thou be punifhed : I will 
 take away thy charms ; but leave thy heart as 
 it is : thou fhalt call about thee all the men 
 thou feeft ; but they Ihall fly from thee as from 
 a plaintive ghoft, and thou fhalt die rejedledj 
 and loaded with contempt. 
 
 At length came a courtezan of Nocretis fhi- 
 ning with the fpoils of her lovers. Go, faid 
 the Goddefe, thou deceiveft thyfelf in believing 
 that thou haft added to the glory of my em- 
 pire. Thy beauty proclaims that thou haft 
 pleafure to beftow ; but none does it give : thy 
 heart is like iron, and tho' thou fhouldeft fee 
 my fon himfelf, thou couldeft not love him. 
 Go, beftow thy favours on the bafe men who 
 demand them, and whom they fill with dif- 
 guft : go, fliew them charms which fhall fud- 
 dcnly vaniOi, and be loft for ever. Thou art 
 only fit to render my power defpifed. 
 
 SoMETiiME after came a rich man, who col- 
 lected tribute for the King of Lydia. Thou 
 afkeft, faid the Goddefs, one thing which I 
 cannot perform, though I am the Goddefs of 
 Love. Thou afkeft for beauties, that thou 
 
 4 mayeft
 
 .{ i8. ] 
 
 inayeft tafte the raptures of love j but thou lov- 
 eft them not becaufe thou haft bought them : 
 thy treafures are not ufelefs j they ferve to fill 
 thee with dlfguft againft every thing moft 
 charming in nature. 
 
 A YOUNG man of Doris, named Arifteus, 
 at length prefented himfelf. He had feen at 
 Gnidus the charming Camilla, and was fallen 
 defperately in love witfi her. He perceived 
 the excefs of his paffion, and came to afk Ve- 
 nus that he might love her ftill more. 
 
 I KNOW thine heart, faid the GoddQ.fs ; thou 
 art fenlible of the power of love. I have 
 found Camilla worthy of thee. I could have 
 given her to the greateft King upon earth j 
 but Kings have lefs merit than fliepherds. 
 
 I AT laft appeared with Themira ; when 
 the Goddefs faid : There is not in all my em- 
 pire a mortal who knows how to fubmit him- 
 felf to my power better than thee ; but what 
 wouldll: thou have me do for thee ? I cannot 
 render thee more in love, nor Themiia more 
 charming. O great Goddefs, faid I, I have a 
 thoufand favours to afk : May Themira think 
 only of mci may flie fee none but me j roay 
 N 3 ilie
 
 [ i82 ] 
 
 fhe awake dreaming of me ; may fhe fear to 
 lofe me when I am prefent ; hope for me 
 in my abfence 5 and always charmed with fee- 
 ing me, ftill regret every moment (he pafles 
 without me. 
 
 C A N-
 
 [ >83 ] 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 AT Gnidus there are facred games which 
 are renewed every year, and there wo- 
 men come from all parts to difpute the prize 
 of beauty ; when (liepherdefTes are confound- 
 ed with the daughters of Kings, for there 
 beauty alone is the mark of empire. Venus 
 herfelf prefides over them ; fhe decides with- 
 out hefitation, and knows well the happy 
 mortal whom fhe has mofl favoured. 
 
 Helen feveral times gained the prize: {he 
 triumphed when Che was ftolen by Thefeus ; 
 flie triumphed when (lie was carried away by 
 the fon of Priam ; in fine, (he triumphed when 
 the Gods reftored her to Menelaus, after his 
 hopes had been kept alive for ten years : that 
 Prince therefore, in the opinion of Venus her- 
 felf, found as much happinefs in being her 
 hufband, as Thefeus and Paris in bein": her 
 lovers. 
 
 Thert came thirty girls of Corinth, whofe 
 
 hair fell in large ringlets on their flioulders. 
 
 N 4 There
 
 [ i84 ] 
 There came ten from Salamis, who had not 
 yet feen thirteen times the annual courfe of 
 the fiin. There came fifteen from the ifle of 
 Lefbos, who faid to each other, I am quite 
 charmed, I never faw any thing fo beautiful 
 as you ; if Venus faw you with the fame eyes 
 as I do, flie would crown you amidft all the 
 beauties of the univerfe. 
 
 There came fifty women of Miletus, who 
 excelled in the whitenefs of their complexion, 
 and the regularity of their features 5 every thing 
 fhewed, or gave room to imagine, that their 
 perfons v^'ere lovely, and that the Gods, who 
 had formed them, would have made nothing 
 fo beautiful as they, had they fought to obtain 
 valuable perfections rather than external gra- 
 ces. 
 
 An hundred women came from the ifland 
 of Cyprus. We have pafTed our youth, faid 
 they, in the temple of Venus ; to her we have 
 confecrated our virginity, and our modefty it- 
 felf. We do not blufl) at our charms j our 
 manners, fometimes bold, and always free, 
 ought to give us the advantage over a mo- 
 defty that is continually creating frefh alarms. 
 
 I SAW
 
 [ ,85] 
 
 I SAW the daughters of proud Sparta : their 
 robes were open at the fides from the girdle, in 
 the moft indecent manner -, and yet they be- 
 haved Hke prudes, and maintained, that they 
 would never violate the laws of modefly, ex- 
 cept for the love of their country. 
 
 SEA, famous for fo many fliipwrecks, 
 thou prefervefl: the treafures committed to thy 
 care. Thou becameft. calm, when the fhip 
 Argo, laden with the golden fleece, failed on 
 thy liquid plain ; and when fifty beauties de- 
 parted from Colchis, and trufted thcmfclves on 
 thy waves, thou didft bow under them. 
 
 1 ALSO faw Oriana, hke a Goddefs : All the 
 beauties of Lydia furrounded their Queen. 
 She had ferft before her an hundred girls, who 
 had prefented to Venus an offering of two 
 hundred talents. Candaules came himfelf 
 and was more diftinguiflied by his love than by 
 the royal purple. He paffed his days and 
 nights in devouring with his looks the charms 
 of Oriana j his eyes wanderea over her beauti- 
 ful form, and were never wca, y. I am happy, 
 faid he ; but alas ! this is known only to Venus 
 ^nd myfelf) my felicity would be much 
 
 heightened,
 
 heightened, did it but infpire envy ! Lovely 
 Queen, quit thefe vain ornaments ; drop that 
 troublefome vail, and fhew thyfelf to the uni- 
 verfe -, leave the prize of beauty, and demand 
 altars raifed to thine honour. 
 
 Afterwards came twenty Babylonians, 
 drefled in purple robes embroidered with gold : 
 they imagined, that the richnefs of their ap- 
 parel inhanced their value. Some carried, as a 
 proof of their beauty, the riches it had enabled 
 them to acquire. 
 
 Then came an hundred Egyptian women 
 whofe eyes and whofe hair were black : their 
 hufbands were with them, and faid. The laws 
 render us fubjecfl to you in honour of Ills j but 
 your beauty has a more powerful empire over 
 us, than that of the laws : we obey you with 
 the fame plcafure as we obey the Gods, and 
 are the mod happy Haves in the univerfe. 
 Duty fecures our fidelity to you ; but only love 
 can render you faithful to us. Be lefs fenfible 
 of the glory you acquire at Gnidus, than o: 
 the homage you may find in your own houfe 
 from a tranquil Iiufband ; who, while you are 
 employed in affairs abroad, ought to wait in 
 the family for the heart, you bring hini. 
 
 There
 
 [ i87 ] 
 
 There came women from that powerful 
 city which fends velTels to the ends of the uni- 
 verfe : their heads were loaden with fuper- 
 fluous ornaments, and all the parts of the earth 
 feemed to have contributed to form their 
 drefs. 
 
 Ten beauties came from the place where the 
 day begins to dawn ; they were the daughters 
 of Aurora, and in order to fee her, rofe daily 
 before that Goddefs. They complained of the 
 Sun, that he made their mother difappear ; and 
 they complained of their mother, that (he did 
 not fhew herfelf to them, as fhe did to other 
 mortals. 
 
 I SAW under a tent a Queen of India fur- 
 rounded by her virgins, who already gave hopes 
 of their having the charms of their mothers ; 
 Ihe was ferved by eunuchs, whofe eyes were 
 fixed on the earth j for (ince their breathing 
 the air of Gnidus, they had felt the gloom of 
 melancholy redoubled. 
 
 The women of Cadiz, which is at the ex- 
 tremity of the earth, likewife difputed for the 
 prize. There is no country upon earth where 
 
 beauty
 
 I i88 ] 
 beauty docs not receive homage j but nothing 
 Icfs than the highefh homage can fatisfy the 
 
 ambition of the fair. 
 
 ,._;; 
 
 The girls of Gnidus at length appeared : 
 beautiful without ornament, they had graces 
 inftead of pearls and rubies. Nothing was 
 feen on their heads but the prefents of Flora 5 
 which were there more worthy of the embra- 
 ces of Zephyrus. Their robes had no other 
 merit befides that of exhibiting the finenefs of 
 their fhape, and of being fpun with their own 
 lingers. 
 
 . Among all thefe beauties one coald not fee 
 the young Camilla ; who had faid, I will not 
 difpute the prize of beauty, it is fufficient that 
 my dear Arifteus thinks me fair, 
 
 Diana rendered thefe games celebrated by 
 her prefence. She did not come to difpute the 
 prize 3 for the GoddefTes do not compare 
 themfelves to mortals. I faw her alone, and 
 fhe feemed as beautiful as Venus : I faw her 
 with Venus, and flie was only Diana. 
 
 There never was fo great a concourfe : 
 nations were feparated from nations j the eye 
 
 wandered
 
 [ ^^9] 
 wandered from country to country, from the 
 fetting of the fun to the rifing of Aurora. It 
 feemed as if Gnidus comprehended the whple 
 univerfe. 
 
 The Gods have divided beauty among the 
 nations, as nature has divided it among the 
 GoddefTes. There we fee the proud beauty of 
 Pallas J here the grandeur and majefty of Ju- 
 no ; farther flill, the fimplicity of Diana, the 
 delicacy of Thetis, the charms of the Graces, 
 and fometimes the fmile of Venus. 
 
 It feemed as if each nation had a particular 
 manner of cxprelFing modefty, and yet that 
 every woman was refolved to attra(fl every eye. 
 Some difcovered the neck, and concealed the 
 flioulders j others (liewed their flioulders, and 
 concealed their necks : thofe who concealed 
 the foot paid you with ether charms ; and here 
 they blu(hed at what was there called decency. 
 
 The Gods are fo charmed with Themira, 
 that they never look at her without fmiling at 
 their work. Of all the GoddelTes, there is 
 none but Venus who fees her with pleafure, 
 and whom the Gods do not rally with having 
 a little jealoufy. 
 
 As
 
 [ 19 ] 
 
 As we obferve a rofe in the midft of the 
 flowers that fpring in the grafs, Them Ira was 
 diftinguifhed among fo many beauties. They 
 had not time to become her rivals ; they were 
 vanquiflied before they feared her. She no 
 fooner appeared, than the eyes of Venus were 
 fixed on her ; and calling the Graces, Go, faid 
 flie, and crown her, for of all the beauties I 
 fee, (he alone refembles you. 
 
 CAN
 
 [191 ] 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 TTJHILE Themira was employed with 
 V V her companions in the worfliip of the 
 Goddefs, I entered a folitary wood, and there 
 I found the tender Arifteus. We had feen 
 each other on the day when we went to con- 
 fult the Oracle ; and our meeting was fuffi- 
 cient to engage us to enter into converfation : 
 for Venus places in the heart, on our feeing an 
 inhabitant of Gnidus, the fecret charm felt by 
 two friends, when after a long abfence, they 
 prefs in their arms the dear objecft of their in- 
 quietudes. 
 
 Tramsported with each other, we found 
 that we had refigned our hearts : it appeared 
 as if a tender frienddiip had defcended from 
 heaven in order to unite us. We related a 
 thoufand paflages of our lives, and this is, near- 
 ly, what 1 faid to him. 
 
 I WAS born at Sybaris, where Antilochui 
 my father was the prieft of Venus. In that 
 city they make no difference between luxuries 
 
 and
 
 [. 192 ] 
 
 and neceffities ; all the arts are banifhed that 
 are capable of diflurbing a tranquil fleep : pri- 
 zes are given at the public expence to thofe 
 who difcover new fources of voluptuoufnefs: 
 and the citizens remember only the buffoons 
 that have afforded them diverfion, while they 
 lofe all remembrance of the magiflrates who 
 have governed them with wifdbm. 
 
 The people there take advantage of the fer- 
 tility of the foil, which produces an eternal 
 plenty j and the favours beftowed by the Gods 
 on Sybaris ferve only to encourage foftnefs and 
 luxury. 
 
 To SUCH a degree are the men funk in effe- 
 minacy, that their drefs is fo like that of the 
 women, they take fuch care of their complex- 
 ions, they curl their hair with fuch art, and 
 employ fo much time in adorning themfelves 
 at the glafs, that there feems to be only one 
 fex in all the city. 
 
 The women abandon themfelves, inflead of 
 furrendering, and the defires and hopes of the 
 day are finiihed atits conclufion. They know 
 not what it is to love, and to tafte the pleafure 
 
 of
 
 [ m 1 
 
 of being beloved, and are folely employed about 
 what is falfcly called enjoyment. 
 
 What with us are termed favours are there 
 nothing lefs than their proper realities j and all 
 thofe circumftances which fo happily accom- 
 pany them J all thofe nothings that are of fuch 
 great value j all thofe trifles that are of fuch 
 worth i every thing that prepares the way for 
 the happy moment ; fo many conquefts inflead 
 of one J fo many enjoyments before the lad; 
 are all unknown at Sybaris. 
 
 Yet, had they the leaft modcfty, a fmall ap- 
 pearance of that virtue would pleafe : but they 
 have it not ; their eyes are accuftomed to fee, 
 and their ears to hear every thing. 
 
 So far is the multiplicity of pleafures from 
 giving the Sybarites more delicacy, that the/ 
 cannot diftinguifh one fentiment from another. 
 
 They pafs life in a joy merely exterior j 
 quitting one pleafure that difpleafes them, for 
 another that is ftill more difpleafingj while 
 every change affords a new fubjcdt of dif- 
 guft. 
 
 O Their
 
 [ 194 ] 
 
 Their foals, incapable of relifhing pleafure, 
 feem to have no delicacy but for pain. Thus, 
 a citizen was fatigued a whole night by the 
 leaf of a rofe folded in his bed. 
 
 Ease and foftnefs have fo weakened their 
 bodies, that they cannot remove the leaft bur- 
 den, and can fcarce fupport themfelves on their 
 feet. They faint away in the moft eafy car- 
 riages; and when at a feaft, their fiomachs 
 continually fail them. 
 
 Thev pafs their lives reclined on fophas, 
 on which tliey are obliged to repofe the whole 
 day, without any relief from their fatigue j 
 they are bruifed if they attempt to languifh cut 
 life in anv other manner. 
 
 Incapable of bearing the weight of 
 arms ; timorous before their fellow citizens, 
 and dafcardly in the prefence of flrangers, 
 they are flaves ready to fabmit to the iirft 
 mafter. 
 
 - 1 WAS no fooncr capable of thinking, than I 
 was filled with contempt for the unhappy Sy- 
 barites. I love virtue, and have alwavs feared 
 
 the
 
 [ '95 ] 
 
 the immortal Gods. I will no longer, faid I, 
 breathe this infedious air; all thefc Haves of 
 foftnefs nnd indolerice are made to live in their 
 native country, and I to leave it. 
 
 I THEN went for the laft time to the tem- 
 ple ; and approaching the altars, where my fa- 
 ther had To loften facrihced j Great Goddefs ! 
 faid I with a loud voice, I abandon thy tem- 
 ple, but not thy worftiip ; in what part of the 
 earth foever I am, I will offer incenfe to thee ; 
 but it fliail be purer than that offered at Sy- 
 baris. 
 
 I DEPARTED, and arrived in Crete, an 
 illand filled with monuments of the extrava- 
 gance of love. There were feen the brazen 
 cow, the work of Daedalus, to deceive, or to 
 gratify the luft of Pafiphae 3 the labyrinths, 
 whofe intricacies love only could elude 3 the 
 tomb of Phsdra, which aftonifhed the Sun, as 
 it had done his mother ; and the temple of 
 Ariadne, who, deferted in the dcfarts, and 
 abandoned bv an ungrateful wretch, did not 
 repent of her having followed him. 
 
 I THERE faw the palace of Idomeneus, 
 whofe return from the ficge. of Troy was not 
 
 O 2 more
 
 [ 196 ] 
 
 more happy than that of the other Greek cap- 
 tains : for thofe who efcaped the dangers of a 
 refentful element, found in their own houfes 
 thofe that were ftill more fatal. Venus, exaf- 
 perated againft them, gave them to the embra- 
 ces of their perfidious wives, and they died by 
 the hand they held moft dear. 
 
 I QUITTED that ifle, fo odious to a Goddefs 
 who was one day to give felicity to my life. 
 
 I REEMBARKED ; and a tempcft call me on 
 fhore at Lefbos, an ifland but lit;le beloved by 
 Venus, who lias taken modefty from the 
 countenances of the women, weaknefs from 
 their bodies, and timidity from their fouls. 
 Great Venus ! fulTer the women of Lefbos to 
 burn with a lawful flame j and may human 
 nature no longer fuffer fuch difgrace. 
 
 At Mitylene, the capital of Leibos, refided 
 the tender Sappho, who, immortal as the xMu- 
 fes, burnt with a fire v.^hich fhe could not ex- 
 tinguifh. Odious to herfelf, and difgufled with 
 her charms, fne hated, and yet courted her own 
 fex. Plow, faid (he, can a fiame fo vain become 
 fo cruel ! Cupid, how much more formidable 
 art thou when in fport, than when enraged 1 
 
 At
 
 [ 197 ] 
 
 At length I quitted Lefbos, and my fate 
 led me to an ifland dill more profane ; and 
 that was Lemnos. Venus has there no tem- 
 ple : never do the Lemnians addrefs their vows 
 to her. We reje6t, fay they, a worfhip that 
 foftens the heart. The Goddefs has often pu- 
 nifhed them ; but they bear the punlfhment, 
 without making an expiation for their crime, 
 and are always more impious in proportion as 
 they are afflided. 
 
 I AGAIN put to fea in fearch of a country 
 beloved by the Gods ; and the winds condudt- 
 ed me to Delos. I ftaid fome time in that fa- 
 cred ifle. But, whether the Gods fomeiimes 
 previoufly inform us of what is to happen ; or 
 whether the foul retains from the emanations 
 of the Divinity, with vi'hich it is inlightened, 
 fome knov/ledgc of futurity ; 1 perceived that 
 my defliny, and that my happinefs itfclf, call- 
 ed me to another country. 
 
 One night when I was ia that Rdte of tran- 
 quillity, in which the foul, being niore itfelf, 
 feems delivered from that chain w hcrcv/ith it 
 is bound ; there appeared before me a female 
 form, and I was at firft at a lofs to kaow vvhe- 
 O ; ther
 
 [ >98 1 
 ther fhe was a mortal or a Goddefs. A fecre.t 
 charm was fpread over her whole perfon : flie 
 was not fo beautiful as Venus, but was as ra- 
 vifliing as that Goddefs : all her features were 
 not regular j but, together, tliey were full of 
 charms : her hair fell negligently on her llioul- 
 ders ; but that negligence had a happy effed : 
 her fhape and (lature were charming : (he had 
 that air which nature alone beftows, and v/hich 
 (he hides from the painters. She faw my 
 a{l:onif]:iment : fliefmiled. Ye Gods ! what a 
 fmile ! I am, faid (lie, one of the Graces : 
 V'enus, who fent me, would render thee hap- 
 py ; but thou miift go, and adore her in the 
 Temple of Gnidus. She vaniihed : I flretchcd 
 out my arms to hold her j my Clc^d fled with 
 her ; and there only remained a fweet regret 
 at my no longer feeing her, miixed with the 
 pleafure of having beheld her. 
 
 I THEN quitted the iue of Delos, and arrived at 
 Gnidus. I may fay, that I infiantly breathed 
 love. I felt I cannot exprefs what I felt. I was 
 not yet in love, but fought to love. My heart 
 was inflamed, as if I had been in the prcfcnce 
 of feme ccleftial beauty. I advanced, and faw 
 at a diilance feveral young girls playing in a 
 meadow. I was immediately drav/n towards 
 
 them.
 
 E 199 ] 
 
 them. Senfelefs as I am, faid I, I feel without 
 love all the difturbances of the lover : my 
 heart flies already towards objedts unknown, 
 and thole objedls fill it with inquietude. I ap- 
 proached ; 1 faw the charming Themira. Wc 
 were doubtlefs made for each other. I looked 
 at none but her, and believe that I (hould 
 have died with grief, had (he not turned her 
 eyes, and caft fome looks at me. Great Ve- 
 nus, cried I, fince thou art to render me hap- 
 py, may it be with this (hepherdefs: I renounce 
 all other beauties ; (lie alone can fulfil thy pro- 
 miles, and all the vows I (hall for ever make 
 
 O 4 CAN-
 
 [ 200 ] 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 1 Continued talking to the young Arifleus 
 of my tender paffion, which made him 
 iigh for his own, when I endeavoured to eafe 
 his heart by intreating him to difburden it to 
 me : and this is what he faid. I fhall forget 
 nothing ^ for I am infpired by the fame God 
 that made him fpeak. 
 
 In all my ftory you will find nothing but 
 what is extremely fimple : my adventures 
 are only the fentiments of a tender heart : thefe 
 are my pleafures, and thefe my pains j for as 
 my love for Camilla forms the happinefs, it 
 alfo forms the hiftory, of my life. 
 
