THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 OF MONSIEUR 
 
 DE 
 
 S T EVREMOND, 
 
 Made Englifh from the French Original : 
 WITH THE 
 
 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR 5 
 
 B Y 
 
 M R DBS MAIZEAUX, F.R.S. 
 
 To which are added 
 
 The Memoirs of the ^ut chefs ofMazarw,8cc 
 
 The Second Edition, corrected and enlarged. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for J. and ]. KNAPTON, J. D A R B T, A. BETTES- 
 WOR.TH, J.ROXJND, E. CURL, R. Cost ING, F. FAY- 
 HAM, G. HARRIS, J. PEMBERTON, J. OSBORN and 
 T.LONGMAN, J. HOOKE, C. RiviNQTON, F. C IAT, 
 J. BATLET, and T. O s BORN. 
 
 M.DCCXXVIII.
 
 TABLE 
 
 OF THE PIECES 
 
 C O N T A I N'D 
 
 IN THE SECOND VOLUME. 
 
 Converfation between M. D E ST. 
 EvREMdND and the Duke of 
 CANDALE. p. I 
 
 A Letter to the Count DE LIONNE. 
 
 24 
 
 A Letter from M. CORNEJLLE to M. D E S T. 
 
 EVREMOND; to return him thanks for the 
 
 Praifes he had beftow*d upon him, in the Dtf- 
 
 fertation on RACINE'S Alexander. 26 
 
 M DE ST. EVREMOND'S Anfwer to M. Co R- 
 
 N EI LLE. 28 
 
 A Letter to the Count D E L i o N N E ; Zour im- 
 patience for my Return, &e. 30 
 
 To the fame ; Nothing is fo agreeable to Friend/hip^ 
 &c. 32 
 
 Intereft in Perfons altogether corrupted. 34 
 
 The too rigid Virtue. 38 
 
 The Senfe of an honeft experienced Courtier, upon 
 rigid Virtue^ and bafe Intereft. 42 
 
 A Letter to the Count DE LIONNE*, Perhaps 
 you are not at Paris, &c. 4 8 
 
 To the fame j / received juft now the Letter, &c. 
 
 ** To 
 
 531364
 
 THE CONTENTS. 
 
 Tt> the fame ; If I confulted nothing but Dijcretioa, 
 &c. p. 51 
 
 To the fame ; Altho I Jhould not regret M. de 
 Lionne, &c. 52 
 
 To the Marefchal D E C R E QJJ i, who asked die 
 temper of my Mind, and my Thoughts of all 
 things in my old Age. 53 
 
 Of Reading^ and the Choice of Books. 58 
 
 Of Poetry. 60 
 
 Of fome Spani/h^ Italian and French Books. 62 
 Of Converfation. 66 
 
 Of Literature and the Civil Law. 70 
 
 Of Ingratitude. 76 
 
 Of Religion. 80 
 
 A Problem in imitation of the Spaniards: To 
 Madam D E Qu EROUALLE. 91 
 
 A Letter to Count D' O L o N N E ; As foon as 
 I heard of your Difgrace, &c. 94 
 
 Of Ancient and Modern Tragedy. 101 
 
 On the Characters of Tragedies. 112 
 
 To an Author who ask'd my Opinion of a Play, 
 where the Heroine does nothing but lament her 
 
 fclf. 121 
 
 A Letter to Count DELIONNE; As irkfome 
 and heavy as my Di/graces are, &c. 1 24 
 
 A Drfcourfe upon the French Hiftorians. 126 
 
 Reflections upon the French Tranflators. 144 
 
 Upon Tragedies. 154 
 
 Upon our Comedies, except thefe of M o L i E R E, 
 in which the true fpirit of Comedy is found ; 
 and upon the Spanim Comedy. 159 
 
 Of the Italian Comedy. i6g 
 
 Of the Englifh Comedy. 168 
 
 Upon Opera's 172 
 
 A Differtation upon the word Vaft< 182 
 
 Upon Friendihip. 202 
 
 A Letter to the Earl of St. A L B A N s ; No Com- 
 pany is fo agreeably &c. 212 
 
 A
 
 THfc CONTENTS. 
 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of M A z A R. I'M ; / 
 have refohed, &c. p. 2^5 
 
 For Madam DEBEVERWEERT. 220 
 
 A Letter to Madam DEBEVERWEERT. 225 
 A Defence of fome Dramatick Pieces of M. Co R- 
 
 NEILLE. 227 
 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; If 
 
 you find any Extravagances, &c. 236" 
 
 A Letter to the Earl of St. A L B A N s ; / have 
 
 been at Death's door, &c. 239 
 
 A Letter to the Duke of BUCKINGHAM. 243 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; witji 
 
 a Difcourfe upon Religion. 246" 
 
 The Character of the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N. 250 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; / read 
 
 juft now the Copy of Verfcs, &c. 254 
 
 A Letter to Count D'OLONNE; I know not 
 
 why you Jhou'd admire my Verfes^ &c. 258 
 
 Friendfhip without Friendfhip. To the Earl of 
 
 St. AL B A N s. 261 
 
 A Letter to M. J u s T E L -, I am overjoy 9 d to fee- 
 
 you in England, &c. 271 
 
 Thoughts, Reflexions and Maxims. 281 
 
 Upon Health. ibid. 
 
 Upon Love. 282 
 
 Upon Devotion. 283 
 
 On Death. 284 
 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; On her 
 
 defign of retiring into a Convent. 285 - 
 
 To the fame : On the Death of her Lover. 294 
 To the fame : On her defign of leaving England. 
 
 298 
 
 To the fame : On the fame fubject. 301 
 
 Some Obfervarions upon the Tafte and Judgment 
 
 of the French. 303 
 
 A Letter to Mr. * * *, who cou'd not endure that 
 
 the Earl of St. A L B A N s fhould be in love in 
 
 his old Age. 308 
 
 A
 
 THE CONTENTS. 
 
 A funeral Oration on the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N. 
 
 p. 310 
 
 A Letter to the Count DEGRAMMONT; I am 
 informed, &c. 327 
 
 A Letter to young DERY. 331 
 
 Reflections upon Religion. 333 
 
 That Devotion is our laft Love. 
 
 A Letter to a Lady, who xlefign'd to turn De- 
 vout. 340 
 
 Of the Poems of the Antients. 3 44 
 
 Of the Wonderful that is found in the Poems of 
 the Antients. 352 
 
 An Elucidation on what I faid of the Italian Mu- 
 fick. 358 
 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; I am 
 not fo vain^ &c. 360 
 
 On the Morals of E p i c u R u s. 363 
 
 Of Retirement. 370 
 
 A Letter of M. DE LA FONTAINE to the 
 Dutchefs of B o u i L L o N. 379 
 
 An Anfwer of M. DE ST. EVREMOND to 
 the Letter of M. D E L A F o N T A i N E to tha 
 Dutchefs of B o u i L L o N. 387 
 
 M. DE LA FONTAINE'S Anfwer to M. D E 
 ST. EVREMOND. 394 
 
 A Judgment on the three Accounts of S i A M ; 
 and on CONFUCIUS 's Book. 403 
 
 A Letter to M. J u s T E L -, Altho you have made 
 a Refolution^ &c. 405 
 
 A Letter to M. DELABASTIDE. 407 
 
 A Letter to Monfieur***, in the name of the 
 Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; I am not confiderable 
 enough in the World^ &c. 409 
 
 A Letter to Monfieur ***, in the name of the 
 Dutchefs ofMAZARiN; / dotft wonder that 
 Monfieur Mazarin, &c. 412 
 
 A Letter to Monfieur * * *, in the name of the 
 Dutchefs ofMAZARiN; No body can have 
 a deeper Senfe, &c. 4 1 4 
 
 A
 
 THE CONTENTS. 
 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of N E v E R s, in the 
 
 name of the Dutchefs ofMAZARiN; / never 
 
 doubted of your having all the Concern, &c. 415 
 A Letter to Monfieur * * *, in the Name of the 
 
 Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; / always believed that 
 
 you were fo kind, &c. 416 
 
 A Judgment upon fome French Authors. 417 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; 7 bofe 
 
 you will be fo good as to exctife me, &c. 419 
 
 A Letter from Madam DE L' E N c L o s to M. D E 
 
 ST. EVREMONDDJ M. de Charleval is jujl 
 
 dead, &c. 421 
 
 A Letter from the fame to M. D E S T. E v R E- 
 
 MON D ; / was all alone in my Chamber, &c. 422 
 M. D E ST. E v R E M o N D[* s Anfwer to Madam 
 
 D E L'E N c L o s ; Monfieur Turretin, &V. 424 
 A Billet to the Dutchefs of MAZARIN; I beg 
 
 of you to tell the Dutchefs of Bouillon^ &c. 425 
 A Letter to the Dutchefs of B o u i L LO N, in the 
 
 name of the Dutchefs of M A z A R i N ; / tbink 
 
 I have explained myfetf fo of ten ^ &c. 426 
 
 A Billet to the Dutchels ofMAZARiNi If you 
 
 have a mind to tinder -ft and \ &c. 427 
 
 A Letter to the fame ; No Letter bad ever given me 
 
 more Pleafure, &c. 428 
 
 To the fame ; The fine Air of Chelfea, &c. 429 
 A Fragment upon the difcovery of a Confpiracy 
 
 againft the King in 1696. 430 
 
 A Letter to Madam DE L'E NC LOS; / have 
 
 received the fecond Letter, &c. 431 
 
 A CON*
 
 CONVERSATION 
 
 BET WEEN 
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND 
 
 AND THE 
 
 DUKE OF CANDALE. 
 
 D O not pretend to entertain the Publick 
 with my own Affairs. The World has 
 no concern to know the misfortunes and 
 accidents that have befallen me ; but no 
 man that is not in the fpleen can take it ill, if I make 
 fome Reflections upon my paft Life, and divert my 
 mind from melancholy thoughts, to thofe that are 
 not altogether fo difagreeable. However, as it is 
 extremely ridiculous for a man to talk always of 
 himfelf, altho it be to himfelf ; to avoid this imper- 
 tinence, I will introduce feveral Perfons of great 
 merit into this Difcourfe, the very remembrance of 
 whom will give me more fatisfaclion than I can ex- 
 pect from any Converfation, fince I have had the 
 Vol. II A misfor-
 
 2 THE WORKS OF 
 
 misfortune to lofe that of my Lord D' A u B i c- 
 
 NY '. 
 
 At the time of the Prince of C o N D E M S Impri- 
 fonment % I had a great intimacy with the Duke of 
 C A N D A L E. This commerce had nothing of de- 
 fign or intereft in it ; but was purely occafioned by 
 pleafures and good-fellowfhip, and entertained by 
 the bare fatisfaction we took -in one another's com- 
 pany. He had formerly lived in a ftrict fort of an 
 amity with Mo R E T % and the Chevalier D E L A 
 Vj E u v i L L E ; which Vi ft E u i L called the League, 
 by way of ridicule. Nor was this nickname alto- 
 gether undeferv'd : for they improved a thoufand 
 trifles into fecrets, made myfteries of the moft in- 
 fignificant nothings, and met together in private, at 
 leaft ten times a day, without any other pleafure, 
 than that of being feparated from others. It was 
 my good fortune to be admitted into their Confi- 
 dence, which, at laft, broke off without any occa- 
 fion for a rupture on either fide. 
 
 Monfieur D E VA R D E s, when he went to the 
 army, had left behind him a Miftrefs at Paris 4 , 
 who was one of the moft agreeable women in the 
 world : me had formerly had a Lover, and had been 
 in love her felf ; but as her tendernefs was wholly 
 exhaufted in her firft Amours, it was impoflible for 
 her now to have a real Paflion ; fo that me fludied 
 nothing but downright Gallantry, which me ma- 
 nag*d with great art and addrels, and cover'd with 
 an air of fimplicity ; making the eafmefs and free- 
 dom of her Wit pafs for Ingenuoufnefs and Plain- 
 nefs. As her Hiflory was well known, me had 
 not the afiurance to fet up for a Prude ; and, 
 
 inftead 
 
 My Lord ffAaltgny died In ltt$. 
 In they tar i$o. 
 
 3 Count Moret, eldefl Xr other to the Marquis de Vardei* 
 
 4 Madam dt St. leup.
 
 M. DE ST, EVREMOND. 3 
 
 inftead of making a great figure in the world, fhe 
 chofe a retir'd Life, to which the prefent circum- 
 ftances of her fortune induc'd her, and carried on 
 this feeming negligence with a great deal of cun- 
 ning. She never went to the Louvre to difpute 
 Gallants with thofe young Beauties, which make 
 fo great a noife in the world ; but had addreis 
 enough to difengage a Lover from their Charms ; 
 and was no lefs induftrious to preferve, than fhe 
 had been to gain him. She would not fuffer him to 
 maintain the lead correfpondence with any Woman 
 of tolerable Beauty ; and if he perform'd but com- 
 mon Civilities to his friends, me would reproach 
 him with throwing away that love upon others, 
 which was only due to her felf. Private Pleafures 
 made her fear the lofs of her Lover ; and fhe was 
 afraid of being forgotten in publick Diverfions. 
 Above all, fhe exclaim'd againft the Entertainments 
 of the Commandeur \ in which men breath'd a 
 certain air of freedom, inconfiftent with a nice and 
 refin*d Paflion : in fhort, if all your applications and 
 thoughts did not center in her, fhe complain*d of 
 being abandon*d ; and becaufe fhe protelted that 
 fhe was wholly yours, fhe expected that you mould 
 be entirely devoted to her. 
 
 Monfieur D E VA R D E s being abfent, could not 
 maintain himfelf long in the affections of fo tyran- 
 nick and humourfom a Miftrefs. She furrender'd 
 her felf, at firft fight, to the young Duke of C A N- 
 DALE: nay, 'tis faid, that her defign preceded the 
 impreflion which his prefence made, and that fhe 
 had refolved to poffefs him, before fhe had feen 
 him. Monfieur DE VARDES was fenfibly 
 touch'd at this alteration in her, knowing it would 
 rob him of a pleafure that was very dear to him ; 
 however, like a man of honour, he made no noife 
 A 2 about 
 
 5 Tkt Cmmandtwr de Senvrf.
 
 4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 about it, looking upon the Duke of CAND ALE 
 with the difcontent of a Rival, and not with the 
 hatred of an Enemy. 
 
 M o R E T, whofe gravity perfonated honour in 
 every thing, looked upon himfelf as injured, in the 
 perfon of his Brother, and improved that into a 
 real Affront, which the party concerned took only 
 for a bare Difappointment. His complaints, at firft, 
 ran in a high drain ; but finding them ill received 
 in the world, he altered his language, without al- 
 tering his conduct. He faid, he was a very un- 
 happy man, to be fo little regarded by a perfon 
 for whom he had all his life fo great a confidera- 
 tion j that the Duke ofCANDALE was little to 
 be pitied ; that he would find thofe that better de- 
 ferved his friendftiip ; and that 'twas with a great 
 concern that he faw himfelf obliged to look out for 
 others, upon whom he might fecurely depend. 
 After this rate he talked in all Companies, with a 
 feeming modefty, which is a furer evidence of 
 vanity, than a moderate degree of aflfurance. 
 As for the Chevalier DE LA VIEUVILLE, he 
 looked upon himfelf to be difobliged, as foon as 
 M o R E T thought fo too ; and partly by the natu- 
 ral heat of his Terhper, and partly to pleafe his 
 Friend, he carried thefe expoilulations higher than 
 ever. 
 
 I kept the Duke of CANDALE company as 
 ufual ; and as he could not be without fome one or 
 other to unbofom himfelf, to he foon made me 
 the confident of his Complaints upon the behaviour 
 of thefe Gentlemen, and fhortly after of his Paffion 
 for Madam D E S T. L o u p. In the heat of this 
 new Confidence, he communicated to me the moft 
 trivial things that befel him ; which, tho they ap- 
 pear weighty things to a Lover, are yet very indif- 
 ferent to thofe that are obliged to hear them. I 
 feemed, however, to receive them as things of 
 
 great
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. j 
 
 great importance, tho, in truth, I looked upon 
 them as impertinent trifles. But his humour was 
 agreeable, his deportment obliging, and his air fo 
 noble, that I took a pleafure to behold him, at the 
 fame time when I took little or none at all to hear 
 him talk. Till then, I had not the leaft Defign in 
 my correfpondence with him. But when I found I 
 had fome authority with him, I thought it would 
 not be amifs to manage and cultivate the friendfhip 
 of a Perfon, who was one day to make a confide- 
 rable figure in the Kingdom ; and fo I made it my 
 particular bufmefs to ftudy him, and omitted no- 
 thing to engage him, on his moft fenfible fide. I 
 commended his Miftrefs, without betraying my opi- 
 nion, for indeed Ihe feemed to me exceeding amia- 
 ble j and I blamed the behaviour of M o R E T, and 
 of the Chevalier DE LA VIEUVILLE, who, in 
 my judgment, had no manner of reafon for what 
 they did. 
 
 There are certain Infmuations, which the leaft ar- 
 tificial man may honeftly make ufe of ; and there 
 is a Complaifance to be pra&ifed, on occafion, as 
 far diftant from flattery, as it is from rudenefs. 
 As I knew the Duke of C A N D A L Eto be amo- 
 rous in his Temper, I took care to fuit my Con-< 
 verfation to it, and to entertain him with the moft 
 tender things I knew. His Humour was fweet 
 and delicate, and his Judgment was exact enough in 
 things that required no great profoundnefs of 
 thought to dive into them. Befides his natural in- 
 clination, he bent his whole ftudy that way, and I 
 ii>duftrioufly furnifh'd him with proper fubjects to 
 employ that talent upon. Thus when we parted 
 from one another, we did it without any of thofe 
 Difgufts, in which Converfation generally ends ; 
 and as he was pleafed with me, becaufe he was. bet- 
 ter pleuiccl with himfelf, he daily increafed his affec- 
 A 3
 
 6 THE WORKS OF 
 
 tion to me, in proportion to his being more delight- 
 ed with himfelf. 
 
 Thofe who expect Docility in others, feldom efta- 
 blifh the fuperiority of their judgment, without 
 difcovering a troublefom, imperious temper. Me- 
 rit does not always make an impreflion on the moft 
 honourable perfons ; every one is jealous of his 
 own deferts, fo that we canrfot eafily fuffer thofe of 
 another. A mutual complaifance, for the moft 
 part, gains our Affections ; neverthelefs, fince we 
 give this way as mucli as we receive, the pleafure 
 of being flatter'd is fometimes dear-bought, by the 
 violence we put upon our felves to flatter others. 
 But he that commends, without expecting a return 
 of the Compliment, doubly obliges us, by giving 
 his commendations, and difpenfing with ours. 'Tis 
 a great fecret, in a familiar commerce with other 
 men, to turn them, as far and as honourably as we 
 can, to the fide of Self-Jove. When a man finds 
 a fit opportunity to examine them, and makes 
 them fenfible of fome talents in themfelves, which 
 they knew nothing of before, they are fecretly plea- 
 fed at the difcovery of this concealed merit, and 
 are fo much the more unwilling to part with us, as 
 they defire to be agreeable to themfelves. 
 
 I may, perhaps, juftly incur cenfure for quitting par- 
 ticular things, to enlarge upon general Obfervations ; 
 and, indeed, I mould have been more careful to avoid 
 it, if I could entertain the Publick with Affairs of 
 great importance. But as I only pretend to talk to 
 my felf upon matters of little confequence, I do 
 by my felf as I have frequently done by others ; and 
 aiming at nothing elfe, but barely to pleafe my felf, 
 I employ my Invention to find out matter of fa- 
 tisfaftion, I will, therefore, abandon my felf to 
 my fancy, provided it does not carry me into extra- 
 vagancies j for irregularity and conftraint ought 
 
 to
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O ND. 7 
 
 to be equally avoided : but becaufe I will not ram- 
 ble too far, return to the Narration I begun. 
 
 The firfl thing the Court did after the Confine- 
 ment of the Prince of CONDE', was to go with 
 fome forces into Normandy, to turn the Duchefs of 
 LONGUEVILLE out of that Province, and to 
 lodge thofe Governments in other hands, which 
 were then pofiefs'd by the Creatures of that Family. 
 I took this Journey with the Duke of C A N D A L E, 
 and for two days together, when the roads and 
 weather were extremely bad, we were fcarce one 
 hour afunder , and our Converfation was fo much 
 the more entertaining, as it ran upon variety of 
 matters. 
 
 After we had talk'd of his Amours, and thofe 
 of other perfons, till the fubject was quite exhauft- 
 ed, and had difcours'd indifferently of all forts of 
 pleafures, we fell infenfibly into the miferable con- 
 dition wherein the Prince was at prefent, after he 
 had acquir'd fo much Glory in the world, and had 
 pafs'd thro' fo many confiderable Pofts. I told him, 
 That fo great and fo unfortunate a Prince ought 
 to be univerfally lamented : that, in truth, his 
 conduct had been fomething difrefpectful to the 
 Queen, and no lefs difobliging to the Cardinal ; 
 but that thefe were Faults againft the Court, and 
 not Crimes againft the State, which ought not to 
 obliterate thofe important fervices that he had 
 done the Nation in general : that his fervices had 
 fupported the Cardinal, and fecurM him in thac 
 power, which his Eminence now employ'd to 
 ruin him : that France had, perhaps, been reduc'd 
 to the laft extremities in the beginning of the Re- 
 gency, had it not been for the Battle of Rocroy, 
 which was intirely owing to the Prince's conduct : 
 that all the ill fteps the Court had made after 
 the Battle of Lens, were without his privity and 
 direction, and that he alone had retriev'd Affairs 
 A 4 '
 
 8 THE WORKS OF 
 
 in the War of Paris : that after fo many fignal 
 Services, the offence he had given, was wholly to 
 be charg'd on the impetuofity of his Temper, 
 which he was not mafter of, but that all his de- 
 figns and actions manifeftly tended to the Grandeur 
 of the King, and Advantage of the whole Nation. 
 I don't know, continued I, what the Court propofe 
 to gain by his confinement , but this I am certain 
 of, that nothing could be more welcome to the 
 Spaniards.' 
 
 / am obligd, fays the Duke ofCANDALE, to 
 the Prince^ for a tboujand Civilities I have received 
 from him, notwithftanding bis fpleen againft the Duke 
 0/"EspERNON, my father. However, I have, 
 perhaps, Jhew'd too grateful a fenfe of fuch light obli- 
 gations -, and I know full well, that I have been blamed 
 for not engaging myfelf far enough in the interefts of my 
 Family. But let the World fay what they pleafe, all 
 thofe difcourfes Jhall not hinder me from being his moft 
 humble fervant ; neither Jhall his prefent Difgrace keep 
 me from being fo fill. But considering in what cir- 
 cumftances If and at Court, I can only grieve in pri- 
 vate for bii. misfortunes: this, indeed, is unferviceable 
 to him in his prefent condition, but it might be fatal to 
 me, if I made it appear. 
 
 * You have exprefs'd your felf on this occafion, 
 faid I to him, like a Perfon of Honour, and 'tis fo 
 much the more generous in you, becaufe the Im- 
 prifonment of the Prince is the moft advantageous 
 thing you cou'd have defired. I look upon you 
 at prefent, to be the moft confiderable Perfon in 
 France, if you have a mind to be fo : our Princes 
 of the Blood are fent to the Bois de Vincennes, 
 from whence, in all probability, they will not 
 come out in hafte. Monfieur DE TURENNE, 
 and Monfieur D E BOUILLON, are gone off to 
 ferve them. The Duke of N E M o u RS, as much 
 a Man of Honour as he is, fignifies juft nothing, 
 
 and
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 9 
 
 and does not know at prefent what party to take. 
 The Duke of Gu i s E is a Prifoner in Spain ; all 
 the reft of our Noblemen are either fufpedted, or 
 neglected at leaft, by the Cardinal. As affairs 
 ftand at prefent, if you don't put a juft value 
 upon the eminent rank you hold in the World, 
 and the good qualities of your Perfon, do not 
 blame Fortune in the leaft, but e'en thank your 
 felf, for being wanting to your felf.' 
 He liften'd to me with great attention ; and being 
 more affecled with my dilcourfe than I imagin'd he 
 wou'd have been, he thank'd me very heartily for 
 the hints I gave him. He told me frankly, that his 
 Youth and his Pleafures had hitherto hundred him 
 from applying himfelf to bufmefs ; but that he was 
 refolv'd to make off this lazy una&ive Life, and to 
 fet every wheel a going, in order to make him- 
 felf considerable. / wiU, continued he, communi- 
 cate a fecret to you, which I never yet imparted to 
 any one -, you cannot imagine bow mufb I am in the 
 Cardinal's good graces. Ton know, that he intends I 
 Jhou'd marry one of his Nieces, and 'tis commonly be- 
 lieved, that his good inclinations to me are grounded 
 upon the project of this Alliance, I my felf afcribe 
 fart of his kindnefs to it -, but either I am exceeding- 
 ly mijlaken, or elfe he has an unaccountable fondnefs 
 for my Perfon. I will truft you with a greater fe- 
 cret ftill than this, which is., that I don't perceive in my 
 felf the leaft inclination to love him ; and to deal plainly 
 with iyou, I am as cold to his Eminence, as his Emi- 
 nence is to the other Courtiers. 
 