 Camilla is the daughter of one of the prin- 
 cipal inhabitants of Gnidus ; {he is beautiful, 
 and has a countenance that makes an impref- 
 iion on all hearts. The women who form de- 
 fires denriand of the Gods the graces of Ca- 
 milla : the men who fee her would fee her 
 always, or fear longer to fee her. 
 
 She
 
 [ 201 ] 
 
 She is of a graceful ftature ; and has a no- 
 ble, but modcft air ; her eyes are lively, and 
 fufceptible of tendernefs ; her features are ex- 
 prefsly made for each other, and have charms 
 adapted to give her a conqueft over the heart. 
 
 Camilla does not feek to adorn herfelf; 
 but fhe is better adorned than other women. ^ 
 
 She has that wit which nature almofl: con- 
 flantly refufes to the fair, and is equally capable 
 of ferioufnefs and gaiety. If you chufe it, (he 
 will join in a f.nfible converfation ; or fhc 
 will jeft like the Graces. 
 
 The more wit a perfon has, the more 
 will he find in Camilla. Her thoughts are fo 
 natural, that fhe feems to Ipcak the lan2:uLi::c 
 of the heart. Every thing fiie lays, every thing 
 fhe does, has the charm of limplicity ; ?.r:d 
 you always find her a native (liepberdeL-. Gra- 
 ces fo eafy, fo refined, fo delicate, arc always 
 obferved j but are better felt than defcrlbed. 
 
 With all thefe advaiitages, Camilla loves 
 me ; flie is tranfportcd at feeir.g me ; fl:^ is 
 forry wlien I leave her j ai^i, as if I cojIj live 
 
 w itli.
 
 [ 202 ] 
 
 without her, makes me promife to return. I 
 continually tell her that 1 love her, (he believes 
 me ; I tell her that I adore her, {lie knows it j 
 but is as delighted as if fhe knew it not. 
 When I tell her that fiie conftitutes the felicity 
 of my life, (he tells me that I am the happi- 
 nefs of hers. In lliort, {he loves me fo much, 
 that {he almo{l makes me believe that I am 
 worthy of her love. 
 
 For a month did I fee Camilla, without da- 
 ring to tell her that I loved, and almoil: with- 
 out daring to tell it myfelf. The more ami- 
 able I found her, the lefs were my hopes of 
 meeting with a return. O Camilla ! thought I, 
 thy charms captivate my foul j but they let me 
 know that I am unworthy of thee. I fought 
 to forget her j I would have effaced her image 
 from my heart. How happy v/as 1 that I 
 could not fucceed ! That imao-e has remained 
 there, and will never be obliterated. 
 
 I SAID to Camilla : I once loved the bu{lle 
 and noife of life 3 but now I feek folitude : I 
 had views of ambition ; but I defire nothing 
 but thy prefence : I was defirous of vifiting 
 diftant climates ; but my heart is now only a 
 citizen of the places where thou breatheft. 
 
 Every 
 2
 
 [ 203 ] 
 
 Every thing but thee has vaniihed from before 
 my eyes. ^ 
 
 When Camilla fpeaks of her tendernefs, 
 flie has always fomething to fay to me, and (he 
 fancies (he has forgot what Ihe has protefted a 
 thoufand times. 1 am fo charmed at hearing 
 her, that I fometimcs pretend not to believe 
 her, in order to hear her ftill flatter my heart. 
 Sometimes we both prefcrve that fweet filence, 
 v/hich is the moll: tender language of lovers. 
 
 When I have been abient from Camilla, I 
 have endeavoured to give her an account of 
 what I have heard or {ctn. With what dofl 
 thou entertain me, fays (he ? talk to me of our 
 love ; or if thou hall: not thought of it, if thou 
 hafl: nothing to fay to me, O cruel Arifleus, 
 fuffcr me to fpeak. 
 
 Sometimes, embracing me, flie fays. Thou 
 art melancholy. 'Tis true, 1 reply ; but the 
 mclancliolv of lovers is dcl;;htful : I feel my 
 tears ilow, and know not for why j for thou 
 love(t mc : I have no caafe of complaint ^ and 
 yet 1 complain. Deliver me not from the 
 languor of my miud ; fuffer me to (igh out at 
 the fume time my p.iins and my pleafuies 
 
 Ix
 
 [ 204 ] 
 
 In the tranfports of love my foul is too 
 ftrongly agitated j it is drawn towards its hap- 
 pinefs without enjoying it : but now I relifh 
 even melancholy itfelf. Dry not up my tears : 
 what fignifies my fhedding them, w^hiie I am 
 happy. 
 
 Sometimes Camilla fays : Doft thou love 
 me ? Yes, I love thee. But how dofl thou 
 love me ? I love, I reply, as I have loved : 
 for I can only compare the afFedlion I have for 
 thee, by that which I have felt for the fame 
 tranfporting objed:. 
 
 I HEAR Camilla praifed by all who know 
 her : thefe praifes affect me as if they were 
 made to myfelf, and I am more delighted with 
 them, than flie. 
 
 When we have company, fhe talks with 
 fuch wit, that I am charmed with her leafl 
 words : but 1 am ftill better pleafed, when 
 fhe is filent. 
 
 When flie contra(5ts a friendfhip, I would 
 be that friend ; and fuddenly I refled: that I 
 fliall not be beloved. 
 
 O
 
 [ 205 ] 
 
 O Camilla, take care of the deceits of lo- 
 vers. They tell thee that they love j and they 
 fpeak truth : they tell thee, that they love thee 
 more than I ; but I Avear by the Gods, that 
 I love thee ftill more. 
 
 When I perceive her at a diftance, my foul 
 flies to her j (he approaches, and my heart is 
 agitated j I come up to her, and my foul feems 
 as if it would leave me to enter Camilla's 
 breaft, and that hers is going to animate mine. 
 
 Sometimes, when I would fteal from her 
 one favour, (he refufes me, and inftantly grants 
 me another. This is not artifice. Divided be^ 
 tvveen modefty and love, fl:ie would refiife me 
 every thing j and yet (he wi(hes that (he 
 might deny me nothing. 
 
 Si^E fays. Is it not fufficient that I love 
 you ? What can you defire more, after having 
 had my heart ? I defire, fay I, that thou 
 wouldft for me commit a fiult that is in the 
 power of love, and which the greatnefs of love 
 can juftify. 
 
 If
 
 [ 206 ] 
 
 If I ever ceafe to love thee, my Camilla, may 
 the Deftinies be miflaken, and take that for the 
 laft of my days ! May they cut off the remain- 
 der of a life, which I fhould find dcplorr/hle 
 when I recolledted the pleafure 1 had iounu in 
 loving. 
 
 Aristeus fighed, and was filent j and I 
 plainly faw, that he only ceafed to talk of Ca- 
 milla, in order 19 enjoy the pleafure of thinking 
 of her charms. 
 
 C A N^
 
 T 207 ] 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 W'H I L E we were talking of our amours> 
 we rambled out of our way ; and hav- 
 ing ftrayed for a long time, entered a large mea- 
 dow, where we were conduced by a flowery 
 path to the foot of a frightful rock. We there 
 faw an obfcure den, which we entered, think- 
 ing it the abode of Ibme mortal. Ye Gods ! 
 who could have imagined that this place was 
 fo fatal ! Scarce had I let my foot in it, when 
 my whole body trembled, and my hair ftood 
 eredt on my head ! An inviiible hand drew me 
 into this fatal abode, and in proportion as my 
 heart was agitated, its agitations increafed. 
 Friend, cried I, let us enter farther flill, let us 
 fee if we fiiall increafe our pain, I advanced 
 to the Diace where the fun had never entered, 
 and where the winds had never breathed. 
 There I fiw Jealoufy, whofe alpcd appeared 
 more gloomy than terrible : Palenefs, Melan- 
 choly, and Silence furroundcd lier j and about 
 her ricw Sorrow and Diiquietude. She breath- 
 ed upon us i CnQ placed her hand upon our 
 hearts J (Ivc flrack us upon the head j and 
 
 our
 
 [ 208 ] 
 
 our fight and imagination could perceive no- 
 
 thing but monfters. 
 
 Enter flill farther, unhappy mortals, faid 
 {he J go, find a Goddefs more powerful than 
 I. We obeyed ; and foon favv a frightful 
 Deity, by the light of the inflamed tongues of 
 theferpents that hifled about her head. This 
 was Rage. She loofened one of her fcrpents, 
 and threv/ it at me. I ftrove to catch it, and 
 in an inftant it imperceptibly Aid into my 
 heart. I flood for a moment ftupid ; but the 
 poifon had no fooner diifufed itfelf into my 
 veins, than I imagined myfelf in the midfl of 
 hell. My foul was fet on fire. I cculd fcarce 
 contain myfelf; and was in fuch agitations, 
 that I feemed tormented by the whips of the 
 Furies. We abandoned ourfelves to our tranf- 
 ports, and an hundred times encompafled this 
 dreadful cavern : we went from Jealoufy to 
 Rage, and from Rage to Jealoufy. We call- 
 ed upon Themira ; we called upon Camilla : 
 but if Themira and Camilla had been there, we 
 fliould have torn them in pieces with our own 
 hands. 
 
 At length we returned to the light of day, 
 which then appeared troublefome, and we 
 
 almofl
 
 [ 209 ] 
 
 almoft regretted our having quitted the fright- 
 ful cavern : we funk down with laffitude, and 
 even this repofc appeared infupportable. Our 
 eyes refufed to fhed tears, and our hearts could 
 no longer form a figh. 
 
 I HOWEVER enjoyed a moment's tranquil- 
 lity : Sleep began to flied on me her fweet 
 poppies. But, ye Gods ! this fleep itfelf be- 
 came cruel. I faw images that appeared more 
 terrible to me, than the pale fliades I had fecn 
 when awake. I every inftant awoke at the in- 
 fidelity of Themira. I faw her I dare not 
 yet exprefs what I faw. What I before be- 
 held only in imagination, I found realized in 
 the horrours of this frightful lleep. 
 
 I MUST then, faid I rifing, fly equally 
 darknefs and light. Themira, the cruel The- 
 mira, torments me like the furies ! Who could 
 have imagined, that in order to be happy I 
 muft forget her for ever ? 
 
 Seized by a fitof madnefs, I cried, Friend, 
 arifc, let us deftroy the flocks that feed in this 
 meadow ; let us purfue the fliepherds who en- 
 joy their loves in peace. No, I fee at a dif- 
 tancc a temple ; it is, perhaps, that of Cupid : 
 
 P kt
 
 [ 2IO 1 
 
 let us go and deftroy it ; let us break his flatue 
 and render our rage formidable. We ran, and 
 it feemed as if our ardour for committing a 
 crime gave us new ftrength. We crofTed the 
 woods, the meadows, and the fields, and did 
 not ftop for a moment : a hill arofe in vain j 
 we afcended it, and entered the temple which 
 was confecrated to Bacchus. How great is the 
 power of the Gods ! Our rage was immediate- 
 ly calmed. We looked at each other, and 
 faw with furprize the extravagance of our 
 condud:. 
 
 Great God ! I cried, I return thee my 
 thanks, not fo much for having appeafed my 
 fury, as for having faved me from guilt. 
 Then, approaching the prieftefs ; We are be- 
 loved by the God whom you ferve, faid I j he 
 has juft calmed the agitations of our minds j 
 fcarce did we enter this facred place, than we 
 were fenlible of his favourable prefence 5 we 
 would therefore offer a facriiice to him. Con- 
 defcend, divine prieftefs, to offer it for us. 1 
 will go and feek a vidim, and bring it to your 
 feet. 
 
 While the prieftefs was preparing to give 
 tlic mortal How, Arifleus pronounced thefe 
 
 words :
 
 f 2" ] 
 
 Words : Divine Bacchus, thou loveft to fee joy 
 difFufed over the countenance of man ; our 
 pleafure is a worfhip paid to thee j and thou 
 wilt be adored by none but the moft happy of 
 mortals. 
 
 Sometimes thou giveft a fweet diforder to 
 our reafon : but when fome cruel Deity has 
 taken it from us, thou alone canft reflore it. 
 
 Black Jealoufy holds Love in bondage : 
 but thou takeft away the empire fhe alTumes 
 over our hearts, and fendeft her back to her 
 difmal abode. 
 
 After the facrifice was ended, all the 
 people aflembled about us : and I related to 
 the prleftefs, how we had been tormented in 
 the habitation of Jealoufy. Suddenly we heard 
 a great noife, and a confufed mixture of voices 
 and mufical inftruments : upon which leaving 
 the temple, we law a troop of Bacchanals, who 
 ftriking the earth with their thyrfcs, cried 
 with a loud voice, Evohoe. Old Silcnus fol- 
 lowed, mounted oii an afs : his head feemed to 
 feek the ground, and whenever it feemed 
 leady to fill from his (lioulders, he balanced 
 himielf y\o with hi^ body. The troop had 
 P 2 their
 
 [212 ] 
 
 their faces fmeared with the lees of wine. 
 Pan at length appeared with his pipe j and the 
 Satyrs furrounded their King. Joy reigned 
 in the midft of diforder ; an amiable folly 
 was mixed with their fports, their raillery, 
 their dances, and their fongs. At length 
 came Bacchus in a chariot drawn by tygers ; 
 fuch as was feen at the river Ganges, at the 
 end of the univerfe, bearing joy and vid;ory. 
 
 By his fide was the beautiful Ariadne. 
 Lovely Princefs, ycu ftill wept for the infide- 
 lity of Thefeus, when the God took your 
 crown, and placed it in the heavens. Had you 
 not dried up your tears, you would have ren- 
 dered a God more unhappy than yourfelf who 
 are a mortal. Love me, faid he, Thefeus is 
 fled ; bear no remembrance of his love j and 
 even forget his perfidy : I will render you im- 
 mortal, that I may love you for ever. 
 
 I SAW Bacchus defcend from his chariot ; 
 and I faw Ari<adne alfo defcend : when enter- 
 ing the temple, Amiable God, cried f]ie, let us 
 ftay in this place, and here figh our loves. 
 Let eternal joy dwell in this delightful climate. 
 Near this place the queen of hearts has fixed 
 her empire : may the God of joy reign near 
 
 her
 
 [ 213 ] 
 
 her, and increafe the happinefs of thefe people 
 already fo fortunate. 
 
 As for me, great God, I already perceive 
 that my love is increafed ; and it is poflible 
 that thou mayft one day appear even more 
 amiable I None but the immortals can love to 
 excefs, and with a conftant growing afFedlion j 
 none but they can obtain more then they hope 
 for J they alone are more limited when they 
 defire, than when they enjoy. Here we will 
 perform our eternal loves : for in the heavens 
 the Gods are filled with their glory ; and it is 
 only on the earth, and in rural retreats, that 
 they give way to love. While this troop 
 therefore abandon themfelves to extravagant 
 tranfports, my joy, and my fighs (hall incef- 
 fantly proclaim my r^ffedllon. 
 
 Bacchus fmiled at Ariadne, and inftantly 
 led her into the fandtuary. Mean while joy 
 took pofTelfion of our hearts ; wc felt a divine 
 emotion ; when being fcizcd with the extra- 
 vagance of old Silenus, and by the tranfports of 
 the Bacchanals, we each took a thyrfi?, and 
 mingled in the dances and concerts. 
 
 P 3 CAN-
 
 [ 214 ] 
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 ON our quitting the places confecrated to 
 Bacchus, we foon felt that our evils had 
 been only fufpended. 'Tis true, we had not 
 the madnefs with which we had before been 
 agitated ; but a gloomy melancholy had feized 
 our fouls, and we were racked by fufpicions 
 and inquietudes. 
 
 It feemed to us, that the cruel GoddefTes 
 had tormented us, in order to give us a fore- 
 fight of the misfortunes to which we were 
 deftined. 
 
 Sometimes we regretted our having left 
 the temple of Bacchus ; and foon after we 
 were induced to approach that of Gnidus : we 
 were defirous of feeing Thcmira and Camilla, 
 the powerful objects of our love and jealoufy. 
 
 But we had none of that fweetnefs people 
 are accuftomed to feel, when on the point of 
 feeing thofe they love, when the foul is already 
 ravlflied, and taftes beforehand the promifed 
 happinefs. 
 
 PerhapSj
 
 f 215 ] 
 
 Perhaps, faid Arifteus, I fliall find Lycas 
 the fhepherd with Camilla. How do I know 
 that he is not talking to her this very moment ? 
 Ye Gods ! the traitrefs takes pleafure in hearing 
 him. 
 
 It was faid the other day, cried I, that 
 Thyrfis, who has been fo in love with The- 
 mira, was to arrive at Gnidus. He has loved 
 her, and doubtlefs loves her ftill ; I muft dif- 
 pute with. him a heart I believed intirely my 
 own. 
 
 I REMEMBER that One day Lycas fung to 
 my Camilla. Infeniible wretch that I was, I 
 was delighted at hearing him praife her. 
 
 I REMEMBER that Thyrfis brought my The- 
 mira fomc frefh-blown flowers. Unhappy 
 that I am, flie placed them in her bofom, fay- 
 ing, It is a prefent from Thyrfis. Oh ! I fiiould 
 have fnatched them, and have trampled them 
 under my feet. 
 
 Not long fince I went with Camilla to 
 
 make an offering to Venus of two young 
 
 P 4. turtles i
 
 [2l6 ] 
 
 turtles 5 but they efcaped from mc, and flew 
 away. 
 
 I HAD infcribed my name with that of 
 Themira on the trees j I had written alfo the 
 flory of our love : I read them, and read thera 
 again without ceafing ; but one morning I 
 found them effaced. 
 
 Camilla, drive not to defpair an unhappy 
 wretch who loves thee ; for love, when pro- 
 voked, has all the efife(5tsof hatred. 
 
 The firfl Gnidian that {hall look at my 
 Themira, I will purfue even into the Temple, 
 and punifli him though at the feel of Venus. 
 
 While we v/ere holding thefe difcourfes, we 
 arrived within fight of the facred grove where 
 the Goddefs delivers her oracles. The people 
 were in crov.'ds, that moved like the waves of the 
 fea agitated by the wind. Some came to hear, 
 and others to receive an anfwer. 
 
 We entered the crowd, and I loft the hapnv 
 Arifteus. Already had he embraced his Ca- 
 milla ; and I was flill in fearch of my Tlie- 
 mira. 
 
 T AT
 
 [ ^17 ] 
 
 I AT length found her. I felt my jealoufy 
 redoubled at her fight, and began to refume my 
 former madnefs. But fhe looked at me, and 
 I was filled with tranquillity. Thus do the 
 Gods fend back the Furies, when they efcape 
 out of hell. 
 
 Oh ! what tears, cried fhe, haft thou cod 
 me ! Three times has the fun run his courfe, 
 and I fear'd that I had loft thee for ever. I 
 have been to confult the Oracle. I did not 
 afk whether thou lovedft me. I only defired 
 to know if thou waft ftill alive. But Venus 
 has juft anfwered, that thou wilt love me for 
 ever. 
 
 Excuse, faid I, an unfortunate wretch, who 
 would have hated thee had he been capable of 
 it. The Gods, in whofe hands I am, may 
 take away my reafon ; but they cannot, The- 
 mira, deprive me of my love. 
 
 I HAVE been agitated by the moft dreadful 
 jealoufv, and have endured the tortures in- 
 fliflcd in Tartarus on the ghofts of criminals. 
 But this advantage have I drawn from it, I am 
 more fenfible of the happincfs of being beloved 
 
 by
 
 [2l8] 
 
 by thee, after the dreadful fituation of fearing 
 to lofe thee. 
 
 Come then with me ; retire into this foli- 
 tary grove. We ought by love to expiate the 
 crimes I have committed. It is a great crime, 
 Themira, to believe thee unfaithful. 
 
 Never were the Elyfian bowers, made by 
 the Gods for the tranquillity of the fouls they 
 love } never were the forefts of Dodona, where 
 the trees fpoke, and revealed to man his future 
 felicity ; never were the gardens of the Hef- 
 perides, whofe boughs bent under the weight 
 of their golden fruit, more charming than this 
 grove adorned with the inchanting prefence of 
 Themira. 
 
 I REMEMBER, a Satyr who purfued a nymph, 
 that fled from him all in tears, faw us ; and 
 Hopping cried, Happy lovers ! your eyes know 
 how to anfwer and reply to your paffion -, and 
 your fighs are repaid by fighs ! But I fpend 
 my hfe in following a cruel fhepherdefs ; un- 
 happy while I purfue j but more unhappy 
 ftill when I have caught her.
 
 [ 219 ] 
 
 A YOUNG nymph, who was wandering 
 alone through the grove, perceived us ; and 
 lighing cried, It is only to augment my tor- 
 ments, that cruel Cupid brings before me fo 
 tender a lover. 
 
 We found Apollo feated near a fountain. 
 That God had followed Diana, whom a ti- 
 morous deer had led into thefe woods. I 
 knew him again by his fair hair, and the im- 
 mortal troop that furrounded him. He ftruck 
 his lyre ; it drew the woods, the trees moved, 
 and the lions remained immoveable. But we 
 entered farther into the foreft, and were in 
 vain invited by that divine harmony. 
 
 Where do you imagine that I found the 
 God of Love. I found him on the lips of 
 Themira. I afterwards difcovered him on her 
 bo Com : he faved himfelf at her feetj I found 
 him flill : he then hid himfelf under her 
 knees ; I followed him, and (liould have con- 
 tinued to follow him, if the weeping, the 
 angry Themira had not ftoppcd me. He was 
 at his lafl retreat, and Hie was fo charming, that 
 he could not leave her. Thus, a tender linnet, 
 detained by fear and love, covers her little ones 
 
 with
 
 [ 220 ] 
 
 with her wings, and remains immoveable un- 
 der the hand that approaches her, and cannot 
 confent to abandon them. 
 