 4 I had much rather, faid I to him, that you real- 
 
 * ly loved him, for you'll find it a difficult matter 
 
 * to conceal your true Sentiments from a perfon of 
 
 * his penetration. If you will be advis'd by me, fee 
 ' him but leldom in private ; and when you are 
 ' oblig'd to do it, entertain him with your devo- 
 
 * tion to him in general, without defcending to 
 
 nice
 
 io THEWORKS OF 
 
 nice particulars, which may give him leifure to 
 fift you, and an opportunity to know you. When 
 the King and Queen are with him, when he feeks 
 to divert himfelf with the ordinary Courtiers, ne- 
 ver fail to make your appearance among them ; 
 and there endeavour, by the moft complaifant 
 and winning carriage towards him, to fecure that 
 Friendfhip, which he is difpos'd, on his part, to 
 cultivate. If he was really inclin'd to have a 
 Favourite, his familiarity wou'd be very advan- 
 tageous to you ; but as 'tis impoffible his affec- 
 tion mould be fo difinterefted, as not to be mix*d 
 with defign, a frequent correfpondence with him, 
 will make him difcover your weak fide, before 
 you are in the lead acquainted with his. Let a 
 perfon of your age be mafter of never fo much 
 diflimulation, yet he'll find it a great difadvan- 
 luge to have all his actions fcann'd by a prying 
 old Minifter, who is fuperior to him, as well by 
 the eminence of his Foil, as that of his Expe- 
 rience. Take my word for't, Sir, 'tis dangerous 
 to fee a fldlful man too often, when the difference, 
 and frequently the claming of Interefts will not 
 permit us to repofe an entire confidence in him. 
 If this maxim ought to be receiv'd by other Na- 
 tions, much more ought it to be eternally prac- 
 tis'd in ours, where our penetration to dif- 
 cover others, is much greater than our diflimu- 
 lation to conceal our felves. Don't prefume there- 
 fore that you are able to combat the Cardinal 
 at his own weapons, or to vie in cunning and 
 finefs with him. Be fatisfy'd with endeavouring 
 to make your felf as agreeable to him as you 
 can, and leave the reft to be brought about by 
 his own inclination. Inclination is a pleafaht mo- 
 tion of the Soul, which is therefore the dearer 
 to us, becaufe it feems to be purely of our own 
 growth. It is the product of our tendernefs, 
 
 * which
 
 M.DE ST. EVREMOND. if 
 
 4 which fondly cheriihes it with pleafure : in which 
 
 4 particular it differs from Efteem, which is of fo- 
 
 4 reign extraction, and maintains the ground it has 
 
 ' won upon us, not by the favour of our own opi- 
 
 * nion, but by the juftice we are oblig'd to pay to 
 1 virtuous Perfons. 
 
 ' We (hall, in all probability, fhortly fee the 
 c time, when the Cardinal will have occafion for 
 *' the fervices of thofe about him : therefore you 
 
 * muft make your felf confider'd by him as a fer- 
 4 viceable man, after you have gain'd his love by 
 4 being agreeable. The fureft way for you to be 
 4 entirely in his favour, is to let him fee, that by 
 
 * making you his Friend, he will confult his inte- 
 4 reft, as well as gratify his affection : and you 
 4 will infallibly fucceed in your defign, by pro- 
 
 * mifing him the afliftance of the credit and au- 
 4 thority which you will gain, by fleering a diffe- 
 4 rent courfe from that of the Duke of E s P E R- 
 
 * N o N, without departing from his Interefts, which 
 ' ought always to be your own. 'Tis happy for 
 ' you, that nature has given you a humour direct- 
 4 ly oppofite to his. Nothing in the univerfe can 
 4 be more contrary, than the fweetneis of your 
 
 * Temper, and the aufterity of his ; than your com- 
 
 * plaifant Carriage, and his fplenetick Roughnefs \ 
 ' in fhort, than your infmuating Addrefs, and his 
 
 * haughty imperious Behaviour. Let me therefore 
 ' advife you to follow your own natural temper, 
 
 * but take care not to be mifled by any blaze 
 ' of falfe Glory. It is no eafy matter to diftinguifh 
 
 * the falfe from the true , an ill-grounded Haugh- 
 
 * tinefs often pafies for greatnefs of Soul -, and as 
 ' we are too nice in whatever regards our Qua- 
 
 * lity, fo we mew lefs concern than we ought for 
 ' great things, which better deferve our confide- 
 * tion, The true Character of the Duke of Es- 
 f p E R N o N, unlefs I am mightily miftaken, is 
 
 2 4 this :
 
 12 THE WORKS OF 
 
 this : in the Refpect that he demands, in the de- 
 voirs that are paid him, he can eafily forget what 
 is owing to the Governor, and to the Colonel*, 
 provided you pay that to the Duke of ESPER- 
 NON which does not belong to him, I don't 
 pretend that Perfons of great Quality ought not 
 * to value themfelves upon being diftinguifhM by 
 their Rank, but then they fhquld endeavour to me- 
 rit this diftinction, and not prefumptuoufly arro- 
 gate it to themfelves. 
 
 ' It would be a fcandalous thing, for a man 
 tamely to part with any Privileges acquired by the 
 merits and reputation of his Predecefibrs : nor 
 can he maintain thefe Rights with too much re- 
 folution, when he is left in poffefijon of them j 
 but it is not the fame with new pretenfions, 
 which are to be eftablifh'd by a nice obliging ad- 
 drefs, before the world takes any notice of them. 
 In fuch a cafe, we muft firft make our applica- 
 tion to others, that they may afterwards infen- 
 fibly do the fame by us ; and, inftead of afluming 
 by Arrogance, what may be deny'd with Juftice, 
 a man of true conduct will leave no, method un- 
 try'd, to procure that to be given him, which 
 he does not demand. 
 
 c Be complaifant, obliging, and liberal : let eve- 
 ry man find with you both his Convenience and 
 Satisfaction ; and the world will, of its own ac- 
 cord, put that into your hands, which you will 
 unfuccefsfully demand by an affected Haughtinefso 
 No one thinks it much to pay refpect, when it 
 comes voluntarily from him, becaufe it lies in 
 his power whether he will pay it or no ; and be- 
 caufe he thinks he rather gives you teftimonies 
 
 ' 9V 
 
 6 The Duke of Efpernou iaas then Governor of Gwtnne^ And, 
 Colonel General of the French Infantry.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND, 13 
 
 f of his Friendfhip than of his Duty. The jealoufy 
 ' ef maintaining one's Liberty, is common to all 
 
 * Mankind, but different people make it to confift 
 
 * in different things. Some throw off all manner of 
 ' Superiority ; and with fome others, the choice of 
 
 * their Superiors fupplies the place of Liberty. 
 
 * The French particularly are of this humour : 
 ' equally impatient of Authority and Freedom, they 
 ' won't have a Mafter put upon them without re- 
 
 * lu&ance ; nor can they continue their own Mafters 
 ' without difguft. This makes them confider how 
 
 * to beftow themfelves ; and being over-fatisfy'd 
 
 * with the difpofal of their own wills, they fubmit 
 
 * with pleafure to a Mafter of their own chufing. 
 ' This, generally fpeaking, is our natural Temper, 
 c which you ought to confult, rather than your 
 c own, in the Conduit you are to obferve in the 
 ' world. 
 
 ' There are two things among us, which diftin- 
 
 * guifh a Man from the reft of the World : the 
 
 * firft, is the open Favour of the King ; the fecond, 
 ' an acknowledg'd Merit in War. Favour, which 
 
 * in Spain does not abate the punctilios about Pre- 
 
 * cedency, removes abundance of contefts in France, 
 
 * where every one wholly purfues his own Intereft, 
 ' under the fpecious pretence of honouring the 
 
 * confidence or inclination of his Prince. The molt 
 ' corrupted perfons, whofe number is very great, 
 
 * carry their Servitude where they hope to find 
 
 * their Fortune ; and thofe who leaft devote them- 
 felves to others, yet, for all that, pretend to fome 
 
 * merit by their Submiffions. There are, indeed, 
 ' Men of falfe generofity, that take a pride in de- 
 
 * fpifing the Miniftry j and there are fierce Spirits, 
 ' that think themfelves men of refolution : but we 
 " have few men of addrefs and dexterity enough 
 
 * to maintain their dignity in the management of 
 
 * their affairs. To take it right, the Favourites, 
 
 * with
 
 i 4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 with us carry the world before them, if the 
 Court does not depart from its receiv*d maxims. 
 As for martial Merit, 'tis of extraordinary im- 
 portance , and when a man has worthily com- 
 manded great Armies, the imprefiion of this au- 
 thority ftill continues with him, and keeps its 
 ground, even at the Court it felf. We honour, 
 with pleafure, a General, -under whom we have 
 acquir'd honour ; and even thofe who gain'd but 
 very little of it, in their fofter moments remem- 
 ber, with delight, their paft fatigues. We en- 
 tertain our felves with our paft Actions, tho we 
 are idle for the prefent ; we call to mind the 
 dangers we have run, in times of fecurity ; and 
 the image of War never prefents it felf to us, 
 even in Peace, but we think both of the com- 
 mand that has been exercis'd over us, and the 
 obedience we have paid. Now 'tis this merit of 
 War, which you ought to be ambitious to at- 
 tain ; this mould be the fcope of all your endea- 
 vours, in order to get, one day, the command 
 of an Army. A poft fo noble, and fo glorious, 
 equals Subjects to Sovereigns in authority ; and as 
 it fometimes makes a private Man a Conqueror, 
 it may make the greateft Prince the moft mife- 
 rable Man upon earth, if he neglects a Virtue 
 fo neceflary to fupport his Fortune. After you 
 have carefully regulated your conduct for the 
 Court, and animated your ambition for the Wars, 
 it will then be neceflary for you to procure your 
 felf Friends, whofe well-eftablifh'd Reputation 
 may contribute to fix yours, and who will cry 
 up your new application to bufmefs, when they 
 fee you give your felf up to it in good ear- 
 neft. 
 
 4 Of all the men I know, there are none whom 
 c I mould dsfire you to be more thorowly ac- 
 
 * quainted 
 
 - ; '- -' '
 
 M. DE ST. E VREMOND. 15 
 
 quainted with, than Monficur D E PA L u A u 7 , 
 and Monfieur DE MIOSSENS*. The intimate 
 friendfhip I have, both with the one and the other, 
 may, perhaps, incline you to fufpect that I am 
 partial in their commendation : but I defire you 
 to believe no fuch matter ; and take my word 
 for't, you will not eafily find two Perfons of their 
 fmcerity and honour in the world. I own to 
 you, however, that the Marquis D E C R E QJJ I's * 
 Friendlhip feems to me preferable to any other. 
 His generous and lively warmth for his Friends ; 
 his plain and unaffected Sincerity, make me have 
 an infinite efteem for him. Befides, his noble Am- 
 bition, his Courage, his Genius in Military Affairs, 
 and his univerfal Knowledge, add to our Friend- 
 mip a particular confideration for him. We may 
 give him, without the leaft partiality, that noble 
 Character which was beftow'd upon one of the 
 Antients ; ita ut ad id ttnum natus effe videretur 
 quod aggrederetur. When his choice determin'd 
 him to his prefent employment, nature had equal- 
 ly prepaid him for all ; he being capable of a 
 hundred different things, and as fit for any pro- 
 feffion as his own. He might acquire Reputa- 
 tion by Learning, if he had not refolv'd to gain 
 it wholly by Arms. A noble principle of Am- 
 bition does not admit little Vanities : however, 
 he is not lefs curious for it ; and as in his pri- 
 vate ftudies he finds a particular pleafure in im- 
 proving himfelf ; fo to the great advantages of 
 his Knowledge, he joins the merit of conceal- 
 ing it difcreetly. Perhaps you would not expect 
 
 to 
 
 7 Philip de Clertmbaut, Count de Palttau, was made a MA- 
 refchal of France in 1653. He died in 166^. 
 
 * Ctfar Phoebus d'Albret, Count de Mtoftent, who was made 
 * Marefchal of France in 1653, and died in 167 6. 
 
 9 Francis de Crequi, Marquis de Marines, mad* * Marefshal 
 tf France in 1668.
 
 \6 THE WORKS OF 
 
 * to find thefe Abilities in one of his youth, which 
 
 * we feldom meet in the moft advanc'd Age ; and 
 I own, that by. a favourable prepofiefilon, we 
 
 * fbmetimes beftow an Efteem upon young men, 
 
 * which they don't deferve : but then fometimes 
 we are too flow in doing juftice to their Merits ; 
 c forgetting to commend what they have worthily 
 
 * performed in a time of Exercife and Action, to 
 praife them for what they have done in their 
 
 * Retirement and Repofe. We feldom propor- 
 
 * tion Reputation to a man's Virtue ; and I have 
 
 * feen a thoufand Men in my time, that have been 
 c efteem'd either for a Merit which they were not 
 c then in pofleflion of, or for that which they had 
 
 * already loft : but in the Marquis D E C R E QJJ i 
 c the cafe is quite otherwife. Whatever great ex- 
 ' pectations he gives us of what he may be here- 
 c after, he lets us fee at prefent, enough to fatisfy 
 *"the moft difficult ; fo that he is the only perfon 
 
 * who may defire that which others have reafon to 
 
 * be afraid of, I mean the attention of Obfervers, 
 ' and the delicacy of good Judges. 
 
 * A prime Minifter, or Favourite, who would 
 < make it his bufmefs to find out at Court, fome 
 ' perfon worthy of his confidence, could not, in 
 ' my opinion, pitch upon a Man that deferves it 
 
 * more than Monfieur DE RuviCNY 10 . You 
 
 * may, perhaps, find in fome others, either brighter 
 
 * Parts, or fome Actions that have made a greater 
 ' noife than his : but to take a man altogether, and 
 ' judge of him, not by any one period, but the 
 
 * whole tenor of his Life ; I am acquainted with 
 none, who better deferves our efteem, and with 
 
 * whom we may longer maintain a Confidence 
 ' without fufpicion, and a Friendfhip without dif- 
 
 ' guft. 
 
 10 The Mar^tth de Ruvigny, Father to the late Earl of Gal-
 
 M. D fc S T. E V R E M O N D. 17 
 
 * guft. Let People make what complaints they 
 
 * pleafe of the corruption of the age, there are 
 ' ftill faithful Friends to be found : but the greateft 
 ' part of perfons of honour have a fort of rigi- 
 ' dity with them, which tempts people to prefer 
 ' the infinuations of a pretender, to fuch an auftere 
 
 * integrity. I have obferv'd in thofe Gentlemen, 
 
 * whom the world calls Solid and Wife, either a 
 ' cumberfome Gravity, or a tirefome Dulnels. 
 
 * Their good Senfe, which perhaps has been fer* 
 ' viceable to you once in your affairs, is fa imper- 
 1 tinent, as to difturb your Pleafures every day, 
 
 * However, a man is forc'd, in his own defence, 
 
 * to keep fair and even with thefe Gentlemen, tho 
 " they plague him never fo much, in confideration 
 ' that he may have art occafion, one time or other^ 
 ' to make ufe of their fervice ; and becaufe they 
 ' never deceive you, when you confide in them* 
 
 * they think they have a right to teaze you when 
 ' they pleafe, altho you have nothing to truft them 
 
 * with. The probity of Monfieur R u v r c N y, 
 4 which makes him altogether as proper for 2 
 
 * Confident as any body, is attended with nothing 
 ' but what is cafy and free : he is a cordial and 
 ' agreeable Friend, whofe Intimacy is folid, whofe 
 ' Familiarity is pleafing, and whofe Conversation is 
 
 * always fenfible and improving. 
 
 * The confinement of the Prince has driven from 
 the Court a confiderable perfon, for whom I have 
 an inexpreflible value, I mean the Duke of L A 
 ROCHEFOUCAULT, whofe Courage and Con- 
 duct will convince the world, that he is capable 
 of every thing which he has a mind to pretend 
 to. He will now find Reputation in a place, where 
 his Intereft will be but little concern'd ; but his 
 ill Fortune will have this good effect, as to make 
 a full difcovery of that Merit, which the referved- 
 nefs of his temper has hitherto reveal'd to none 
 
 VoLII. B ' buE
 
 } 8 THE WORKS OF 
 
 but the niceft obfervers. To whatever unhappy 
 condition his deftiny may reduce him, you will 
 find him equally free from Weaknefs, and from 
 a falfe Refolution ; being cool and fearlefs, in 
 the moft dangerous Circumftances, yet not per- 
 fevering obftinately to play out a defperate game, 
 either out of heat of Refentment, or an indifcreet 
 Bravery. In the common courfe of his life, his 
 Commerce is civil and entertaining, his Conver- 
 fation juit and polite : all that he fays is folid and 
 well digefted ; and in his Writings, the eafmefs 
 of the expreflion equals the clearness of the 
 thought. I will not fay any thing to you of Mon- 
 fieur ozTuRENNE-, it would be too great a 
 prefumption in a private man, to think that his 
 fingle opinion vvou'd be confider'd among pub- 
 lick teftimonies, and that univerfal juftice which 
 whole Nations have pay'd to his merit. Be- 
 fides, it fignifies little to entertain you long about 
 Perfons who are at fo great a diftance, and con- 
 fequently cannot promote your Intereft. 
 ' I now return to Monfieur DE PALLUAU and 
 M. DEMiossENS, in order to characterize them 
 by thofe Qualities, which may either be agreeable 
 or ufeful to you. You will find in your acquain- 
 tance with Monfieur D E PALLUAU, all the a- 
 greeablenefs imaginable, and as much fafety and 
 fecrecy as you can defire. You muft not expect 
 to find in him the forwardnefs of giddy young 
 fellows, who pretend to ferve you, but whofe 
 imprudence you have more reafon to fear, than 
 to be fond of their heat. He will ever do punc- 
 tually, what you mall defire of him , and I dare 
 engage he will be wanting in none of thofe of- 
 fices which a nice Courtier is capable of perform- 
 ing. If your Friendfhip is but once well knit, 
 he will intereft himfelf in your Conduct, and 
 you will find him more ferviceable to regulate 
 
 < that
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 19 
 
 * that by his advice, than proper to advance your 
 8 affairs by his vigor. I ever found him a great 
 
 * enemy to falfe pretenders of Generofity : and be. 7 
 
 * caufe he has ever ridiculed the oftentation of an 
 e affected Probity, fome malicious people have con- 
 ' eluded that he is no great admirer of Sincerity. 
 ' But I dare venture to fay, that I never knew ia 
 
 * any man an Integrity more natural, than I have 
 
 * found in him. He ufes no deceit, no artifice, 
 
 * no finefs with his Friends : he is devoted to 
 
 * the Court without any fordid proftitution ; and 
 
 * endeavours to pleafe, by a delicacy untainted with 
 
 * Adulation. 
 
 * An intimacy with Monfieur DE MIOSSENS 
 e will be more advantageous to your affairs -, par- 
 
 * ticularly in this critical juncture, where almoft 
 ' every thing is owing to Induftry. He cannot fail 
 ' making a great figure at a Court, where there 
 ' will be claming Interefts, and great caballing. 
 
 * He will make no difficulty of opening himfelf 
 ' to you at firft fight, out of hopes that you may. 
 ' ferve him upon occafion , and if you maintain a 
 
 * fair correfpondence with him, he will make it his 
 ' particular bufinefs to have the honour of obliging 
 
 * you in all things. Do but (hew a little diligence 
 
 * on your fide, and you will engage him to mind 
 ' nothing but your fervice ; if you are complaifant, 
 
 * he will be a Flatterer ; exprefs an affection for 
 ( him, and he will be more fenfible of it than you 
 ' cou'd well believe, or he himfelf cou'd think to 
 
 * be. Then he quits all confideration of Intereft, 
 ' and animating himfelf with all the zeal of Friend- 
 ' fhip, he will at laft undertake your affairs with 
 
 * the fame vigor as if they were his own. In- 
 
 * duftrious, punctual, diligent in the profecution 
 c of them ; reckoning for nothing thofe general 
 ' offices by which ordinary Friendfhips are enter- 
 ' tain'd, he will not be brought to believe, that 
 
 B 2 ' you
 
 o THE WORKS OF 
 
 you can be fatisfied with him, much lefs will he be 
 fatisfied with himfelf, till he has moft effectually 
 ferv'd you. The only danger you run, is, left you 
 mould happen to offend the nicenefs of his Hu- 
 mour. A forgetfulnefs ; an indifference mown 
 without defign, may occafion his to you in good 
 earned; a little raillery upon a Miftrefs whom 
 he loves, a difcourfe of his mifconftru'd, or ex- 
 pos'd, pafs with him for fenfible Affronts ; nay, 
 without proportioning his refentment to the of- 
 fence, he will take occafion perhaps to revenge 
 himfelf upon you in things of the greateft impor- 
 tance to you. As no man living is more capable 
 of fetting off and extolling your good qualities, 
 while he loves you, fo no man better knows how 
 to expofe your infirmities and defects, in the moft 
 aggravating manner, than he does, when he 
 thinks you give him a juft provocation to break 
 with you. This is what you have to apprehend 
 from his Humour ; but it will be no difficult mat- 
 ter to avoid it. To make fure of him, you have 
 nothing elfe to do, but to make fure of your felf ; 
 and if you mew the leaft regard to him, I dare 
 engage that he will return it with far greater.' 
 As for Monfieur D E PA L L u A u, replied the 
 Duke of C A N D A L E, / own to you, that I could 
 like his Humour as foon as any man's in the world ; 
 tind you will oblige me, fince you have fo particular a 
 flare of his Friendflip, if you will introduce me into 
 bis. I have as great an efteem for Monfieur D E 
 MIOSSENS as you can have. I know well enough, 
 that no man can be mafter of better Dualities ; no man 
 has more wit, or exerts it more readily, or more effec- 
 tually than he does to ferve his Friends : but he has hi- 
 therto flown fo difobliging a Behaviour to me, that I 
 am refolv'd never to make any advances towards an 
 acquaintance with him. If he had any inclination to 
 court mine, or if you coifd contrive a way to bring us 
 
 together,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 21 
 
 together , and lay the foundation of a Friendjhip between 
 us, I Jhould take no lefs delight to fee it ejfefted, than 
 I Jhould find my advantage in it. 
 
 M o R E T, and the Chevalier D E LA V i E u- 
 v i L L E, had, it feems, poflefs'd the Duke of C A N- 
 D A L E with an ill opinion of him, and he was in- 
 clinable enough of himfelf to receive it, out of a 
 fecret pique of Honour, which made him refent the 
 imperioufnefs which Monfieur DE MIOSSENS af- 
 fum'd with him on all occafions, and which his un- 
 active and lazy humour made him think not worth 
 his while to oppofe. I would not in this be under- 
 ftood, as if I call'd his Courage in queftion : for he 
 really did not want it, but the eafmefs of his tem- 
 per, and his indifference in all things, had an air 
 of weaknefs in it, particularly on little occafions, 
 which he did not think important enough to difturb 
 his quiet. Every thing of Eclat, and which made 
 a noife in the World, was an incentive to his Glo- 
 ry i and Glory made him difcover the true ufe of 
 his Spirit. I have even feen him go farther than he 
 ought to have done for his own Honour, after he 
 had flighted little matters, which however made a 
 buftle at the end. He was forward enough to ha- 
 zard his fortune, nay, and his life too, when he 
 thought his Reputation was thorowly engaged : but 
 he gave the world too much advantage over him 
 by fupinenefs ; and generally the world carried it 
 too far, by malicioufly ridiculing his conduit, which 
 made him lofe the moderation of his humour, that 
 was generally foft enough, but always lefs foft than 
 ambitious. 
 
 This is a fhort (ketch of the Duke of CAN- 
 DALE'S Character : but as he made noife enough 
 in the world, to give people a curiofity to know 
 him perfectly, it will not be amifs to draw him in 
 full length. I have known but few Men who had 
 fo many different Qualities : but he had this advan- 
 B 3 tage
 
 22 THE WORKS OF 
 
 tage in the commerce of the World, that Nature 
 expos'd only thofe to publick view, that were agree- 
 able, and took care to conceal whatever might cre- 
 ate averfion. I never in all my life beheld fo noble 
 an Air as his : all his Perfon was agreeable, and 
 nothing came amifs to him, that lay within the 
 reach of an ordinary Genius, both for a pleafant 
 Converfation, and Diverfions. A finall acquaintance 
 made him be beloved: but if was impoffible for one 
 to have a long intimacy with him, without being 
 difgufted ; fo little care did he take to prefer ve your 
 friendfhip, and fo fickle was he in his own. While 
 he was thus indifferent, men of addrefs left him, 
 without breaking off abruptly, and brought down 
 their familiarity to a bare acquaintance : thofe of 
 more tender inclinations complain'd of him, as 
 fome do of an ungrateful Miftrefs, whom they can-* 
 not however part with. Thus the Charms of his 
 Perfon fupported him in fpite of all his defects, 
 and oblig'd even thofe who had been provok'd by 
 him, to have a favourable opinion of him. As for 
 him, he liv'd with his Friends, as the generality of 
 Miftreffes do with their Lovers : whatever fervices 
 you had done him, he ceas'd to love you, when you 
 ceas'd to pleafe him ; being, like them, difgufted 
 with a long acquaintance, and fond of the pleafure 
 which a new friendfhip gives, as thf Ladies are of 
 trie tender delights of a new-born pafllon. How- 
 ever, he left his old engagements without an open 
 rupture, and you wou'd have given him fome un- 
 eafmefs to have broken off entirely with him ; the 
 noife of iuch a feparation having fomething of vio- 
 lence in it, which was contrary to his nature. Be- 
 fides,, he was not for excluding the return of an 
 old Friend, who had been either agreeable or 
 ferviceable to him, As he was addicted to Pleafure, 
 and interefted at the fame time, he would come 
 to you upon the fcqre of your agreeablenefs, 
 
 - -.-.I and
 
 M. DEST. EVREMOND. 23 
 
 and court you in his neceflities. He was extremely 
 covetous, and yet a fpendthrift ; fond of making 
 a great figure,' tho he did not like the charge of it. 
 He was eafy, and vain-glorious ; felfim, but faith- 
 ful and honed j qualities very oddly forted, but 
 which, however, met together in the fame perfon. 
 There was fcarce any thing troubled him more, 
 than to be worfe than his word, and when Intereft, 
 the ufual director of all his actions, made him break 
 it, he was fo diflatisfy'd with himfelf, that he was 
 afham'd to fee you, till he thought you had forgot- 
 ten the wrong he had done you. Then he would 
 beftir himfelf with new vigour for you, and thought 
 himfelf fecretly oblig'd to you for having recon- 
 cil'd him to himfelf. If his intereft was 'not con- 
 cern'd, he would feldom difoblige you: but then 
 you were to expect as few good offices from his 
 friendfhip, as injuries from his hatred ; and 'tis fuf- 
 ficient matter of complaint, among friends, the not 
 having any thing to commend a man for, but his 
 doing us no hurt. 
 
 As for the fair Sex, he had for a long while an 
 Indifference to them, or at leaft took but little pains 
 to gain their Affections. When once he appear'd 
 fo amiable to them, they foon difcover'd that his 
 indifference was a lofs rather to them, than to him- 
 felf; and being acquainted with their own intereft, 
 they began to form defigns upon a man who was 
 too flow in executing any upon them. In fliort, 
 they lov'd him, and then, at laft, he knew what it 
 was to love. Towards the latter part of his Life, 
 all our Ladies began to caft their eyes on him : the 
 moft retir'd of the Sex figh'd in fecret for him , the 
 mod gallant, difputing the prize among themfelves, 
 ftrove to pofTefs him, as their beft fortune. After 
 he had divided them in their interefts of Gallantry, 
 he reconcil'd them in their tears for his Death. All 
 felt they lov'd him, and a common tendernefs foon 
 B 4 became
 
 *4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 became a general grief. Thofe whom he had for^ 
 merly lov'd, reviv'd the memory of their old Paf- 
 fion, and fondly imagin'd they had juft now loft 
 what they had loft long before. Several that were 
 indifferent to him, flatter'd themfelves that they 
 would not have been always fo ; and accufing Death 
 of preventing their happinefs, they mourn'd for fo 
 amiable a Perfon, of whom they might have been 
 belov*d, had he liv'd. There are Tome that la- 
 mented him out of Vanity ; and Ladies that never 
 knew him, were feen to join their tears with the 
 Parties concern'd, to give themfelves a merit of 
 Gallantry. But his true Miftrefs l ' rnacle her felf fa- 
 mous by the excefs of her Affliction , and had, in 
 my opinion, been happy, if me had kept it on to 
 the laft. One Amour is creditable to a Lady ; and 
 I know not whether it be not more advantageous 
 to their Reputation, than never to have been in Jove. 
 
 A LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 THE COUNT DE LIONNE. 
 
 I AM juftly apprehenfive, left the continuance 
 of our Correspondence may become troublefom 
 to you, by reafon of the continuance of my Di 
 grace : which will oblige me for the future to re- 
 trench much of my own fatisfaction, not to abufe 
 fo warm a zeal as yours. Difcretion is a virtue that 
 ought to be praclis'd with true Friends ; and I am 
 too much concern'd to preferve you, not to ufe 
 
 your 
 
 ' Tki Countefs d'Ohnnt.
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M Q N D. 2 y 
 
 your friendfliip with circumfpection. If I durft, in 
 this place, difcover my foul to you, you wou'd 
 fee it deeply affected with the kindnefs of the molt 
 difmterefted friend in the world ; fince nothing but 
 your own generofity maintains me in your affection : 
 which makes me believe that you have a mind to 
 fet an example to Pofterity, which fhe muft de- 
 fpair ever to be able to imitate. In fhort, I exa- 
 mine my felf every way, and find nothing in me 
 but what juftifies the difguft which others ought, to 
 entertain of my perfon. Reflections would be very 
 irkfome to me, were they not alleviated by the re- 
 membrance of a perfon for whom I have the fame 
 veneration, which fo accomplifh'd a merit gains 
 him from every body. 
 
 But I will no longer make fo nice a Modefty as 
 yours uneafy : and therefore proceed to the Judg- 
 ment you have afk'd of me upon Britannicm '. I 
 have read it with attention enough to obferve fine 
 things in it. It exceeds, in my opinion, both A- 
 lexander and Andromache : the Verfes of it are more 
 magnificent , and I will not be furpriz'd if fome 
 Sublime be found in it. However, I deplore the 
 misfortune of that Author, for having written fo 
 worthily upon a Subject which cannot afford an 
 agreeable reprefentation. And, indeed, the Cha- 
 racters of NARCISSUS, AGRIPPINA, and 
 NERO; and the black and horrible idea which is 
 entertain'd of their Crimes, cannot be effaced from 
 the memory of the Spectators ; and whatever efforts 
 he can make to make off the thoughts of their Cru- 
 elties, the horror he has for them, does in fome 
 meafure deftroy the merit of the Play. 
 
 * A Tragedy^ by Racine*
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 A 
 
 ^ LETTER 
 
 FROM 
 
 M. COR.NEILLE, 
 
 T O 
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 To return htm Thanks for the Traifes he 
 had be flow" d upon him, m the DISSER- 
 TATION on RACINE^ Alexander. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 THE obligation I have to you, is of fuch a 
 nature as never to be worthily acknowledg'd 
 by Thanks , and I am in fuch confufion about it, 
 that I fhould ftill take up with filence, were I not 
 apprehenfive it fhould pafs with you for Ingratitude. 
 Altho fuch weighty Applaufe as yours ought to be 
 extreme dear to us, there are yet conjunctures which 
 infinitely raife the price of it. You honour rne with 
 your efteem, at a time when there feems to be a Par- 
 ty form'd to rob me of all. You fupport me, when 
 they fancy they have thrown me down ; and you 
 give me a noble comfort for the^nicenefs of our 
 , when you vouchfafe to allow me the true 
 
 tafte
 
 M.DE ST. EVREMOND. 27 
 
 tafte of Antiquity. This is a wonderful advantage 
 for a man, who cannot doubt that Pofterity will 
 depend upon your Judgment : and after this, I muft 
 freely own to you, that I think I have fome right 
 to treat as ridiculous, thofe vain Trophies that arc 
 erected upon the imaginary ruins of mine ; and to 
 look down with pity on thofe obftinate prepofief- 
 fions that were entertain'd for antient Heroes, new 
 caft after our fafhion. 
 
 Will you give me leave to add, in this place, 
 that you have hit my weak fide ; and that my So- 
 pbom/ba, for whom you mow fo much tendernefs, 
 has the beft part of my own ? How agreeably you 
 flatter my Sentiments, when you confirm what I 
 have advanc'd about the mare which Love ought to 
 have in noble Tragedies, and with what fidelity we 
 ought to preferve to thofe illuftrious Antients, thofe 
 Characters of their Time, Nation, and Humour ! 
 I have hitherto been of opinion, that Love was a 
 Paflion attended with too much weaknefs to be pre- 
 dominant in an Heroick Piece : I would have it to 
 be the Ornament, but not the Subftance ; and that 
 great Souls mould not be acted by it, any farther 
 than it is confiftent with nobler Imprefiions. Our. 
 Beaux and merry Sparks are of a contrary opinion ; 
 but fince you declare for mine, 'tis a fufficient rea- 
 fon for me to be extremely beholden to you, and 
 ever to profefs my felf, 
 
 S I R, 
 
 Tour moft bumble and 
 tnoft obedient Servant^ 
 
 Corneille. 
 M.
 
 *g THE WORKS OF 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND's 
 
 ^ ANSWER 
 
 T O 
 
 M. CORNEILLE. 
 
 5 / /?, 
 
 1 DON'T doubt but you would be the moft 
 thankful perfon in the world, if one mould do 
 you any good Office, fince you think your felf 
 obliged for the Juftice which has been done you. 
 If you were to thank all thofe who have the fame 
 opinion of your Works with my felf, you muft re- 
 turn acknowledgments to all thofe that underfland 
 them. I can allure you, that no man's Reputation 
 was ever fo well eftablifh'd as yours is in England 
 and Holland. The Englifh, who are naturally 
 prone enough to value any thing of their own, 
 renounce that opinion, tho often well grounded, 
 and think they do fufficient honour to their BEN 
 JOHNSON ', by calling him the Englijh Corneille. 
 Mr. WALLER,' one of the greateft Wits of the 
 Age, does flill impatiently expect your new Plays, 
 
 and 
 
 r Sen Johnfonflourifli'din the Reigns of James I, and Charles I. 
 'He undertook to reform the English Stage, and did it luith great 
 fuccefs. His Comedies are much beyond his Tragedies, He died in.
 
 M. D ST, EVREMOND. 29 
 
 and fails not tranflating one or two A&s of them 
 into Englifh Verfe, for his own fatisfaction '. You 
 are the only man of our Nation, whofe thoughts 
 have the advantage to hit his. He owns that they 
 fpeak and write well in France ; but of all the 
 French, he fays, that you alone know how to think. 
 Monfieur Vossius, the greateft Admirer of 
 Greece, who cannot bear the leaft comparifon be- 
 tween the Grecians and the Latins, does yet prefer 
 you before SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES. 
 
 After the approbation of fuch great Men, you 
 furprize me, to tell me that your Reputation is at- 
 tack'd in France. Does it then fare with Good 
 Tafte, as with Falhions, which begin to fettle among 
 Foreigners, when they are old at Paris ? I mould 
 not wonder to fee them have fome difguft for old 
 Heroes, when we fee a young one who eclipfes all 
 their Glory : but if we are ftill pleas'd to fee them 
 reprefented on our Theatres, how is it poflible for 
 them not to admire thbfe you defcribe ? I believe 
 the influence of 111 Tafte is upon the decline ; and 
 that the firft Piece you mail give the Publick, will 
 fliow, by the return of their former Applaufe, both 
 the recovery of good fenfe, and the reftoration of 
 reafon. I cannot conclude, without returning you 
 mod humble thanks for the honour you have done 
 me. I mould think my felt" unworthy of the praifes 
 you beftow on my Judgment ; but as it is generally 
 employ'd in finding out the Beauties of your 
 Works, I confound our Interefts, and with pleafure 
 gratify a vanity mixt with the juftice I do you. 
 
 Mr. Walltr bath tranflated into Englifh Ccrntilk't Pompey, 
 by the Earl ofDerftt and Middkftx.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 A LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 THE COUNT DE LIONNE. 
 
 YOUR impatience for my return, increafes 
 mine, that I may have the pleafure to fee you 
 again : but you cannot entirely remove my appre- 
 henfions, that too earneft follicitations with Monfieur 
 D E LIONNE, the Minifter, may render you lefs 
 agreeable, and my Affair importuning. I ought to 
 be fo equitable, as to manage his good- will, and be- 
 lieve that the weighty Affairs that lie upon his hands, 
 are fomewhat more prefiing than my own. Your 
 activity for your Friends, gives me this fufpicion ; 
 which, however, is not of long duration ; for your 
 addrefs heartens me again, and perfuades me, that 
 you will always nick the time. I mould have been 
 very forry that the Comparifon of the Prince, the 
 fide-wind Letter, and the Character of * * * mould 
 have been at the difpofal of M. B A R B i N '. As 
 for all the reft, your theft has made it yours, provi- 
 ded my Name do not appear in it ', and I have no 
 manner of mare in it : fo that the thing it felf, and 
 the management of it, depend upon you alone. 
 You are too reafonable to be fo concern' d as you 
 feem to be, at what I have writ to you about the 
 Printers in Holland. I had no other defign in it, 
 than to let you fee how much I value the delicacy 
 
 of 
 
 * A famous Botkfeller in Paris, iuho bad furreptitioujly 
 fome Pieces ofM de St* EvremonA
 
 M. DE ST. E VREMOND. 31 
 
 of fo polite a ftyle as yours : for, in truth, no man 
 can write better than you do. 
 
 The new Writing of L i s o L A was printed at 
 Bruflels, and only feven or eight Copies of it were 
 brought to this place. One of my Friends read it 
 to me, but would not let me have it. It is a con- 
 tinuation of Remarks on the Letter of Monfieur 
 D E L i o N N E, the Minifter ; wherein he endea- 
 vours to prove, that all the advances made at Pa- 
 ris towards Peace, are only amufements, to hinder 
 England and Holland from oppofing the Conqueft 
 of the Netherlands ; and maintains, that the defign, 
 of attacking Franche-Comte, and that of making 
 Peace, were inconfiftent ; drawing confequences 
 from every thing. There are fome things very 
 witty in his Remarks , but then there are too many 
 jefts, for fo important a matter. The Spaniards 
 cannot avoid accepting the alternative, England 
 and Holland being the Umpires of the Peace ; 
 but the Marquis DE CASTEL RODRIGO* wifhes 
 for nothing more than the continuation of the 
 War, which will bring the Englifh and Dutch into 
 his party. They very much wifh for Peace here, 
 but neglect nothing that regards the War. 
 
 I am very much oblig'd to Monfieur C o R N E- 
 i L L E for the honour he does me. His Letter is 
 admirable, and I know not whether he writes better 
 in Verfe than in Profe. I defire you to deliver my 
 Anfwer to him, and to afiure him, that no man 
 in the world has fo great an efteem for any thing 
 
 thac 
 
 * Francis, "Baron de Lifola, lorn at Bezartfon, betook himfelf 
 to the Emperor's fervice, who employ' d him in fever al Embajjiet^ 
 wherein he made himfelf very advantageoufly known. During 
 the War in Flanders, the Garifon of Ltfle having intercepted 4 
 Letter^ which M. de Lionne wrote to the King, M. de Lifol& 
 fublifi'd fome Remarks upon it. He wrote alfofome other Pieces 
 againfl France. See M. Bayle's Dictionary, in the Article of 
 Lifola. 
 
 3 Governor of the Netherlands*
 
 32 THE WORKS OF 
 
 that comes from him, as my felf. I have read nei- 
 ther Amphitryon J nor Laodice 4 , but as I caft my eyes 
 by chance upon the latter, the Verfes have kept up 
 my attention longer than I thought : I defire you 
 to return the Author thanks, in my name, for 
 fending me his Piece, which I fhall read very care- 
 fully, and without doubt with great pleafure. You 
 fhall have no Compliments for your felf; for a 
 well-eftablifh'd friendfhip rejects whatever looks 
 like ceremony. 
 
 P. S. Since this Letter was written, I read an 
 Aft of Laodice, which teems to me very fine. 
 
 M o L i E R E furpaffes P L A u T u s in his Ampbl- 
 trjoti, as well as TERENCE in his other Plays. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 NOthing is fo agreeable to Friendfhip, as well 
 as Love, as the demonftration of a true Af- 
 fection, which cannot be better exprefs'd, than by 
 bearing a part in the misfortunes of thofe we love. 
 Your concern for the mifcarriage of my Affair, 
 takes off one half of my own, and puts me in a 
 condition to bear the other patiently* I knew no- 
 thing of what you write to me, none of my Friends 
 having been forward, no more than your felf, in 
 fending me a melancholy piece of news : but this 
 difcretion, as obliging as it is, gives me to under- 
 ftand, that they have but an ill opinion of my 
 Conftancy. Seven full years of Misfortunes ought 
 at leaft to have inur'd me to Sufferings, if they have 
 not been able to form in me a Virtue fuperior to 
 them. To end a moral Difcourfe, impertinent in 
 him that makes it, and too fevere for him we en- 
 tertain, I'll tell you, in few words, that I fliould 
 
 have 
 
 3 A Cemedy by Mollere. 
 
 * A Tragedy by Thomas Gomilfa
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 33 
 
 have been glad to fee again the pleafanteft Country 
 I know of, and fome Friends, as dear to me 
 for the demonftrations of their Friendfhip, as in 
 confideration of their merit. However, a man 
 muft not be dciveri to defpair, becaufe he lives in 
 a Nation where delights are fcarce: I content my 
 felf with Indolence, where I cannot enjoy Pleafures. 
 I had ftill five or fix years to relifh Plays, Mu- 
 fick, and Good- cheer, and I muft take up with 
 Policy, Order, and Oeconomy ; and form to my 
 felf a languifhing amufement from the contempla- 
 tion of the grave Dutch Virtues. You will oblige 
 me to return a thoufand moft humble thanks to 
 Monfieur DI LIONNE, the Minifter, for his kind- 
 nefs to me. I am fo unprofitable a Servant, that 
 I dare ndt even mention Gratitude ; but I am not 
 the lefs fenfible of the Obligation. You will oblige 
 me likewife, to acquaint me with the ftate of my 
 Affairs, and what anfwer has been return'd. Your 
 Letter will certainly be receiv'd in the packet of 
 Monfieur D'STRADES when he is here. As 
 for the Airs and Novelties, I will not put him to fo 
 much charge for Poftage : but pray fend me no- 
 thing but what you like very well, either in Mu- 
 fick, or of any other kind. As for thofe Trifles 
 with which I amus'd my felf now and then, I have 
 nothing but about one half of a difcourfe, which is 
 not yet copied fair. About a year ago, the fancy 
 took me to treat 6f Inter eft in Psrfons altogether 
 corrupted j the too rigid Virtue ; and the fenfe of a 
 Man of Honour, who keeps a Medium, and draws 
 from both what ought to enter the Commerce cf tbs 
 world. I had left thofe Papers in England, and 
 found them loft, except fome Periods of the laft 
 writing. I mail endeavour to make them up a- 
 gain , but as they have too great a connexion 
 with thofe that are loft, I believe the whole will 
 be but indifferent. 
 Vol. II. G I N T B-
 
 34 T HE WORKS OF 
 
 INTEREST 
 
 i 'N 
 
 Perfons altogether Corrupted. 
 
 The Corrufted ffeaks. 
 
 IHave pafs'd, Gentlemen, thro* all conditions, 
 and after an exact reflection upon Life, I find 
 but two things that can deferve the thoughts and 
 application of a wife man ; the care of getting, and 
 that of hoarding. 
 
 Honour is nothing but the infatuation of young 
 men : 'tis by that a man begins his Reputation, 
 when he is a fool ; and he concludes it by that 
 which is call'd Corruption, fo foon as he becomes 
 wife. 
 
 As for me, I never had my mind pofiefs'd with 
 Chimeras. Duty, Friend/hip, Gratitude, Obligation, 
 and the reft of thofe errors that entangle Coxcombs 
 and Fools in their fnares, have not given me a mo- 
 men'ts trouble in all my life. Nature fent me into 
 the world with the true principles of Intereft, which 
 I have improv'd by Study, and fortified by Expe- 
 rience. Greedinefs, which caufes the fame thirft 
 after Wealth, as Ambition doth after Power, has 
 rais'd me to great advantages, without making me 
 carelefs of the fmalleft profits. 
 
 There are a hundred different ways of getting, 
 which are but fo many different rewards of our in- 
 
 duftry.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 35 
 
 induftry. It would be a difficult thing to afllgn all 
 rhe particular ways of getting , but a man can ne- 
 ver be deceiv'd, if he makes it his principal maxim, 
 to prefer the Profitable before the Honeft, To ap- 
 ply one's felf to the profitable is to follow the in- 
 tention of Nature ; which, by a fecret inftincl:, 
 leads us to what is agreeable to us, and obliges us 
 to make all things center in our felves. Honour 
 is an imaginary duty, which merely for the confi- 
 deration of others, makes us abftain from the goods 
 we might enjoy, or part with thofe which we mould 
 retain. 
 
 As for what relates to hoarding j is it not rea- 
 fonable we mould manage with care, what we have 
 acquir'd with difficulty ? So long as we have mo- 
 ney in our coffers, we (hall have friends and trufty 
 fervants ' : if we exhauft it by a vain Liberality, we 
 mail only give the world liberty to be ungrateful, 
 when we have loft that which fecur'd to us the 
 fervices and refpect of others. There are but a few 
 grateful perfons, and tho we mould meet with 
 fuch, it is certain, that the price of Gratitude very 
 rarely comes up to that of the Benefit. 
 
 There is one thing of great life, which I have 
 happily praclis'd ; and that is, Gentlemen, to pro- 
 mife eternally, and very rarely to perform. A 
 man gets more fervices by Promifes, than by Pre- 
 fents ; for Men generally endeavour to deferve, 
 what they hope from us : but are beholden to them- 
 felves only for what they receive ; and either look 
 upon it to be a recompence of their Pains, or an 
 effecl: of their Induftry. However, of all the ie- 
 veral forts of the Ungrateful, thefe feem to me 
 to be the leaft dangerous, becaufe they undeceive 
 us immediately, and never put us to the expence 
 of a fecond gift. 
 
 C 2 You 
 
 1 Thit is tnt of Machiavd's
 
 $6 THE WORKS OF 
 
 You will meet with others much more to be 
 fear'd, who perpetually extol the Good which is 
 done them, fo as to trouble the whole world with 
 their acknowledgments : they have always the name 
 of their Benefactor in their mouths, and his pic- 
 ture in their chambers ; but what do they propofe 
 to themfelves from this vain mew of Gratitude ?, 
 They imagine it gives them a title to a new pre- 
 tenfion ; and whilft you think they are employ'd 
 about acknowledging the favour which they fo late- 
 ly receiv'd, they think they have already done e^ 
 nough to deferve another, and will not be want- 
 ing to ask for it, A fine fubtlety indeed, of this 
 age, to turn Gratitude towards what is to come * 
 which, till now, was nothing but the fenfe of a 
 paft Obligation ! 
 
 As you are to Jive with Perfons that have their 
 defigns upon you, 'tis your bufinefs to ufe all cau- 
 tion againft them : but without putting your judg- 
 ment to the expence of examining their good and 
 evil Intentions, the beft way will be, to fecure your 
 felf by a general diftruft of all Mankind. How- 
 ever, not to create an univerfal difguft, which 
 would make all the world abandon you, it will be 
 proper to appear difmterefled fometimes, out of a" 
 fecret defign of Intereft ; it will be convenient, 
 now and then, to do fome publick actions of feem- 
 ing Generofity, tho indeed 'tis but all artifice ; 
 and to force your Nature to do a favour, as nobly 
 as if it came from a true Inclination. By this 
 means, you will efface the remembrance of what 
 is paft, and make the world expect great matters 
 from you for the future. 
 
 But on thefe rare occafions, the fecret is, to 
 chufe a Man of an eftablifh'd merit, or one who 
 for his agreeable qualities is generally belov'd : by 
 this univerfal efteem, or friendfhip, every one 
 foolifhly thinks himfelf oblig'd by a favour, which 
 
 * ( is
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 37 
 
 is receiv'd but by one fmgle perfon. After the 
 noife pf fo noble an Action, let the world conti- 
 nue in the good opinion of your Generofity, and 
 take pleafure fometimes in enjoying the flattery 
 of fupple Slaves, and the approbation of ill Judges. 
 
 As by this conduct you have rais'd Defires, and 
 permitted Hopes to be entertain'd, all thofe who 
 think themfelves deferving will ftrive to fhew it 
 in your prefence. Your Enemies will endeavour 
 to find out fecret ways to reconcile themfelves, 
 that they may not be excluded from your Favours. 
 Your Friends, animated by a new zeal, will do 
 their utmoft to deferve them ; and thofe Perfons, 
 who are particularly devoted to you, will redouble 
 their care and diligence in ferving you. 
 
 Then, when you fee all the world concur in 
 your praife, you may infenfibly betake your felf 
 again to your ufual method. Your Acquaintance 
 will become more difficult : to have a bare fight 
 of you will be no fmall condefcenfion , to fpeak 
 with you will be a greater : your Frowns will 
 drive away the troublefom, and your Smiles will 
 fatisfy the foolifh : your familiarity, as unprofitable 
 as it may be, will be taken for a mighty favour j 
 and to conclude all, in a word, you will pra&ife 
 all your vain things with others, and prudently 
 referve all the folid ones for your felf.
 
 3 S THEWORKSOF 
 
 THE 
 
 TOO RIGID 
 
 |*V I R T U E 
 
 The Virtuous Terfon fpeaks. 
 
 IHave pafs'd, as well as you, thro* all Condi- 
 tions, and after an exact reflection upon Life, 
 1 find but two things that can render it happy : 
 to moderate pur Defires, and to make a good ufe 
 of our Fortune. 
 