 Unhappy as I am, Themira heard my com- 
 plaints, and was not foftened : {j:ie liftencd to 
 my intrcaties, and became more fevere. In 
 fhort, I grew rafh : fhe was enraged, and I 
 trembled : (he appeared forry ; and I fhed 
 tears : fhe repulfed me -, and I fell at her feet. 
 I then perceived, that the fighs I uttered 
 would have been my laft, had not Themira 
 laid her hand on my heart, and recalled me to 
 life. 
 
 I AM not fo cruel as thou, faid (he, for I 
 have never thought of killing thee ; and yet 
 thou wouldeft draw me into the darknefs of 
 the grave. Open thofe dying eyes, if thou 
 wouldft not have mine fhut for ever. 
 
 She embraced me, and I received my par- 
 don ; but alas ! it was without the hope of 
 again becoming guilty. 
 
 4 
 
 As
 
 [ 221 ] 
 
 As the following piece appears to be written by 
 the fame author, I have alfo tranflated it from 
 the Greek, and placed it here. 
 
 CUPID DISTRESSED. 
 
 ON E day being in the Idalian grove with 
 the young Cephifa, I found Cupid afleep 
 hid under the flowers, and fheltered by fome 
 branches of myrtle, which gently yielded to 
 the bieath of the Zephyrs. The Sports and 
 Laughter, who always follow him, were play- 
 ing at fome diftance, and he was alone. Cupid 
 was then in my power : his bow and quiver 
 lay by his fide ; and, if I had pleafed, I could 
 have flole the arms of the God of Love. 
 
 Cephisa however took the bow, drew an 
 arrow, and, without my perceiving her, let it 
 lly at me. On which I fmiling faid, Take a fe- 
 cond, give mc another wound, for this is too 
 Iwcet. She rcfolved to let fly another arrow, 
 but it fell at her feet ; and flie fofdv cried. 
 This was the heavieft arrow in the quiver of 
 of Love. She then taking it up Hiot; and 
 
 ilriking
 
 ( 222 ] 
 
 flriking me, I bowed, crying, O Cephifa, 
 wouldft thou then bring me to my grave ? 
 
 She then approached hearer to Cupid. He 
 is in a profound fleep, faid flie ; he is fatigued 
 with Ihooting his arrows ; let us gather fome 
 flowers, in order to bind his hands and feet. 
 Oh ! I can never confent to it, I returned ; for 
 he has always favoured us. I will go, then, 
 faid ibe, take his arms, and let fly an arrow at 
 him v/ith all my ftrength. But he will awake^ 
 faid I. Well, let him, faid fhe ; what can he 
 do but wound us more ? No, no, I returned, 
 do not difl:urb his repofe ; we will remain 
 near him, and iliall by that means be more in- 
 flamed. 
 
 Cephisa then took the leaves of myrtle and 
 rofes, and cried, I am refolved to cover Cupid 
 with them. The Sports and Laughter fought 
 him, but could not find him, when (he threw 
 them upon him, and laughed to fee the little 
 God almofi: buried. But what am I amufing 
 myfelf about ? faid {he, I mud cut his wings, 
 that there may be no more inconftant men up- 
 on earth ; for this God flies from heart to 
 heart, carrying inconftancy with him. She 
 then took her fciflars, fat down, and held in 
 
 2 her
 
 [ 23 ] 
 
 her hand the ends of his golden pinions, t felt 
 my heart ftruck with fear, and cried, Stop, Ce- 
 phifa ! But fhe heard me not, and having cut 
 the tip of his wings, left her fciflars, and fled. 
 
 When Cupid awoke, he endeavoured to fly ; 
 but felt an unaccuftomed weight j on feeing 
 the clippings of the feathers fcattered among 
 the flowers, he began to weep. But Jupiter 
 perceiving him from high Olympus, fent him 
 a cloud that carried him to the Temple of 
 Gnidus, and laid him on the bofom of Venus. 
 Mother, faid he, I beat upon your breaft with 
 my wings ; they are cut, and what will be- 
 come of me? Son, faid the lovely Cypria, do 
 not weep ; flay in my bofom, and do not flir ; 
 the warmth you will find there will make 
 them grow again. Do you not fee, that they 
 are already larger ? Embrace me ; they grow ; 
 you will foon find them as before ; I already 
 fee the tips of the golden feathers ; in another 
 moment 'tis enough, fly, fly, my fon. Yes, 
 faid he, I am going to venture. He flew ; he 
 reflcd himfclf near the Goddcfs ; and inflantly 
 returned to her bolbm. He thence took a fe- 
 cond flight ; rcfled at a greater diflance ; and 
 again returned to the boibni of Venus. He 
 kifled it, flic finiled ; lie killed it again, and 
 
 play'd
 
 [ 2H 1 
 
 play*d with her : and at length arofe into the 
 air, where he reigns over all nature. 
 
 Cupid, to be revenged on Cephifa, has ren- 
 dered her the mofl: volatile of all the fair ; and 
 has caufed her to burn every day with a frefh 
 flame. She has loved me j fhe has loved 
 Daphnis; and fhe ftill loves Cleon. Cruel 
 Cupid ! it is me whom you punifti. I would 
 gladly bear the pain inflidted for her crime : 
 but haft thou not other torments for me to 
 fuffer? 
 
 L Y S I-
 
 ^^^'^^^@^^ii@^^1Jv^.^^.^00^ 
 
 LYSIMACHUS. 
 
 e---@0'Sf@^'^-f> 
 
 Q.
 
 [ 22/ ] 
 
 LYSIMACHUS. 
 
 WHEN Alexander had dcftroyed the 
 Pcrfian Empire, he refolved to raife 
 a belief, that he was the fon of Jupiter. 
 The Macedonians were vexed at feeing that 
 Prince bliifh at having Philip for his father: 
 their difcontent increafed, when they beheld 
 him alTume the manners, the cuftoms, and the 
 drefs of the Pcrfiar.s ; and they reproached 
 thcmfelves for having done fo much for a man 
 who began to defpifc them. But tiie mur- 
 murs of I'ie army did not break, out into 
 words. 
 
 A PHILOSOPHER, named Calliflhencs, had 
 followed the King in his expedition. One dny 
 he fainted him after the manner of the Greeks: 
 on which Alexander cried, " Whence comes 
 *' it that thou dofl not adore me r ' " My 
 *' Lordj faid Callillhencs, thou art the chief of 
 ** two nations: the one were llavcs b.lore they 
 " had fubmittcd to thcc, arid are not kfb 1) 
 *' fince thou hall conquered them j the otlxr 
 
 Q_2 '^ j'lAJ
 
 [ 228 ] 
 
 " free before they afiifted thee in gaining (o 
 " many vitories, and are fo flill fince thou 
 " haft obtained them. I am a Greek, my 
 " Lord; and that name thou haft raifed fo 
 " high, that we cannot degrade it without in- 
 " juring thee." 
 
 The vices of Alexander were as extraordi- 
 nary as his virtues. He was terrible in his 
 anger ; it rendered him cruel. He caufed the 
 feet, nofe, and ears of Callifthenes to be cut 
 off j ordered that he fliould be fhut up in an 
 iron cage, and thus carried in the train of his 
 army. 
 
 I LOVED CaliipLhenes ; and whenever bud- 
 nefs would allow mc feme hours of leifure, 
 I was ufed to employ them in liftening to 
 him : and if I have anv love for virtue, I 
 owe it to the impreilions I have received from 
 his difcourfes. I went to vifit him. *' I fa- 
 " lute thee, faid I, illuftrious but unhappy 
 " Calliilhenes, whom I fee, like a wild beaft, 
 '' kept in a cage of iron, for having been the 
 " or.ly man in tlic army." 
 
 ** Lysimachus, faid he, when I fee myfclf 
 l[ in a fituation that demands courage and for- 
 
 " titude,
 
 [ 229 I 
 
 " titude, I feem to be almoft in my pro- 
 '^ per fituation. Indeed, had the Gods pla- 
 " ced me upon earth, only to lead here a 
 " life of pleafure, I believe they would have 
 " given me in vain a great and immortal foul. 
 " To enjoy the pleafures of fcnfe, is a thing of 
 " which all men are eafily capable ; and if the 
 " Gods have made us only for that, they have 
 " made a work more perfe(fl tlian they intend- 
 " ed, and have executed more than they de- 
 *' figned. Not, added he, that I am infenfible. 
 *' Thou let'ft mc too plainly fee that I am not. 
 *' When I faw thee coming, I felt a fudden 
 " pleafure at feeing thee perform fo courageous 
 " an adion. But I conjure thee, in the name 
 " of the Gods, to let this be the lafl time. 
 ?' Leave me to fupport my misfortunes j and 
 " be not fo cruel as to add to them the weight 
 " of thine." 
 
 " Callisthenes, faid I, I will vifit thee 
 *' every day. If the King fees thee abandoned 
 " by virtuous men, he will no longer feci the 
 " lead remorfe ; he will begin to believe that 
 *' thou art guilty. I hope he will never cn- 
 " joy the pleafure of feeing, that his chaftile- 
 " ments have made me abandon a friend." 
 
 Q_3 One
 
 [ 230 ] 
 
 One day Callifthenes faid to me, " The 
 ** immortal Gods have given me confolation ; 
 *' and ever fince I feel within me fomething 
 *' divine, that has taken away the fenfibility of 
 " my pains. I have feen in a dream the great 
 ** Jupiter. Thou waft near him ; thou hadft 
 " a fcepter in thine hand, and a royal circlet on 
 " thy forehead. He fhewed thee to me, and 
 *' faid, He will render thee more happy. The 
 " emotions I felt awaked me from fleep. I 
 *' found my hands lifted up towards heaven, 
 ** and was making an effort to fay, Great 
 " Jupiter J if Lyjimachus is to reign , grant that 
 " he may reign moithjujiice. Lyfimachus, thou 
 " fhalt reign : believe a man who muft be 
 *' pleaiing to the Gods, lince he fuffers in the 
 *' caufe of virtue." 
 
 In the mean while Alexander being inform- 
 ed, that I fhewed refped: to the mifery of Cal- 
 lifthenes, that I went to vifit him, and even 
 prefumed to complain of his treatment, was 
 filled with a frefh tranfport of rage. " Go, 
 " faid he, and fight with lions, unhappy 
 *' wretch, that takeft delight in living with 
 " wild beafts." My punifhment was, how- 
 ever.
 
 t ^31 ] 
 
 ever, deferred, that it might ferve as a fpedlacle 
 to a greater number of men. 
 
 The day which preceded it I wrote thefe 
 words to Calliflhenes : " I am going to die. All 
 *' the ideas thou haft given me of my future 
 " grandeur are vanished from my mind. I 
 " could have wiflied to alleviate the fufFerings 
 " of a man like thee." 
 
 Pr EX APES, in whom I confided, brought 
 this anfwer: ** Lyfimachus, if the Gods have 
 '' rofolved that thou fhalt reign, Alexander 
 " cannot take away thy life j for men have it 
 " not in their power to oppofe the will of the 
 '' Gods." 
 
 From this letter I received encouragement : 
 and refleding, that the happiefl and moft un- 
 happy of mankind are equally furrounded by 
 the divine hand, I refolved to condud: myfelf, 
 not by my hopes, but by my courage, and to 
 defend to the laft a life on which depended 
 fuch great promifes. 
 
 Thf.v led me to the circus, where I was 
 
 furrounded by an immenfe number of people, 
 
 who came to be witncfs of my courage or my 
 
 Ct. 4 "^ fc^ir.
 
 [ 232 ] 
 
 fear. A lion was let loofe upon me. I wrap 
 ped my cloak about my arm : I prefented it to 
 him : he would have devoured it : I thruft it 
 far into his mouth, feized his tongue by the 
 roots, tore it out, and threw it at my feet. 
 
 Alexander was naturally fond of courage- 
 ous adtions. He admired my refolution j and 
 at that moment the greatnefs of his foul re- 
 turned. 
 
 He gave orders for my being called to him j 
 and holding out his hand to me, " Lyfimachus, 
 " faid he, I return thee my friendfhip, return 
 ** me thine : my anger has only ferved to 
 *' make thee perform an adlion that was want- 
 " ing in the life of Alexander." 
 
 I RECEIVED the King's favour, adored the 
 decrees of the Gods, and waited for their pro- 
 mifes, without feeking or flying from them. 
 Alexander died ; and all the nations were 
 without a mafter. The King's fons were in 
 their infancy : his brother Arideus had not yet 
 come into Perfia : Olympias had only the bold- 
 nefs of weak minds, and cruelty was to her 
 courage. Roxana, Eurydice, Statyra, were loft 
 in grief. Every body in the palace gave vent 
 5 to
 
 [ 233 ] 
 to their groans, and no body thought of reign- 
 ing. Alexander's captains then raifed their 
 eyes up to the throne; but the ambition of 
 each was checked by the ambition of all. We 
 divided the empire ; and each of us believed 
 that he had fhared the price of his fatigues. 
 
 It was my lot to be made King of Ada ; and 
 now, when I can do whatever I pleafe, I am 
 more in need than ever of the leflbns of Cal- 
 lifthenes. His joy informs me that I have 
 done a good adion, and his fighs tell me that 
 I have fome evil to repair. I find him between 
 my people and me. 
 
 I AM Iving of a people who love me. The 
 fathers of families hope for the length of my 
 life, as for that of their children. The young 
 fear to lofc mc, as they fear to lofe a father. 
 My fubjeds are happy, and I am fo too. 
 
 A
 
 DEFENCE 
 
 O F 
 
 The SPIRIT of LAWS. 
 
 To which are adJcd 
 
 SOME EXPLANATIONS.
 
 [ 237 ] 
 A 
 
 DEFENCE 
 
 O F 
 
 The S P I R I T of L A W S. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THIS Defence Is divided into three parts. 
 In the iirfl: are anfwered the general re- 
 proaches that have been cafl: on the Author of 
 the Spirit of Laws. In the fecond, a reply is 
 made to particular reproaches : And the third 
 contains reflexions on the manner in which he 
 has been treated. The Public will foon be ac- 
 quainted with the flate of the cafe -, and to its 
 judgment the Author refers. 
 
 I. 
 
 'T^^H O U G H the Spirit of Laws is intireJy 
 
 ^ a work relating to politics and civil law, 
 
 the Author has had fi-equcnt occafion, in the 
 
 tourfe
 
 [238] 
 courfe of that work, to mention the Chrlftian 
 religion. He has done it in fuch a manner, as 
 fully to (hew its dignity 5 and tho' he has had 
 no view of endeavouring to prove it to be true., 
 he has fought to render it beloved. 
 
 However, in two periodical pieces that 
 have fucceffively followed each other*, the 
 moft dreadful imputations have been caft upon 
 him. The inquiry is no lefs, than whether the 
 Author be a Spinofift and a Deift : and tho* 
 thefe accufations are in their own nature con- 
 tradidlory, the critic incelTantly returns from 
 one to the other. 
 
 Both being incompatible cannot render him 
 more guilty than one alone j but both may 
 render him more odious. 
 
 He is a Spinoflft, who in the iirft article of 
 his book has diftinguiflied between the mate- 
 rial world and fpiritual intelligences. 
 
 He is a Spinofift, who in the fecond article 
 has attacked Atheifm. " Thofe who afiert, 
 " that a blind fatality produced the various 
 
 * One on the pch of Odober 1749 j and the other on 
 the 1 6th of the fame month. 
 
 *' eftcds
 
 [ 239 ] 
 efFeds we behold in this world, are guilty of 
 ' a very great abfurdity : for can any thing be 
 '^ more abfurd, than to pretend that a blind 
 " fatality could produce intelligent beings." 
 
 He is a Spinofifl who continues to fay, 
 " God is related to the univerfe as creator and 
 ** preferver * ; the laws by which he has cre- 
 " ated all things, are thofe by which he pre- 
 " ferves them. He adts according to thcfe 
 ** rules becaufe he knows them : he knows 
 * them becaufe he has made them : and he 
 ** made them becaufe they are relative to his 
 ** wildom and power." 
 
 He is a SpinofiH: who has added : " As we 
 ** fee that the world, tho' formed by the mo- 
 ** tion of matter, and void of underftandinsr, 
 ** continues to fubfift, &c -|~." 
 
 He is a Spinofift who has fliewn, againfl: 
 Hobbes and Spinofa, That " before laws were 
 *' made, there were relations of poflible juf- 
 " tice J." 
 
 He is a Spinofift who, in the beginning of 
 the fecond chapter, has fald : ** The law 
 
 * Book i. chap. i. f Ibid. % I^^'^* 
 
 " which.
 
 [ 240 ] 
 
 " which, imprinting in our minds the idea of 
 ' " a Creator, inclines us to him, is the firft, in 
 " its importance, of natural laws." 
 
 He is a Spinofiil who has attacked with all 
 his power a paradox aflerted by Bayle, " That 
 *' it is better to be an atheifl, than an idolater ;" 
 a paradox from which the atheifts draw the mofl 
 dangerous confequences. 
 
 What do they alledge after fuch exprefs 
 paffages? Natural equity demands, that the 
 degree of proof fhould be proportionable to the 
 greatnefs of the accufation, 
 
 OBJECTION T. 
 
 The Author falls at the 'very jirji Jiep. " The 
 *' Laws, in their mod general lignification, fays 
 " he, are the neceffary relations derived from 
 " the nature of things." The Laws of rela- 
 tions What can he 7nean by this f The Au- 
 thor has not however deviated from the ordinary 
 dcfiiiticn of Laws without defign. What end 
 had he then in view ^ This it is. According 
 to the new fyjlem^ there isy between all beings 
 which frm what Tope calk the univerfal whole, 
 a chain fo neceffary.^ that the leaf diforder will 
 produce confufon even up to the throne oj the 
 
 Firfi
 
 [ 241 ] 
 
 Firft Caufe, This has made Pope fay, thai 
 things can be no othcrivife than they are, and 
 that whatever is, is right. T^his being confider^ 
 cdy ive undtfjiand the fgnijication of this new 
 language, that the laws are the necefl^uy rela- 
 tions derived from the nature of thin2:s. To 
 li'hich it is added, in this fcnfe, " All beings 
 *' have their Laws : the Deity has his Laws j 
 " the material world its Laws 5 the intelli- 
 " gences fa perior to man their Laws j the 
 *' bealls their Laws j man his Laws." 
 
 The answer. 
 
 Darkness itfelf is net more obfcure than 
 this pafTagc. The Critic has heard that Spi- 
 nofa maintained, that the univerfe is governed 
 by a blind and ncceflary principle ; and there 
 needed no more. As foon as he found the 
 word nccc[jar\\ this mud be Spinofifm. The 
 Author has aflcrtcd, tliat the Laws are necef- 
 f\ry relations : here therefore is Spinofifm, bc- 
 caufc here is tlie term nccrfjury. And wIkU np- 
 pcar^ Imprifing is, that tiie Author, in tlie opi- 
 nion (.f the Crific, is found to be a Spincful by 
 this article, tho' it exprcf ly oppoils li'.eh dan- 
 fTcrous iVllcms. The Author was attemptin:^ 
 to ovcrthiow Ilobbc^'s A ikni ; a fyilcni tl)c 
 inofl tci-.iblc, it making all the virtues and vi- 
 
 il CCS
 
 [ 242 1 
 
 ces depend on human eflablifhments : and by 
 endeavouring to prove, that all mankind are 
 born in a (late of war, and that the firft natural 
 Law, is that all fhould make war againft all, 
 he, like Spinofa, overthrows both all religion, 
 and all morality. In anfwer to this, the Au- 
 thor has eftablifhed, in the firll place, that 
 there were ^lavvs of juliice and equity before 
 the eflabliihment of pofitive Laws : he has 
 proved, that all beings have Laws -, that, even 
 before their creation, they had poffible Laws ; 
 that God himfelf has Laws, that is. Laws 
 which he himfelf has made. He has proved, 
 that the aflertion, that man is born in a ftate 
 of war, is falfe *. He has fliewn, that a ftate 
 of v'ar did not commence till after the ella- 
 blifhment of focieties, and on this fubjeft has 
 advanced very clear principles. Whence it 
 evidently follows : That the Author has at- 
 tacked the errors of Hobbes, and the confe- 
 ^quences of thofe of Spinoia ; and that hence it 
 has happened, that fo litde has he been under- 
 llocd, that his objedions againil: Splnofifm have 
 been taken for the opinions of Spinofa. Before 
 a perfon enters into a difpute, he ought to be- 
 gin with making himfelf mailer of the (late of 
 
 * Book i. chap. 2. 
 
 the
 
 r 243 ] 
 
 the queftlon ; and with knowing whether he 
 whom he attacks is a friend or an enemy. 
 
 OBJECTION II. 
 
 The Critic continues : On ivbicb the Author 
 cites Plutarchy who fays^ that Law is the Queen 
 of Gods and men. But is it from a pdgan^ 
 &c? 
 
 The an SWER. 
 'Tis true, the Author has quoted Plu- 
 tarch, who fays. That Law is the Queen of 
 Gods and men. 
 
 OBJECTION III. 
 
 The Author has faid, That " the creation, 
 *' which fecms to be an arbitrary acft, fuppofes 
 *' Laws as invariable as the fatality of the athe- 
 " ifts." From thefe words the Critic con- 
 cUides, that the Author admits the fatality of 
 tlic atlicifls. 
 