 They, to whom Reafon affords a repofe which 
 opinion takes away from us, live free from many 
 misfortunes, and are in a condition of enjoying the 
 mod real BlefTmgs. A Man, advanced to Great- 
 nefs, who makes others find their Fortune in his, 
 joins a great Merit to a great Happinefs ; he is 
 not the more happy by the wealth he enjoys, than 
 by that which he knows how to give : but he who, 
 like you, courts all mankind for his Intereft, and 
 will not fuffer any to mare advantages with him, 
 makes himfelf unworthy pf common Society, and 
 fleferves to be excluded from all Converfation. 
 
 Notwithftanding the ill opinion I have entertain'd 
 of you, I cannot but think, that there is a Vanity 
 in the confeffion of your Vices. Nature has not 
 left it in your power to be fo wicked as you would 
 appear to be. A Man is not abfolutely ungrate- 
 ful, with impunity ; he doth not betray, without 
 
 remorfei
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 39 
 
 rcmorfe ; nor is he fo greedy of another*s wealth, 
 and fo tenacious of his own, without fome lhame. 
 And tho you had compounded with your felf, free 
 from inward ftruggles, and fecret agitations, you 
 are ftill to account with the world, whofe impor- 
 tunate reproaches, and troublefom accufations, you 
 muft be forc'd to endure. 
 
 As for the mercenaay principle of Intereft, you 
 were talking of, 'tis that which renders you con- 
 temptible : for ftory tells us of illuftrious Villains, 
 but there never was an illuftrious Mifer in nature. 
 Greatnefs of Soul cannot confift with the fordid 
 bafenefs of Avarice. Befides, what can be more 
 unjuft, than to engrofs that which is the Soul of 
 Commerce and of publick Conveniency, to make 
 no ufe at all of it ? 'Tis no better than foftering 
 of crimes, and to rob the Publick by a continued 
 theft, of what was once extorted from private Per- 
 fons. 
 
 Thofe that take away with Violence, in order to 
 fcatter with Profufion, are far more excufable. Their 
 expence is, as it were, a kind of reftitution ; and 
 the Lofers feem to recover fome part of their Pot- 
 fefiions, when magnificence expofes to their eyes, 
 what force had wrefted out of their hands. If an 
 ill reputation is indifferent to you, if injuftice hath 
 no influence upon you, yet have, at leaft, fome 
 regard to your own repofe. 
 
 Since all your defires center in Money, whether 
 it be in your own cuftody, or another's, it equally di 
 quiets you ; you are mad to be difappointed of 
 getting it ; what you poflefs, keeps you in perpe- 
 tual pain , and if you lofe it, you are upon the 
 rack of defpair : now, as nothing is fo agreeable, 
 as to have Riches, and to make a right ufe of them -, 
 fo there is nothing fo uneafy, as to be greedy, 
 and too frugal, at the fame time.
 
 4 o THE WORKSOF 
 
 I confefs, your difcourfe upon Ungrateful Perfons, 
 is no lefs ingenious than true; but in anfwer to that, 
 k may be replied, that this nicely of yours proceeds 
 more from your obfervation than your experience. 
 Your mighty precaution againft Ingratitude, mews 
 lefs hatred for it, than averfion for Generality } 
 and really you don't lefs avoid the thankful than 
 the ungrateful. Both one and the other receive 
 favours, and your intention is to beftow none ; 
 tho, perhaps, you may forgive an injury that is done 
 you, yet you are irreconcilable when you have done 
 a kindnefs, if it doth not hook in a greater. 
 
 Since I am infenfibly engag'd in this matter of 
 Benefits, I will carry it on a little farther. There 
 are fome men of the humour of Cardinal X i M E- 
 N E z, who never agree to what is requefted of 
 them, becaufe they would not be prevented, they 
 fay, in their defigns, nor difturb'd in the order of 
 the good they intend to do. There are men fo 
 jealous of the honour of their own actions, that 
 they reject every thing which is fuggefted them 
 by others. This may come fometimes from a good 
 principle, and be found in lofty Souls ; but, for 
 the mod part, they are difhonourable Jealoufies, 
 and falfe niceties of Honour, which proceed from 
 a real unwillingnefs to do kindnefles. 
 
 Let us fuffer the Miferable to explain their ne- 
 cefilties to us, fmce we do not fo much as think 
 of them in our plenty. Let us not be amam'd of 
 owing the thoughts of a good a&ion to another ; 
 and let us leave all the avenues free to. thofe that 
 advife us to do well. In the mean time, we mould 
 think our felves too eafy, did we not fliew our 
 felves difficult to be perfuaded to what is good, 
 while we receive what is. ill with the moft implicit 
 credulity, and believe we are mailers of our felves. 
 Every one fears the afcendant of his Friends, if 
 ;hey intend to procure a good office from him ; 
 
 every
 
 M. DE ST, EVREMOND. 41 
 
 every one takes a malicious fecret, and the artifice 
 of thofe ill Impreffions that are given him, to come 
 from a fmcerity of Heart, and a real Friendfhip. 
 And yet 'tis in this latter cafe, our caution is war- 
 rantable ; 'tis here we may be upon our guard with 
 jealoufy ; 'tis here we ought to defend our felves 
 from nice infmuations, which infenfibly lead us to 
 do ill. 
 
 But to leave difcourfes that are too general ; 
 what are you the better for making all accefs to 
 you fo difficult ? What fignifies that great art, 
 which rules every line of your face , which governs 
 your Smiles and Frowns ? ' To give feafonably, and 
 to refufe with reafon, would be more beneficial 
 for others, and more advantageous for your felf. 
 There is no great merit in being able to over- 
 reach thofe who have their dependence upon you. 
 You think you mew the fubtlety of your Wit, 
 while you only difcover the malice of your Nature. 
 
 The great pains you take to delude the expecta- 
 tions of others, will delude the Pefigner, and come 
 home to your felf at laft. Every day brings you 
 Riches, and every day retrenches the ufe of them ; 
 your Wealth increases, and your Senfes, which 
 ihould enjoy it, decay. You acquire things that 
 are wholly foreign to you, and in the mean time- 
 iofe your felf. 
 
 What are you the better then for all thefe fine 
 advantages of nature ? What benefit do you reap 
 by this noble genius of Intereft ? You pafs your 
 Life amongft iuperfluous Treafures, while Cove- 
 toufnefs doth not allow you the difpofal, and Na- 
 ture deprives you of the enjoyment of them. 
 How unhappy is your fortune, both in relation 
 to your felf and others, which perfecutes you with 
 inquietudes within, and envy without ! 
 
 THE
 
 42 THEWORKS OF 
 
 THE SENSE 
 
 Of an honeft experienced Cour- 
 tier, upon Rigid Virtue, and 
 Bafe Intereft. 
 
 I AM concern'd, Sir, that a Virtue too rigid 
 fhould animate you fo ftrongly againft Vice. 
 Have more indulgence, I befeech you, for the vi- 
 cious, or at leaft mew a little more gentlenefs in the 
 manner of your Correction. 
 
 I know that Reafon was given us to regulate our 
 Morals : but Reafon, heretofore favage and auftere, 
 was civiliz'd with time, and, at prefent, preferves 
 very little of its primitive rigour. It wanted aufte- 
 rity, at firft, to eftablifh Laws, in order to prevent 
 outrage and violence : it was afterwards foften'd, 
 to introduce Civility into human Society : it became 
 nice and curious in the fearch of Pleasures, to ren- 
 der life as agreeable, as before it was endeavour'd 
 to be made fecure and civil. Thus, Sir, we ought 
 to forget that time, when it was enough to be fe- 
 vere to be thought virtuous, fmce Politenefs, 
 Gallantry, and knowledge of Pleafures, make up a 
 great part of our merit at prefent. 
 
 As for the hatred of villainous Actions, it ought 
 f to continue fo long as the world does : but give 
 leave to Gentlemen of refin'd palates, to call that 
 , Pleafure, which Clowns and ill-bred People call Vice i 
 | jincj don't make up your Virtue of old mufty No- 
 tions,
 
 M. DE ST, EVREMOND. 43 
 
 cions, which the primitive Mortals deriv'd from 
 their natural favagenefs. 
 
 In my opinion, you begin but ill with the Cour- 
 tiers, to preach up inceflantly to them the modera- 
 tion of their Defires, fince they particularly value 
 themfelves upon their Ambition. You might, per- 
 haps, pofiefs them with a difguft of the World : but 
 while they live at Court, to pretend they fhould re- 
 gulate their pretenfions, is unpradicable Doctrine. 
 Indeed, when a man has left the Court, he may 
 make a Ihift to fling up every thing ; but 'tis diffi- 
 cult, while he refides upon the fpot, not to defire 
 much ; and, ungentleman-likc, to confine himfelf 
 eafily to a fmall matter. 
 
 Among fo many different Interefts, where your 
 own is concern'd, Ambition and Virtue are not ea- 
 fily reconcil'd. We ought to commend the dexte- 
 rity of thofe who know to adjuft them together ; 
 we ought to fatisfy our felves fometimes with a 
 Good which is not entirely fo, and fometimes fub- 
 mit contentedly to a fmall 111 ; we mould not exact 
 a fcrupulous Probity, nor cry out that all is loft, 
 when the Corruption is but light 
 
 " The Gods, fays a certain perfon, never gave 
 *' a greater Prefent to mankind, than the Soul of 
 f ' the latter C A T o ; but, they miftook their 
 " time when they gave it:" his Virtue, which 
 would have been juftly admir'd in the beginning of 
 the Republick, proved fatal to it towards its end, 
 by being too pure and upright. This juft C A T o, 
 who might have fav'd his Country, if he could have 
 contented himfelf with making his Citizens lefs vi- 
 cious, deftroy'd both that and himfelf, by endea- 
 vouring, to no purpofe, to make them virtuous. 
 A man of a lefs perfect Probity, who could have 
 borne with the Vices of fome particular perfons, had 
 hinder'd a general opprefiion. It was necelTary to 
 connive at the Irregularities of fome Men in power,
 
 44 THE WORKS. OF 
 
 to prevent tyranny ; for, by that means, the Re- 
 publick might hare been preferved : 'twould have 
 been a corrupt one, I confefs j but ftill it had been 
 a Republick. 
 
 Therefore, Sir, let us not fo fix our eyes on the 
 World, as it ought to be, as not to be able to fuf- 
 fer it as it is : however, let not thi> indulgence be 
 fliewn to our felves. Let us ihew forbearance and 
 temper to others, but be fevere to our felves : ene- 
 mies to Vice in our own Confciences, 1st us not ex- 
 prefs any horror for the Vicious, left we make the 
 whole world our enemy. 
 
 For what can you propofe to your felf, by rail- 
 ing at covetous and ungrateful Men, as fo many 
 Monfters that affright you ? I know that Ingrati- 
 tude and Avarice are abominable qualities ; but 
 Ilnce they are fo common in the world, either you 
 muft refolve to bear with them, or retire into a De- 
 fart, and carry that Virtue along with you into, 
 your retirement, which will make you be hated at 
 Court. 
 
 If you would reform the ungrateful, perfuade 
 Great Men to make a better choice of the Perfons 
 whom they intend to oblige. When we find them 
 more nice and careful in the diftribution of their 
 favours, thofe that are oblig'd by them, will make 
 it their particular ftudy to be grateful to their Bener 
 factors. If you would change the humour of a for- 
 <lid Mifer, don't think to efte<5l it by fine fpeeches : 
 all the Morality in the world may be preach'd to. 
 him without effect ; reprefent to him the confidera- 
 ble fortunes which fome have rais'd by being at a 
 {mall expen.ce ; poflefs him with the contempt which 
 a penurious way of living draws upon a man ; (hew 
 him what advantages perfons of the fame rank with 
 himfelf have above him, merely by ufing a prudent 
 Liberality , and to cure him of this bafe Intereft, 
 
 don't
 
 M, D E ST. E V ft E M O N D. 47 
 
 don't be wanting to fee before his eyes another chat 
 is honourable. 
 
 Reprefent to your Man of Artifice and Self-ends, 
 that all his machines will turn againft himfclf. He 
 would have his Servants faithful to him, yet the ex- 
 ample of his own treachery will corrupt them. As 
 he values himfeif upon his ingenious addrefs, in pro- 
 mifmg much, and performing nothing -, fo others 
 will claim a more ingenious right to cheat him, and 
 every one will reward himfeif at his expence. He 
 entertains his Friends in a fcandalous unprofitable 
 familiarity, whereby he gives them art opportunity 
 to fpy out his Faults, and to pry into his Affairs, 
 without engaging them, by any tie, to refervednefs 
 and fecrecy. 
 
 As for thofe premeditated good Offices, that pro- 
 ceed purely from Defign and Artifice, as they are 
 only a flight intermiflion of a knavifh conduct, fo 
 they produce no more than a light fufpenfion in our 
 Affections ; and fo foon as the defigning Mifer re- 
 turns to his former practice, the world is imme- 
 diately even with him, and turns to its former aver- 
 fion. 
 
 By the like Reafons you may make him fenfible 
 of the advantages he may draw from Virtue, and . 
 the prejudice which a fordid purfuit of one's Intereft 
 carries with it. This is the nicenefs I expect in the 
 manner of your Reproofs : for I cannot endure 
 that you fhould fet up for a Philofopher, or a pro- 
 fefs'd Cafuift, and declaim with a fplenetick and fu- 
 percilious vehemence ag^nft Vice. In fhort, Sir, 
 What can you hope from this fine Harangue? Eve- 
 ry day brings you Riches^ and every day retrenches 
 the life of them. Tour Wealth increafes, and your 
 SenfeSy that ought to enjoy it y decay ; you gain exter- 
 nal things^ and lofe your felf. Thefe People now 
 take the thing quite otherwife ; the Money which 
 comes to their Coffers, makes them amends for the 
 3 day
 
 4* THE WORKS OF 
 
 day that is fpent in getting it. The weaknefs of 
 their Senfes is repair'd, as they imagine, by the in- 
 creafe of their Riches ; and when they decay in vi- 
 gour, they think that in fome manner they make 
 up the lofs, by the improvement of their wealth. 
 Your Wifdom, Sir, is too refin'd for Men that are 
 fb corrupted j there is too great a diftance between 
 you and them, to be able to meet together. Let us 
 be content to be virtuous, in regard of our felves, 
 and not affect a Probity which will render us trou- 
 blefom to others : let us court the acquaintance of 
 Men of Integrity, without having any averfion for 
 thofe that are not fo : let us bear with all forts of 
 Perfons, but converfe moft with thofe who can belt 
 pleafe us. 
 
 As there are few Men of fo confummate a Vir- 
 tue, that they can wholly fatisfy you ; fo, on the 
 other hand, there are few fo extremely vicious, that 
 you muft be forc'd to break off with them. Befides, 
 as we may find defects in the moft virtuous Man, 
 when we ftudy him diligently, we may likewife dif- 
 cover fome good Qualities in the Man who is leaft 
 fo, if we will be at the pains to examine him. We 
 very rarely find either all Virtue, or all Vice in any 
 Man : the good and the bad qualities are blended 
 together, and a nice difcernment may eaiily diftin- 
 guilh them. 
 
 A covetous Man has his friends, and is not want- 
 ing to ferve them, altho he loves his Money much 
 better than them. If he be a man of intereft, he 
 will ufe it in their behalf, and be glad to employ 
 his diligence, to be excus'd from more fubftantial 
 offices of friendmip. 
 
 Another Man will deferve your intimacy by his 
 difinterefted Friendmip, and agreeable Converfa- 
 tion, tho his lazinefs, and want of application, 
 may render him unferviceable to you, when he 
 ought to act vigoroufly in your behalf. I know 
 
 fome
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 47 
 
 fome Perfons of this temper, who are at death's 
 door if they are to ftir never fo little for you, and 
 whofe natural fupinenels will not let them move 
 one ftep for you : but at the fame time you may 
 command their purfes and fortunes, if you'll excufe 
 their application and induftry. 
 
 As fome Perfons are too frugal in their nature, 
 but at the fame time very agreeable -, to take from 
 them all fufpicion of expence, frequent their Hou- 
 fes but feldom, and enjoy with pleafure their com- 
 pany in your own. 
 
 Another Man is very ready to ferve you, that 
 would not acknowledge any obligation you mould 
 lay upon him ; and being, himfelf not very punc- 
 tual in point of gratitude, will leave the acknow- 
 ledgment of the favour he does you to your own 
 difcretion. 
 
 There are fome light-headed, extravagant per- 
 fons in the world, whofe ordinary Acquaintance 
 you ought to avoid ; but whofe Rafhnefs may be 
 more ferviceable to you, upon fome occafion or 
 other, than the Prudence of the Wife. Prudent 
 Men will not aft fo vigorously in your intereft, but 
 their Judgments will help to regulate your Conduct. 
 Befides, we are not always the fame. We do too 
 much honour to human Nature, when we aflign 
 uniformity to it. He that neglects you to-day with 
 coldnefs, will, by fome extraordinary turn of mind, 
 feek out an opportunity to ferve you to-morrow. 
 In ihort, men are changeable, various, made up of 
 good and ill qualities. Let us make all the honed 
 ufe of them that we can, and not avoid Men for 
 their defects, who might with as much reafon, (hun 
 us for ours. 
 
 It is time to fum up, in a few words, all that 
 
 may be faid upon opinions fo oppofite : they have 
 
 this common in their oppofition, that they keep us 
 
 too devoted to our felves, tho in a different manner. 
 
 2 The
 
 48 THE WORKS OF 
 
 The one, thro* fondnefs of a Virtue, which is 
 only beneficial to our felves, would carry us into 
 a Defart, and deter us from the common offices of 
 a civil life , the other brings us into Society, that 
 we may make our own private advantage of the 
 publick. If we follow the firft, every thing will 
 be Vice with us, becaufe we frame to our felves an 
 idea of Virtue that the World never practis'd. If 
 we will be govern'd by the latter, there will be 
 no more Faith, nor Honour, nor Integrity left 
 amongfl us. We muft live amongft Men, as if 
 we were not of the fame Species i indifferent to their 
 Merit, exempt from their Paffions, infenfible of 
 their Pleafures, and ftudious of nothing but our 
 own Intereft. 
 
 On one fide, the Speculations are too pure and 
 refin'd ; on the other, too bafe and corrupted : but 
 we can better make Ihift without a good, which 
 produces not an unprofitable virtue, than fuffer the 
 effects of fo dangerous a Corruption. 
 
 A LETTER 
 
 TO THE 
 
 COUNT DE LIONNE. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 PERHAPS you are not at Paris: perhaps 
 you are ; and in this laft cafe, your filence may 
 be rather the effect of your forgetfulnefs, than of 
 your abfence. But, fuppofe it were, I am too 
 much beholden to you for your paft fervices, to 
 
 com-
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 49 
 
 complain of your prefent indifference. I don't in- 
 quire after you, to fatigue you for anAnfwer, or 
 renew a Correfpondence that would rob you of fome 
 hours, which you know how to beftow to better 
 purpofe. But, Sir, you dill owe fomething to our 
 Friendfhip, and you will difcharge the obligation, 
 if you can find fome way, either by your felf, or 
 any body elfe, to let me know that you are in 
 health. This piece of news will give me a joy, 
 in which you are more concern'd than any other ; 
 and if you were of my temper, you would be of 
 my opinion, that to be well is better than to com- 
 mand the whole world. No Treafures are worth 
 one year's Health. 
 
 Pardon, Sir, the chat of aa infirm man, who 
 enjoying a quarter of an hour's health, thinks no 
 other fubject fo proper to be talk'd on. You were, 
 perhaps, of my humour, when you enjoy'd fome 
 eafe of the pains occafion'd by your broken arm, 
 and your other wounds. Now you are perfectly 
 cur'd, relifh the pleafure of it, and let me make 
 melancholy reflections on the Song you have taught 
 me : 
 
 JBut oh ! when Age benums our veins, 
 No longer fprightly Joy remains ! 
 
 If there be any Airs as agreeable as this in the 
 Mufick of the Feaft of Verfailles, I defire you to 
 fend them me prick'd, and you will oblige one 
 who is more than ever, &c. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 IReceiv'd, juft now, the Letter you have done 
 me the honour to write me, with the Airs you 
 have fent me. I Ihould have a thouiand thanks 
 Vol. II. D to
 
 50 THE WORKS OF 
 
 to return you ; but knowing, as I do, your incli- 
 nation to oblige me, you will, I hope, allow me 
 to be fomewhat flow in making acknowledgments ; 
 for the continual repetition of" favours might fa- 
 tigue fo tender a gratitude as mine. Be perfuaded, 
 however, that I have a due fenfe of your kindnefs , 
 and that you may more abfolutely diipofe of me, 
 than of any man you know. 
 
 I never was more furpriz'd in my life, than to 
 fee expos'd to fale here, three little Books that are 
 father'd upon me, and are now printing at Amfter- 
 dam. It is about twenty years fince I made fome 
 more Difcourfes on the Reflections that are contained 
 in one of thofe little Books r ; but know not who got 
 them from me. 
 
 Continue, I befeech you, to love me always : and 
 be perfuadedj that you'll never have a furer friend, 
 or one more pafiionate to ferve you. 
 
 When there is fomething curious and diverting, 
 I intreat you to fend it me : particularly Monfieur 
 A R N A u D'S Anfwer to Monfieur CLAUDE*, as 
 foon as 'tis printed j with Mr. C L A u D E'S Reply, 
 .which undoubtedly will foon follow : babitd rations 
 of Poftage, that is, any other way than by the 
 Poft. 
 
 Do not forbear obliging me : for let my gra- 
 titude be never fo tender, yet it will laft as long 
 as my felf ; nor mail I ever forget what you do 
 for my Intereft. 
 
 T O 
 
 1 See Vol.\, pag. z6. and 31* 
 
 * A Book intitled, La Perpetuite de la Foy de I'Eglife Catho- 
 lique touchant 1'Euchariftie, defendue centre le Livre du Sieur 
 Claude Miniftre de Charenton. M. Claude foon anfiuer'd that 
 Sook, and the Janfenifls never made but a general Reply to that 
 Work. See M. Bayle's Dictionary, in the Articles of MeJ/ieurt 
 Arnaud and Claude*
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 51; 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 JF I cbnfulted nothing but difcretion, I might 
 fave you the trouble of receiving fome of my 
 :tters, and the fatigue of an Anfwer, which your 
 civility will incline you to write ; but as 'tis my 
 temper to confult my own fatisfaftiori as much as 
 yours, you will not take it ill if I enjoy that which 
 I find in entertaining you ; and all that I can do 
 For you, Sir, is not to abufe it, by too frequent 
 an enjoyment. If you knew what a great trouble 
 it is to me to forbear it, you would eafily forgive 
 what I do, for the violence I undergo in not doing 
 more. 
 
 I ani return'd to a Court f , after having liv*d 
 four years in a Republick, without either Pleafure 
 or Entertainment ; fbr I think the Hague is the true 
 feat of Indolence. I know not how I put new 
 life into my feritiments t but, however, the fancy 
 took me to feel fomething more quick and lively ; 
 and a fond imagination that I might return to 
 France, made me pitch upbn London, as a me- 
 dium between the French Courtiers, and the Dutch 
 Burgomafters. Hitherto, I Was contented to take 
 up with the Heaviriefs, or to fpeak more obliging- 
 ly, the Gravity of the Gentlemen of Holland : but 
 as I do not find my felf much nearer France than 
 I was, fo the vivacity I have ftudied, is very inju- 
 rious to my repofe ; firice it draws me back from 
 Indolence, without advancing me to Pleafure. That 
 I mean, which I fancied to my felf in feeing you 
 at Paris : for, to fpeak the truth, I find here a 
 great deal, amongft abundance of polite and well- 
 bred men. 
 
 D i Your 
 
 * M. . Dt St. Evrtmond wrote this Zttter, mmtd'iAttly /# 
 hit rtturn to England t in the yetr 1670.
 
 52 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Your Friend the Duke of BUCKINGHAM has 
 told me, that I was very much beholden to M. 
 D E L i o N N E the Minlfter : to whom I intreat 
 you to return a thoufand thanks from me. I am 
 one of his Admirers ; but my admiration is not 
 worth the pains he has taken : and indeed, 'twas 
 only his generofity that prompted him to acl: fo 
 nobly. Pray, be your felf fo generous, as now and 
 then to remember your moft humble and moft 
 obedient Servant. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 ALT HO I mould not regret Monfieuf D 
 L i o N N E the Minifter out of my own In- 
 tereft ; yet out of mere regard to you, I would 
 have receiv'd the news of his Death with great Sor- 
 row '. I am inform'd he is generally lamented at 
 Paris ; and I can aflure you, that the Foreigners ho- 
 nour his memory with the fame fentiments that the 
 French entertain of him. Whatever was the me- 
 rit of the great Minifters of our State, foreign 
 Nations did ever rejoice at their Death ; and 'twas 
 a long time before they could pafs from the ha- 
 tred of their Perfons, to the veneration of their 
 Virtues. MonfieurDE LIONNE is the only man 
 whofe Death was apprehended, and who has made 
 the world fenfible of their Lofs, at the fame in- 
 trant he died. To enlarge on the Death of Great 
 Men, is to add grief and affliction to Death her- 
 felf : fhe has no need of fuch helps to be ghaft- 
 ly i which makes me break off that Difcourie, to 
 aflure, that no man can be more truly than I 
 am, &c. 
 
 T O 
 
 1 Httguet de lionne, Marquis de Frefnt and 4e Terny, Alini* 
 jitr and Secretary of State, dyed in tht ytur 1671.
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 53 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 MARESCHAL DE CREQUI, 
 
 Who ask'd the temper of my Mind, 
 and my thoughts of all things , in my 
 old Age. 
 