 The ANSWER. 
 A LITTLE before he has dcilroyed this fa- 
 tality, by faying, *' I'hofc who alfcrt that a 
 '' blind fatality produced the various eftcc5ls 
 " wc bch.old in the world, are guilty of a very 
 *' i^^rcat ablurdity : for can any thing be more 
 R 2 ' " abfurd
 
 I 244 ] 
 
 " abftsrd than to pretend, that a blind fatalhy 
 *' can produce intelligent beings." Moreover, 
 in the paffage cenfured, the Author cannot be 
 made to fpeak of any other fub]e6t but that he 
 is treating of. He is not treating of caufes, 
 nor does he compare caufes : but iie treats of 
 effedts, and compares effeds. The whole ar- 
 ticle, that which precedes it, and that which 
 fellows, PnQVv that he is here only treating of the 
 rules of motion, which the Author alTerts are 
 eltabliflied by God. He fays, that thefe rules 
 are invariable j and all natural philofophy fays 
 fo too. They are invariable, becaufe God has 
 relblvcd that they fliould be fo, and becaufe he 
 has determined to preferve the v/orld. He fays 
 neither Hiore nor kfs than this. 
 
 I MUST always maintain, that the Critic ne- 
 ver undenlaixis the fenfe of things, and that 
 he appii.::s his attention only to words. When 
 tiie Auiihor fays, that tlie creation, which 
 leenis to be an arbitrary adl, fuppofes rules as 
 invaiiable as the fatality of tlie atheiils, it can- 
 not he underRood as if he had faid, the crea- 
 tion was as r.ecefihrv an afl as the fatauty of 
 ^mi atlv^'ifis, fn:ce he had already fncwn the 
 abiurdily of that fatality. Moreover, the two 
 m^-mhcrriofa coniparifcn ought to hu'.c a re- 
 
 l.:ti:n
 
 f 245 1 
 
 lation to each other : therefore it Is abroliitely 
 necefTary that the fentence fhould run thus : 
 The creation, which feems at firH: to have pro- 
 duced Laws of variable motion, has thofe as 
 invariable as the fatality of the atheifls. Tlie 
 Critic, once more, has neither feen, nor does 
 fee, any thing but words. 
 
 ' , < > *df . '' ' - < >. * * < "' 'm' * * 
 II. 
 
 'T^n ERE is then no Spinofifni in Tl:e Spirit 
 of Lnvvs. Let us piifs to anotlier accufa- 
 tion ; and fee if it be true, That the Author does 
 not acknowledge tlie truth of rcve.iled religion. 
 The author, at the end of the iirlt chrDtcr, 
 fpeaking of man as a finite being lubje^l: to ig- 
 norance and error, has f.ud : " Such a being 
 " might every inllant forget his creator ; God 
 " has therefore reminded l:iim of his duty bv 
 *' the Laws of religion." 
 
 V 
 
 I In has fa;d, in t:ic firft cbiapter of r:;e twen- 
 ty fourth book : " I Hiall e:.uinir.c the feveral 
 " religions of the world, in r(:];ition (;r.ly to tb.o 
 '' 'j-ci)A ihev prodace in livI' !ui i^tv, whetlier I 
 " ipeak ot that v/liich h::i its v.-l: in jjcavcnj or 
 " of thofc whic;: iprlng hon; ihe earth. 
 
 U 3 *' A
 
 [ 246 ] 
 
 " A PERSON of the leafl: degree of imparti- 
 " ality mufl: fee, that I have never pretended 
 " to make the interefts of religion fubmit to 
 " thofe of a political nature, but rather to unite 
 *' them : nov^^, in order to unite, it is neceffary 
 " that we {Ijould know them. The chriftian 
 *' religion, which ordains that men fhould love 
 " each other, would without doubt have every 
 " nation bleft with the beft civil, the beft poli- 
 '' tical Laws 5 b.caufe thefe, next to this reli- 
 " gion, are the greateft good that men can give 
 " and receive." 
 
 And, in the fccond chapter of the fame 
 book : *' A Prince who loves and fears religion 
 " is a lion, who ftoops to the hand that ftrokes, 
 " or the voice that appeafes him. He who 
 *' fears and hates religion, is like the favage 
 *' beaft, that grov^d?, and bites the chain which 
 <' prevents his flying on the palTenger. He 
 " who has no religion at all, is that terrible 
 " animal, who perceives his liberty only when 
 " he tears in pieces and devours.'' 
 
 In the third chapter of the fame bock : 
 * While the Mahometan Princes inceMntly 
 " give or receive death, the religion of the 
 
 ^' Chridians
 
 [ 247 ] 
 " Chriftlans renders their Princes Icfs timid, 
 *' and confequently lefs cruel. The Prince 
 " confides in his fubjedls ; and the fiibjeds in 
 ** the Prince. How admirable the religion 
 '^ which, while it Teems only to have in view 
 *^ the felicity of the other life, conftitutes the 
 ** happinefs of this !" 
 
 In the fourth chapter of the fame book : 
 *' From the charadlers of the Chriftian and 
 " Mahometan religions we ought, without any 
 " further examination, to embrace the one, 
 " and reject the other." To proceed : 
 
 In the fixth chapter : *' IVIr. Bayle, after 
 " having abufed all religions, endeavours to 
 '' fully Chriftianity : he boldly afferts, that ti'ue 
 '' Chriflians cannot form a government of any 
 *' duration. Why not ? Citizens of this prc- 
 *' feiTion, being infinitely inlightned, with re- 
 " fped: to the various duties of life, and having 
 '^ the warmed zeal to fulfil tiiem, muft hi 
 ' perfectly fenfiblc of the rights of natural cc- 
 '^ fence. The more thcv believed tljcnifclves 
 " indebted to rcli2;ion, the more thcv would 
 *' think duj to tb.eir country. Ti'.c principles, 
 " of Chrillianitv, dee'-ly cnciiMven on tl:e 
 " heart, would be infinitely more pov/crful 
 R 4 " than
 
 [ h8 1 
 *' than the falfe honour of monarchies, the 
 " humane virtues of repubhcs, or the fer- 
 " vile fear of defpotic ftates. 
 
 *' It is aflonifhing, that this great man 
 " fliould not be able to diftinguifh between the 
 *^ orders for the eftablidiment of Chriftianity, 
 *' and Chriltianity itfelf ; and that he fliouldbe 
 " Hable to be charged with not knowing the 
 *^ fpirit of his own religion. When the legif- 
 *' lator, inilead of Laws, has given coiinfels, 
 <' this is becaufe he knew, that if thefe coun- 
 *' fels were ordained as Laws, they v/ouki be 
 *^ contrary to the fpirit of the Laws them- 
 " lehTS." 
 
 In the tenth chapter : " Could I for a mo- 
 *' ment ceafe to think that I am a Chriftian, I 
 " fcould not be able to hinder myfelf from 
 *' ranking the deftrudion of the fedt of Zeno 
 " among the misfortunes that have befallen 
 **the human race, (^c. Laying alide for a 
 " m.om,ent revealed truths, let us fearch thro' 
 *' all nature, and we f]:all not find a nobler ob- 
 ' jcdt than the Antoninufcs, <o ^r." 
 
 In the thirteenth chapter : '^ The Piuan 
 '^' rclia;ion indeed, that prohibited only fome 
 
 - of
 
 [ 249 ] 
 
 " of the grofTer crimes, that flopped the 
 " hand, but meddled not with the heart, 
 " might have crimes that were inexpiable : but 
 *^ a religion which bridles all the paffions; 
 <* which is not more jealous ofa^Stions, than of 
 " thoughts and defires j which holds us not 
 " by a few chains, but by an infinite number 
 "of threads J which, laying human juftice 
 " afide, eftablifhes another kind of juftice^ 
 " which is fo ordered as to lead us continually 
 " from repentance to love, and from love to 
 " repentance ; which puts between the judge 
 *' and the criminal a great mediator j between 
 " the juft and the mediator a great judge : a 
 '' relifrion like this oua;ht not to have crimes in 
 " themfelves inexpiable. But though it gives 
 " fear and hope to all, it makes us fufficicntly 
 " fenfible, that there is no crime in its own 
 " nature inexpiable, though a whole criminal 
 *' life may be fo ; that it is extremely danger- 
 " ous to aftront mercy by new crimes and 
 " new expiations ; that an unealinefs on ac- 
 '' count of ancient debts, from which we arc 
 " never free, oui^ht to make us afraid of con- 
 " trailing new ones, of iillinrr up the inva- 
 -' furc, and going to tliat point where patcr!::il 
 '* roodnefs is limited. '
 
 [ 250 ] 
 
 In the conclufion of the nineteenth chapter, 
 the Author, after having fhewn an abufe that 
 has arifen in feveral Pagan religions with re- 
 fpect to their opinion of the ftate of fouls in 
 another life, fays : *' It is not enough for reli- 
 *' gion to eftablifh a dodrine j it muft alfo di- 
 ** red: its influence. This the Chriftian reli- 
 *' gion performs in the moft admirable man- 
 *' ner, particularly with regard to the do6trines 
 *' of which we have been fpeaking. It makes 
 *' us hope for a ftate that is the objedl of our 
 " belief; not for a flate we have alreadv ex- 
 '' perienced or known. Thus every article, 
 " even the refurredion of the body, leads us to 
 *' fpiritual ideas." 
 
 And at the concluflon of the twenty flxth 
 chapter : "It follows from hence, that it is al- 
 " moll: always proper for a religion to have 
 " particular dodrines, and a general worfhip. 
 " In Laws concerning the pradice of religious 
 *' worihip, there ought to be but few particu- 
 *' lars : for inftance, they fhould command 
 *' mortification in general, and not a certain 
 " kind of mortification. Chriftlanity is full oi 
 ' good fenfe : abflinence is of divine inflitu- 
 <' tion 5 but a particular kind of abftinence is 
 
 " ordained
 
 [25' ] 
 " ordained by a political Law, and therefore 
 " may be changed." 
 
 In the laft chapter of the twenty fifth book : 
 ** But it does not follow, that a religion brought 
 " from a far diftant country, and quite difFer- 
 *^ ent in climate, laws, manners, and cuftoms, 
 " will have all the fuccefs to which its holinefs 
 " ought to intitle it." 
 
 In the tlnrd chapter of the twenty fourth 
 book : " 'Tis the Chriftian religion that, in 
 " fpite of the empire and the influence of the 
 " climate, has hindered defpotic power from 
 *' being eftabliflied in /Ethiopia, and has car- 
 *' ried into the midit of Africa the manners 
 " and Laws of Europe, &c. Not far from 
 ** thence may be fccn the Mahometan fhut- 
 *' ting up the children of the King of Seruiao ; 
 " at whofe death the council fends to murder 
 " them, in favour of the Prince who mounts 
 *' the throne. 
 
 *' Let u3 fet before our eyes, on the one 
 *' hand, the continual mafTacres cf the Kings 
 *' and Cicnerals of the Greeks and Romans j 
 *' and, on the other, the deih-udion of people 
 *' and cities by the commanders Thimur and 
 
 " Gcngis-
 
 [ 252 ] 
 
 " Gengis-Kan, who ravaged Afia ; and we 
 " (hall fee that we owe to Chriftianity, in go- 
 ** vernment, a certaiil political Law, and, in 
 " war, a certain Law of nations ; benefits 
 " which human nature can never fufficiently 
 *' acknowledge." The Reader is defired to 
 perufe the whole chapter. 
 
 In the eighth chapter of the twenty fourth 
 book : " In a country fo unfortunate as to have 
 *^ a religion which God has not revealed, it is 
 *' always neceffary that it fliould be agreeable 
 " to morality, becaufe even a falfe religion is 
 *' the beft fecurity we can have of the probity 
 *' of men." 
 
 These pailages are very explicit. We here 
 fee a writer, who not only believes the Chrift- 
 ian religion, but who loves it. What has the 
 Critic faid to prove the contrary ? Let it be 
 once more obferved, that the proofs ought to 
 be proportionable to the accufation : and as 
 tliat accufation is not of a frivolous nature, nei- 
 ther ought the proofs to be fo. But as thefe 
 proofs are always given in a pretty extraordi- 
 nary form, they being a mixture of half proof 
 and half abufe, and in a manner concealed in 
 
 the
 
 [ 253 ] 
 the train of a very vague difcourfe ; I am go- 
 
 ing to fcarch for them. 
 
 O B J E C T I ON I. 
 
 The Author has praifed the Stoics, who ad- 
 mitted a bhnd fatality, a neceflary chain, ^c *. 
 This is the foundation of natural religion. 
 
 The answer. 
 
 Suppose for a moment that this falfe man- 
 ner of reafoning is juft. Has the Author 
 praifed the natural philofophy and metaphyfics 
 of the Stoics ? He has praifed their m.orals ; he 
 has faid, that the people obtained great advan- 
 tages from them : he has faid this, and he has 
 iaid no more. I am miflaken j he has faid 
 more : for, in the firft page of the book, he 
 has attacked the fatality of the Stoics ; he did 
 not tiicn praife it, when he praifed the Stoics. 
 
 OBJECTION II. 
 
 Til p. Author hvM praifca YlyAc m callino- 
 hi:n a great man -f. 
 
 ^ Tlic fLConJ piece, of ():7o'\ r U-, \7'.n, par. 1C5. 
 
 Ibid.
 
 [ 254 I 
 
 ANSWER. 
 I WILL here too fuppofe for a moment, that 
 in general this manner of reafoning is juft : 
 but, at leaft, it is not fo in this cafe. 'Tis 
 true, the Author has called Bayle a great man j 
 but he has cenfured his opinions. If he has 
 cenfured them, he does not admit them : and 
 iince he has attacked his opinions, he do^s not 
 call him a great man on their account. Every 
 body knows, that Bayle had a great capacity ; 
 of which he has made an ill ufe : but that ca- 
 pacity which he mifufed, he had. The Au- 
 thor has, therefore, attacked his fophifms, and 
 complained of his errors. I do not love the 
 men who overthrow the laws of their country -, 
 but I fhould find it difficult to believe, that 
 Casfar and Cromwel were men of mean capa- 
 cities. I am not fond of conquerors ; but it 
 would not be an eafy matter to perfuade me, 
 that Alexander and Gengis-Kan were men of 
 a common genius. It would not, indeed, have 
 required any great abilities in the Author to 
 have called Bayle an abominable man : but 
 whether he ov/es this difpofition to nature, or 
 whether it is an effcd: of his education, it ap- 
 pears that he is not fond of uiing abufive lan- 
 guage. I h^ve reafon to believe that, was he 
 
 to
 
 r 255 ] 
 
 to take up the pen, he would not treat in that 
 manner even thofe who have endeavoured to 
 do him one of the greateft injuries that one 
 man can do to another, by labouring to render 
 him odious to all thofe who do not know him, 
 and fufpedted by all vi^ho do. 
 
 Besidjis, I have remarked, that the decla- 
 mations of angry men make little impreflion 
 on thofe who are not themfelves angry. Moft 
 readers are men of moderation, who fcldom 
 take a book but in cool blood. Reafonable 
 men love reafon ; and if the Author had ut- 
 tered againft Bayle a thoufand abulive expref- 
 fions, it would not have followed from thence, 
 that Bayle had reafoned either well, or ill : all 
 that could have been concluded from it would 
 have been, that the Author knew how to be 
 abufive. 
 
 OBJECTION III. 
 
 Is drawn from the Author's not having 
 treated, in liis full chapter, of original fm *. 
 
 A N S W E R. 
 I ASK every fenfiblc man, whether that 
 chapter be a treatifc on tlieology ? Had the 
 
 * The piece of the Qth of C^ilobcr j^.jo, jw.'-. 162. 
 8 " Author
 
 [ 256 ] 
 
 Author treated of original lin, he might in the 
 fame manner have been charged with not 
 having mentioned the redemption of mankind ; 
 and thus they might have proceeded, from ar- 
 ticle to article, to infinity. 
 
 OBJECTION IV. 
 
 Is drawn from the Author's having begun 
 his work in a very different manner from Mr. 
 Domat j who has firft treated of revelation. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 'Tis true Mr. Domat has begun his work in 
 a different manner from the Author, and has 
 firfl treated of revelation. 
 
 OBJECTION V. 
 
 The Author has followed Pope's fyflem in 
 his Effiy on Man. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Throughout the v^hole v/ork he has not 
 cne word of Pope's fyftem. 
 
 OBJECTION VI. 
 
 The Author fays y 'That the Law which prc- 
 fcrihes to Ma?i his duty towards God, is the mojl 
 important ; hut he denies that it is the firfi : he 
 
 prete?hlsi
 
 [ ^S7 ] 
 
 pretends y that the Jirji Law of nature is peace ; 
 that men begin with being afraid of each other ^ 
 Sec. But every child knows y that the firfl Law 
 is to love God -J and that the Jecond is to love his 
 
 neighbour. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 These are the Author's words: "The 
 *' Law which, imprinting in our minds the 
 " idea of a Creator, inclines us to him, is the 
 " nrft of the natural Laws in its importance, 
 '^ tho* not in its order. Man, in a ftate of 
 *' nature, would have the power of knowing 
 '' before he had acquired knowledge. 'Tis 
 " evident that his firfl ideas would be far from 
 "being of a fpeculative nature; he would 
 " think of the prefervation of his being bc- 
 " fore he would inveftigate its origin. Such a 
 *' man would at firft feel nothing in himfelf 
 *' but impotency. His fears and apprchen- 
 '^ fions would be exceflive \ as appears from 
 " inflanccs (were there any neceffity of prov- 
 " ing it) of favages found in forefts, ever 
 *' trembling, and flying from every fliadow *." 
 The Author has then fiid, that the Law which, 
 imprinting in us the idea of a Creator, in- 
 clines us to him, is the firft of the natural 
 "* Book i. chap. 2. 
 
 S Laws.
 
 [ 25S I 
 
 Laws. It is not unlawful for him, any more 
 than for other philofophers and writers on the 
 Law of nature, to confider man under various 
 fituations. He has therefore talcen the liberty 
 to fuppofe a man as if dropped from the clouds, 
 left to himfelf, and without education, before 
 the eflablifhment of fociety. Well, the Au- 
 thor has faid, that the firfl, the moft import- 
 ant, and confequently the capital Law of na- 
 ture, would be for him, as well as for all other 
 men, to be inclined towards his Creator. It 
 is alfo allowable for the Author to inquire 
 what would be the firft impreflion made on 
 this man, and to examine the order in which 
 thefe impreffions would be traced in his brain : 
 and he has believed, that he would have fen- 
 fations before he made reflexions -, that the 
 firft, in the order of time, would be fear ; af- 
 terwards the want of food, ^c. The Author 
 has faid, that the Law which, imprefling on 
 our minds the idea of a Creator, leads us to 
 him, is the firll: of the natural Laws : the Cri- 
 tic fays, that the firfl: Law of nature is to love 
 God : they are therefore only divided by abufe. 
 
 OBJECTION VII. 
 
 Is drawn from the firft chapter of the 
 firfl book J where the Audior having faid 
 
 4 that
 
 [ 259 ] 
 that man is a Jimited being, has added: 
 ^* Such a being might every inftant forget 
 *' his Creator ; God has therefore rcmihd- 
 " ed him of his duty by the Laws of re- 
 " ligion," Now, fays the Critic, What is 
 the religion to which the Author here alludes ? 
 He doubtlefs fpeaks of natural religion 5 he 
 then only believes natural religion. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Let us fuppofe again, that this manner of 
 rcafoning is juft ; and that when the Author 
 fpeaks only of the religion of nature, we may 
 conclude from thence that he only believes 
 in that religion, and that he excludes revealed 
 religion : Yet, in this place I maintain that he 
 has fpoken of revealed religion, and not of the 
 reli^rion of nature : for if he had meant the re- 
 ligion of nature, he mufl have been an idiot. 
 It would have been as if he had faid : Such a 
 being might eafily forget his Creator, that is, 
 the religion of nature j God has therefore re- 
 minded him of his duty by the Laws of na- 
 tural religion : fo that God had given him the 
 religion of nature, to pcrfcdl him in the reli- 
 gion of nature. Thus, to prepare himfelf for 
 Lading invectives on the Author, he begins by 
 taking from his words their moft evident fenfe, 
 S 2 in
 
 [ 26o ] 
 
 in order to give them the mod evident ab- 
 furdityj and to obtain the advantage over 
 him, he deprives him of common fenfe. 
 
 OBJECTION VIII. 
 
 The Author, fpeaking of man, has faid : 
 " Such a being might every iijftant forget his 
 ' Creator j God has therefore reminded him 
 ** of his duty by the Laws of religion : fuch a 
 " being is liable every moment to forget him- 
 *' felf J philofophy has provided againft this 
 " by the Laws of morality : formed to live in 
 " fociety, he might forget his fellow creatures ; 
 " legiflators have therefore, by political and 
 *' civil Laws, confined him to his duty *." 
 T^herefore^ fays the Critic, according to the Au- 
 thor^ the go^oermnent is divided between God, 
 the philofofhers, mid the legiflators, &c. Where 
 have the philofophers learned the Laws cf mora- 
 lity ? Where ha^ve legiflators feen what they 
 ought to prefcribe, in order to govern focieties 
 with equity -f ? 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 It is very eafy to reply to this. They have 
 taken it from revelation, if they have been fo 
 
 * Book i. chap. x. -} The p-ece of the 9th of 
 
 Odiober 1749, pag. 162. 
 
 happy
 
 f 261 1 
 
 happy as to be favoured with ft : otherwife, 
 they have taken it from that Law which, im- 
 preffing on our minds the idea of a Creator, 
 Jeads us towards him. Has the Author of the 
 Spirit of Laws faid with Virgil, Ccefar fiares 
 the empire with Jupiter ? Has not God, the ' 
 governour of the univerfe, given to certain 
 men greater intelledlual abilities, and to others 
 greater power ? You would maintain that the 
 Author has faid, that becaufe God has been 
 pleafed to ordain that men fhould be governed 
 by men, he is not willing that they fhould obey 
 him, and that he has diverted himfelf of the 
 authority he had over them, &c. To fuch 
 abfurditics are thofe reduced, who are extreme- 
 ly weak at rcafoning, but have great flrength 
 at declamation. 
 
 OBJECTION IX. 
 
 The Critic continues : It is alfo obfervable 
 that the Author y who Jinds that God cannot go- 
 vern free beings as well as others, becaiije^ being 
 jree^ they are allowed the libertv of ac!ingj\r 
 themfehes (I (liall obfcrve by the way, that the 
 Author lic-cs not make ufe of the i-xprcfiion, 
 God cannot) remedies ilis diprder no otherwife 
 than by tie Law^ which fiews men what they 
 cu^ht to do, but gives them not the power to 
 
 ^ 3 ^^
 
 [ 262 ] 
 
 do it. ^husy according to the Author'' s fyflem, 
 God has created betjtgi whofe irregularities he 
 can neither hinder nor repair. Blind mortal I 
 ivho does not fee that God does what he requires 
 from them, and that they can do nothi7tg but 
 what he pleafes. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 The Critic had before reproached the Au- 
 thor with not having mentioned original fin. 
 He again returns to the charge, and cenfures 
 him for not having fpoken of grace. It is an 
 unhappy thing to have to do with a man who 
 cenfures all the articles of a book, and has only 
 one predominant idea. He is not unlike the 
 curate of the village to whom fome aftrono- 
 mers fhewing the moon through a telefcope, 
 he could fee nothing but a fleeple. 
 
 The Author of The Spirit of Laws thought 
 he ought to begin with giving fome idea of 
 Laws in general, and of the Law of nature 
 and nations. The fubjc6t was immenfe j and 
 yet he has included it in tvv^o chapters : he 
 w^as therefore obliged to omit a great number 
 of things that belonged to his fubje6t ; and 
 with much better reafon has he omitted thofe 
 which had no relation to it, 
 
 OB-
 
 [2^3 ] 
 
 OBJECTION X. 
 
 I'he Author has faid^ that in Rngland felf- 
 murder is the effedf of a difeafe, and that they 
 can no more punijh it than they can ptmifi the 
 effeSfs of madnefs. A follower of the religion of 
 nature cannot forget that England is the cradle 
 of his feB. He wipes a fpunge over all the 
 crimes he perceives there, 
 
 ANSWER. 
 The Author does not know, that England 
 is the cradle of the religion of nature. But 
 he knows that England is not his cradle, on 
 account of his having mentioned a phyfical 
 effe(5l, which he hiinfelfobferved in England. 
 His fentiments of religion are no more like 
 thofc of the Englifli, than thofe of an Knglifli- 
 man, who treats of the phyfical effculs that 
 have happened in France, arc like thofe of a 
 Frenchman. The Author of The Spirit of 
 Laws is not a follower of natural religion ; 
 but he would be glad to have his Critic a fol- 
 lower of natural logic. 
 
 I BELIEVE I have already made the terrible 
 
 arms uf^'d by the Critic drop from his hand : 
 
 and I am now going to give an idea of his ex- 
 
 S 4 ordium ;
 
 [ 264 ] 
 
 ordium ; which is fuch, that I am afraid my 
 mentioning it here will be thought to be done 
 by way of derifion. 
 
 He fays at firft, and thefe are his words : 
 That the book of The Spirit of Laws is one of 
 thofe irregular produBions^ that were never fo 
 numerous till after the arrival of the bull Uni- 
 genitus. Is it not enough to make one laugh, 
 to' fuppofe that the arrival of The Spirit of 
 Laws is caufed by the arrival of the conftitu- 
 tion Unigenitus? The bull Vnigenitus is not 
 the occafional caufe of the book of The Spirit 
 0^ Laws ; but the bull Vnigenitus^ and the 
 book of The Spirit of Laws, have been the oc- 
 cafional caufes of the Critic's having made fo 
 fhrewd a remark. 
 
 The Critic continues : T^he Author fays that 
 he has often begun, and as often laid afule his 
 ivork. However, when he threw his fir ft pro- 
 duciions into the fre, he was lefs diftant from 
 the truth, than when he began to be fatisfcd with 
 his labours. How does he know that ? He 
 adds : Jf the Author had been willing to follow 
 a beaten path, his work would have coft him lefs 
 pai?is. How again does he know that ? He 
 afterwards pronounces this oracle : // docs not 
 
 require
 
 [ 26s ] 
 
 require much penetration to perceive ^ that The 
 Spirit of Laws is founded on the fy ft em of natu- 
 ral religion. It has been Jhewn in the letters 
 againft Popes EJfay on Man, that the fyjiem oj 
 natural religion is connected with that of Spi- 
 nofa : this is enough to infpire a Chriflian with 
 horror at the new book of which we are here 
 giving an account, 
 
 I RFPLY, that this is not only enough, but 
 even too much. But I havejuft proved, that 
 the Author's fyftem is not that of the religion 
 of nature ; and fuppofing that natural religion 
 is conneded with Spinofa's fyftem, the Au- 
 thor's fyftem is not that of Spinofa, ftnce it is 
 not that of the religion of nature. 
 
 He would then infpire us with horror, be- 
 fore he has proved that we ought to be filled 
 with horror. 
 
 These are the two forms of reafoning dif- 
 fufcd tlirough the two pieces I have under- 
 taken to anfwer. The Author of The Spirit 
 of Laws is a follower of natural religion : we 
 muft then explain what he fays there by the 
 priiicipLs of natural religion : therefore, if 
 what he fays there is founucd on the principles 
 
 of
 
 [ 266 ] 
 of natural religion, he is a follower of natural 
 religion. 
 
 The other form of reafoning is this : The 
 Author of The Spirit of Laws is a follower of 
 the religion of nature : what he then fays in 
 his book in favour of revelation is only to con- 
 ceal his being a follower of the religion of 
 nature : therefore, if he thus conceals him- 
 felf, he is a follower of the religion of nature. 
 
 Before I conclude this firft part, I fhall be 
 tempted to make an objeiflion to him that has 
 made fo many. He has fo terrified our ears 
 with the phrafe, follower of the religion of 
 nature, that I, who defend the Author, fcarce- 
 ly dare to pronounce the word. I will how- 
 ever take courage. Do not thefc two pieces 
 require more explication than that I defend? 
 Does he do well, when he is treating of natural 
 religion and revelation, to throw himfelf per- 
 petually on one fide, and to caufe all traces of 
 the other to be intirely loft ? Does he do 
 well never to diftinguifli thofe who acknow- 
 ledge only the religion of nature, from thofe 
 who acknowledge both natural and revealed 
 religion ? Does he do well to be frightned 
 whenever the Author confiders man in a ftate 
 
 of
 
 [267] 
 
 of nature, and when he explains any thing on 
 the principles of natural religion ? Docs he do 
 well to confound the religion of nature witli a- 
 thcifm ? Have I not always heard, that all of us 
 have the religion of nature ? Have I not heard, 
 that Chriftianity is the perfedion of natural 
 religion ? Have I not heard, that people make 
 ufe of arguments drawn from the religion of 
 nature, in proof of a revelation, againft the 
 Deifts J and that we employ the fame natural 
 religion, to prove the exiftence of God againft 
 the Athcifts ? He fays that the Stoics were 
 the followers of natural religion : and I, that 
 they were atheifts * ; fince they believed that 
 the univerfe was governed by a blind fatality, 
 and that, from natural religion, we ought to 
 oppofe the opinion of the Stoics. He fays, 
 that the fyftem of natural religion is connedled 
 
 * See the piece of Odlober 9, 1749, pag. 165. " The 
 Stoics admitted the eAiflcnce of only one God : but this 
 God was no other than the foul of the univerfe. They 
 maintained, that all beings, up to the Firfl Caufc, were 
 united together in the manner of a chain ; a fatal necelfity 
 drew the whole. They denied the immortality of the 
 foul, and made the fovcrcign happinefs confiit in living con- 
 formably to nature. This is the foundation of the fyftem 
 of natural religion." 
 
 with
 
 [ ?68 ] 
 with that of Spinofa f : and I, that they are 
 contradidory, and that it is by natural religion 
 we overthrow Spinofa's fyftem. I fay, that 
 to confound the religion of nature with athe- 
 ifm, is to confound the proof with the thing 
 we would prove, and the objedion againft the 
 error with the error itfelf j and that it is to de- 
 prive us of the powerful arms of which we are 
 pofTefTed againft that error. God forbid that 
 I fhould impute any ill defign to the Critic, or 
 take advantage of the confequences that might 
 be drawn from his principles. Though he 
 has treated the Author with very little indul- 
 gence, I would {hew fome to him. I only 
 fay, that the metaphyfical ideas in his brain 
 are very confufed ; that he has not the leaft 
 power of feparating them j that he is incapa- 
 ble of forming a good judgment, becaufe, 
 among the various things he might fee, he 
 never fees but one. In this I have no delign 
 of making him reproaches, but merely of 
 deflroying thofe he has made. 
 
 f See the firft piece of Otober 9, 1749, page 161, at 
 the end of the firft column. 
 
 A
 
 [ 269 ] 
 A 
 
 DEFENCE 
 
 O F 
 
 The S P 1 R I T of L A W S. 
 PART II. 
 
 The GENERAL IDEA. 
 
 I Have already cleared the Author of The 
 Spirit of Laws from the two general re- 
 proaches that have been caft upon him : but 
 there arc ftill fome particular imputations, to 
 which it is neccflary for me to reply. But to 
 throw the greater light on what I have faid, 
 and on what will be hereafter added, I (hall 
 explain what has given room, or ferved as a 
 pretence for making invedlives. 
 
 Men of the bcft fenfe In the feveral coun- 
 tries of Europe, men of the greateft learning, 
 and mofl: diftinguiflicd for their wifdom, have 
 
 confi-
 
 [ 7o J 
 confidered The Spirit of Laws as an ufeful 
 work : they have thought that the morals, in 
 which it abounds, are pure j that the prin- 
 ciples it contains are juft, and that it is proper 
 to form worthy members of fociety ; that the 
 Author there deftroys pernicious opinions, and 
 encourages thofe that are good. 
 
 On the other hand, here is a man who 
 treats it as a dangerous book, and makes it the 
 fubjed of the moft outrageous invedives. 
 This requires fome explications. 
 
 So far from having underftood the particu- 
 lar pafTages on which he has fpent his criti- 
 cifm, he has not even difcovered what is the 
 fubjedt of which the Author treats. Thus 
 vainly beating the air, and fighting againft the 
 wind, he has gained triumphs of the fame 
 kind: he has wrote a good criticifm on the 
 book he had in his head j but has not wrote a 
 critic on that of the Author. But how was it 
 poflible for him thus to miilake both the fub- 
 jedl and defign of a book placed before his 
 eyes ? Perfons of fenfe fee at the firft glance, 
 that the objeds of this work are the Laws, the 
 various cuftoms, and manners, of all the na- 
 tions on eartli. It may be faid, that the fubjed: 
 
 is
 
 [ 271 ] 
 
 is of prodigious extent, as it comprehends all 
 the inftitutions received among mankind ; as 
 thefe inftitutions are diftinguifhed by the Au- 
 thor, who examines thofe that are moft agree- 
 able to fociety in general, and to each fociety in 
 particular ; and as he fearches into their ori- 
 gin, difcovers their phyfical and moral caufes ; 
 examines thofe which have any intrinfic good- 
 nefs, and thofe that have none ; of two perni- 
 cious pradlices, he inquires which is moft, and 
 which leaft pernicious j and treats of thofe that 
 in fome refpeds may have a good effedl:, and a 
 bad one in others. He has imagined that 
 thefe refearches would be ufeful, becaufe judg- 
 ment and good fenfe confiil: in knowing the 
 fhades of things. 
 
 Now in a fubjedl of fuch extent, it became 
 neceflary to treat of religion : for there being 
 but one true religion, and an infinite number of 
 others that are falfe ; one religion feni from 
 heaven, and an infinity of others that had their 
 birth on this globe : he could regard the falfe 
 religions only as human inftitutions j and 
 therefore was obliged to examine them, as well 
 as all the other inftitutions of human origin. 
 But as to the Chriftlan reli.^Ion, he had no- 
 thing to do but to pay it his adorations as being 
 
 divine.
 
 [ 272 ] 
 
 divine. He did not think himfelf obliged to 
 treat of that religion ; becaufe he conlidcred it, 
 as in its own nature not fubjedt to his exami- 
 nation, fo that when he has mentioned it, it 
 has never been done to introduce it into the 
 plan of his work, but only to pay it the tri- 
 bute of refpedt and love due to it from all 
 Chriflians ; and that in the comparifons he 
 might draw between that religion and the 
 others, he might make it triumph over them 
 all. This is viiible throughout the whole 
 work : but the author has particularly explain- 
 ed himfelf at the beginning of book xxiv. 
 the firil of the two books that treat of reli- 
 gion. He begins thus : "As amidft the fe- 
 " veral degrees of darknefs, we may form a 
 " judgment of thofe which are the leaft thick, 
 *' and, among precipices, which are the lead 
 " deep; fo we may fearch among falfe reli- 
 " gions for thofe that are moft conformable to 
 *' the welfare of the fociety -, for thofe which, 
 *' though they have not the efFedl of leading 
 ** men to the felicity of the other life, may 
 " contribute moft to their happinefs in this. 
 
 " I SHALL therefore only examine the fe- 
 " veral religions in the world, in relation to 
 " the good they produce in civil fociety j whe- 
 
 *' ther
 
 [ 273 ] 
 " ther I fpeak of that which has its root in 
 *' heaven, or of thofe which fpring from the 
 ** earth." 
 
 The Author therefore, regarding human 
 religions only as human inflitutions, was in the 
 right to treat of them, becaufe they neceflarily 
 entered into his plan. He did not go out of 
 his way to feek for them ; but they came in 
 fearch of him. And as to the Chriftian reli- 
 gion, he has only mentioned it occafionally ; 
 becaufe, in its own nature, it could not be 
 modified, mitigated, and correded, and there- 
 fore did not enter into the plan he had pro- 
 pofed. 
 
 What has he done then to give fj full a 
 fcope to declamation, and to open fo wide a 
 door to invedtive ? The author has been con- 
 fidered as if, after the example of M. Abbadie, 
 he had refolved to write a treatife on the 
 Chriftian religion i he has been attacked, as if 
 his two books on religion were two treatifes on 
 Chriflian divinity. He has been charged, as if 
 fpeaking of any religion whatfoever that had 
 no relation to the Chriftian, it had been his 
 bufinefs to examine it according to the doc- 
 trines and precepts of Chridianity. He has 
 T been
 
 [ 274 ] 
 been judged, as if he had undertaken, in his 
 two books, to form an eftablifliment in behalf 
 of the Chriftians, and to preach the dodrines 
 of Chriftianity to Mahometans and Idolaters. 
 Whenever he has mentioned religion in ge- 
 neral, whenever he has ufed the word religion, 
 it is faid, This is the Chriftian religion. When- 
 ever he has compared the religious rites of 
 any nation whatfoever, and has faid, that fome 
 of thefe rites were more conformable to the 
 political government of the country, than 
 others 5 it is faid, You then approve them, and 
 abandon the Chriftian faith. When he has 
 mentioned any people v/ho have not embraced 
 Chriftianity, or who lived before the coming 
 of Chrift, it is faid, You then do not acknow- 
 ledge theChriftian moral. When he has ex- 
 amined, in a political writer, any cuftom what- 
 foever, it is faid. Was this the dodlrine of 
 Chriftianity you ought to have inculcated ? 
 You fay, that you are a Civilian ; and i will 
 make you a Divine in fpite of yourfelf. You 
 in fome places fay fome very fine things in 
 favour of the Chriftian religion ; but you'^only 
 fay them to conceal yourfelf: for I know your 
 heart, and read your thoughts. 'Tis true, I 
 don't underftand your book ; it is of no con- 
 fcquence whether I have penetrated rightly, 
 
 or
 
 [ 275 ] 
 or not, into the view with which it was \\ rit- 
 ten : but I dive to the bottom of your 
 thoughts. I don't know a word you Hiy : but 
 I undcrftand very well what you think. Let 
 us enter now into the fubjcd:. 
 
 Ofthe COUNSELS of RELIGION. 
 
 The Author, in the book on rclieion, has 
 attacked the errors of Bayle. Thcfe are his 
 words * : " Mr. Bayle, after having abufed all 
 " religions, endeavours to fully Chrillianity. 
 " He boldly afTerts, that true Chriftians cannot 
 ** form a government of any duration. Why 
 " not ? Citizens of this profefiion, being infi- 
 *^ nitely enlightened with refpedt to the various 
 " duties of life, and having the waiincll: zeal 
 *' to fulfil them, mud be perfcdly fenilblc of 
 " the rights of natural defence. The more 
 *' they believed themfelvcs indebted to reli- 
 " gion, the more they would think dv.c to 
 *' their country. The principles of Cliriilian- 
 *' ity, deeply engraven, en the licait, v>^ou:d be 
 '' inhnitelv more ]V)\vcrlul than the falfc ho- 
 *' nour of monarchic; , tlie hum.-nc vireues of 
 '^ republics, or the Icrviic icar of dcipotic 
 *' dates. 
 
 * Book xxiv. clup. 6. 
 
 1' 2 "I:
 
 [276] 
 
 " It is aftonifhing that this great man (hould 
 " not be able to diftinguifli between the or- 
 " ders for the eftabhfhment of Chiiftianity, 
 *' and Chriftianity itfelf : and that he (hould 
 " be liable to be charged with not knowing 
 " the fpirit of his own religion. When the 
 " legiiiator inftead of Laws gave counfels, it 
 *' was becaufe he knew, that if thofe counfels 
 " were ordained as Laws, they would be con- 
 " trary to the fpirit of the Laws themfelves." 
 
 What has the Critic done to deprive the 
 Author of the honour of having thus attacked 
 one of Bayle's errors ? He has taken the fol- 
 lowing chapter, which has nothing to do with 
 Bayle *. *' Human Laws made to dire(5t the 
 *' will, it is there faid, ought to give precepts, 
 *' and not counfels : religion, which is formed 
 " to influence the heart, ought to give many 
 *' counfels, and few precepts." Whence it is 
 concluded, that the Author confiders all the 
 precepts of the Gofpel only as counfels. He 
 in return, might alfo fay, that he who made 
 this criticifm confiders all the counfels of the 
 gofpel as precepts : but this is not his manner 
 of reafoning, and flill lefs is it his manner of 
 
 * That is, Book xxiv. chap. 7. 
 
 avTtinor 
 3
 
 [ '^17 ] 
 a^Ing. Let us come to the point. It will 
 here be proper to lengthen out a little what 
 the Author has reprefented in a manner ex- 
 tremely concife. Mr. Bayle had maintained, 
 that a fociety of Chriftians could not fubrift ^ 
 and alledged as the reafon the order of the 
 Gofpel, When thou art fmote on one cheek, 
 turn the other alfo ; the command to leave 
 the world to retire into defarts, &c. The 
 Author fays, that Bayle took for precepts 
 what were only counfels j for general rules 
 what were only particular ones. In this the 
 Author has defended religion. But what has 
 this occafioned ? It is laid down as the firft 
 article of his creed, that all the books of the 
 Gofpel contain only counfels. 
 
 Of POLYGAMY. 
 
 Other articles have likewife furniHied 
 commodious fubjed:s of declamation. Poly- 
 gamy afforded an exxellent one. The Author 
 has wrote a chapter exprefsly upon it ; in 
 which he has cenfured it. It is as follows : 
 
 *' O'i Polygamy confidercd in itfelf 
 
 " With regard to polygamy in general, 
 
 ^' independently of the circumflanccs that may 
 
 T 3 " render
 
 [ 2^8 ] 
 
 " render It tolerated, it is not of the lead fervice 
 " to mankind, nor to either of the two fexes, 
 *< whether it be that which abufes, or that 
 " which is abufed. Neither is it of fervice to 
 " the children j for one of its greateft incon- 
 *' veniences is, that the father and mother 
 *' cannot have the fame affedion for their ofF- 
 " fpring ; a father cannot love twenty children 
 " with the fame tendernefs that a mother can 
 " love two. It is much worfe when a wife 
 " has many hufbands ; for then paternal love 
 *' is only held by this opiiiion, that a father 
 " may believe if he will, or that others may 
 " believe, that certain children belong to him. 
 
 " May I not fay that a plurality of wives 
 ^* leads to that paflion which nature difallows ? 
 " for one depravation always draws on ano- 
 '' ther, &c. 
 
 " BrsTDES, the poficHion of many wives 
 " does not always prevent their entertaining 
 " defsrcs for thofe of others. It is with luft as 
 " Vvith avarice, where the thiril is increafed by 
 
 " t]ic acquirition of treafurcs. 
 
 '' Ju tiie reign of JuPiinian, many phllo- 
 *' tbphei?, diipleafed with the reflraints of 
 
 " Chrif-
 
 [ 279 ] 
 
 *' Chriftianity, retired intoPerfia. What there 
 
 *' ftruck them moft, fays Agathias, was that 
 
 ' *' polygamy was permitted amongft men who 
 
 ' " did not even abftain from adultery." 
 