 T X 7"H E N we are young, the popular Opinion 
 V V fways us, and we are more felicitous to 
 gain the efteem of others than of our felves. But 
 when arriv'd to old Age, we are apt to have a 
 lefs value for foreign things j and are mod taken 
 up with our felves, when we are ready to be want- 
 ing to our felves. It is with Life as with our o- 
 ther Pofleflions : all is wafted when we think our 
 flock greateft ; and we are feldom frugal, but when 
 there remains little to be managed. Hence we fee 
 young men fquander (as it were) their being, in 
 which they think they have a long term of years 
 to come : but we become more dear to our felves, 
 as we are neareft lofing our felves. Heretofore 
 my roving, wandring fancy, rambled after all man- 
 ner of foreign objects : at prefent my mind con- 
 tracts it felf to the body, and unices more ftraitly 
 with it : not, indeed, out of any fenfe of pleafure 
 from fuch an alliance, but out of necefiity of the 
 mutual fuccour and afiiftance, which they endea- 
 vour to afford one another, 
 
 In this languifhing condition, I yet retain fome 
 
 Pleafures ; but I have loft all fenfe of Vice, without 
 
 knowing whether this change be owing to the in-' 
 
 D 3 firmity
 
 54 THEWORKSOF 
 
 firmity of a decay'd Body, or the moderation o* 
 a Mind better improv*d in Wifdom than hereto- 
 fore. I fear my Age has a greater fhare in it than 
 my Virtue -, and that I have more reafon to com- 
 plain, than brag of the obedience of my Inclina- 
 tions. And, indeed, it were prepofterous for me 
 to afcribe to my Reafon the power of fubjefting 
 my Pefires, if they are 'too weak to revolt : fo 
 that what Wifdom foever men at my years may 
 boaft of, it is hard to diftinguifh whether thofe 
 Paffions, we now no Jpnger feel, be fubdued or 
 extinguifh'd. 
 
 Whatever it be, when our fenfes are no longer 
 affected by external objects, nor our fouls mov'd 
 by their impreffions, it is properly no more than 
 a ftate of Indolence : yet is not thi$ Indolence with- 
 out its Charms. For to think himfelf exempt 
 from all uneafinefs, is enough to give jpy to a 
 reasonable man. The enjoyment of Pleafures is 
 not always required : the privation of Pain well 
 managed, renders our condition fufficiently happy. 
 
 When any misfortune befel me, I was naturally 
 little fenfible of it, without dafhing this happy con- 
 ilitution with any thoughts of Conftancy : for Con- 
 ftancy is only dwelling longer upon our miferies. 
 It appears the moft amiable Virtue in the world to 
 thofe who are under no afflictions. , but is truly an 
 additional torment to fuch as fuffen Refiftance 
 only frets us ; and inftead of eafmg the firft Pain, 
 begets a fecond : without refiftance we fuffer only 
 the Evils inflicted on us ; with it, our own improve- 
 ments too. For this reafon, under my prefentMi 
 fprtunes, I refign all to nature ; and referve my 
 Prudence for fuch a juncture of time, as I have no- 
 thing to fufFer. Then by reflecting upon my own 
 Indolence, 1 am pleas'd with the Pains I endure 
 not , and by this means make happy the moft com- 
 moii ftate of Life. 
 
 Expe-
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 55 
 
 Experience is form'd with Age ; and Wifdom is 
 commonly the refult of Experience. But when this 
 Virtue is afcrib'd to old men, it does not follow 
 that they are always mailers of it. This is cer- 
 tain, that they have always the liberty to be wife ; 
 and to knock off decently thofe fetters, which pre* 
 judice has put upon the world. They only are al- 
 jow'd to take things for what they really are. 
 Reafon has prevaiPd in almoft all the firft Infti- 
 tutions j but it has been afterwards almoft quite 
 over-run by Fancy. Novr Age only has the power 
 to drive out throne from what me had ufurp'd, 
 and to reftore the other to what (he had loft. 
 
 For my part, I obferve religioufly all real Duties. 
 The imaginary I decline or admit, as I like or dif- 
 like them. For in things to which I am not ob- 
 lig'd, I think it equal Wifdom to reject what does 
 not pleafe me, or to accept what does. Every day 
 frees me from one link at leaft of the chain, nor 
 is it lefs for the advantage of thofe from whom I 
 difengage my felf, than me who regain my Liberty. 
 They are as great gainers in the lofs of a ufelefs 
 man, as I mould have been a lofer, by idly devo- 
 ting my felf any longer to them. 
 
 Of all ties, that of Friendmip is the only one 
 that is endearing to me , and were it not for the 
 difgrace of having my Affection flighted, I cau'd 
 love merely for the pleafure of loving *, even where 
 I mould not be belov'd again. In Love ill plac'd, 
 the fentiments of Amity entertain us purely by their 
 own agreeable fweetnefs : but we ought to diveft 
 our felves of a juft hatred, for the intereft of our 
 own quiet. Happy were that mind which could 
 entirely refift fome Paflions, and only unbend it 
 felf to fome others. It would then be void of Fear, 
 Sadnefs, Hatred, or Jealoufy. It wou'd defire, with- 
 out Violence ; hope, without Uneafmels j and en- 
 joy, without Tranfport. 
 
 P 4
 
 5* THE WORKS OF 
 
 The ftate of Virtue is not a ftate of Indolence. 
 We fuffer in it, a perpetual conflict betwixt Duty 
 and Inclination. Sometimes we admit what's mock- 
 ing to us, and fometimes oppofe what we like ; 
 being generally under a Constraint, both in what 
 we do, and in. what we forbear. The ftate of 
 Wifdom is fweet and calm : it reigns peaceably 
 over our movements, being only to govern well as 
 Subjects, what Virtue was to combat as Enemies. 
 
 I can fay one thing of my felf, as extraordinary 
 as true, viz. that I never felt in my felf any conflict 
 between Paflion and Reafon. My Pafiion never 
 oppos'd what I refolv'd out of Duty ; and my Rea- 
 fon readily comply'd with what a fenfe of Pleafure 
 inclined me to. I don't aim at praife on account 
 of this eafy agreement j on the contrary, I confefs 
 I have often been the more vicious for it. Not 
 out of any perverfe difpofition to Evil, but becaufc 
 the Vice was entertain'd as a Pleafure, inftead of 
 appearing as a Crime. 
 
 It is certain, the nature of things is much bet- 
 ter difcovered by Reflection on them when pad, 
 than by their impreflions when felt. Befides, the 
 great commerce with the world, hinders all atten- 
 tion in youth. What we fee in others, hinders us 
 from examining well our felves. Crouds pleafe us 
 at an age, when we love (as one may fay) to dif- 
 fufe our felves. Multitudes grow troublelbm at 
 another, when we naturally return to our felves ; 
 or, at moft, to a few Friends, who are moft ftrictly 
 united to us. 
 
 'Tis this humour, that infenfibly withdraws us 
 from Courts. We begin thro' that to feek fome 
 medium between afiiduous attendance and retire- 
 ment. We grow afterwards alham'd to mew an 
 old face among young fellows, who, inftead of 
 taking our Gravity for Wifdom, laugh at us for ap- 
 pearing in publick Places, where nothing but Gal- 
 lantry
 
 M. DE ST. E VREMOND. 57 
 
 lantry and Gaity is to be feen. Let us not flatter 
 our felves with our judgment : a brisk buffoonry 
 will run it down j and the falfe glittering of a 
 youthful fancy, will turn to ridicule, the moft deli- 
 cate of our Converfations. If we have wit, let us 
 make a better ufe of it in private Companies ; for 
 in a croud the qualities of the mind maintain them- 
 felves but ill, againft the advantages of the body. 
 
 This juftice which we are oblig'd to do our 
 felves, ought not to make us unjuft to the young 
 men. We ought not fupercilioufly to cry up our 
 own times, or with morofenefs perpetually run 
 down the prefent, which is favourable to them. 
 Let us not rail at Pleafures when we are paft them, 
 or cenfure Diverfions, whofe only crime is our in- 
 capacity to enjoy them. 
 
 Our Judgments ought to be always the fame. 
 We may live, but muft not judge by humour. There 
 is in mine fomething fingular, which makes me at- 
 tend more the trouble, than the pomp of Mag- 
 nificence. Shows, Feafts, and great Afiemblies, in- 
 vite me to the fight of them : but the inconve- 
 niencies I muft fuffer deter me. The elegant Har- 
 mony of Conforts, engages not me fo much, as the 
 difficulty of adjufting them tires me. Plenty difgufts 
 me at meals ; and Rarities feem to be an affected 
 curiofity. My fancy cannot recommend any thing 
 to my palate by the fcarcity. But I am for the 
 choice of things eafily to be had, that I may pre- 
 ferve a Delicacy independent upon Fancy.
 
 58 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Of Reading^ and the Choice of 
 %ooks. 
 
 1A M as fond of reading as ever, becaufe it de- 
 pends more particularly on the mind, which 
 decays not like the fenfes : but, in truth, I feek in 
 Books my Pleafure rather than my Inftru&ion. 
 As I have lefs time for practice, I have lefs cu- 
 riofity to learn. I have more need of a (lock of 
 life, than of methods of living ; and the little that 
 remains, is better entertain'd and cherim'd by things 
 agreeable, than inftructive. The Latin Authors 
 atford me the moft, and I read whatever I think 
 fine, a thoufand times over without being cloy'd. 
 
 A nice choice has confin'd me to a few Books, 
 in which I feek rather found than fine Wit ; and 
 the true Tafle (to ufe a Spanifh Expreflion) is gene- 
 rally found in the writings of confiderable men. I 
 am pleased to difcover in T u L L Y'S Epiftles, both 
 his own Character, and that of thofe Perfons of 
 Quality that wrote to him. As for T u L L Y him- 
 felf, he never divefts himfelf of his Rhetorick ; and 
 the leaft recommendation to his moft intimate friend, 
 is as artificially infmuated, as if he were to prepof- 
 fefs a ftranger in an affair of the greateft confequence 
 in the world. The Letters of the reft have not 
 thofe turns : but in my mind, they have more good 
 fenfe than his ; and this makes me judge very ad- 
 vantageoufly of the great and general abilities of 
 the Romans at that time. 
 
 Our Authors perpetually cry up the age of A u- 
 c u s T u s, upon the account of V i R G i L and H o- 
 R A c E , and perhaps more yet upon the fcore of 
 M E c E N A s, who encouraged men of Learning, 
 
 than
 
 M.DE ST. EVREMOND. j> 
 
 than for thofe men of learning themfelves. It is 
 certain, neverthelefs, that their Parts, as well as 
 Courages, began at that time to decay. Greatnels 
 of foiil was converted to circumfpect Conduct, and 
 found Difcourfe to polite Converfation : and if we 
 confider what remains of MECENAS, I know 
 not whether he had not fomething effeminate, which, 
 was made to pals for delicate. M 2 c E N A s was 
 AUGUSTUS'S great Favourite; the man that 
 pleas'd, and whom all the polite and fprightly wits 
 endeavour'd to pleafe : now is it not likely that his 
 Judgment over-rul'd the reft, that they affectetf his 
 manner, and aped, as much as they cou'd, his cha- 
 racter ? 
 
 AUGUSTUS himfelf leaves us no great idea of 
 his Latinity. What we fee of TERENCE -, what 
 was reported at Rome of the politenefs of S c i p i o 
 and L E L i u s , the remains of C E s A R ; and what 
 we have of C i c E R o, with the complaint of this 
 laft for the lofs of what he calls fates, lepores^ ve- 
 nuJlateS) urbanitas, amanitas^ fejlivitas, jucttnditas ; 
 all thefe together, I fay, make me believe, upon 
 better confideradon, that we mult pitch on fome 
 other time than that of AUGUSTUS, to find 
 the found and agreeable Wit of the Romans, as 
 well as the pure and natural graces of their tongue. 
 It may be faid, that HORACE had a very nice 
 palate in all thefe matters; which perfuades me, 
 that the reft of his Coternporaries had not. For 
 the nicety of his relifti confided chiefly in finding 
 the ridicule of others. Were it not for the imper- 
 tinencies, falfe manners, and affectations which he 
 laugh'd at, his fenfe wou'd not at this very day ap- 
 pear fo very juft.
 
 <?o THEWORKSOF 
 
 Of Toetvy. 
 
 1OWN the Auguftan age to have been that of 
 excellent Poets ; but it follows not, that it was 
 that of found Judgment. ' Poetry requires a pecu- 
 liar Genius, that agrees not overmuch with good 
 fenfe. It is fometimes the language of Gods, fome- 
 times-of Buffoons ; rarely that of a Gentleman. It 
 delights in figures and fictions, always befide the 
 reality of things, tho it be that only, that can fatif- 
 fy a found Underftanding. 
 
 Not but that there is fomething noble in making 
 agreeable Verfes ; but we muft have a great com- 
 mand of our genius, otherwife the mind is pofiefs'd 
 with fomething foreign, which hinders it from the 
 free management of it felf. He's a Blockhead, fays 
 the Spaniard, that can't make two Verfes, and a Fool 
 that makes four. I own, if this Maxim prevail'd 
 over all the world, we mould want a thoufand fine 
 works, the reading of which gives us a very de- 
 licate pleafure , but this faying refpects men of bu- 
 fmefs, rather than profefs'd Poets. Befides, thofe 
 that are capacitated for fuch great performances, 
 will not refift the force of their Genius, for what I 
 can fay ; and it is certain, that amongft Authors, 
 thofe only will write few Verfes, who find them- 
 felves more cramp'd by their own barrennefs, than 
 by my reafons. 
 
 Excellent Poets are as requifite for our entertain- 
 ment, as great Mathematicians for our ufe : but it 
 is fufficient for us to be acquainted with their works, 
 and not to engage our felves in the folitary Enthu- 
 fiafm of the one, or to exhauft our fpirits in Medi- 
 tation, like the other. 
 
 Comick,
 
 M. DEST. EVREMOND* 61 
 
 Comick Poets are of all moft proper for the con- 
 verfe of the world : for they make it their bufinefs 
 to draw to the life what paflfes in it, and to ex- 
 prefs the fentiments and pafiions of Men. How 
 new a turn foever may be given to old thoughts, 
 that fort of Poetry is very tedious which is fill'd with 
 fimiles of the Morning, Sun, Moon, and Stars. 
 Our Defcriptions of a calm, and a tempeftuous 
 Sea, reprefent nothing which the Antients have not. 
 exprefs'd much better. Now a-days we have not 
 only the fame Ideas, but the very fame Exprefiions, 
 and Rhymes. I never hear of the harmony of Birds, 
 but I prepare my felf for purling Streams ; the 
 ShepherdefTes are always lolling upon Fern, and you 
 may fooner find a Grove without a Shade in its 
 proper feat, than in our Verfes. This muft nece 
 farily at length be very tedious : which cannot hap- 
 pen in Comedy, where with pleafure we fee thofe 
 things reprefented, which we may perform, and 
 where we feel motions like thofe we fee exprefs'd. 
 
 A Tale of Woods, Rivers, Meadows, Fields, 
 and Gardens, makes but a very languifhing impref- 
 fion upon us, unlefs their beauties be wholly new : 
 but what concerns Humanity, its inclinations, ten- 
 dernefles, and affections, finds fomething in the in- 
 moft recedes of our fouls prepaid to receive it : 
 the fame nature produces and receives 'em, and 
 they are eafily transfus'd from the Actors to the 
 Spectators. 
 
 Of 
 
 3
 
 62 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Of feme Spani/b y Italian, and 
 French "Books. 
 
 delicacy of Love fooths me, and its ten- 
 dernefs touches me -, and as in Spain they love 
 the beft of any Country in the world, I am never 
 weary of reading in their Authors amorous Adven- 
 tures. I am more affected with the paflion of one 
 of their Lovers, than I mould be with my own, 
 were I yet capable of any. The very imagination 
 of thofe Amours raifes in me certain motions for 
 the Gallant^ which I could never feel for rriy felf. 
 
 There is, perhaps, as much Wit in the Other wrU 
 tings of that Nation, as in ours j but it is a kind of 
 wit that gives no fatisfaction, except that of CER- 
 VANTES in Don Quixot, which I could read all my 
 life, without being difgufted one fingle moment. 
 Of all the Books I ever read, Don Quixot is that of 
 which I fhou'd be moft ambitious to have been the 
 Author. Nothing, in my opinion, can contribute 
 more to the forming in us a true tafte of every 
 thing. I wonder how CERVANTES cou*d, as 
 it were out of the mouth of one of the greateft 
 Fools in the world, {hew himfelf mafter of all the 
 underftanding and knowledge imaginable. I ad- 
 mire the variety of his Characters, which are of the 
 moft uncommon {tamp in the world, and at the 
 fame time the moft natural. Qu E v E D o, indeed, 
 appears a very ingenious Author ; but I efteem him 
 more for his thought of burning all his own Books 
 when he read Don gtuitiet, than for having beeri 
 able to compofe 'em. 
 
 3 1
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. <? 3 
 
 I am not acquainted enough with Italian Poetry 
 to taile its delicacy, or admire its graces and beau^ 
 ties: I meet with fome Hiftories in that tongue 
 above all the Moderns ; and fome Treatifes of Po- 
 liticks^ even above what the Antients have written* 
 As for the Morality of the Italians, it is full of 
 Concetti^ or pointed Witticifms, which rather mew 
 a fancy that endeavours to glitter, than a folid fenfe 
 founded on deep reflections. 
 
 I have a great curiofity for every thing that is 
 fine in French ; and am very much diftailed at a 
 thoufand Authors, who feem only to have written 
 for the reputation of being Authors. I read not 
 for the credit of having read abundance ; which ties 
 me up to certain Books, where I am affur'd to 
 meet fatisfaction. 
 
 M o N T A i G N E'S EJfays, M A L H E R B E'S Po- 
 ems, C o R N E i L L E'S Tragedies, and V o i T u R E'S 
 Works^ have eftablifhed to themfelves, as it were, 
 a title to pleafe me during life. MONTAIGNE 
 has not the fame fuccefs with others, thro' the 
 whole courfe of their lives. As he particularly lays 
 open Men, the young and the old are pleas'd to 
 fee themfelves in him, by the refemblance of their 
 thoughts. The fpace intermediate to thefe Ages, 
 takes 'em off from Nature to other Profeflions i 
 and then they find lefs in MONTAIGNE that fits 
 'em. The Art Military employs the General ; Po- 
 liticks the Statefman *, Divinity the Churchman ; 
 and Law the Judge. MONTAIGNE returns up- 
 on us, when Nature has brought us back again to 
 our felves ; and when an advanced age, in which 
 we truly feel what we are, recalls the Prince as well 
 as his meaneft Subjects, from a concern for his 
 Dignity, to the more near and fenfible concern for 
 his Perfon.
 
 4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 I write not this out of any impulfe of Vanity^ 
 which prompts men to make their fancies publick. 
 I feel my very foul (if I may fo fpeak) in what I 
 fay ; and underftand my felf better by expreffing 
 the Notion I have form'd of my felf, than I could 
 by private thoughts and inward reflections. The 
 idea a mari has of himfelf by a bare attention to 
 internal meditations, is always a little confus'd. 
 The Image which is outwardly exprefs'd, is much 
 more exact, and gives us a much truer judgment 
 of our felves, when it is again fubmitted to the exa- 
 mination of the mind, after having been laid before 
 our eyes. Befides, the flattering opinion of our 
 own merit, lofes half its charms, as foon as it comes 
 into the light ; and the complacency of felf-love in- 
 fenfibly vaniming, leaves behind it only a difguft of 
 its fweetnefs, and Jhame for a vanity as foolimly 
 entertain'd, as judicioufly quitted. 
 
 To equal MALHERBE to the Antients, I re- 
 quire nothing finer than his own Compofidons. I 
 wou'd only ftrike out of his Works what is not 
 worthy of him. It were injuftice to make him yield 
 to any one : but it will fuffice for the honour of our 
 own Judgments, if we make him give place to 
 himfelf. 
 
 We may fay the fame of CORNEILLE'. He 
 would be above all the Tragedians of Antiquity, if 
 . he were not in fome of his Pieces much below him- 
 felf. He is fo admirable in what is fine, that he 
 takes away all patience for what is indifferent. 
 What in him is not excellent, methinks is naught ; 
 not that it is really fo, but becaufe it wants the per- 
 fection of the reft. It is not enough for him to 
 pleafe us lightly, he's bound to touch us to the 
 very quick. Some Authors may be allow'd fimply 
 to move us: and thefe emotions arepleafing enough, 
 
 when 
 
 1 Peter Corneille.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 6y 
 
 when we have nothing elfe in view, than to be ten- 
 derly affected : but with CORNEILLE our fouls 
 are prepar'd for Raptures ; and if they be not tran- 
 fported, they are left in a condition more uneafy 
 than languor. It is, I confefs, difficult always to 
 charm ; very hard at pleafure to raife a mind from 
 its temper, and, as it were, to unhinge a Soul : 
 but CORNEILLE by having done it fo often, has 
 laid upon himfelf an obligation to do it always. 
 Let him expunge what is not noble enough for him, 
 and he will leave us in a full admiration of thofe 
 Beauties which no one can parallel. 
 
 I mould not excufe Vo i T u R E for a great many 
 of his Letters, which he ought to have fupprefs'd, had 
 himfelf been the publimer ' : but he was like fome 
 Fathers, equally kind and prudent, who have a na- 
 tural affection for their Children, and, in fecret, che- 
 rifh thofe that want worth, thereby to avoid expofing 
 their judgments to the publick by their indulgence. 
 He might have mew'd all his fondnefs to fome of 
 his Works : for there is fomething in 'em fo inge- 
 nious, fo polite, fo fine, and fo agreeable, that it 
 takes away all relifh of the Sales Attic'i, and the 
 Roman Urbanities ; eclipfes quite thro* the Wit of 
 the Italians and the Gallantry of the Spaniards. 
 
 We have in French fome particular Pieces of 
 admirable beauty ; fuch are the Funeral Orations of 
 the Queen of England, and that of the Duchefs of 
 Orleans by the Bifhop of Condom '. There is a 
 certain Spirit diifus'd thro* thofe difcourfes, which 
 gives us as great an opinion of the Author before he 
 is known, as of his work after 'tis read. His Cha- 
 racter is imprefs'd on all that he fays j fo that altho 
 
 Vol. II. E I 
 
 4 Vohure's Works were publljk'd after his death, by his J- 
 phew Pinchene, ajftjled by Conrart and Chapelain. 
 
 3 James Benigne Bojfuet, fir ft Btjhop of Condom, and then ff 
 Meaux. Ht died tht twelfth of ^iugu/i N..S. 1 74
 
 66 THE WORKS OF 
 
 I never faw him, I pafs eafily from the admiration 
 of his Difcourfe to that of his Perfon. 
 
 Of Converfation. 
 
 HOW great foever the pleafure of Reading is 
 to me, yet that of Converfation will ever 
 molt fenfibly affect me. The acquaintance of the 
 Ladies would afford me the fweeteft, if the fatif- 
 faction we find in converfing with the lovely, did 
 not put us to the trouble of being upon our guard 
 againft their Charms. Yet this is a violence I rare- 
 ly fuffer : as my Age renders me unacceptable, my 
 Experience makes me nice ; and if they can't be 
 pleas'd with me, I am, by way of return, as hardly 
 fatisfy'd with them. There are fome, indeed, 
 whofe Merits make a confiderable imprefllon on 
 my mind, but their Beauty has little influence on 
 my heart : and if I am at any time furprized by 
 it, I prefently reduce my Paflion to a pleafing rea- 
 fonable Friendlhip, that has none of the uneafmefs 
 of Love. 
 
 The firft merit with the Ladies is to be in love 
 with them; the next, the being the Confident of 
 their inclinations ; the third, the ingenious improv- 
 ing and fetting off all that is amiable in them : if 
 nothing will win their hearts, we may, at leaft, 
 gain upon their minds by praife ; for next to the 
 Lover, to whom all muft yield, he pleafes 'em mod, 
 who affords 'em means of being better pleas'd with 
 themfelves. When you converfe with them, take 
 great care never to leave 'em in Indifference ; they 
 are, from their fouls, averfe to fuch coldnefs : 
 wherefore, either make your felf belov'd, or in- 
 dulge their Paflions, or make 'em find themfelves 
 more lovely. For, after all, Love of fome fort or 
 
 other
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 7 
 
 other they muft have ; their hearts are never void 
 of that pafiion. DirecT: a poor heart how to em- 
 ploy it. 
 
 'Tis true, fome of 'em can have efteem, and 
 even tendernefs v/ithout love ; and others there are 
 as capable of fecrecy as the moft trufty of our 
 friends. I know .fome that have no lefs Wit and 
 Difcretion, than Charms and Beauty : but thofe are 
 rarities, that nature wantonly beftows on the world, 
 either by defign or caprice ; and we can draw no 
 confequences in favour of the generality from things 
 fo particular, and from qualities fo uncommon. 
 Women fo extraordinary feem to have borrow*d 
 the merit of Men , and, perhaps, 'tis a kind of re- 
 volt from their fex, to lhake off the natural con- 
 ditions of it for the real advantages of ours. 
 