 The Author has then maintained, that poly- 
 gamy is in its own nature, and coniidered in 
 itfelf, pernicious. It was neceflary to overlook 
 this chapter ; and therefore no notice is taken 
 of it. The Author has, befides, made a phi- 
 lofophical examination, in what country, in 
 what climate, and in what circumftances, its 
 effects are leaft pernicious j he compares cli- 
 mate with climate, and country with country ; 
 and has found thofe where its eifeds are Itis 
 prejudicial than in others -, bccaufe, according 
 to the accounts that have been publidicd, the 
 nun;ber of men and women not being equal 
 in all countries, it is evident that, if there are 
 places where the women arc much more nu- 
 merous than the men, polygnmy, tho' bad in 
 itlclf, is lefs fo there tlnn in other couritri^-?. 
 The Author has difcufled ihis point in the 
 fourth chapter of the f.'.nic bock. But the 
 title (jf this chapter confilling Oi thcfc words, 
 7/A'// '/'.' Law 0/ P'.!ygutn\' is an i:ju:ir that dc- 
 jiihh on cdlcuiaiioiu, the Cntic liab lejzcJ hold 
 of this title. However, as the title of a chap- 
 T 4 ter
 
 [ 28o ] 
 tef relates to the chapter itfelf, and can fay 
 neither more nor lefs than the chapter, let us 
 fee it. 
 
 " According to the calculations made in 
 " feveral parts of Europe, there are here born 
 ** more boys than girls : on the contrary, the 
 ** accounts we have of Afia inform us, there 
 " are born in that part of the world more girls 
 " than boys. The Law which in Europe al- 
 " lows only one wife, and that in Alia which 
 *' permits many, have then a certain relation 
 *' to the climate. 
 
 " In the cold climates in Ada there are 
 " born, as in Europe, more m^ales than fe- 
 *' males ; and from hence, fay the Lamas, is 
 " derived the reafon of that Law which, 
 *^ amongft them, permits a vv^oman to have 
 *' many hufbands. 
 
 " But it is difficult for me to believe, that 
 *' there are many countries where the difpro- 
 " portion can be great enough for any exi- 
 *' gency to juflify the introducing either the 
 *' Law in favour of many wives, or that of 
 *' many hufnands. This would only imply 
 '' ti.-at a majority of womeOj or even a ma-
 
 [ 28, ] 
 
 * jorlty of men, is more conformable to na- 
 *' ture in certain countries, than in others. 
 
 " I CONFESS that, if what hiftory tells us be 
 ** true, that at Bantam there are ten women to 
 ** one man, this muft be a cafe particularly 
 " favourable to polygamy. 
 
 *' In all this I only give their reafons, but 
 *' do not juftify their cufloms." 
 
 Let us now return to the title: Polygamy 
 is an affair of calculation. Yes it is, when wc 
 would know if it be more or lels pernicious in 
 certain climates, in certain countries, and in 
 certain circlimftances, than in others. It is 
 not an affair of calculation, when we are to 
 determine whether it be good or bad in itfelf. 
 
 It is not an affair of calculation, when wc 
 reafon on its nature : it mav he an affair of 
 calculation, when we combine its effci5f-s. In 
 fliort, it is never an affair of calculation, when 
 we examine the end of marriage ; and it is 
 much lefs fo, when we confider marriage as 
 cftabliflied, or confirmed, by Jefus Chrilf. 
 
 I SHALL
 
 [ 282 ] 
 
 I SHALL here add, that what has happened 
 by mere accident, is of great fervice to the 
 Author. He doubtlefs did not forefee, that 
 the Critic would overlook a whole chapter 
 exprefled in the plaineft terms, in order to give 
 an equivocal fenfe to another j and yet he had 
 the happinefs to conclude this other with thefc 
 words : " In all this, I only give their reafons -, 
 ' but do not juftify their cuftonis." 
 
 The Author had jiift faid, that he did not 
 believe that there could be climates where the 
 number of the women could fo greatly exceed 
 that of the men, or the number of the men 
 that of the women, as to juftify polygamy in 
 any country j and has added, *' This would 
 *' only imply that a majority of women, or 
 *' even of men, is more conformable to nature 
 ** in certain countries, than in others *." The 
 Critic has feized tlie word, is more conformable 
 to nature^ in order to charge the Author with 
 approving polygamy. But if I fay, that I 
 bad rather have a fever than the fcurvy. Will 
 that be a declaration that I am fond of a fe- 
 ver ; or only that the fcurvy is lefs difagreeable 
 to mc than a fever ? 
 
 * Book XV i. chap, 4. 
 
 HiRjC
 
 I 283 J 
 
 Here follows, word for word, a very ex- 
 traordinary objedion. 
 
 The polygamy of one ivoman ivbo has many 
 hujbandsy is a monfiroiis diforder, which was 
 never permitted in any cafe^ and which the Au- 
 thor docs not at all dijiingnijlo from the polygamy 
 of a man who hai federal wi'ves -j-. This lan^ 
 gicage, from a fcSlary of natural rchgion, 
 needs no commoit. 
 
 I BEG that attention may be paid to the 
 connexion of the Critic's ideas. According 
 to him it follows that, as the Author is a 
 fedary of the religion ci nature, he did not 
 mention what he had no bufinefb to mention ; 
 or that the Author has not mentioned what he 
 had no bufmefs to mciuion, hecaufe he is a 
 follower of natural religion. Thefe two me- 
 thods of reafoning arc of the fame kind, and 
 the confequences drawn from tl^eni are equal- 
 ly found in the prcmiffes. The uilial manner 
 i'i to criticize upon what a perfon v/rites ; but 
 here the criticifm iG bellowed upon what h.c 
 (i')C3 not write. 
 
 I T^c piece orORobcr 9, .'749, pag. 1C4. 
 
 I SAY
 
 [284] 
 
 I SAY this, fuppofing with the Critic that 
 the Author has not diftlnguifhed the poly- 
 gamy of a woman who has feveral hufbands 
 from that of a hufband who has feveral v^ives : 
 but if the Author has diftinguilhed them, 
 what will he fay ? And what will he fay, if 
 the Author has (hewn, that the abufe in the 
 firfl cafe is much the greateft ? I defire the 
 reader to perufe the lixth chapter of book xvi. 
 repeated above. The Critic has treated him 
 with invedives for keeping filence with re- 
 fpe<ft to this article : nothing remains but to 
 make them for not keeping filence. 
 
 But here is what I cannot comprehend. 
 The Critic fays, in the fecond of his pieces, 
 page 166. 'The Author has told us ^ that religion 
 ought to permit polygamy in hot countries^ and 
 not in thofe that are cold. But the Author 
 has no where faid this. This is a queftion 
 that does not turn upon the falfc reafoning of 
 the Critic againft the Author, but on a matter 
 of fad : and as the Author has never faid, 
 that religion ought to permit polygamy in 
 hot, and not in cold countries, the imputation 
 is in its own nature both falfe and cruel ; and 
 
 therefore
 
 therefore I defire the Critic to pafs judgment 
 on himfelf. 
 
 This is not the only pafTage of which the 
 Author has had reafon to complain : for, in 
 page 163. of the firft piece, the Critic fays: 
 ^he fourth chapter has for its iitle^ That the 
 Law of polygamy is an affair of calculation ; 
 that isy in places ivhere there are born more boss 
 than girlsy as in Europe^ we ought to have but 
 one wife-j and in thofe ivhere there are born 
 more girls than boys, polygamy ought to be intro- 
 duced. Thus when the Author explains cuf- 
 toms, or gives the reafons of their being 
 founded, thofe reafons are turned into maxims, 
 and, what is more barbarous ftiil, into maxims 
 of religion : and as he has mentioned an infi- 
 nite number of cuftoms and pradices, through- 
 out all the countries upon earth, he may, by a 
 parity of reafon, be charged with all the errors, 
 and even all the abominations of the univcrfe. 
 The Critic fays, at the end of jiis firft piece, 
 that God has given him fome zeal ; to which I 
 reply, that God has not given him this. 
 
 On C L I M A T E. 
 
 What the Author has faid on the effcds 
 of different Climates is alfo another excellci\t 
 
 tv pic
 
 [ 286 ] 
 topic of rhetoric. But all efFedts whatfoever 
 have their caufes : the climate and the other 
 phyfical caufes produce an infinite number of 
 effeds ; and if the Author had faid otherwife, 
 he would have been confidered as extremely 
 flupid. The queftion is reduced to this : 
 Whether, in countries placed at a great dif- 
 tance from each other, or whether in different 
 climates, there are the marks of a national fpi- 
 rit. Now that there are fuch differences, is 
 eftablifhed by almofl the univerfal confent of 
 writers. As the imprtffions of this national 
 fplrit have a confiderable influence on the dif- 
 pofitions of the heart, it cannot be at all 
 queflioned that certain difpofitions of heart are 
 more frequent in one country than another 5 
 and, in proof of this, we have alfo the tefti- 
 mony of an infinite number of writers in all 
 times and places. As thefe things are merely 
 human, the Author has treated them in 
 that light. He might indeed have added to 
 them many queflions debated in the fchools, 
 with refpe6l to the humane and chrifiian vir- 
 tues 5 but it is not ufual to crowd thefe quef- 
 tions into books of natural philofophy, politics, 
 and civil law. In a word, the climate may 
 be the phyfical caufe of producing various dif- 
 pofxtions of mind 3 thcfc difpofitions may have 
 
 an
 
 [ 287 ] 
 
 an influence on human a<ftions : but how does 
 this give a fhock to the throne of him who 
 has created, or to the merits of him who has 
 bought us ? 
 
 If the Author has inquired what the ma- 
 giflrates of various countries might do, in or- 
 der to condud: their feveral nations in a man- 
 ner moil: proper, and mofr fuitable to their re- 
 fpedive charaders, what harm has he done in 
 this? 
 
 One may alfo reafon on the local cuftoms 
 of religion. The Author had no bufinefs to 
 confider them as cither good or bad : he has 
 only faid, that there are climates where cer- 
 tain religious cuftoms were more eafily receiv- 
 ed, that is, the people in thofe climates were 
 more eafily accuftomcd to them, than the peo- 
 ple in others. Of this it would be unneceflary 
 to give examples j there are an hundred tlicu- 
 fand. 
 
 I AM very fenfible, that religion is, in its 
 own nature, independent of any phyfical ef- 
 feds whatfoever : that what is good iu one 
 country is <xood in another : and that it cannot 
 be bad in ulc CGUijtry, without being bad in 
 
 all. 
 6
 
 [ 288 } 
 all. But, as it is pradtifed by men, and for 
 men, there are places where a particular reli- 
 gion is more eafily pradtifed, either in part, or 
 in the whole, in one certain country than in 
 others, and in certain circumftances than in 
 others. And whoever afTcrts the contrary mud 
 divefl himfelf of common fenfe. 
 
 The Author has remarked, that the climate 
 of the Indies has produced there a certain 
 fweetnefs of manners. But, fays the Critic, 
 1'he "doomen there burn themfehes at the death of 
 their hujbands. There is but little philofophy 
 in this objedion. Is the Critic ignorant of 
 the contradidlions of the human mind, and 
 how readily it can feparate things the moft 
 clofely united, and unite thofe that are the 
 mofi: widely feparated. See the Author's re- 
 flexions on this fubje^; in book xiv. chap. 3. 
 
 Of TOLERATION. 
 
 All the Author has faid on toleration re- 
 lates to this propofition in book xxv. chap. 9. 
 *' We are here politicians, and not divines : but 
 " the divines themfelves muft allow, that there 
 " is a great difference between tolerating, and 
 
 " approving a religion. 
 
 " When
 
 f 2Sg J 
 
 " When leglflators have believed it their 
 , ** duty to permit the exercife of many reli- 
 ** gions, they arc alfo under the obligation of 
 *' inforcing a toleration amongfl: thefe reli- 
 *' gions themfelves." The reader is defned to 
 perufe the whole chapter. 
 
 A GREAT outcry has been raifed againft the 
 Author for having added in the next chapter : 
 '' This is then a fundamental principle of the 
 *' political Laws of religion, That when a flate 
 " is at liberty to receive or reje<5l a new rcli- 
 *' gion, it ought to be rejecfted ; when it is re- 
 ** ceived, it ought to be tolerated." 
 
 It is here ohjeded to the Author, that he 
 is going to inform idolatrous Princes, that they 
 ought to fhut Chriftianity out of their ftates. 
 Really it is a fecret that it was ever whifpered 
 to the King of Cochin-China. As this argu- 
 ment has furnifhed matter for much decla- 
 mation, I fliall give two anfvvers. The firft is. 
 That the Author has excepted it by name in his 
 book on religion. He has faid in book xxiv. 
 chap. I. " The Chriftian religion, which or- 
 *' dains that men fliould love each other, 
 *' would doubtlefs have every nation bleft with 
 U " the
 
 [ 290 ] 
 
 " the beft civil, the beft political Laws j be- 
 " caufe thefe, next to this religion, are the 
 " greateft good that men can give and receive." 
 If then the Chriftian religion is the firft and 
 principal good, and political and civil Laws 
 the fecond, there are, no political or civil Laws 
 in a (late that can or ought to hinder the en- 
 trance of the Chriflian religion. 
 
 My fecond anfwer is, that the religion fent 
 from heaven is not eftablidied by the fame 
 methods as the religions of the. earth. Read 
 the hiilory of the church, and you will fee 
 the wonders of the Chriftian religion. Has 
 Ihe refolved to enter a country ? fhe knows 
 how to open its gates, and all inftruments are 
 proper for that purpofe : fometimes God makes 
 ufe of a few fifliermen ; at others, he places an 
 Emperof on the throne, and makes him bend 
 his neck under the yoke of the Gofpel. Is 
 C'hriftianity concealed in caverns, and fubter- 
 faneous abodes ? flay a moment, and you v;ill 
 fee the Imperial Majefty fpeak in her behalf. 
 She, whenever flie pleafes, croffes the feas, 
 rivers, and mountains j and no obftacles here 
 below can flop her progrefs. Place repug- 
 nance in the mind j flie will make it fly be- 
 fore her : eftahlifh cufloms, form habits, pub- 
 3 lidr
 
 r 291 ] 
 
 ilili edidls, make Laws ; (he will triumph over 
 the climate, the Laws that refult from it, and 
 the legiflators who made them. God, ac- 
 cording to decrees concealed from us, extends 
 or contrads the limits of his religion as he 
 pleafes. 
 
 \Vn are told : That this is as if you went to 
 the Kings of the Eaft, and told them they 
 ought not to receive the Chriftian religion 
 among them. How carnal is it to talk in this 
 manner ! Is the Meffiah a man like Herod ? 
 It feems as if Jefus Chrift was conlidered as a 
 King who conceals his ftratagems and intelli- 
 gences. Let us do ourfelves juftice : Is the 
 manner in which we conduct ourfelves in lui- 
 man affairs To pure, as to allow us to think of 
 employing it in the converfion of nations ? 
 
 Of C E L I B A C Y. 
 
 We now come to t'lc article. oC ccIilKrcv. 
 All that the Author has faid of it relates tu 
 this propofition, which is found in book xxv. 
 chap, 4. " I fliall not here treat of the con- 
 ** fequenccs of the Law of celibacy : it is cvi- 
 <' dent it may become hurtful, in proportio:i 
 *' as the body of the clergy may be too mi- 
 \J z " mcrou^~ ;
 
 [ 292 ] 
 
 *' merous j and, in confequence of this, thai 
 *' of the laity too fmalL" It is evident,' thai 
 the Author here fpeaks only of the greater oi 
 lefs extenfion that ought to be allowed to celi- 
 bacy, with refped: to the greater or lefs number 
 of thofe who embrace it: and, as the Author 
 fays in another place, that Law of perfection 
 cannot be made for all mankind. Befides, we 
 know, that the Law of celibacy, as it now 
 fubfi(b, is only a Law of difcipline. The Spi- 
 rit of Laws has no where confidered the na- 
 ture of celibacy, or the degree of its goodnefs j 
 and that is not a fubjecfl that ought to enter at 
 all into a book of political and civil Laws. 
 The Critic, however, would never allow the 
 Author to treat his own fubjedl : he is conti- 
 iiuaily for having him treat of his ; and be-i 
 caufe he is always a divine, he will not fufferi 
 him, even in a book of Laws, to be a civilian., 
 However we fiiall foon fee that, with refpedlto 
 celibacy, he is of the fame opinion as the di- 
 vines 3 that is, that he acknowledges its good- 
 nefs. It mufl be obferved, that in book'^xxiii.; 
 where he treats of Laws in relation to the^ 
 number of inhabitants, the Author has given a 
 theory of what the poHtical and civil Laws of! 
 different people have done in this refped:. He j 
 bas^fliewn, by examining the hillories of the 1 
 
 feveral
 
 f 293 ] 
 
 Several nations of the earth, that there have 
 been particular circumftances in which thefe 
 Laws were more neceflary, than others, peo- 
 ple who had more need of them, and cer- 
 tain times when thefe people had flill more 
 need of them : and, as it is thought that the 
 Romans were the wifeft people upon earth, 
 ind that they had more need of thefe Laws to 
 .epair their lolTes, he has collecfted with great 
 "xadnefs the Laws they made for that pur- 
 3ofe ; he has pointed out, with great precifion, 
 n what circumftances they were made, and in 
 kvhat other circumftances they were taken 
 iway. There is no divinity in all this j and 
 :here is no need of any. The Author has 
 lowever thought proper to add a little. Thefe 
 [ire his words : " God forbid that I fhould 
 p here fpeak againfl celibacy, as adopted by 
 ' religion : but who can be filent, when this 
 ' is built on libertinifm j when the two fexes 
 ' corrupting each other even by the natural 
 ' fenfations themfelves, fly from an union 
 ' which ought to render them better, to live 
 * in that which always renders them worfe. 
 
 ** It is a rule drawn from nature, that thd 
 ' more the number of marriages is diminifhed, 
 "* the more corrupt thofe are rendered that arc 
 
 U -, *' c.ucrcd
 
 I 294 ] 
 
 *' entered Into that ftate. The fewer mar- 
 ** ried people there are, the lefs fidelity is there 
 " in marriage ; as, when there are more 
 ** thieves, there are more thefts *." 
 
 The Author has not then difapproved the 
 celibacy pradifed, on a religious motive j and 
 no complaint can be raifcd againfl him for cen- 
 furing the celibacy introduced by libertinifni. 
 He is offended, that a prodigious number of 
 rich and voluptuous men fiy the yoke of mar- 
 riage, that they may the more conveniently 
 purfue the gratification of their licentious ap- 
 petites. They give themfelves up to delight 
 and voluptuous plcafure, and leave trouble and 
 care to the mlierable. \Vc cannot, I fay, com- 
 plain that he has cenfured thefe. But the Criticj 
 after having cited what the Author ha: faid, 
 pronounces thefe words: JVe here pcrcche the 
 maligniiy of the Author^ ii-ho would thrc-j: iipcn 
 ike Chrijlian religion the diforders it detejis. It 
 might look ill-natured, were I to accufe the 
 Critic of not being willing to underftand the 
 Author : I (hall therefore only fay, that he 
 has not underi'lood him; and that' he has 
 m.ide him Uiy againil religion, what be faid 
 
 * Book xiii. chap, 21.
 
 [ 295 ] 
 againft libertlnlfm. lie ought to be very forry 
 for it. 
 
 A particular Error committed by the Critic. 
 
 One would be ready to believe, that the 
 Critic has fworn never to form a right ji^dg- 
 ment of the ftate of the queftion, and never to 
 underfland a fingie palTage he attacks. The 
 whole fecond cliapter of the tvt^enty fifth book 
 turns upon the motives, mo:e or lefs power- 
 ful, by which mankind are attached to the 
 prcfervation of their religion. Here the Criric 
 finds anotl^cr chapter which contains the mo- 
 tives that oblige men to change their religion. 
 The firft fubjedt implies a paflive ftate ; the 
 ft'cond a flate of action : but applying to one 
 fueled what the Author has faid on the other, 
 he indulges himfelf in falfe reafoning intirely 
 at hii, cafe. 
 
 The Autlior has faid, In the fecond chapter 
 (( the twciny fifth book, " We are extreme- 
 '' ly add'u'.c! to idolatry ; and yet have no 
 ' ercit !:i':';:::/Lion to the religion of idolaters. 
 * Wc Lire not very fc/rA of fpiritual ideas ; and 
 *' yet M'c nv^a altachcvl to thofc religioi-r Int 
 '' izzih ;. to ;:dorc a fnirituul being. Th'^: 
 r J. '^ proceeds
 
 [ =96 ] 
 *' proceeds from the fatisfadion we find ia 
 ** ourfelves at having been (o intelligent as tp 
 " chufe a religion that raifes the Deity from 
 " that bafenefs in which he had been placed 
 " by others." The Author had certainly no 
 other motive, than to explain why the Jews 
 and Mahometans are as invincibly attached to 
 their religion as we ourfelves, tho' they have 
 not the advantages with which we are pof- 
 feffed : and that they are, we know from ex- 
 perience : but the Critic underftands it other- 
 wife : Mens pajjing fro7n idolatry to the beliej of 
 cne God is here, fays he^ attributed to pride *. 
 But no mention is made, either here, or thro' 
 the whole chapter, of paffing from one reli- 
 gion to another: and if a Chriftian feels a 
 high fatisfaction, arifing from the idea of the 
 glory and grandeur of the Divine Majefly, and 
 this is what he calls pride, it is a very good 
 pride. 
 
 Of MARRIAGE. 
 
 Here is another uncommon objecflion. 
 The Author has two chapters in the twenty 
 third book J one intitled " Of Men and Ani- 
 mals with refpedl to the Propagation of their 
 * The fecond piece, pag. 1 66. 
 
 Species
 
 [ 297 ] 
 
 Species ;" and the other, " Of Marriage." In 
 the firfl he has thefe words : *' The females 
 " of brutes have an almoft conftant fecundity ; 
 *' but, in the human fpecies, the manner of 
 " thinking, the charader, the paffions, the hu- 
 ** mour, the caprice, the idea of preferving 
 " beauty, the pain of child-bearing, and the 
 *' fatigue of a too numerous family, obftru(5l 
 *' propagation a thoufand different ways." 
 And in the other he fays, *' The natural obli- 
 *' gation of the father to provide for his chil- 
 " dren has eftabliflied marriage j which makes 
 *' known the perfon who ought to fulfil this 
 " obli2:ation." 
 