 I confels, I have formerly been more difficult in 
 the choice of the Men with whom I convers'd, than 
 at prefent I am ; and I think my felf not fo much 
 a lofer in point of Delicacy, as a gainer in point of 
 Senfe. I then fought for men that could pleafe 
 me in every thing, I now feek every thing that may 
 pleafe me in any man. A man in all refpe&s agree- 
 able, is too great a rarity, and it is no wifdom to 
 hunt for what we are hardly ever like to find. That 
 delicacy of Pleafure, which our Imagination paints 
 to us, is what we feldom enjoy ; the fickly nice fan- 
 cy gives us a difrelifh of thofe things which we 
 might poflefs, during the whole courfe of our lives. 
 Not that, to fay truth, it is impoflible to find fuch 
 Jewels ; but it is very rarely that Nature forms 'em, 
 and that Fortune favours us with 'em. My good 
 ftars made me know one of this rank in France, and 
 another of equal merit in a foreign Country, who 
 was the whole delight of my life. Death has robb'd 
 me of this treafure, and I can never think on that 
 cruel day on which my Lord D' A u B i G N Y died, 
 but I may fay, with a true and fenfible regret, 
 
 E 2 $*tm
 
 68 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Quern femper acerbum. 
 Semper bonoratum^ fie Dii voluiftis, habebo *. 
 
 In the meafures you will take for Society, you 
 muft reckon not to find good things feparately. 
 Expect to meet folidity with prolixity , agreeable- 
 nefs with want of fenfe , and fcience with ridicule. 
 You will find thefe Qualities promifcuoufly blended, 
 not only among thofe men whom we may, at plea- 
 fure, make choice of, or avoid, but even among 
 thofe whom our intereft, or other ties as obligatory 
 fhall bind you to. I have conversed with a Man of 
 the brighteft natural parts in the world, who being 
 fometimes weary of the happy facility of his Ge- 
 nius, engag'd in arguments of Science and Religion, 
 in which he betray'd a ridiculous ignorance. I 
 know one of the moil learned men in Europe *, of 
 whom one may learn a thoufand things, curious or 
 profound; in whom, neverthelefs, you will find a 
 foolilh credulity in every thing extraordinary, fabu- 
 lous, or exceeding belief. 
 
 That great mafter of the Stage, to whom the 
 Romans are more beholden for the beauty of their 
 fentiments, than to their own wit or virtue ; C o R- 
 N E i L L E, who fufficiently difcovers himfelf without 
 being named, becomes an ordinary man when he 
 fpeaks for himfelf. He dares fay any thing for a 
 Greek or a Roman : a Frenchman or Spaniard 
 abates his Courage ; and when he fpeaks for him, 
 he is quite difpirited. He racks his Imagination for 
 all that is noble to adorn his old Heroes, and you 
 would fay, that he debarr'd himfelf the advantage 
 of his own wealth, as if he were not worthy the 
 ufe of it. 
 
 If 
 
 VtrglL jEneid. Lib. V. 
 Dr. Ifaac
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 69 
 
 If you know the world perfectly, you will find 
 in it abundance of men valuable for their Talents, 
 and as contemptible for their Failings. Expect 
 not they mould always exert their abilities, and dif- 
 creetly cover their infirmities. You mall fee them 
 often flight their Virtues, and fondly indulge their 
 Defects. It refts upon your judgment to make a 
 better choice than themfelves, and by your addrefs, 
 to draw from them that worth, which they could 
 not eafily communicate. 
 
 For thefe ten years paft, which I have fpent in 
 foreign Countries, I have found as much Pleafure, 
 and been as happy in the enjoyment of Conver- 
 fation, as if I had been all the time in France. I 
 have met with perfons of as great worth as qua- 
 lity, whofe Society has been the greateft comfort 
 of my life. I have known men as witty as any 
 I have ever feen, who have join'd the Pleafure of 
 their Friendfhip, to that of their Company. I have 
 known fome Ambaffadors of fuch bright parts, 
 that they feem'd to me to make a confiderable 
 lofs, whenever the duty of their Character fufpended 
 the exercife of their private excellencies. 
 
 I formerly thought that there were no well-bred 
 and polite men but in our Court ; that the effe- 
 minacy of warmer Climates, and a kind of barba- 
 rity in the colder, hinder'd the Natives from be- 
 ing rais'd to this pitch, except very rarely. But 
 experience has, at length, convinced me, that there 
 are fuch every where ; and if I have not difco- 
 ver'd it foon enough, it is becaufe it is difficult for 
 a French Man to relifli any but thofe of his own 
 Country. Every Nation has its Excellence, with a 
 certain turn proper and peculiar to its Genius. 
 My Judgment, too much wedded to our own air, 
 rejected as faulty what was foreign to us. Becaufe 
 we fee them imitate us in the fafhion of things 
 txteriqr, we wou'd impofe upon them the imita-
 
 7 o THEWORKSOF 
 
 tion of us, even in the dreis of Virtue too. In truth, 
 the grounds of any efiential Quality, are every where 
 the fame : but we endeavour to fit the extrinficks 
 to our humour ; and thofe among us that pay the 
 greateft deference to Reafon, muft have with it 
 fomething to gratify their fancies. To fpeak in- 
 genuoufly, the difference I find between us and o- 
 thers, in the air, or manner that diftinguifhes Na- 
 tions, is', that ours is induftrioufly affected, and that 
 of other Nations imprefs'd by nature, as it were in 
 an indelible Character. 
 
 In all my life, I have never known but two 
 perfons that were univerfally taking, and thofe two 
 differently. The one had agreeable qualities of all 
 forts , for the ordinary fort of Men, for the Hu- 
 morifts, and even for the Fantaftical ; and he 
 feem'd to have in his nature wherewith to pleafc 
 every body. The other had fo many rare accom- 
 plifhments, that he might aflure himfelf of efteem 
 where ever Virtue is rever'd. The firft was infi- 
 nuating, and never fail'd to gain the Affections. 
 The fecond was fomewhat proud, but yet com- 
 manded Efteem. To complete this difference, a 
 man gave himfelf up with pleafure to the infinua- 
 tions of the former, and fubmitted oftentimes, tho 
 with reluctance, to the worth of the latter. I had 
 a ftrict Friendfhjp with them both, and can fay, 
 that I never faw any thing in the one, but what 
 was agreeable j or in the other, but what deferv'd 
 efteem. 
 
 Of Literature and the Cml Law, 
 
 WHEN I am deprivM of the converfation of 
 the Men of the World, I have recourfe to 
 fhe Learned ? and if I meet with men skill'd in 
 
 polite
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 71 
 
 polite Literature, I think my felf no great lofer 
 by exchanging the delicacy of the prefent, for that 
 of pail ages. But we rarely meet with perfons 
 that have a true Judgment : which, in many Scho- 
 lars, renders Literature a very tirefome knowledge. 
 Of all the men I ever knew, Antiquity is the moll 
 indebted to Mr. WA L L E R : he lends it his beau- 
 tiful Imagination, and his nice and delicate Judg- 
 ment ; fo that he enters into the genius of the 
 Antients, not only to underftand rightly what they 
 thought, but {till to embellifh their thoughts. 
 
 I have feen within a few years, abundance of 
 Criticks, and but few good Judges. Now, I don't 
 affect that fort of learned men, who rack their 
 brains to reilore a Reading, which is not mended 
 by the reftitution. The whole myftery of their 
 Learning lies in what we might as well be igno- 
 rant of, and they are abfolute ftrangers to what's 
 really worth knowing. As they are incapable of 
 having nice Sentiments and Thoughts, fo 'tis im- 
 poflible for them to enter into the delicacy of a 
 Sentiment, or the finenefs of a Thought. They 
 may fucceed well enough in expounding Gramma- 
 rians, who applied themfelves to the fame fludy, 
 and whofe genius was the fame : but they can ne- 
 ver hit that of a polite, well-bred man among the 
 Antients, becaufe theirs is diametrically oppofite to 
 it. In Hiftory, they neither mind Men nor Affairs : 
 they lay the whole ftrefs on Chronology ; and for 
 the date of a Conful's Death, will neglect the know- 
 ledge of his Character, and of the tranfaclions du- 
 ring his Confulfhip, T u L L Y, with them, will 
 never be any more than a declaimer of Orations ; 
 or CESAR than a Writer of Commentaries : the 
 Conful and the General efcape their notice ; the 
 Spirit that animates their Works is unperceiv'd i 
 e principal matters they treat of, unknown^ 
 
 E4 I
 
 72 THE WORKS OF 
 
 I own I value infinitely a Criticifm on the 
 if the exprefiion may be allowed. Such is the ex- 
 cellent work ofMACHiAVEL upon the Decades 
 of L i v Y ; and fuch would be the reflections of 
 Monfieur D E Ro H A N upon CE s A R'S Commenta- 
 ries^ had he penetrated deeper into his Defigns, 
 and expos'd to a clearer light the fecret fprings of 
 his Conduct I muft own neverthelefs, that he has 
 equall'd the penetration of M A c H i A v E L in his 
 Remarks upon the clemency of CESAR in the 
 Civil Wars. But we may fee, that his own expe- 
 rience of fuch Wars, furnifh'd him with abundance 
 of hints for thofe judicious Obfervations. 
 
 Next to the ftudy of polite Learning (for which 
 I have a more particular affedtion) I love the fcience 
 of thofe great Lawyers and Civilians, who might 
 themfelves be Legiflators ; who re-afcend to that 
 original Juftice that fettled human Society ; who 
 know what Liberty nature allows in eftabliuYd Go- 
 vernments ; and how far the natural liberty of pri- 
 vate Perfons is reftrain'd for the publick good by 
 ntcefTary Politicks. Thefe inftructions might be 
 found in the converfation of M. S L u s E 6 , with as 
 much pleafure as profit. From H o B B E s, that great 
 Genius of England, we might alfo receive thefe 
 noble lights ; tho with lefs exa&nefs, becaufe he 
 carries fome things too far, and is altogether upon 
 extremes in others. 
 
 Were G R o T i u s yet alive, all things might be 
 learned of that univerfal Scholar, who is yet more 
 valuable for his Reafonings than for his Learning, 
 Now he is dead, his Writings refolve the moft 
 important difficulties; and were Juftice only re- 
 garded, they might be a ftanding rule to all Na- 
 tions in points of War and Peace. His Book, De 
 
 Jure 
 
 6 A Canon of St. Lambert at Liege ; and "Brother to M. Slufe, 
 Secretary of the. briefs to the Pope, and afterwards a Cardinal*
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 73 
 
 Jure Belli & Pads, ought to be the chief ftudy of 
 fbvercign Princes, their Minifters, and generally of 
 all fuch as have any fhare in the Government of 
 the People. 
 
 Nay, even the knowledge of that Law which 
 defcends to the affairs of private Men, ought noc 
 to be flighted. But this is left to the care of the 
 Gentlemen of the Gown, and denied to Princes as 
 a thing below them ; tho every moment of their 
 Reign, they give Decrees, or ifiue out Warrants 
 that extend to the Fortunes, Liberties, and Lives 
 of their Subjects. They are only entertain'd with 
 harangues about Valour, which is only an inftru- 
 ment of Deftruction ; and Difcouffes of Libera- 
 lity, which is but a more regular method of fquan- 
 dering, unlefs they be bounded by Juftice. 'Tis 
 true, the Doctrine of every Virtue ought to be 
 fuited to the neceflities of every one's temper : to 
 infufe liberality into the Covetous, to excite the Un- 
 active with the thirft of Glory, and curb, as much 
 as is poflible, the Ambitious with the reins of 
 Juftice. But amongft all the diverfity of tempers, 
 Juftice is ftill moft requifite ; for it keeps up or- 
 der as well in him that does it, as in them to 
 whom it is done. Nor is this a conftraint that 
 limits the Power of a Prince , for in doing it to 
 others, he learns to do it to himfelf ; and fo it 
 is in him a voluntary act, tho we neceflarily re- 
 ceive it from his Power. 
 
 I read not an Hiftory of any Prince better edu- 
 cated than CYRUS the Great. They were not 
 contented exactly to inform him what Juftice was 
 'in all refpects, but they made him put their In- 
 ftructions in practice, as often as occafion offend ; 
 fo that they did, at the fame time, imprint the no- 
 tions of Juftice on his mind, and eftablifh an habit 
 of being juft in his Soul. The education of A- 
 J.EXANDER was of fomcwhat too large an ex- 
 tent:
 
 74 THE WORKS OF 
 
 tent : he was taught the knowledge of every thing 
 in nature, but himfelf. His Ambition went after- 
 wards as far as his Learning ; and having endea- 
 vour'd to know all, he grew defirous to conquer 
 all. But he had little or no method in his Con- 
 quefts, and abundance of irregularity in his Life ; 
 for want of knowing what he ow'd to the publick, 
 to private men, and to himfelf. 
 
 No men whatfoever can take too effectual a 
 care to be juft, for they have naturally too ftrong 
 a bias the contrary way. Juftice is the foundation 
 and the fence of all Society ; without it we mould 
 ftill be Savages and Vagabonds ; and our impetuo- 
 fity would foon reduce us to our primitive con- 
 fufion, out of which we are happily extricated. 
 Yet inftead of chearfully acknowledging the bene- 
 fit, we rind fome reluctance in fubmitting to that 
 happy fubjection it keeps us in, and ftill long after 
 that fatal Liberty which would prove the unhappi- 
 nefs of our Lives. 
 
 When the Scripture tells us that the Juft are 
 few, it means not, in my opinion, that no men are 
 inclined to good Works : but it feems to intimate, 
 how little they are inclin'd to act as they mould, 
 out of a principle of Juftice. And indeed, were 
 mens good actions examin'd, they would moft of 
 them be found to have their fource from the con- 
 fideration of fome other Virtues. Good Nature, 
 Friendfhip, and Benevolence, are the ordinary 
 fprings from whence they flow : Charity relieves our 
 neighbours wants, Liberality beftows, and Ge- 
 nerofity obliges : Juftice, which ought to partake 
 in all, is laid afide as burdenfome j and necefiity 
 alone gives it a mare in our actions. Nature en- 
 deavours to find a kind of Self-complacency in 
 thofe firft Virtues, where we act upon pleafing mo- 
 tives : but in this fhe finds a fecret violence, where 
 another's right extorts from us wha.t we owe, and
 
 M.DE ST. EVREMOND. ; 
 
 we rather acquit our felves of our own Obligations, 
 than lay any upon them by our Beneficence. 
 
 It is a fecret averfion to Juftice that makes us 
 fonder of giving than returning, of obliging than 
 acknowledging. Thus we fee the moft liberal, 
 generous men, are not ufually the moft juft. Juftice 
 includes a regularity that lays a conftraint upon 
 them, as being founded on a conftant order of 
 Reafon, oppofite to thofe natural impulfes, which 
 are the hinges upon which Liberality almoft al- 
 ways moves. There is, I know not what heroical 
 in great Liberality, as well as in great Valour ; and 
 there is a great analogy between thofe two Vir- 
 tues , the one raifing the Soul above the confide- 
 ration of Wealth, and the other pufhing on Cou- 
 rage beyond a concern for Life. But with all thefe 
 gay and generous Motives, without good Con- 
 duel, the one becomes ruinous, and the other 
 fatal. 
 
 Thofe whom crofs accidents of Fortune have 
 undone, are pitied by all the world, becaufe it is a 
 misfortune attending the condition of humanity, 
 to which every body is liable: thofe that are re- 
 duc'd to Mifery by vain profufion, raife more con- 
 tempt than commiferation ; becaufe it is the effect 
 of a private Folly, from which every man has the 
 good conceit to think himfelf free. Add to this, 
 that nature always fuffers a little by companion, 
 and to relieve her felf of an uneafy thought, me 
 contemplates the folly of the Prodigal, inftead of 
 refting upon the profpecl: of the Beggar. All things 
 confider*d, it is enough for private men to be be- 
 neficent , nor ought this to proceed from a facility 
 of nature, that lazily parts with what it has not 
 ftrength to keep. I defpife the weaknefs which 
 is prepofteroufly call'd Liberality ; and hate no lefs 
 the vanity of thofe that never do a kindnefs but 
 for the pleafure of boafting of it, 
 
 Of
 
 7* THE WORKS OF 
 
 Of Ingratitude. 
 
 THerc are not fo many Ungrateful men as 'tis 
 generally thought ; becaufe there are not fo 
 many generous men as we imagine. He that in 
 filence fuppreflfes a favour Teceiv'd, is an unthank- 
 ful man, that deferv'd it not. But he that pro- 
 claims one that he has done, turns it to an Injury, 
 fhewing to your difgrace the neceflity you had of 
 him, and the relief he has given you thro* often- 
 tation. I would have a man of honour fomewhat 
 fhy of receiving Obligations, and fenfible of them 
 when receiv'd : I would have him that obliges, fa- 
 tisfied with the generofity of the Action, and not 
 think of any acknowledgment from the party ob- 
 li^'d. When a return is expected, it is no longer 
 Liberality ; it is a fort of Trade, which the Spirit 
 of Interefl would introduce into Favours. 
 
 'Tis true, there are fome perfons whom nature 
 has made ungrateful : Ingratitude is the main in- 
 gredient in their compofition , with that their 
 Heart, their Soul, and every part is feafon'd : 
 they make no returns to Love, not becaufe they 
 are hard and infenfible, but becaufe they are un- 
 grateful. 
 
 This Ingratitude, which is rooted in one's Heart 
 or Conftitution, is, of all the kinds of it, the moft 
 oppofite to Humanity : for generous Perfons may 
 fornetimes make off the remembrance of a benefit, 
 to eafe themfelves of the trouble that fome Obli- 
 gations are apt to give- But Friendfhip knits, 
 not fetters us together ; and without fome extra- 
 ordinary violence to nature, it is impofllble to re- 
 fift its tender engaging Charms. 
 
 J
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 77 
 
 I am inclin'd to believe that Women ought not 
 to refift fo generous a fentiment, whatever pre- 
 tence may be fuggefted, from a regard for Vir- 
 tue. And indeed, they think themfelves virtuous, 
 and are only ungrateful, when they refufe their 
 affection to paflionate Lovers, who facrifice every 
 thing for them. To be too kind, would be a tref- 
 pafs on the rights of Honour ; not to be fenfible 
 enough, is to crofs the nature of their Hearts, 
 which they ought to keep free from perturbation, 
 if poflible, but not from a tender impreffion. 
 
 The Ingratitude of the Soul is a natural propenfity, 
 not to acknowledge a Service, even without a regard 
 to Imereft. Avarice may fometimes fupprefs an ac- 
 knowledgment, to avoid the expence of a return ; 
 but pure Ingratitude is, without farther defign in it 
 felf, averfe to all Requitals. 
 
 There is another fort of Ingratitude, founded on 
 a conceit of our own worth, when Self-love repre- 
 fents a favour beftow'd upon us, as a piece of juftice 
 done to us. 
 
 The love of Liberty has likewife its Ingratitude, 
 as well as Self-love. The only fubjection it allows, 
 is to the Laws , but out of abhorrence of a depen- 
 dence, it hates the memory of Obligations that 
 (hew a fuperiority in the Benefactor. This makes 
 Republicans ungrateful. They think that a dimi- 
 nution of their Liberty, which is allow'd to Gra- 
 titude. Thus BRUTUS thought it meritorious to 
 facrifice his Obligations to Liberty. All the kind- 
 neffes heap'd on him were converted to injuries, 
 when he began to look upon them as fetters. To 
 fum up all, he cou'd kill a Benefactor that was 
 like to become a Matter. An abominable villany 
 amongft the partifans of Gratitude ! An admirable 
 virtue with the fticklers of Liberty ! 
 
 As there are men purely ungrateful, out of a 
 mere fenfe of Ingratitude, fo there are fome mere-
 
 7* THE WORKS OF 
 
 ly thankful, out of a pure fenfe of thankfulnefs. 
 Their Hearts are fenfible not only of good turns, 
 but even of good- will too ; and have of themfelves 
 a propenfity to acknowledge all manner of Obliga- 
 tions. 
 
 According to the great diverfity which is found 
 both in Gratitude and Ingratitude, there are fome 
 poor Spirits that think themfelves oblig'd by every 
 thing, as well as vain humours, that think them- 
 felves oblig'd by nothing. 
 
 If Self-conceit has its proud ingrates, Diftruft of 
 merit has its weak thankful ones, that take com- 
 mon juftice for a particular obligation. This dif- 
 fidence produces an Inclination to Subjection, and 
 the latter is the diftinguilhing Character of this 
 kind of thankful men. As they are incumber'd 
 with Liberty, and afham'd of Servitude, they raife 
 up chimerical Obligations, to give an honourable 
 colour to their dependence. 
 
 I will not reckon among the Grateful, thofe 
 poor wretches that think themfelves oblig'd, for 
 not being hurt. They are not only Slaves, but 
 Slaves that have not even the courage to hope well. 
 To thefe wretches, all treatment that is not rigo- 
 rous is favourable, and every thing that is not an 
 Injury, they think a Benefit. 
 
 I have but one word more to fay about a certain 
 Gratitude of Courtiers, which has not fo much 
 refpect to the pad, as defign upon the future. 
 They acknowledge Obligations to thofe whom for- 
 tune has plac'd in any poft to oblige them ; and 
 by an affected Gratitude for favours never done, 
 infmuate themfelves into thofe, in whofe power it 
 is to do them, and induftrioufly put themfelves in 
 the way of them. This artificial acknowledgment, 
 as 'tis undoubtedly no Virtue, fo neither is it a 
 Vice, but rather a dexterity, which it is lawful for
 
 M. DE ST. E VREMOND. 79 
 
 a man either to make ufe of, or guard himfelf 
 againft. 
 
 The great ones in requital, have a trick as ar- 
 tificial to excufe themfelves from doing kindnefies, 
 as the Courtiers can have to engage them to it. 
 They reproach men with Services never done, and 
 complain of Ingratitude, tho they have hardly ever 
 obliged any one, to draw from hence a fpecious 
 pretence to oblige no body. 
 
 But let us difmifs this affected Gratitude, and 
 thefe myfterious complaints of Ingratitude -, and let 
 us fee what is to be wifh'd for in the pretences 
 to, and the diftribution of, Benefits. I could wifh 
 in thofe that claim them, more Merit than Addrefs ; 
 and in the Difpofers, more Generofity than Often- 
 tation. 
 
 Juftice refpects every thing in the diftribution of 
 Favours ; it regulates the Liberality of the giver, 
 and weighs the Merit of the receiver. Genero- 
 fity thus circumftantiated is an admirable Virtue : 
 otherwife, it is the motion of a Soul truly noble, 
 but ill-govern'd ; or a wild vain-glorious humour, 
 that thinks Reafon a clog to it. 
 
 There are fo many things to be confider*d in the 
 diftribution of Benefits, that the fafeft way is always 
 to obferve ft rid: Juftice, and confult Reafon equally, 
 both as to thofe we make the objects of them, 
 and about what we are able to give. But even 
 among thofe that intend ftrict Juftice, how many 
 are mifguided by the error of their temper, either 
 in rewarding or punifhing ? When we give way 
 to infinuation, and yield to complaifance, Self-love 
 reprefents to us as Juftice, a Lavilhnefs to them 
 that flatter us -, and we reward them for the ar- 
 tifice they ufe, to deceive our Judgments, and im- 
 pofe upon the imbecillity of our Wills. 
 
 They deceive themfelves yet more eafily, who 
 
 miftake a morofe fevere temper for an inclination to 
 
 2 Juftice.
 
 So THE WORKS OF 
 
 Juftice. The itch of punifhing is ingenious in them 
 to fet an ill glofs upon every thing. Pleafure 
 with them is vice, and Error a crime. A man 
 muft diveft himfelf of humanity to efcape their 
 rigour. MiQed by a falfe notion of Virtue, they 
 think they chaftife Criminals, while they delight in 
 tormenting the Miferable. 
 
 If Juftice appoints a great Punifhment, (which 
 is fometimes necefiary) it' is proportion'd to fomc 
 great Crime ; but is never harlh or rigorous. Se- 
 verity and Rigour are no part of it, but fpring 
 from the humours of thofe perfons that think they 
 pradife it. As thefe forts of punilhments flow from 
 Juftice without Rigour, fo likewife does Pardon in 
 fome cafes, rather than from Clemency. To par- 
 don faults of error, is but Juftice to the failings of 
 our nature : the indulgence we mew to Women 
 that have intrigues, is likewife rather a Juftice to 
 their weaknefs, than a pardon of their fin. 
 
 Of Religion. 
 
 I Might defcend to feveral other particulars re- 
 lating to Juftice ; but it is now high time to 
 proceed to Religion, which ought to be our prin- 
 cipal care. None but madmen can depend upon 
 a Life that muft certainly have an end, and which 
 may end every hour. 
 
 Mere curiofity will make us inquifitive to know 
 what mall become of us after Death. We are too 
 dear to our felves to confent to our intire lofs : Self- 
 love fecretly oppofes the notion of Annihilation. We 
 are defirous to exift always, and the Mind, which 
 is concern'd in its own prefervation, improves this 
 defire, by affording fome light into a thing of it 
 felf fo obfcure. On the other hand, the Body find-
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMONd. 81 
 
 ing by certain experience that it muft die, and be- 
 ing unwilling to die alone, furnifties reafons to in- 
 volve the Soul in one common ruin ; whilft the 
 Soul frames one to believe, it may fubfift for ever, 
 1 have fearched for all the light I could, both from, 
 the Antients and Moderns, to afiift my reflections 
 in diving into fo abftrufe a myftery : I have read 
 all that has been written on the Immortality of the 
 Soul, and after I have done fo with all poflible at- 
 tention, the cleared proof that I find of the e.ter- 
 nity of my Soul, is my own conftant defire that it 
 may be fo. 
 
 I wifh I had never read MonfieurD E s c A R T E s's. 
 Meditations : the great Reputation of that excellent; 
 man among us, would have given me fome belief 
 of the Demonftration he prorriifes us ; but there 
 appeared to me more vanity in the afiurance he> 
 gives us, than folidity in his arguments , and how 
 defirous foever I was to be convinc'd by his Rea- 
 fons, all that I can do in his favour or my own, U 
 to remain in the uncertainty I was in before. 
 
 I left the ftudy of Metaphyficks td make an en- 
 quiry into Religions, and returning to that Anti- 
 quity which I refpect fo much, I found among the 
 Greeks and Romans, nothing but a fuperftitious i^Q- 
 latrous Wormip,'or politick human Contrivances, 
 eftablim'd for the Government of Men. It was not 
 difficult for me to fee the advantages of the Chri* 
 ftian Religion over all the reft j and ufmg alj my 
 endeavours to fubmit my felf with reverence p 
 the belief of its Myfteries., I let my Reafon tail? 
 With pleafure the pureft arid moft perfect Morality 
 in the world. 
 
 Amidft the diverfity of Beliefs that divide Chriftia- 
 nity, the true Catholick engages me as well by 
 rriy own free election, were I yet to chufe, as by 
 the habitual imprefiion it has long fince made upon 
 me. But this adherence to my own, does not ani- 
 
 Voh IJ. F maC2
 
 82 THE WORKS OF 
 
 mate me againft other peoples belief -, and I never 
 entertain'd that indifcreet zeal which infpires a ha- 
 tred for fome perfons, becaufe they do not agree 
 with us in opinion. This falfe Zeal is the refult 
 of Self-love i and a fecret deceit reprefents to us an 
 excefs of complacency in our own Sentiments, under 
 the form of Charity towards our Neighbours. 
 
 What we now call RELIGIONS, is indeed 
 but a difference in Religion, and not a different Reli- 
 gion. I rejoice that my Faith is more found than 
 a Proteftant's : yet inftead of hating him for this 
 difference of opinion, I love him becaufe he agrees 
 with me in the Fundamentals. The means at 
 length to agree in the whole, is always to com- 
 municate in fomething. A defire of Re-union can 
 never be infpir'd, till the enmity that arifes from 
 divifion be fupprefs'd. Men may feek one another 
 as fociable, but they never re -unite with their Ene- 
 mies. Difllmulation and Hypocrify in Religion, 
 are the only things that ought to be odious : for 
 whoever believes fincerely, altho his Belief mould 
 be wrong, deferves Pity, and not Perfecution. 
 Blindnefs in the body befpeaks our Companion -, 
 why then mould that of the mind excite our Ha- 
 tred ? Under the fevereft Tyranny of former ages, 
 the Underflanding was allow'd its full liberty ; but 
 now a-days there are notions among Chriftians, 
 wherein the perfuafion of what one cannot believe 
 is impos'd as a Law ! In my opinion, every body 
 ought to be free in his Belief, provided it does not 
 tend to raife Factions that may endanger the pub- 
 lick Tranquillity. Churches do of right belong to 
 Sovereigns ; according to whofe will and pleafure 
 they are either open'd or fhut up ; but our own 
 hearts are a private Church, wherein we are allow'd 
 to worfhip their Mafter 7 . 
 
 Befides 
 
 7 The Emperor Conjlant'uu Chlorus, tho A Pa$an } was ton- 
 2 tented
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 83 
 
 Befides the difference of Doctrine in fome points 
 peculiar to every Seel;, I obferve, as it were, a 
 fort of particular Spirit that diftinguilhes them. 
 The Catholick tends particularly to the Love of 
 God, and good Works. We look upon this firft 
 Being as an Object fovereignly amiable, and ten- 
 der Souls are touch'd with the fweet and agreeable 
 Impreflions it makes on them. Good Works fol- 
 low necefiarily from this principle ; for Love once 
 receiv'd within, actuates us without, and puts us 
 upon endeavouring all we can to pleafe him we 
 love. All we have to fear in this cafe is, left the 
 fource of this Love, the Heart, mould be corrupted 
 by the mixture of any Paflion altogether human. 
 It is likewife to be feared, that inftead of obeying 
 the Ordinance of God, we mould frame methods 
 of ferving him according to our own fancies. But 
 if this Love be real and pure, nothing in the world 
 yields fuch true fweetnels and fatisfaction. The 
 inward joy of devout Souls, rifes from a fecret aflu- 
 rance they have of being agreeable to God ; and 
 the true mortifications, and holy aufterities are no- 
 thing elfe but affectionate Sacrifices of themfelves. 
 
 The Reformed Religion divefts men of all con- 
 fidence in their own merit. The opinion of Pre- 
 deftination, which they begin to be difgufted with, 
 but dare not forego, left they mould be thought to 
 recant, leaves the Mind languid, unmov'd, without 
 affection, under pretence of waiting with fubmif- 
 fion for the will of Heaven. They are content 
 barely to obey, and feek not to pleafe ; and in a 
 fet common Worfliip, make God the object rather 
 F 2 -of 
 
 tented to pull down the Churches of the Chrtftians, and would per- 
 mit no other violence againfl them. C o N s r A N T i u s, ne diflenu're 
 a majorum praeceptis videretur, Conventicula, id eft parities 
 qui reftitui poterant, dirui pafTus eft ; verum autem Dei Tern- 
 plum quod eft in hominibus, incolume fcryavit. Laft. de Mcrt* 
 /><//. $15.
 
 *4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 of their Regularity than their Love. To preferve 
 Religion in its Purity, the Calvinifts endeavour to 
 reform every thing that appears human ; but fome- 
 times to debar man of what is human, they retrench 
 too much of what is addrefs'd to God. Their 
 diflike of our Ceremonies, makes them induftrious 
 to refine upon us : yet when they have attain*d to 
 this dry naked Purity, they find not in themfelves 
 a fufficient ftock of Devotion ; and thofe that are 
 pious amongft them excite in themfelves a parti- 
 cular Spirit, which they think fupernatural , fo much 
 are they difgufted with a Regularity which to them 
 feems too common. 
 
 There are in matters of Wormip two forts of 
 humours. The one wou'd be always adding to, 
 and the other always retrenching what is eftablimed. 
 In the firft, there is a hazard of giving too much 
 out-fide to Religion, and covering it with fo many 
 exteriors, that the real ground of it cannot be 
 feen thro' them. In the other, the danger is, left 
 after having retrench'd all that appears fuperfiuous, 
 Religion it felf mould be cut off. TheCatholick 
 might, indeed, fpare fome Ceremonies ; yet that 
 hinders not, but that men of underftanding may 
 fee well enough thro' them. The Reform'd ufe 
 too little, and their ordinary Wormip is not fuf- 
 ficiently diftinguiuYd from the common functions 
 of Life. In Places where it is not tolerated, the 
 difficulty prevents their difguft, and the difpute raifes 
 a warmth that animates them. Where it rules, it 
 produces only an exact compliance with Duty, fuch 
 as either the Civil Government, or any other obli- 
 gation might do. 
 
 As for Good Works among the Reformed, they 
 are only the effects of their Faith, and the refuic 
 of their Belief. We are agreed on both fides, that 
 every Chriftian is bound to believe, and live aright, 
 but our ways of exprefling it differ : they fay, 
 
 that
 
 M. DE ST. EVRE MO N D. 85 
 
 that good Wirks without Faith are but dead Works ; 
 and we, that Faith without good Works is but dead 
 Faith. 
 
 The Minifter Mo R u s was wont to fay amongft 
 his friends, " That his Church had fomething too 
 " hard in its Tenets, and he advifed People never 
 " to read St. P A u L'S Epijlles^ without ending with 
 " that of St. J A M E s's ; for fear, faid he, left St. 
 " P A u L'S heat again ft the merit of Good Works, 
 ** fhould infenfibly make us fomewhat remifs in 
 " the practice of them." 
 
 It may, in my opinion, be affinn'd, That St. PE- 
 TER and St. J A M E s, who preach' d to people funk 
 into fuch deep Corruption as the Jews were, had 
 reafon to enforce the neceflity of Good Works ; 
 for thereby they prefcrib'd to them what they want- 
 ed, and of which they might themfelves be con- 
 vinc'd. But thefe Apoftles would have little ad- 
 vanc'd their Miniftry by a difcourfe about Grace, 
 with a Peeple who thought they had more Faith 
 than all the world befides i who had feen the Mi- 
 racles perform'd in their favour ; and who had a 
 thoufand times experienc'd the vifible afliftances of 
 a God. 
 
 St. PAUL acted no lefs wifely with the Gentiles ; 
 it being certain that he would have converted but 
 few people to JESUS CHRIST by the argument 
 of Good Works. The Gentiles were juft and tem- 
 perate, upright and innocent, firm and refolute, to 
 fuch a degree as to die for their Country. Now 
 to preach Good Works to them, was no more 
 than what the Philofophers did, who taught them 
 to live well. I own, JESUS CHRIS T'S Morals 
 were purer, but they had nothing that could make 
 a fufficient impreflkm on their minds. It was there- 
 fore fitting to preach to them the neceffity of 
 Grace, and, as much as was pofllble, to fupprefs the 
 confidence they had on their Virtue. 
 
 F 3 Methinks,
 
 86 THEWORKSOF 
 
 Methihks, that fince the Reformation, of which 
 the Immorality of the Clergy was either the pre- 
 tence or reafon : methinks, I lay, that fince that 
 time Chriftianity has been made to confift in the 
 Doctrine of Articles of Belief. Thofe that fet up 
 the Reformation arraign'd our corruption and vice, 
 and now a-days we object againft them our Good 
 Works. The very lame perfons that reproach'd 
 us with ill living, will now take no other advan- 
 tage of us than that of pretending to a purer Faith. 
 We allow the neceffity of Belief, but Charity was 
 commanded by JESUS CHRIST, and the Doctrine 
 of Myfteries was not eftabliuYd till a long time 
 after his Death. He did not himfelf exprefs fo 
 clearly what he was, as what he required ; from 
 whence we may conclude, that he rather chofe to 
 be obey'd, than to make himfelf known. Our 
 Faith is obfcure, but our Law is very clearly ex- 
 prefled. The neceflary points of our Faith, are 
 above our apprehenfion ; but thofe of our Duty 
 are fuited to the capacities of all the world. la 
 a word, GOD has given us light enough to do well ; 
 and we would indulge with it our curiofity of know- 
 ing too much ; and inftead of acquiefcing in what 
 he is pleafed to difcover to us, we would pry into 
 what he has conceal'd from us. 
 
 I know that the contemplation of heavenly things 
 does fometimes happily difengage us from the 
 world : but it is frequently no more than mere 
 fpeculation, and the refult of a Vice very natural 
 to mankind. The immoderate Ambition of know- 
 ledge extends it felf beyond nature, even fo far as 
 to enquire into what is moft myfterious in its Au- 
 thor, not fo much out of a defign to adore him, 
 as out of a vain curiofity of knowing all things. 
 This vice is clofe attended by another: Curiofity 
 breeds Prefumption j and being as bold in defining, 
 35 indifcreet in inquiring, we ereft, as it were, an 
 
 infallible
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 87 
 
 infallible Science of thofe things which are to us 
 altogether inconceivable. So depravedly do we 
 ufe the will and underftanding ! we proudly afpire 
 to know every thing, and cannot -, we may reli- 
 gioufly obferve every thing, and will not. Let us be 
 juft, charitable, and patient, according to the prin- 
 ciples of our Religion, and we fhall know and ob- 
 ferve at the fame time. 
 
 I leave it to our Doctors to refute the errors of 
 the Calvinifts, 'tis enough for me to be perfuaded 
 that our opinions are the founder. But if rightly 
 apprehended, I dare fay the Spirit of both Reli- 
 gions is differently grounded on good Principles ; 
 only one extends farther the exercife of Good 
 Works ; with the other, the cautions to avoid Evil, 
 are more exact. The Catholick with an active 
 refolution, and loving induftry, is perpetually feek- 
 ing fome new way of pleafmg God. The Re- 
 formed, dinted by circumfpection and refpect, dares 
 not venture beyond a known precept, for fear by 
 imagin'd novelties, of giving too much fway to his 
 fancy. 
 
 To be always difputing points of Doctrine, is 
 not the means to reunite us. Arguments being 
 inexhauftible, the Controverfy will laft as long as 
 there are men to manage it. But if we would leave 
 thefe Difputes, that only ferve to exafperate us, and 
 return without paffion to that particular Spirit which 
 diftinguilhes us, it will not be impoflible to find 
 a general one in which we may agree. 
 
 Let us Catholicks bridle the reftlefs Zeal, that 
 makes us act a little too much of our own heads. 
 Let the Reformed (hake off their unactive regula- 
 rity, and animate their langour, without departing 
 from their fubmifllon to Providence. Let us re- 
 trench fomething in condefcenfion to them, and 
 let them admit fomething more in complaifance 
 to us. Then, without thinking either of Free-will 
 F 4 or
 
 88 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Or Prsdejlination, we fhall frame infenfibly a true 
 rule for our actions, which will be follow'd by that 
 of our opinions. 
 
 If we come to a reconciliation of wills upon the 
 good conduct o Life, it will foon produce a good 
 Underftanding in Doctrine. Let us but join in 
 Good Works, and we Ihall not long be of fepa- 
 rate Faiths. 
 
 I conclude from this fhort Difcourfe, that it is 
 an ill method of converting men, to attack them 
 by affronting their Judgments. A man defends 
 his notions either as true, or as his own * ; and 
 however it be, he raifes a hundred objections a- 
 gainft the perfon that wou'd convince him. Na- 
 ture has given to every one his proper fenfe, and 
 feems to have engag'd him to it by a fecret fond 
 indulgence. He can fubmit to the will of ano- 
 ther, tho he be free : he can own himfelf infe- 
 riour in Courage and Virtue ; but he is afham'd to 
 confefs a fubmiffion to another man's Senfe : his 
 moft natural reluctance is to acknowledge a fupe- 
 riority of Reafon in any one whomfoever. 
 
 Our chief advantage is to be born reafonable : 
 our greateft jealoufy is to find that others pretend 
 to be fo, more than our felves. If we confult the 
 Converfions of antient times, we fhall find that 
 the Souls were mov'd, but the Underftandings very 
 little convinc'd. The firft difpofition to receive 
 the truths of Chriftianity is form'd in the Heart. 
 In things purely natural, 'tis the mind's part to 
 conceive, and its knowledge goes before the af- 
 fection for the objects : in things fupernatural, the 
 Soul is taken, it is affected, it adheres, and unites 
 it felf, without ever comprehending them. 
 
 Heaven has better prepar'd our Hearts for the 
 jmpreflions of God's Grace, than our Underftand- 
 ings 
 
 ' This is erx of Montaignt't rejkftions*
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 89 
 
 ings for Illumination. His immenfity confounds 
 our narrow Intellects : his bounty agrees better 
 with our Love. There is I know not what with- 
 in us, that fecretly pleads for a GOD, whom we 
 cannot comprehend ; and hence it is, that to fuc- 
 ceed in the Converfion of men, we muft fettle a 
 pleafing commerce with them, by means of which 
 we may infpire them with the fame movements : 
 for in difputes of Religion, the mind in vain ftrains 
 it felf to make us fee what we fee not ; but in 
 fi fweet and pious familiarity, it is eafy for the 
 Soul to infufe Sentiments. 
 
 To confider well the Chriftian Religion, wou'd 
 make one think, that God had depriv'd it of the 
 light of our Minds, that it might turn more upon 
 the motions of our Hearts. To love God and our 
 Neighbour includes all, fays St. P A u L. And what 
 is this, but to require a difpofition of Heart as 
 well towards God as Man ? It is properly to ob- 
 lige us to do out of a principle of Love, what 
 the Civil Government enjoins by rigorous Laws, 
 and Morality prefcribes by a fevere order of 
 Reafon. 
 
 Charity makes us relieve and fuccour, while 
 Juftice forbids us to do wrong. The latter with 
 difficulty hinders oppofition ; the other with plea- 
 lure, procures relief. Thofe who have the true fen- 
 timents that our Religion infpires, can't be un- 
 faithful to a Friend, or ungrateful to a Benefactor. 
 With thefe good fentiments, a Heart innocently 
 loves thofe objects God has made amiable, and the 
 moft innocent part of our Loves is the moft charm- 
 ing and tender. 
 
 Let grofs and fenfual perfons complain of our 
 Religion for the conftraint it lays upon them ; yet 
 the nice and refined will commend it for fparing 
 them difgufts and repentance. More skilful than 
 voluptuous Philofophy in the fcience of Pleafures, 
 
 and
 
 go THEWORKS OF 
 
 and wifer than fevere Philofophy in point of Mo- 
 rality, it refines our tafte to Delicacy, and our fen- 
 timents to Innocence. Look upon man in a civil' 
 Society, if Juftice be necefiary, yet 'tis a reftraint 
 to him. In the pure ftate of Nature, his Liberty 
 will have fomething of barbarity in it ; and if 
 he govern himfelf by Morality, his Reafon is 
 auftere. All other Religions ftir up in the mind 
 tempefluous thoughts, and troublefom Pafiions. 
 They raife againft nature fuperftitious fears, or a 
 furious zeal ; fometimes to the facrificing our Chil- 
 dren, like AGAMEMNON ; at other times to the 
 devoting our felves, like D E c i u s. Only the 
 Chriftian Religion compofes all our Inquietudes, 
 foftens all our Fiercenels, fets all our tender Move- 
 ments a going, not only for our friends and neigh- 
 bours, but for the indifferent, and even for our 
 enemies. 
 
 This is the end of the Chriftian Religion, and 
 this was once the practice of it. If it be other- 
 wife now, it is becaufe we have let it lofe its influ- 
 ence on our hearts, and given way to the encroach- 
 ments of our imaginations upon it. Hence fprings 
 the divifion of our minds about Faith, inftead of 
 the union of our wills in Good Works ; infomuch, 
 that what ought to be a band of Charity betwixt 
 men, is now become the fubject of their Quarrels, 
 Jealoufies and ill nature. 
 
 From this diverfity of Opinions has arifen that 
 of Parties ; and the adherence to Parties has 
 caus'd Perfecutions and Wars. Many thoufands 
 have died in difputing about the manner of re- 
 ceiving, what, 'twas agreed on all hands, they did re- 
 ceive in the Sacrament. 'Tis a mifchief that flill 
 continues, and will laft till Religion quits the curio- 
 fity of our minds for the tendernefs of our hearts j 
 and difgufted with the fooJifh preemption of our 
 
 Inquiries,
 
 M.DE ST. EVREMOND. pi 
 
 Inquiries, returns to the fweet motions of our 
 Love. 
 
 A PROBLEM 
 
 In imitation of the Spaniards : 
 
 TO MADAM 
 
 DE &JJEROUALLE. 
 
 I Know not which of the two is more injurious 
 to the happinefs of the Fair-Sex ; " Either to 
 " abandon themfelves wholly to their Inclinations, 
 " or ftriftly to follow the dictates of Virtue ; and 
 *' whether the indulging their Pafllons be attended 
 " with more Misfortunes, than they are deprived 
 " of Pleafures by the conftraint they lay on them- 
 " felves." I have met with amorous Ladies la- 
 menting themfelves for the contempt they were 
 fallen into : I have feen Prudes groaning under 
 the feverities of Virtue ; and who endeavour'd by 
 fighs to eafe their fwelling Heart of the fecret tor- 
 ment they endur'd, by not daring to indulge their 
 Paflion : in fhort, as I have feen the one regret 
 the Reputation they had loft, fo have I feen others 
 wifh for the Pleafures they durft not enjoy. Happy 
 
 is 
 
 1 She came into England in the year 1 670, and was created 
 Dutchefs of Portsmouth in 1^73. See the Life of M. de St. 
 Evremond, under (he year 1670.
 
 5?2 THE WORKS O F 
 
 is the Woman, who knows how to behave herfelf 
 difcreetly, without curbing her Inclinations ! for as 
 it is a difgrace for one of her Sex to abandon her- 
 felf to Love, without any regard to her Fame ; 'tis 
 on the other fide, a great mortification to pafs her 
 life without an Amour. 
 
 To avoid this laft misfortune, you will do well 
 to follow an Advice, which I defign to give you 
 without any by-end. Do not too feverely reject 
 Temptations, which in this Country offer themfelves 
 with more modefty than is required, even in a 
 Virgin, to hearken to them. You may, perhaps, 
 be fo vain, as to be pleas'd with no one but your 
 felf : but you'll be foon tired with being pleas'd 
 and lov'd by no body elfe , and whatever com- 
 placency Self-love may afford, you will ftand in need 
 of another's Love for your real fatisfaction and en- 
 tertainment. Yield therefore to the fweets of 
 Temptations, inftead of confuking your Pride. The 
 latter would foon perfuade you to return to France ; 
 and France, as *tis the fate of many others, would 
 throw you into a Nunnery : but tho your own free 
 choice fhould lead you to that melancholy place 
 of retirement, you ought, however, to have made 
 your felf worthy of entring it before-hand. What 
 figure will you make there, if you want the Cha- 
 racter of a Penitent ? The true Penitent affiids 
 and mortifies herfelf on ther emembrance of her 
 Faults : but what can a harmlefs innocent Maiden 
 repent of ? You will appear ridiculous to the other 
 Nuns, who have juft reafon to repent, for repenting 
 only out of mere grimace. 
 
 Another inconveniency which you will not fail 
 to meet with, is, that inftead of carrying to the 
 Convent a difguft for Love, the very Convent will 
 fuggeft to you the thoughts of it. That holy Place 
 turns Love into Devotion, when one has had no 
 experience of this Pafiion. In fuch a cafe, all the 
 
 fervency
 
 M. D E ST. EVREMOND* 93 
 
 fervency of your Zeal being converted into Love, 
 you will in vain figh for its Pleafures j and in the 
 difficulty of enjoying them, you will, for your own 
 torment, perpetually reprefent to your felf, how 
 eafy it was for you to come at them in the world. 
 Thus you will either be confumed with Regrets, 
 or devour'd by Wifhes, according as your mind 
 turns either to the remembrance of what you might 
 have done, or to the thought of what you can do 
 no more. 
 
 But what you'll find moft ftrange in a Nunnery 
 is, that your Rtafon will contribute as much as 
 your Paflion to make you unhappy. The more 
 knowledge you have, the more you will fuffer by 
 the imbecillity and ignorance of an old Abbefs ; 
 and the light of your underftanding will only ferve 
 to excite murmurings in your heart. Under a 
 mortify'd Countenance you will harbour rebellious 
 thoughts ; and obeying orders which you cannot 
 either fincerely fubmit to, or openly oppofe, you 
 will linger out uncomfortable days in repining at 
 your Condition, with the outward grimace of a 
 Sham-Penitent. A melancholy Life this, dear 
 Sifter, to be oblig'd, for cuftom-fake, to mourn 
 for a Sin one has not committed, at the very time 
 one begins to have a defire to commit it ! 
 
 This is the miferable condition of harmlefs Vir- 
 
 ?'ns, who carry their innocence to a Nunnery ! 
 hey are unhappy in it, for not having laid a good 
 foundation for their Repentance: a foundation fo 
 neceflary to religious Houfes, that of mere pity we 
 mail be oblig'd to fend you to Epfom, Tunbridge, 
 or the Bath, that you may, if poflible, have fome 
 fmall occadon for Penance. 
 
 Whether, as I wifh, you remain in the World, 
 or as I fear, you retreat out of it., it is your in- 
 tereft to adjuft and agree two things, that feem 
 incompatible, but are -not ib, I mean J*$ve and Dif-
 
 94 THE WORKS OF 
 
 cret'ion. You may, perhaps, have been told, that 
 'tis better not to love at all, than to love with fuch 
 a conftraint ; but the rule of this difcretion has no- 
 thing auftere in it, fmce it only requires the loving 
 but one Perfon at one time. That Lady who loves 
 many, abandons herfelf : and of this kind of good, 
 as of all others, the ufe is commendable, and the 
 profufion difhonourable. 
 
 A LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 COUNT D'OLONNE. 
 
 AS foon as I heard of your difgrace ', I did 
 my felf the honour to write to you, to af- 
 fure you how much I was concern'd at it : and the 
 bufinefs of this Letter is to let you know, that 
 we ought at lead to avoid that troublefom com- 
 panion, Melancholy, at a time when it is not in 
 our power to relifli Joy. If there be any polite 
 Gentlemen where you are, their Converfation may 
 make fome amends for that which you have loft. 
 But if you find none there, Books and good Cheer 
 may help to fupply that defect, and afford you no 
 ordinary Confolation. I talk to you like a Matter 
 who is able to give LefTons -, not that I prefume 
 
 upon 
 
 1 Count d'Olonne, M. de Vineuil, the Abbe d" Effiat, and two 
 or tlane others, having talk'd pretty freely of the King, were 
 tani/h'd the Court in 1674. Count d'Olonne was fir ft confined 
 in the City of Orleans 5 but he had, afterwards^ leave to retire 
 to his feat of Montmirtl t near Villers-Cotrets*
 
 M. DE ST. E VREMOND, 95 
 
 upon the fuperiority of underftanding : but I fancy 
 I have fome right to affume an authority over per- 
 fons that are novices in Difgrace, by the long ex- 
 perience I have had of Misfortunes, and unlucky 
 Accidents. 
 