 Upon this the Critic fays, A Chrijlian 
 ivould refer the infiitiition of marriage to God 
 kimfelf^ icho gave a companion to Adam^ and 
 united the firjl tnan to the fir Jl woman by an in- 
 dijj'ohible bond, before they had children to pro- 
 'Side for : but the Author avoids 'whatever is men- 
 tioned in the Holy Scriptures. He might re- 
 ply, that he is a Chriftian ; but not a natural : 
 that he venc:rates thefc truths ; but did not 
 chufc to infert at random, and without pro- 
 priety, all the truths that arc the objeds of his 
 faith. The Emperor Juftinian was a Chriftian, 
 as was alfo his compilator : yet in their books 
 
 of
 
 [ 298 ] 
 
 of Laws, which are ftill taught to youth in 
 the fchools, they define marriage, the union of 
 one man and woman, who form a fociety of 
 individual hfe *. It never entered into the 
 head of any perfon, to reproach them for not 
 having here mentioned revelation. 
 
 Of' USURY. 
 
 We are now come to the fubjed: of ufury. 
 I am afraid the reader will be tired with hear- 
 ing me repeat, that the Critic never under- 
 flands the point in queftion, and never takes 
 the fenfe of the paflages he cenfures. He 
 favs, that he-re the Author finds nothing imjuft 
 in maritime ufury : thefe are his iwrds. Indeed 
 The Spirit ot Laws has a very fad interpreter. 
 The Author has treated of maiitime ufury in 
 the twentieth chapter of the twenty fecond 
 book : he muft therefore have faid in that 
 chapter, that maritime ufury is jufl. Let us 
 fee what he fays. 
 
 " Of Maritime Ufary. 
 
 " The greatnefs , f maritime ufury is 
 *' founded on tvvo thinc^s: the danger of the 
 
 * Maris 5c f'Xiriinas conjundllo, individuam vltae focie- 
 tatem continens. 
 
 !' fea.
 
 [ 299 1 
 ** Tea, which makes it proper that thofe who 
 *' expofe their fpecie, fliould not do it without 
 *' confiderable advantage ; and the eafe with 
 " which the borrower, by the means of com- 
 " merce, fpeedily accompliflies a variety of 
 *' great affairs. Bat ufury, with refpedt to 
 " landfmen, being founded on neith.er of thefe 
 *' two reafons, is either prohibited by the legif- 
 " lators, or, what is more rational, reduced to 
 *' proper bounds." 
 
 I ASK every fenfible man, whether the 
 Author has here determined that maritime 
 ufury is jufl:; or whether he has fimply fuid, 
 that the greatnefs of maritime ufury is lefs re- 
 pugnant to natural equity, th.m the greatnefs of 
 Ufury at land. The Critic is acquainted with 
 none but pofuive and abfoliite qualities, and 
 does not know the meaning of tiiofe terms, ;;/5r<? 
 or lefs. If one was to tell him that a mulatto 
 woman was not fo black as a ne<^'*o, this would 
 fignify, according to him, that (he is as white 
 as fnow : if one was to tell him that Hie was 
 blacker than a^i European, he would then 
 think (he was as black as a co.il. But to proceed. 
 
 L\ the twenty fccond book of The Spirit of 
 Laws there are four chapters on I'.iury. In 
 
 the
 
 I 3CO ] 
 
 the two firfl, which are the nineteenth, and 
 that the reader has juft perufcd, the Author 
 examines ufury * in the relation it bears to the 
 commerce of different nations, and the feveral 
 governments of the world j and to this thefe 
 two chapters folely relate. The two following 
 only explain the variations of ufury among 
 the Romans. But here the Author is fud- 
 denly raifed to be a cafuift, a canonift, and di- 
 vine -, for no other reafon but becaufe the Cri- 
 tic is a cafuift, a canonift, and divine, or that 
 he is two of the three, or one of the three, 
 or, perhaps at bottom, none of the three. The 
 Author is fenfible, that the confideration of 
 lending at intereft, as conneded with Chrifti- 
 anity, is a fubjed: attended with endlefs dif- 
 tindions and limitations. He is fenfible that 
 the civilians, and a multitude of courts of 
 juftice, do not always agree vt'ith the cafuifls 
 and canonifts ; that fome of thefe admit cer- 
 tain limitations of the general principle of ne- 
 ver afking intereft, and others admit ftill 
 greater. Though all thefe queftions had be- 
 longed to his fubject, which they do not, how 
 would he have been able to have treated of 
 them ? We find it difficult to know thorough- 
 
 * Ufury and intercfl: among the Romans fignified the 
 fame thing.
 
 [ 3^1 ] 
 
 ly what we have well fludied j but much more 
 difficult is it to know what we have never flu- 
 died at all. However, thofc very chapters that 
 are employed againft him, fufficiently prove, 
 that he is only an hiftorian and civilian. Let 
 us read chap. 1 9 *. 
 
 ** Specie is the fign of value. It is evident, 
 ** that he who has occafion for this fign ought 
 " to pay for the ufe of it, as well as for every 
 *' thing elfe that he has occafion for. All the 
 *' difference is, that other things may be either 
 " hired or bought ; whilft money, which is 
 " the price of things, can only be hired, and 
 " not bought. 
 
 " To lend money without intcrcfl:, is cer- 
 " tainly an adion laudable and extremely 
 " good; but this is perhaps only a counfel of 
 *' religion, and not a civil law. 
 
 *' In order that trade may be fuccefsfullv 
 " carried on, it is neceifary that a price be fixed 
 ** on the ufe of fpecic ; but this price fliould 
 *' be very inconfiderable. If it be too high, 
 " the merchant, who finds that it will cofi 
 *' him more in intereft than he can ^^'m bv 
 
 * Book xxii. 
 
 '' commerce,
 
 [ 302 ] 
 
 " commerce, will undertake nothing. If 
 ** there is no confideration to be paid for the 
 " ufe of fpecie, no body will lend it ; and 
 *' here too the merchant will undertake no- 
 * thing. 
 
 " I AM miflaken when I fay that no body 
 *^ will lend ; the affairs of fociety muft ever 
 " make it neceflary. Ufury will be eftablifh- 
 *' ed, but with all the diforders with which it 
 *' has been condantly attended. 
 
 *' The Laws of Mahomet confound ufury 
 " with lending upon interefl. Ufury increaf- 
 *' es in Mahometan countries, in proportion to 
 *' the feverity of the prohibition. The lender 
 ** indemnifies himfelf for the danger he under- 
 " goes of fuffering the penalty. ^ 
 
 " In thcfe eaflern countries the greateft 
 ** part of the people are fecure of nothing. 
 *' There is hardly any connexion between the 
 *' adual pofleffion of a fum, and the hope of 
 " receiving it again after having lent it. Ufu. 
 " ry then muft be ralfed in proportion to the 
 *' danger of infolvencv." 
 
 After-
 
 { 303 ] 
 
 Afterwards comes the chapter on mari- 
 time ufury mentioned above ; and the twenty 
 firft chapter, which treats of lending by con- 
 trad:, and of ufury amongft the Romans, which 
 is as follows : 
 
 " Besides the loans made for the advan- 
 *' tage of commerce, there is Hill a kind of 
 ** lending by a civil contra<5t, from whence re- 
 ** fults intereft or ufury. 
 
 *' As the people of Rome daily increafed in 
 '' power, the magiflrates fought to iniiiuiac 
 " themfelves into their favour by enadin-.^ 
 " fuch Laws as were mod agreeable to them. 
 " They retrenched capitals ; firfl lowered, and 
 ' at length prohibited intereft ; and took away 
 " the power of confining the debtor's bodv. la 
 *' fine, the abolition of debts was contended 
 " for, whenever a tribune was (iirnofcd to 
 ' render himfelf popular. 
 
 " These continual chan^^es, whether made 
 '' by the Laws, or by the plcbijciiciy naturali- 
 *' zed ufury at Rome : for tlie creditors fic- 
 *' ing tlie people their debtor, tlieir Icgiiiitor, 
 *' and their iudtre, had no longer a:^y confi- 
 
 ' dcnce
 
 [ 3^4 ] 
 " dence in agreements with them. The peo- 
 " pie, like a debtor who has lofl: his credit 
 " could only tempt them to lend by allowing 
 " an exorbitant intereft ; for if the Laws did 
 " not from time to time remedy the evil, the 
 " complaints of the people became continual, 
 " and conftantly intimidated the creditors. 
 " This was the caufe that all honeft means of 
 " borrowing and lending were abolifhed at 
 " Rome, and that the moft monftrous ufury, 
 *' conftantly blafted by the thunders of the 
 " ftate, and conftantly revived, became efta- 
 " blifhed in that city. 
 
 " Cicero tells us, that in his time intereft 
 " at Rome was at thirty four per cent, and in 
 *' the provinces at forty eight. This evil was 
 " a confequence of the fe verity of the Laws 
 ** againft ufury. Laws exceflively good are 
 " the fource of exceffive evil. The borrower 
 *' found himfelf under the neceffity of paying 
 *' for the intereft of the money, and for the 
 *' danger the creditor underwent of fuffering 
 " the penalty of the Law." 
 
 The Author has then treated of intereft 
 only in relation to the commerce of various 
 nations, and to the civil Laws of the Romans j 
 
 and 
 
 8
 
 [ 305 ] 
 and this is fo true, that he has diftinguifhed, 
 in the fecond paragraph of the nineteenth 
 chapter, the eftablifhments of the religious, 
 from thofe of the political leglflators. Had he 
 mentioned by name the Chriftian religion, he 
 would have treated the fubjedl in other terms, 
 and have pointed out what that religion or- 
 dains, and what it counfels ; he would, with 
 the divines, have diftinguilhed the feveral 
 cafes } he would have laid down all the limita- 
 tions fet by the Chriftian religion to that gene- 
 ral Law, fcmetimes eftablifhed among the 
 Romans, and always among the Mahometans, 
 That we ought, in no cafe, and in no circum- 
 flance, to receive intereft for money. The 
 Author had not this fubjedl to treat of; but 
 that a general, unlimited, indiftindt defence of 
 it, without any reftricftions, made the Maho- 
 metans lofe their commerce, and was near de- 
 ftroying the Roman republic : whence it fol- 
 lows, that the Chriftians, on account of their 
 rot living under thcfc rigid Laws, flill enjoy 
 their commerce, and there is not found in 
 their Hates that monftrous ufury required 
 by the \Tahometans, and that was formerly 
 extorted by the Romans. 
 
 X The
 
 [ 3o6] 
 
 The Author has employed the twenty fi,ft 
 nd twenty lecond chapters i exanLing 
 
 fubjea of lending by contrafts, in the different 
 .n.es of the. repubh-c. But here his CrS 
 quits for a moment the banks of theology to 
 turn to the fide of erudition. But we AaU 
 oon fee that he is alfo deceived in hrer^dl- 
 itand the ftate of the queftion he endeavours t, 
 
 ' TaWe,T"fr*""^^^^"f"^^ Twelve 
 Tables fixed the .ntereft at one J>er cent, per 
 
 and that he took another Law, of which I 
 
 " T f'"l M 'P'^'^' ^^ *^ Law of the 
 
 Tweve Tables If this had been regulated 
 
 n the Law of the Twelve Tables, why did 
 
 they not make ufe of its authority i/ the 
 
 creditors and debtors? We find not any 
 
 '-%eofthisLaw upon lending at in.ere7 
 and let us have but ever fo little knowledge' 
 
 ofthehiftoryofRome. wefhallfeethata 
 Bwk xxii. ^ ity. 
 
 (( 
 
 Law
 
 [ 307 ] 
 ** Law like this could never be the work of the 
 ** Decemvirs." And a little after the Author 
 adds : *' In the year of Rome 398, the Tri- 
 '* bunes Duellius and Menenius caufed a Law 
 " to be pafTed) which reduced intereft tO 
 "one per cent, per annum. 'Tis this Law 
 *' which Tacitus confounds with the Law of 
 *' the Twelve Tables ; and this was the firft 
 " ever made by the Romans to fix the rate of 
 " intereft," (^c. 
 
 Here the Author fays, that Tacitus Is mif- 
 taken in faying that the Law of the Twelve 
 Tables had fixed the rate of intereft among the 
 Romans. He has faid, that Tacitus has taken 
 for the Law of the Twelve Tables, a Lav^^ 
 made by Duellius and Menenius about eighty' 
 five years after the Law of the Twelve Tables ; 
 and that this Law was the firft that fixed the 
 rate of intereft at Rome. What does the Cri- 
 tic fay to this ? He replies, that Tacitus was 
 not miftaken, but fpoke of ufury at one/>fr 
 ce?it. per menfemy and not of ufury at one per 
 cent, per annum. But the queftion is not here of 
 the rate of ufury j it is to know^ whether the 
 Law of the Twelve Tables has made any re- 
 gulation whatfoever in relation to ufury. The 
 Attthor fays, that Tacitus is miftaken in faying 
 X 2 that
 
 [ 3o8 1 
 
 that the Decemvirs had made a regulation in 
 the Law of the Twelve Tables, to fix the rate 
 of ufury ; and upon this the Critic fays, he 
 was not miftaken, becaufe he fpoke of ufury at 
 ouQper cent, by the month, and not at one per 
 cent, for a year. I had reafon then for faying 
 that the Critic did not know the itate of the 
 queftion. 
 
 It now remains to inquire^ whether the Law 
 mentioned by Tacitus, whatever fit is, fixes 
 ufury, according to the Author, at one per 
 cent, by the year, or, according to the Critic, at 
 one per cent, for the month. Prudence re- 
 quired that he fhould not enter into a difpute 
 with the Author on the Roman Laws, with- 
 out knowing them ; that he fliould not deny 
 a fad: virith which he was unacquainted, and 
 of which he was ignorant of the means of ob- 
 taining information. The queftion is, what 
 Tacitus meant by thefe words, unciarhim fce- 
 nus *. He needed but to have opened the dic- 
 tionaries, and he would have found in that of 
 Calvinus or Kahl -f-, that it was one per cent, 
 
 by 
 
 * Nam primo duodeclm tabulis fanflum, ne quis uii- 
 ciario fcenore amplius exerceret. Awal. lib. vi. 
 
 f Ufurarum fpecies ex affis partibus denominantur: 
 quod ut iuteUigatur, illud fcire oportet, fortem omnem ad 
 
 ccnte"
 
 f 309 ] 
 by the year, and not by the month. Had he 
 confulted the learned Salmafius, he would have 
 told him the fame thing J. 
 
 Tejlis mearum centimanm Gyas 
 Sent enti arum, HoR. 
 
 Had he afcended to the fource, he would have 
 found clear texts on this fubjcdt in books of 
 Law II : he would not have blended different 
 
 centenarlum numerum revocari ; fummam autcm ufuram 
 efle, cum pars fortis centefima fingulis mcnfibus pcr- 
 folvitur. Et quoniam ifta ratione fumma ha-c iifura duo- 
 decitn aureos annuos in centenos efficit, duodenarius nii- 
 merus jurifconfultos movit, ut aflem hunc uiurarium ap- 
 pellarcnt. Qucmadmodum hie as non ex menftrua, fed 
 ex annua penfione a-Aimandus efl: ; fimilitcr omncs ejus 
 partes ex anni ratione intclligcnda' funt : ut fi unus in 
 centenos annuatim pendatur, unciaria ufura ; fi bini, 
 fextans ; fi terni, quadrans ; fi quatcrni, tricns ; fi quini, 
 quincunx ; fi fcni, fcmis ; fi fi.ptcni, feptunx ; 'i\ o^toni, 
 bes ; fi novctn, dodrans ; fi dcni, dcxtrans ; fi undcni, 
 deunx ; fi duodcni, as. Lexicon "J. Crdvin'i, Cdorja: 
 Al'obroguyn, cnuo 1622, apud Petrum Balduinurn^ inzciio 
 Ujura, p. 960. 
 
 |: De m:do iifurcrufriy Lugdun: E^:iavonmi, ex oJpcUi^ 
 Elzevir::! u}n, ainn 1639. p. 269, 270, iif :- \ ; parti- 
 cularly thcfc word?;, Undo vcrius fit uuciarium firnus co- 
 runi, vcl utuias ufiuas, ut cas quoquc appelhitas infr.l 
 ofitndam, noa unciam dare mcnfiruam in centiim, icd 
 annum. 
 
 jl Argumcntiitr. Icjis xlvii. . PrafiSlus lcg::r:ii ff'. de 
 ad^niriH: aiic'ic U' piricuh i'ttcris. 
 
 X -^ iJcas:
 
 [ 3^0 1 
 
 !Seas: he would have diftingulflied the times 
 and occajfions when the unciarium fcenu^ 
 ijgnlfied one fcr cent, by the month, from 
 thofe when it iignified one per cent, by the 
 yearj and he would not have taken the twelfth 
 of the hundredth part fqr the hundredth part 
 itfelf. 
 
 While the Romans had no Laws that 
 fixed the rate of ufury, the moft common cuf- 
 tom was for the ufurer to take twelve ounces 
 of copper for the loan of an hundred ounces j 
 that is, twelve per cent, per annum : and an as 
 being of the value of twelve ounces of copper, 
 the ufurer received annually an as for an hun- 
 dred ounces. It being frequently necefTary to 
 reckon ufury by the month, the interefl: for fix 
 months was called yf';;^, or the half of the as j 
 the ufury for four months was named triensy 
 or the third of the as ; the ufury for three 
 months was called quadrans^ or the fourth of 
 the as ; and, in fhort, the ufury for one month 
 was jcalled unciaria^ or the twelfth of the as : 
 fo that as they raifed an ounce every month on 
 every hundred ounces lent, this ufury by the 
 ounce, or one per cent, per menfe^ny was called 
 centefimal ufury. The Critic had acquired 
 
 th
 
 the knowledge of this fignlfication of the cen- 
 tefimal ufury, but has applied it very ill. 
 
 We fee, that all this was nothing more than 
 a method or form of regulating the accounts 
 between debtor and creditor in relation to 
 ufury, on a fuppofition that it was at twelve 
 per cent, per anrmrn^ which was the common 
 and ufual rate j but if a perfon borrowed at 
 eighteen per cent, per annmn^ they made ufe of 
 the fame method, only increafing one third of 
 the intcreft for each month ; fo that the unci- 
 ariiimfivnus was then an ounce and a half /^r 
 month. 
 
 When the Romans made Lav;s on ufury, 
 they did not concern themklves about this . 
 method, which had been ufcd, and was fo ftill, 
 between the debtors and creditors, for the di- 
 vifion of the time, and the convenience of 
 paying their intereft. The legiilator had a 
 public regulation to make ; the bufinefs here 
 was not to divide ufury by the month, but to 
 lix it ; and this was done by the year. They, 
 however, continued to make ufe oi" the terms 
 derived from the divilion of the us, without 
 applving the fiime ideas to them. Thus tb.e 
 v.ncuiriiun fiVnui fignified one per ceiit. per an- 
 X 4 num ;
 
 [ 3^2 ] 
 
 mm ; the viAiry ex quadrante fignified three ^^r 
 cent, per annum j the ufury ex triente^ fonx per 
 cent, per annum j the udiry femisj fix per cent, 
 per annum. And if the ufury unciaria had 
 fignified one per cent, per menfem^ the Law 
 which fixed the ex quadrante, ex triente, ex 
 Je?72ie, would have eftabhfhed ufury at three 
 per cent, at four per cent, at ^v^ per cent, by the 
 month; which would have been abfurd, be- 
 caufe the Laws made to fupprefs ufury would 
 have been more cruel than the ufurers. 
 
 The Critic has then confounded the fpecies 
 of things. But I ought here to give his very 
 words, in order that the reader may be fully 
 convinced, that the confidence with which he 
 writes ought not to impofe on any one. 7k- 
 citus^ fays he *, \s not mijlaken ; he /peaks of in- 
 terefl at one per cent, by the month, and the Au- 
 thor has imagined that he /peaks of one per cent. 
 per annum. Every body hioi^s^ that the hun- 
 dredth part was paid to the u/urcr every mon'.h. 
 Ought a ?nan, ivho has ivritten tivo quarto vg- 
 himes on the Laws^ to be ignorant of this t 
 
 Whether this man was, or was not igno- 
 rant of the centefimaU is of no confequence * 
 
 * The piece of the 9th of Oclober /7^i9, p- 164. 
 
 ' but
 
 [ 313 ] 
 
 but he was not ignorant of it, fince he has 
 mentioned it in three places. But how has he 
 mentioned it, and where has he fpoken of 
 it -|- ? I may defy the Critic to guefs, as he 
 cannot find the words and expreflions he is 
 acquainted with. 
 
 The queftion here is not, whether the 
 Author is, or is not a man of learning, but to 
 defend his aUars J. However, it was necefTary 
 to (hew the public, that the Critic has affumcd 
 (o decifive a tone on things about which he 
 was intirely ignorant, and had fo little doubt 
 that he did not even open a dictionary to con- 
 firm his opinion ; that, tho' ignorant himfelf, 
 he accufes others of not having his own errors, 
 and therefore can no longer merit the leaft 
 confidence with refp(5l to his other accufa- 
 tions. Would not one have been apt to be- 
 lieve, that the haughty and infolent manner he 
 afiumes muft have proceeded from his never 
 being in the wrong ? that when he chafes and 
 blufters, this is a proof of his not being in an 
 error ? that when he anathematizes the Au- 
 thor with his phrafes of impious mortal, and 
 follower of natural religion, we may ftill be- 
 
 f The third and laft note of book xxii. chap. 22. 
 und ihc lall of the thu'd note. :|: Pro aris. 
 
 lieve
 
 [ 3H ] 
 licvc that he is not miftaken ? Who would 
 have thought that it is neceflary to keep a 
 guard over ourfelves, to prevent our receivino- 
 thofe impreffions that put his fpirits in motion, 
 and give impetuofity to his ftyle ? that in his 
 tvi^o pieces it is highly proper to feparate his 
 'reafons from his abufe, and that afterwards, 
 'fetting afide thofe reafons that are bad, nothing 
 will remain ? 
 
 The Author, in the chapters on lending at 
 intereft, and of ufury among the Romans ; a 
 fubje<5t doubtlefs the moft important in their 
 hiftory, fince it is fo clofely conne6ted with the 
 conftitution of Rome, that a thoufand times it 
 was near fubverting it ; after treating of the 
 Laws they made from defpair ; of thofe dilat- 
 ed by prudence J offuch regulations as were 
 only temporary j and of thofe that were de- 
 figned to laft for ever, fays at the end 'of the 
 twenty-fecond chapter, " In the year of Rome 
 < 398, the tribunes Duellius and Menenius 
 " caufed a Law to be pafTed, which reduced 
 " intereft to one per cent, per annum. Ten 
 ** years after this ufury was reduced one halfj 
 " and in the end it was intirely abolifhed. 
 
 4 
 
 cc It
 
 [3'5] 
 ^* It fared with this Law as with all thofe in 
 ^* which the legiflator carries things to excefs -, 
 " an infinite number of ways were found to 
 *' elude it. They enaded, therefore, many 
 " others to confirm, corre<ft, and temper it; 
 *' Sometimes they quitted the Laws, to follow 
 " the common practice, at others, the com- 
 *' mon pradlice to follow the Laws 5 but in 
 " this cafe cuflom eafily prevailed. When a 
 *f man wanted to borrow, he found an ob- 
 " ftacle in the very Law made in his favour ; 
 *' this Law muft be evaded by the perfon it 
 ^' was made to fuccour, and by him it was 
 " made to condemn. Sempronius Afellus the 
 ** Prastor, having permitted the debtors to adt 
 *' in conformity to the Laws, was flain by the 
 ** creditors, for attempting to revive the mok- 
 " mory of a fcvcrity that could no longer be 
 *' fupported. 
 
 *' Under Sylla, Lucius Valerius Flaccus 
 " made a Law which fuffered intereft to be at 
 " ih:ec per cent, per annum. This Law, the 
 '' moft moderate, the mod equitable ever made 
 " on this account by the Romans, is difap- 
 *' proved by Paterculus. But if this Law was 
 *' neceflary for the advantage of the republic, 
 
 -if
 
 [3'6 ] 
 *' if it was of fervice to every individual, if it 
 *' formed an eafy communication between the 
 *^ debtor and creditor, it could not be unjuft. 
 
 *' He pays leaft, fays Ulpian, v^^ho pays 
 " lateft. This decides the queftion, whe- 
 " ther interefl be lawful, that is, whether 
 " the creditor can fell time, and the debtor 
 */ buy it." 
 
 Let us fee how the Critic reafons on this 
 laft pafTage, which refers only to the Law of 
 Flaccus, and to the political difpoiitions of 
 the Romans. The Author, fays he, on 
 refuming all he had faid on ufury, maintains 
 that a creditor is permitted to fell time. 
 The Critic here feems to infinuate, that 
 the Author had been writing a treatife on 
 theology, or Canon Law, and that he had 
 at length refumed it ; tho' it is evident that 
 he is only treating of the political regulations 
 of the Romans j of a Law of Flaccus, and 
 the opinion of Paterculus : fo that this Law 
 of Flaccus, Faterculus's opinion, the reflexion 
 of Ulpian, and that of the Author, are clofely 
 conneded, and cannot be feparated from each 
 other. 
 
 I HAVE
 
 [ 317 ] 
 
 I HAVE ftlll many things to fay ; but I 
 chufe rather to refer the reader to the pieces 
 thcmfelves. Believe me, my dear PifOy they 
 have formed a work which, like the drea??ii 
 of the fick, exhibit nothing but vain phantoms*. 
 
 * Credite, Pifones, ifti tabulae fore Ilbrum 
 Perrimilcm, cujus, velut acgri fomnia, vanae 
 Fingentur fpecies. 
 
 HoRAT. de Arte Poetica,
 
 [ 318] 
 
 DEFENCE 
 
 O F 
 
 The S P I R I T of L A W S. 
 PART IIJ. 
 
 W'E have feen in the two firft parts, all 
 that refults from fo many bitter criti- 
 cifms is, That the Author of The Spirit of 
 Laws has not performed his work according 
 to the plan and views of his Critics ; and 
 that if his Critics had wrote a work on the 
 fame fubjedt, they would have thrown in a 
 great many things which they know. It alio 
 follows from thence, that they are divines, and 
 that the Author is a civilian ; that they think 
 themfelves qualified to do his bufinefs, and 
 that he has not the prefumptlon to believe 
 himfelf fit for theirs. In fine, it follows from 
 thence, that, inilead of attacking him with 
 
 fuch
 
 [ 319 1 
 
 fuch acrimony, they had better have made 
 themfelves feniible of the value of what he 
 has faid in favour of religion, which he has 
 with equal ardour refpeded and defended. 
 I {hall now make fome reflexions. 
 
 That manner of reafoning is not good, 
 which, being employed againft any good book 
 whatfoever, may make it appear as bad as any 
 bad book whatfoever ; and which, being ufed 
 againft any bad book whatfoever, may make it 
 appear as good as any good book whatfoever. 
 
 That manner of reafoning is not juft which, 
 to the fubje(5t in debate, calls in others that 
 have no relation to it, and confounds the fc- 
 veral fciences, and the ideas belonging to each. 
 
 We ought not to difpute, on a work wrote 
 on any of the fciences, with reafons that may 
 attack the fcience itfelf. 
 
 When a perfon writes a criticifm on a 
 work, and on a work of considerable extent 
 and importance, he ought to endeavour to pro- 
 cure a particular knowledge of the fcience 
 which is the fubjcd: of ihat work, and care- 
 fully to read the approved authors who have 
 
 already
 
 [ 320 ] 
 
 already wrote upon it j in order to fee, whe- 
 ther the Author has deviated froni the ufual 
 received manner of treating the fubjedt. 
 
 When an Author explains himfelf by word 
 of mouth, or by his writings, which are the 
 images of thofe words, it is contrary to reafon 
 to quit the exterior figns of his thoughts, to 
 run in fearch of his thoughts themfelves ; be- 
 caufe none but himfelf is capable of knowing 
 his thoughts. It is much worfe, when his 
 thoughts are good, and bad ones are attributed 
 to him. 
 
 . When a perfon writes againft an Author, 
 and becomes exafperated againft him, he ought 
 to prove the charader he gives him by what 
 he fays, and not what he fays by the character 
 he gives him. 
 
 When we fee that an author's intention is In 
 general good, we (hall be feldomer miftaken 
 if, in certain places which v/e think equivocal, 
 we judge according to the general intention, 
 than if we allow him a particular bad intention. 
 
 In books wrote for amufement, three or 
 four pages give an idea of the %le, and the 
 
 charms
 
 [ 321 ] 
 
 charms of the work : but, in books of rea- 
 foning, we retain nothing if we do not retain 
 the whole chain. 
 
 As it is very difficult to write a good work, 
 and very eafy to write a critic upon it, becaufe 
 the Author has all his defiles to guard, and the 
 Critic has only one of them to force j the lat- 
 ter ought not to fail : but if it happens that he 
 has continually failed, he muft be inexcu* 
 fable. 
 
 Besides, as the Critic may be chargeable 
 with an oftentation of his fuperiority over 
 others, and as the ufual effedl of the criticifm 
 is giving fome delicious moments to hu- 
 man pride ; thofe who give themfelves up to 
 it deferve to be treated with ftridt juflice, but 
 very feldom with indulgence. 
 
 And as, of all the different kinds of wri- 
 ting, it is that in which it is moft difficult to 
 (hew a good temper, we ought to take care 
 not to increafe, by the bitternefs of words, this 
 unhappinefsin the fubjed. 
 
 When we write on 'grand and noble fub- 
 
 jeds, it is not fufficient for us to confult our 
 
 Y zeal .
 
 [ 322 ] 
 
 zeal ; we ought alfo to confult our abilities, 
 and if heaven has not blefled us with great 
 talents, we may fupply the want of them by 
 diftruft of ourfelves, exadlnefs, labour, and re- 
 flexion. 
 
 The art of finding, in what has naturally a 
 good fenfe, all the bad fenfcs which a perfon 
 by falfe reafoning is capable of giving it, is of no 
 ufe to mankind ; and thofe who pradlife it are 
 like the ravens that fly from living bodies, and 
 hover on all fides in fearch of carcafes. 
 
 A LIKE manner of criticizing produces two 
 grand inconveniences. The firfl: is. That it 
 hurts the mind of the reader, by exhibiting a 
 mixture of truth and falfhood, of good and 
 evil : he is accufl:omed to feek for a bad fenfe 
 in things that have naturally a good one ; 
 whence he is eafily led to the difpofitlon of 
 fearching for a good fenfe in things that have 
 naturally a bad one : it thus makes him lofe 
 the faculty of reafoning jufl:ly, and throws 
 him into all the fubtilties of a falfe logic. The 
 fecond inconvenience is. That, in rendering, 
 by this manner of reafoning, good books fuf- 
 pe(5ted, we have no arms left with which we 
 can attack thofe that are bad : fo that the pub- 
 lic
 
 [ 323 ] 
 lie has no rule whereby to diftinguldi them. 
 If thofe are treated as Spinofifts and Deifts 
 who are not, what fhall be faid to thofe who 
 are ? 
 
 Though we ought readily to think, that 
 thofe who write againft us on . fubje(5ts in 
 which all mankind are interefted, are prompt- 
 ed to do this only by the impulfes of chriftian 
 charity ; yet, as it is the nature of that virtue 
 rarely to conceal itfelf, as it will fliine in fpite 
 of ourfelves, and fparkle and blaze on all fides, 
 if it happens that, in two pieces wrote one 
 after another againft the fame perfon, no trace 
 can be found of that amiable virtue, that it 
 does not appear in any phrafe, in any turn, in 
 any word, or expreflion, he who has written 
 fuch works muft have juft caufe to fear that he 
 was not led to it by chriftian charity. 
 
 And as virtues merely human are, in us, the 
 effedt of what is called a good difpofition ; if 
 it be impoflible to difcover any veftige of this 
 good difpofition, the public may conclude 
 Irom thence, that thcfe pieces are not even the 
 eft'ed of the human virtues. 
 
 Y 2 In
 
 [ SH ] 
 
 In the judgment of mankind, it is eafier to 
 fee the adlions, than to be convinced of the 
 iincerity of the motives ^ and it is more eafy 
 to beUeve, that the action of uttering atrocious 
 abufe is an evil, than it is to be perfuaded, that 
 the motive which prompted to it is good. 
 
 When a man is fixed in a flate intended to 
 render religion refped:ed, and v^^hich religion 
 itfelf renders refpediable, and attacks before 
 the men of the world one of that body, it is 
 effentially necellary that he fhould maintain, 
 by his manner of ading, the fuperiority of his 
 charader. The world is very corrupt : but 
 there are certain paffions found there that are 
 kept under great reftraint ; becaufe there are 
 others more favoured that forbid their appear- 
 ance. Confider the men of the world in their 
 behaviour to each other ; there is nothing fo 
 timid 5 pride durfl not reveal its fecrets, and, 
 in the regard it has for others, it quits itfelf 
 only to gain new flrength, Chriftianity gives 
 us the habit of fubduing this pride ; the world 
 gives us the habit of concealing it. With the 
 little virtue we have, what would become of 
 us, if our whole fouls were fet at liberty, and 
 if we were not attentive to the leaft word, to 
 
 the
 
 r 325 ] ' 
 
 the leafl: figns, the leaft geftures ? Now when 
 men, venerable and refpedtablc by their cha- 
 radlers, fliew paffions which the men of the 
 world durft not fufFer to break out to public 
 view, thefe begin to think themfelves better 
 than they really are ; and this is a great evil. 
 
 We men of the world are alfo fo weak, that 
 we ought to be treated with the utmoft care 
 and precaution. Therefore when a prieft lets 
 us fee all the external marks of violent paflions, 
 what would he have us think of what pafTes 
 within his bread ? Can he hope that we, 
 rafh as we are in judging, will not judge ac- 
 cordingly ? 
 
 It is obfervable that, in the converfations 
 and difputes of men of a harfh and obliinate 
 temper, as they ftrive not to inform and aflifl 
 each other, but to obtain a vidlory, they fly 
 from truth, not in proportion to the greatnefs 
 or littlenefs of their minds, but according to 
 the greater or lefs caprice and inflexibility of 
 their difpofitions. The contrary happens to 
 thofe to whom nature or education has given 
 candour and ingenuity. As their difputes are 
 mutual fuccours, they have the fame objed in 
 view ; they think difl'erently only that they 
 Y 3 may
 
 [ 3^6 ] 
 
 may think alike, and find and acknowledge 
 the force of truth in proportion to the ftrength 
 of evidence: this is the reward of a good 
 difpofition. 
 
 When a man writes on religious fubjed:s, 
 he ought not to depend fo much on the cre- 
 dulity of thofe who read, as to fay things con- 
 trary to good fenfe ; becaufe, by increafing his 
 credit with thofe who have more piety than 
 underftanding, he lofes his credit with others 
 who have more underftanding than piety. 
 
 And as religion beft defends itfelf, it fufFers 
 greater prejudice by being badly defended, than 
 if it was not defended at all. 
 
 If it fhould happen that a man, after hav- 
 ing loll: his readers, fhould attack a perfon of 
 fome reputation, and thus obtain the means of 
 being read ; one might fufpedt that, under the 
 pretence of facrificing this vidtim to religion, 
 he facrificed him to his own felf-love. 
 
 The manner of criticifing of which we- arc 
 
 treating, is the only thing in the world mofl 
 
 capable of limiting the extent, and diminifhing, 
 
 if 1 may ufe the term, the fum total of national 
 
 8 genius.
 
 [ 32? ] 
 
 genius. Theology has its bounds and its 
 forms ; becaufe, the truths it teaches being 
 known, men are not allowed to deviate from 
 them. Here then genius cannot take her 
 flight, fhe being in a manner circumfcribed in a 
 circle. But, to pretend to place the fame in- 
 clofure about thofe who treat of human fci- 
 ences, is mocking the world. The principles 
 of geometry are very true j but if we apply 
 them to things of tafte, we (hall make reafon 
 itfelf talk unreafonably. Nothing flifles know- 
 ledge more, than covering every thing with a 
 doctor's robe j and the men who would be 
 for ever teaching, are great hindrances to learn- 
 ing. There is no genius that is not contraded 
 by being enveloped by a million of vain fcru- 
 pies. Have you the beft intention in the 
 world, they will force you yourfelf to doubt 
 of it. You can no longer employ your endea- 
 vour to fpeak or write with propriety, when 
 you are perplexed with the fear of exprefling 
 yourfelf ill ; and when, inftead of purfuing 
 your thought, you arc only buficd about chuf- 
 ing fiich terms as may efcape the fubtilty of 
 the critic?. They come to put a biggin on 
 your head, each faying at every word. Take 
 care of falling j you would fpeak like your- 
 felf, but I would have you fpeak like me. t)o 
 Y 4 you
 
 [ 3^8 ] 
 
 you endeavour to foar aloft ? they flop you by 
 pulling your fleeve. Have you life and flrength? 
 they deprive you of it in an inftant. Do you 
 rife a little ? they take their rule, and, lifting 
 up their heads, call you to come down that 
 they may meafure you. Do you run your 
 courfe ? they would have you examine all the 
 flones the ants have thrown up in your way. 
 No fcience nor literature is proof againft; this 
 pedantry. The prefent age has formed aca- 
 demies } but they would make us re-enter the 
 fchools of the darker ages. Defcartes, how- 
 ever, may give aflurance to thofe who, with a 
 genius infinitely beneath his, have the fame 
 good intentions. That great man was incef- 
 fantly charged with atheifm ; and yet there 
 are not now employed againft the Atheifts 
 ftronger arguments than his. 
 
 We ought to regard criticifms as perfonal 
 only, in the cafes where thofe who made them 
 have been willing to render them fo. It is 
 certainly very allowable to criticize the works 
 prefented to the public ; becaufe it would be 
 ridiculous for thofe who are willing to in- 
 lighten others, to be averfe to be inlightened 
 themfelves. Thofe who, give us information 
 are the companions of our labours. If the 
 
 Critic
 
 [ 329 1 
 
 Critic and the Author are both in fcarch of 
 truth, they have the fame intcreft ; for truth 
 is a bleffing defigned for all mankind : they 
 are then confederates, and not enemies. 
 
 It is with great pleafure that I now lay 
 down the pen. I {hould have continued to 
 have kept filence, if, in keeping it, many per- 
 fons had not concluded that I had been re- 
 duced to it. 
 
 SOME
 
 [ S3<^ 1 
 
 SOME 
 
 E X P L A N AT IONS 
 
 OF 
 
 The SPIRIT of LAWS. 
 
 I. 
 
 QO M E perfons have made this objedion : 
 *^ In The Spirit of Laws, honour or fear, and 
 not virtue, is reprefented as the principle upon 
 which certain governments are founded, and 
 virtue is reprefented as the principle of only a 
 few others : whence it follows, that the chrift- 
 ian virtues are not required in moil govern- 
 ments. 
 
 To this it is anfwered, that the Author has 
 placed this note in the fifth chapter of the 
 third book : " I fpeak here of political virtue, 
 " which is a moral virtue as direded to the 
 " general advantage ; very little of private mo- 
 " ral virtue, and not at all of that virtue which 
 *' has a relation to revealed truths." In the 
 
 following
 
 1 331 ] 
 
 following chapter is another note that refers to 
 this, and to the fecond and third chapters of 
 the fifth book. This virtue the Author has 
 defined the love of our country -, and the love of 
 our country he has defined tbe love of equality 
 and frugality. The whole fifth book refls on 
 thefe principles. When a writer has defined 
 a word in his work, when he has given, if I 
 may ufc the expreflion, his di(5tionary, ought 
 not his words to be underftood according to 
 the ligniiication he has given them ? 
 
 The word virtue, like mofl of the words in 
 all languages, is taken in feveral acceptations : 
 fomctimes it fignifies the chriftian virtues 5 
 fometimes the pagan virtues ; and often, a cer- 
 tain chriflian virtue, or a particular pagan virtue; 
 it likewife fometimes fignifies fortitude ; and 
 in fonie languages it means a certain capacity 
 for an art, 'or for certain arts. It is what pre- 
 cedes, or what follows the word, that fixes its 
 fignification : but here the Author has done 
 more he has feveral times given his defini- 
 tion. This objedion has therefore been only 
 made on account of the work being read with 
 too much rapidity. 
 
 II. Tns
 
 [ 332 ] 
 
 II. 
 
 'TpH E Author has faid in the third chapter 
 *- of the fecond book, The beft arifto- 
 * cracy is that in which the part of the people 
 " who have no fhare in the legiflaturc is fo 
 " fmall and inconfiderable, that the governing 
 " party have no intcrefl in oppreffing them. 
 *' Thus, when Antipater made a Law at 
 " Athens, that whofoever was not worth two 
 " thoufand drachms fliould be excluded from 
 " the right of fuffrage *, he formed by this 
 " means the beft ariftocracy poffible j becaufe 
 " this was fo fmall a fum, that it excluded 
 " very few, and not one of any rank or confi- 
 " deration in the city. Ariftocratical families 
 " ought therefore, as much as poffible, to level 
 *' themfclves in appearance with the people. 
 *' The more an ariftocracy borders on demo- 
 " cracy, the nearer it approaches to perfedion j 
 *' and it is the more imperfed, in proportion as 
 ** it draws towards monarchy." 
 
 In a letter inferted in the journal de T^ra- 
 "jaux for the month of April 1749, this quo- 
 
 * DJodorus, lib. xviii. p. 601, Rbodoman's edition. 
 
 tation
 
 [ 333 ] 
 
 tation Is objected againft the Author. The 
 writer fays, that he has open before him the 
 place quoted, and there finds, that there were 
 only nine thoufand perfons who had the fum 
 prefcribed by Antlpater ; and that there were 
 twenty two thoufand who wanted it : whence 
 it is concluded that the Author has mifapplied 
 his quotations, the fmall number having the 
 fum required, and the large number being ex- 
 cluded for the want of it. 
 
 A N 8 W E R. 
 It were to be wifhed, that he who has 
 made this critical remark had paid greater at- 
 tention to what both the Author and Diodorus 
 have fald. 
 
 1. There were not twenty two thoufand 
 who wanted this fum in Antipater's republic. 
 The twenty two thoufand perfons mentioned 
 by Diodorus were fent away and eftabliflied in 
 Thrace ; and there only remained to fornx 
 this republic, the nine thoufand citizens who 
 had the fum, and thofe of the lower people 
 who would not fct out for Thrace. The 
 reader may confult Diodorus. 
 
 2. Tiio'
 
 f 334 ] 
 
 2. Tho* there had remained twenty two 
 thouland perfons at Athens, who wanted the 
 above fum, the objeaion would not be the lefs 
 unjuft. Tlfe words great and fmall are rela- 
 tive. Nine thoufand Sovereigns in a ftate 
 are an immenfe number j and twenty two 
 thoufand fubjeas in the fame ftate, is a number 
 extremely fmall. 
 
 N
 
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