 Amongft the Books you are to chufe for your 
 entertainment in the Country, apply your felf prin- 
 cipally to thofe that ftrike in with your humour, 
 rather than thofe that pretend to fortify your mind 
 by Arguments and Reafonings. The latter engage 
 and combat the evil, which is always done at the 
 expence of the Perfon, in whom this conflict hap- 
 pens , the firft make it to be forgotten, and it is 
 no hard matter to make joy fucceed to obliterated 
 grief. 
 
 Morality is only proper to form methodically 
 a good Confcience ; and I have feen feveral 
 grave and compofed men come out of its fchool, 
 whofe aukward Prudence made them ridicu- 
 lous. Men of true honour and good breeding 
 need none of thefe Lectures ; for as they know 
 what's good purely by the exactnefs of their tafte, 
 fo they are difpofed to it by their own motion. 
 Not but that there are certain occafions, where its 
 affiftance is not to be rejected ; but where we 
 want its aid, we mould be glad to have none of thefe 
 occafions. 
 
 If you were reduc'd to the necefllty of having 
 your veins open'd, and bleeding to death, I would 
 allow you to read SEN EC A, and to imitate him : 
 tho I would rather chufe the indifference of PE- 
 T R o N i u s, than an affected forc'd conftancy, which 
 is not attain'd without great difficulty. 
 
 If you were of a humour to devote your felf 
 for your Country, I would advife you to read no- 
 thing but the Lives of thofe old Romans, who 
 courted a glorious Death for the good of their Na- 
 tion : but confidering your prefent circumftances,
 
 I think you lie under an obligation to live for yoiir 
 felf, and to fp'end the remainder of your Lire as 
 agreeably as you can. Now this being your cafe, 
 leave off all ftudy of Wifdom, which will neither 
 contribute to the leflening of your Troubles, nor 
 to the regaining of your Pleafures. You may feek 
 for conftancy in SE N EC A, but will find nothing in 
 him but feverity. PLUTARCH will be lefs trou- 
 blefom i however, he wiil make you grave and 
 ferious, rather than fedate. MONTAIGNE will 
 bring you acquainted with human Nature better 
 than any other ; but then 'tis human Nature with 
 all its weaknefles : a knowledge ufeful indeed in 
 Profperity to teach moderation ; but fad and af- 
 flicting in adverfe Fortune. 
 
 Let not the unhappy, therefore, learn from Books 
 to be difturb'd at our miferies, but to laugh at 
 our follies : for which reafon you will prefer the 
 reading of LUCIA N, PETRONIUS, and DON 
 QJJI XOT, be fore that of SE NEC A, PLUTARCH, 
 and MONTAIGNE. I recommend to you DON 
 QJTIXOT above all ; let your affliction be what 
 it will, the delicacy of his ridicule will infenfibly 
 make you relifh mirth. 
 
 You'll tell me, perhaps, that I was not of fa 
 gay a humour in my own Misfortunes, as I appear 
 to be in yours ; and that it is ill breeding in a 
 man to bellow all his concern upon his own Mis- 
 fortunes, and be indifferent to, nay< and even merry 
 with the Calamities of his Friends. I mould agree 
 with you in that, if I behaved my felf fo : but I 
 can honeftly affirm to you, that I am little lefs con- 
 cerned at your Exile than your felf ; and the little 
 mirth which I advife you to, is in order to have 
 a mare of it my felf, when I (hall find you capa- 
 ble of receiving it. 
 
 As for what relates to my own Misfortunes, if 
 I have formerly appear'd to you more afflicted un- 
 der
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. y 
 
 der them, than I feem to be at prefent, it is not 
 becaufe I was fo indeed. I was of opinion that 
 difgraces exacted from us the decorum of a me- 
 lancholy Air i and that this apparent Mortification 
 was a refpect due to the will of our Superiors, who 
 feldom bethink themfelves of puniming us, with- 
 out a defigri to afflict us. But then you are to 
 know, that under a fad out-fide and mortified coun- 
 tenance, I gave my felf all the fatisfaction I could 
 find in my felf -, and all the pleafure I could take 
 in the Converfation of my Friends. 
 
 After having found the vanity of that grave tem- 
 per we learn from Morality, I mould grow ridi- 
 culous my felfj if I continued fo ferious a dif- 
 courfe ; which makes me proceed to give you 
 fome Advice that mall be lefs troublefom than In- 
 ftructions. 
 
 Adapt, as much as poflibly you can, your palate 
 and appetite to your health ; 'tis a great fecret to 
 be able to reconcile the agreeable and neceflary 
 in two things, which have been almoft always op- 
 pofite. Yet after all, to arrive at this great myftery, 
 we want nothing but Sobriety and Nicenefs ; and 
 what ought not a man to do 4 that he may learn 
 to chufe thofe delicious dimes at his Meals, which 
 will keep both his Mind and Body in a good dif- 
 pofition all the remainder of the day ? A man 
 may be fober without being nice, but he can ne- 
 ver be nice without being fober. Happy is the 
 perfon that enjoys both thefe qualities together ! 
 for thus his Pleafure is even infeparable from his 
 Diet. 
 
 Spare ho coft to get Champagne Wines, tho you 
 were two hundred Leagues from Paris. Thofe of 
 Burgundy have loft all their credit with the men 
 of good tafte, and fcarce do they preferve a fmall 
 remainder of their old Reputation with the Citi- 
 zens. There is no Province that affords excellent 
 
 Vol. II. G Wines
 
 98 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Wines for all Seafons, but Champagne. It furnifkes 
 us with the Wines d'Ay, d'Avenet, and d'Auvile 
 till the Spring ; Tefiy, Sillery, and Verfenai, for 
 the reft of the year. 
 
 If you ask me which of all thefe Wines I pre- 
 fer, without being fway'd by the fafhion of Taftes, 
 which falfe pretenders to delicacy have introduced, 
 I will tell you, that the. Wine d'Ay is the moft 
 natural of all Wines, the moft wholefoirij the moft 
 free from all fmell of the foil, and of the moft 
 exquifite agreeablenefs, in regard of its Peach-tafte 
 which is peculiar to it, and is in my opinion, the chief 
 of all Taftes arid Flavours. LzoX. CHARLES V. 
 F R A N c i s I. and HENRY VIII. had each of them 
 their Houfes in or near Ay, in order to the more 
 curious getting their quantities of Wines. Amongft 
 the greateft affairs of the world, in which thofe 
 Princes were more or lels concern'd, it was not 
 the leaft of their cares to have the Wine d'Ay in 
 their Cellars. 
 
 Be not too defirous of Rarities, but be nice in 
 your choice of what may be had with convenience. 
 A good wholefom natural Soop, which is neither 
 too weak nor too ftrong, is to be preferred for 
 common Diet before all others, as well for the ex- 
 quifitenefs of its Tafte, as for the advantage of its 
 Ufe. Tender juicy Mutton, good fucking Veal, 
 white and curious barn-door Fowls, well fed, but 
 not cramm'd ; fat Quail taken in the Country ; 
 Pheafant, Patridge, and Rabbet, all which have an 
 agreeable natural favour in their Tafte, are the true 
 Meats which may help to furnifti your table all 
 the feafons of the year. The Wood-hen is parti- 
 cularly to be efteem'd for excellency, but is not 
 to be fought after where you or I are, by reafon 
 of its great rarity 
 
 If an indifpenfible neceffify obliges you to dine 
 with fome of your Neighbours, whom either their 
 
 money
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 99 
 
 money or their dexterity hath excufed from ferving 
 in the Rear-ban, commend the Hare, the Stag, the 
 Roe-buck, the Wild-boar, but eat none of them t 
 let even Ducks and Teal have your good word too. 
 Of all brown Meats the Snipe alone is to be com- 
 mended, in favour of its tafte, tho it is fomewhat 
 prejudicial to Health. 
 
 Look upon all mixtures, arid kitchin compofi- 
 tions, call'd Ragous, or Kick-maws, to be little 
 better than Poifon. If you eat but little of thenij 
 they will do you but little hurt ; if you eat a 
 great deal, it's impoffible but their Pepper, Vine*- 
 gar, and Onions muft ruin your tafte at laft, and 
 loon caufe an alteration in your Health. 
 
 Sauces, if you make them your felf as fimple 
 and plain as is poflible, can do no harm at all. 
 Salt and Orange are the mod general, and moft 
 natural Seafoning. Fine Herbs are wholefomer, 
 and have fomething in them more exquifite than 
 Spices j but they are not equally proper for every 
 thing. One muft ufe them with judgment in Meats 
 where they are moft agreeable j and diftribute them 
 With fo much difcretion, that they may improve the 
 proper tafte of the Meat, without making their 
 own difcern'd. 
 
 Having thus difcourfed to you of the quality of 
 Wines, and the properties of Meats, 'tis neceflary 
 to come to the moft proper counfel for the adapt- 
 ing of the Palate to the Body. 
 
 Let Nature incite you to eat and drink by a 
 fecret difpofition, which is lightly perceiv'd, and 
 doth not prefs you to it thro' neceffity. Without 
 appetite, the moft wholefom Food is capable of 
 hurting, and the moft agreeable of difgufting us. 
 With hunger, the neceffity of eating is a fort of 
 Evil which caufes another after the Meal is over, 
 by making us eat more than we mould. The Ap- 
 petite (vulgarly call'd a good Stomach] prepares, if 
 G z I
 
 too THE WORKS OF 
 
 I may fo fpeak, an exercife for our heat in the 
 digeftion : whereas greedinefs prepares labour and 
 pain for it. The way to keep us always in a good 
 temper, is to fuffer neither too much emptinefs, 
 nor too much repletion ; that fo Nature may ne- 
 ver be tempted to fill it felf greedily with what it 
 wants, nor impatient to difcharge its load. 
 
 This is all that my Experience has been able to 
 furnilh me with, in relation to Reading and good 
 Cheer. Before I conclude, I will add a word or 
 two concerning Love. 
 
 If you have a Miftrefs at Paris, forget her as foon 
 as ever you can ; for me will not fail to change, 
 and it is good to be beforehand with the unfaith- 
 ful. A Perfon amiable at Court, aims at being be- 
 lov'd there, and where me is loved, me loves at 
 laft. The Ladies that preferve a Paffion for abfent 
 perfons, raife but little in thofe that fee them -, 
 and the continuation of their Love to the abfent, 
 is lefs an honour to their Conftancy, than a fcandal 
 to their Beauty. Thus, Sir, whether your Miftrefs 
 loves another, or whether me loves you ftill, good 
 fenfe ought to make you leave her either as de- 
 ceitful or as contemned. Neverthelefs, in cafe 
 you forefee an end of your Difgrace, you ought 
 not to put an end to your Love ; a fhort ab- 
 fence excites Paflions, whereas a long one extin- 
 guimes them. 
 
 What way foever your mind turns, give not a 
 new weight to it by too much Serioufnefs. Dif- 
 grace is but too heavy of it felf. Praftife in your 
 Exile, what PETRONIUS did at his Death : A- 
 move res ferias quibus gravitas 6? conftantitz gloria 
 peti folet ; tibi^ ut illi, kvia carmina & faciles ver- 
 fus. 
 
 There are fome, whofe Misfortunes have ren- 
 
 der*d them devout by a certain Compaflion, a fe- 
 
 cret Pity, which a man is apt to entertain for him- 
 
 3 felf,
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. i^i 
 
 felf, proper enough to difpofe men to a more re- 
 ligious Life. MyDifgraces never gave me this 
 fort of compafiion. Nor has Nature made me fen- 
 fible enough of my own misfortunes. The lofs of 
 my Friends might be able to excite in me thofe 
 tender forrows and nice afflictions, out of which 
 Pevotion is form'd in procefs of rime. I would 
 not advife any one to refift that Devotion which 
 fprings from companion, nor that which gives us 
 an affurance. The one agreeably affects the Soul ; 
 the other fettles the Mind in a fweet repofe : but 
 all men, and particularly the unfortunate, ought 
 to defend themfelves with care from a fuperftitious 
 Devotion, which would mix its black melancholy 
 vapours with thofe of Difgrace. 
 
 OfAnttent and Modern 
 
 TRAGEDY. 
 
 never were fo many Rules to write 
 L a good Tragedy by ; and yet fo few good 
 ones are now made, that the Players are oblig*d 
 to revive and act all the old ones. I remember- 
 that the Abbe o'A u B i G N A c wrote one accord- 
 ing to the Laws he had imperioufly prefcrib'd for 
 the Stage *. This Piece haa no fuccefs : notwith- 
 ftanding which he boafted in all companies, that 
 he was the only French Writer who had exactly 
 follow'4 the precepts of ARISTOTLE: where- 
 G 3 upon, 
 
 1 Francis Hedelin, Allot d*Anbignac, pubtiflt'd in the year 
 1657, a Treatife intitled, La Pratique du Theatre, or the ? 
 life <?f the Stage,
 
 Yo2 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 upon the Prince of C o N D & faid wittily, / am ol- 
 lig'd to M. o'A u B i G N A c for having fo exaftly 
 follow* d A R i s T o T L E*S Rules ; but I will never 
 c orgive the Rules of ARISTOTLE, for having put 
 D'AUBIGNAC upon writing fo bad a Tra- 
 
 muft be acknowledg'd, that A R i s T o T L E'S 
 Art of Poetry is an excellent Work : but however, 
 there's nothing fo perfect in it, as to be the ftand- 
 ing rule of all Nations and all Ages. DESCAR- 
 TES and G AS s E N D i have found out truths, that 
 were unknown to ARISTOTLE. CORNEILLE 
 has difcover'd beauties for the Stage, of which A- 
 R i s T o T L E was ignorant : and as our Philofophers 
 have obferv'd errors in his Pbyficks, our Poets have 
 fpy'd out faults in his Poeticks^ at leaft with refpedt 
 to us ; confidering what great change all things 
 have undergone fince his time. 
 
 The Gods and Goddefies amongft the Antients 
 brought about every thing that was great and ex- 
 traordinary upon the Theatre, either by their Hatred 
 or their Friendfhip ; by their Revenge, or by their 
 Protection -, and among fo many fupernatural things, 
 nothing appear'd fabulous to the People, who be- 
 Jiev*d there pafs'd a familiar correfpondence between 
 Gods and Men. Their Gods, generally fpeaking, 
 acted by human Paflions: their men undertook 
 nothing without the Counfel of their Gods ; and 
 executed nothing without their Afljftarice. Thus 
 in this mixture of the Divinity and Humanity, 
 there was nothing which was not credible. 
 
 But all thefe wonders are downright Romance to 
 us, at this time of day. The Gods are wanting to 
 us, and we are wanting to the Gods ; and if, in 
 imitation of the Antients, an Author would intro- 
 duce Angels and Saints upon our Stage, the de- 
 vouter fort of people would be offended at it, and 
 look on him as a profane perfon 5 and the Liber- 
 tines
 
 M. DEST. EVREMOND. I0 > 
 
 tines wou'd certainly think him weak. Our Preachers 
 wou'd by no means fuffer a cpnfufion of the Pulpit 
 and Theatre ; or that the People mould go and learn 
 thole matters from the mouth of Comedians, which 
 themfelves deliver in their Churches, with autho- 
 rity to the whole People. 
 
 Befides this, it wou'd give too great an advan- 
 tage to the Libertines, who might ridicule in a 
 Comedy thofe very things which they receive at 
 Church, with a feeming fubmiflion ; either out of 
 refpect to the Place where they are deliver'd, or to 
 the Character of the Perfon that utters them. 
 
 But let us put the cafe, that our Doctors fhoiild 
 freely leave all holy matters to the liberty of the 
 Stage : let us likewife take it for granted, that men 
 of the leaft devotion would hear them with as great 
 an inclination to be edified, as Perfons of the pro- 
 foundcfl resignation ; yet certain it is, that the 
 foundeft Doctrines, the molt Chriftian A&ions, and 
 the moft ufcful Truths, wou'd produce a kind of 
 Tragedy that wou'd plcafc us die leaft of any thing 
 in the worjd. 
 
 The fpirit of our Religion is directly oppofite to 
 that of Tragedy. The humility and patience of our 
 Saints carry too direct an oppofition to thofe heroical 
 Virtues, that are fo neccflfary for theTheatre. What 
 zeal, what force is there which Heaven does not 
 beftow upon NEARCHUS and POLIEUCTES'? 
 and what is there wanting on the part of thefe 
 new Chriftians, to anfwer fully the end of thefe 
 happy gifts ? The pafiion and charms of a young 
 lovely Bride, make not the leaft impreflion upon 
 the mind of POLIEUCTES. The politick confide- 
 rations of F E L i x, as they lefs affect us, fo they 
 make a lefs impreflion. Infenfible both of Prayers 
 G 4 ancj 
 
 * See Ceraetile't POUEUCTIS.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 and Menaces, POLIEUCTES has a greater defire 
 to die for God, than other men have to live for 
 themfelves. Neverthelefs, this very fubjedt, which 
 wou'd make one of the fineft Sermons in the world, 
 wou'd have made a wretched Tragedy, if the con- 
 verfation of P A u L i N A and S E v E R u s, heightned 
 with other fentiments and other pafilons, had not 
 preferved that reputation to the Author, which the 
 Chriftian Virtues of our Martyrs had made him 
 lofe. 
 
 The Theatre lofes all its agreeablenefs when it 
 pretends to reprefent facred things -, and facred 
 things lofe a great deal of the religious opinion that 
 is due to them, by being reprefented upon the 
 Theatre. 
 
 To fay the truth, the Hiflories of the Old Tefta- 
 ment are infinitely better fuited to our Stage. 
 MOSES, SAMPSON, and JOSH UAH, wou'd meet 
 with much better fuccefs, than POLIEUCTES and 
 N E A R c H u s : for the wonders they wou*d work 
 there, wou'd be a fitter fubjecl: for the Theatre. 
 But I am apt to believe, that the Priefts wou'd not 
 fail to exclaim againft the Profanation of thefe fa- 
 cred Hiftories ; with which they fill their ordi- 
 nary Converfations, their Books, and their Ser- 
 mons : and to fpeak foberly upon the point, the 
 miraculous paflage thro* the Red-Sea ; the Sun ftopt 
 in his career by the Prayer ofJosnuAH; and 
 whole Armies defeated by SAMPSON with the 
 Jaw-bone of an Afs ; all thefe Miracles, I fay, wou'd 
 not be credited in a Play, becaufe we believe them 
 in the Bible ; but we mould be rather apt to 
 cjueftion them in the Bible, becaufe we mould be- 
 lieve nothing of them in a Play. 
 
 If what I have deliver'd is founded on good and 
 folid Reafons, we ought to content our felves with 
 things purely natural, but, at the fame time, fuch, 
 as are extraordinary ; and in our Heroes to chufe 
 
 the
 
 M. DE ST. EVREWO ND. 48 
 
 the principal Actions which we may believe pofli- 
 bie as human ; and which may caufe admiration 
 in us, as being rare and of an elevated character. 
 In a word, we mould have nothing but what is great, 
 yet ftill let it be human : in the human, we muft 
 carefully avoid mediocrity ; and fable, in that which 
 is great. 
 
 I am by no means willing to compare the Pbar- 
 falia to the jEneis * I know the juft difference of 
 their value : but as for what purely regards ele- 
 vation, POMPEY, CESAR, CAT o, CURIO, and 
 LABIENUS, have done more for L u c A N, than 
 JUPITER, MERCURY, JUNO, VENUS, and 
 all the train of the other Gods and Goddefles, have 
 done for Vi R G i L. 
 
 The ideas which L u c A N gives us of thefe great 
 men, are truly greater, and affect us more fenfibly 
 than thofe which Vi R G i L gives us of his Deities. 
 The latter has clothed his Gods with human infir- 
 mities, to adapt them to the capacity of Men : 
 the other has raifed his Heroes fo, as to bring 
 them into competition with the Gods themfelves : 
 
 Viftrix caufa Diis placuity fed yifta Catoni. 
 
 In V i R G i L, the Gods are not fo valuable as 
 the Heroes : in L u c A N, the Heroes equal the 
 Gods. 
 
 To give you my opinion freely, I believe that 
 the Tragedy of the Antients might have fuflferM 
 a happy lofs in the banimment of their Gods, their 
 Oracles, and Soothfayers. 
 
 For it proceeded from thefe Gods, thefe Oracles, 
 and thefe Diviners, that the Stage was fway'd by 
 a Spirit of Superfticion and Terror, capable of in- 
 fecting mankind with a thoufand errors, and over- 
 whelming them with more numerous mifchiefs. 
 And if we confider the ufual impreffions which 
 
 Tragedy
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Tragedy made at Athens in the minds of the Spec- 
 tators, we may fafely affirm, that PLATO was 
 more in the right, who prohibited the ufe of them, 
 than ARISTOTLE who recommended them : for 
 as their Tragedies wholly confifted in exceflive mo- 
 rions of Fear and Pity, was not this the direct 
 way to make the Theatre a School of Terror and 
 Pity, where People only learnt to be affrighted 
 at all dangers, and to abandon thernfelves to de- 
 ipair upon every misfortune. 
 
 It will be a hard matter to perfuade me, that a 
 foul accuftomed to be terrified for what regards 
 another, has ftrength enough to fupport the misfor- 
 tunes that concern it felf. This perhaps was the 
 reafon why the Athenians became fo fufceptible of 
 the jmprefiions of fear ; and that this fpirit of 
 terror, which the Theatre infpired into them with 
 fo much art, became at laft but too natural to their 
 Armies. 
 
 At Sparta and Rome, where only examples of 
 Valour and Conftancy were publickly fhewn, the 
 People were no lefs brave and refolute in Battle, 
 than they were unfhaken and conftant in the Ca- 
 lamities of the Republick. Ever fmce this art of 
 fearing and lamenting was fet up at Athens, all 
 thofe diforderly Paffions which they had as it were 
 imbibed at their publick reprefentations, got foot- 
 ing in their Camps, and attended them in their 
 
 Thus a fpirit of Superftition occafion'd the de- 
 feat of their Armies ; as a fpirit of Lamentation 
 made them fit down contented with bewailing 
 their great Misfortunes, when they ought to have 
 found out proper remedies for them. For how 
 was it poflible fpr them not to learn defpair in this 
 pitiful School of Commiferation ? The Perfons 
 they ufually reprefented upon it, were examples of
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 107 
 
 the greateft Mifery, and fubjects but of ordinary 
 Virtues. 
 
 So great was their defire to lament, that they 
 reprefented fewer virtues than misfortunes ; left a 
 Soul rais'd to die admiration of Heroes, fhould be 
 lefs inclin'd to pity the Diftrefled. And in order 
 to imprint thefe fentiments of Affliction the deeper 
 in their Spectators, they had always upon their 
 Theatre a Chorus of Virgins, or of old Men, who 
 furnifh'd them, upon every event, either with their 
 Terrors, or their Tears. 
 
 ARISTOTLE was fenfible enough what pre- 
 judice this might do the Athenians ; but he thought 
 he fufficiently prevented it by eftablifhing a certain 
 Purgation, which no one hitherto has underftood ; 
 and which, in my opinion, he himfelf never fully 
 comprehended. For, can any thing be fo ridicu- 
 lous, as to form a Science which will infallibly dif- 
 compofe our minds, only to fet up another, which 
 does not certainly pretend to cure us ? Or to raife 
 a perturbation in our Souls for no other end, than 
 to endeavour afterwards to calm it, by obliging 
 it to reflect upon the dejected condition it has 
 been in ? 
 
 Among a thoufand Perfons that are prefent at 
 the Theatre, perhaps there may be fix Philofophers 
 who are capable of recovering their former Tran- 
 quility, by the afiiftance of thefe prudent and ufe- 
 ful Meditations : but the multitude will fcarce make 
 any fuch judicious Reflections ; and we may be al- 
 moft affured, that what we fee conftantly repre- 
 fented on the Theatre, will not fail, at long run, to 
 produce in us a habit of thefe unhappy motions. 
 
 Our Theatrical Reprefentations are not fubject to 
 the fame inconveniencies, as thofe of the Antients 
 were , fince our fear never goes fo far as to raife 
 this fuperftitknis Terror, which produc'd fuch ill 
 effects upon Valour. Our Fear, generally fpeaking,
 
 To8 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 is nothing elfe but an agreeable Uneafinefs, which 
 confifts in the fufpenfion of our Minds ; 'tis a dear 
 concern, which our Soul has for thofe fubjects that 
 draw its affection to them. 
 
 We may almoft fay the fame of Pity, as 'tis ufed 
 on our Stage. We diveft it of all its weaknefs ; 
 and leave it all that we call charitable and human. 
 I love to fee the Misfortune of fome great unhappy 
 perfon. lamented ; I am content, with all my heart, 
 that he mould attract our Companion, nay, fome- 
 times command our Tears : but then I would have 
 thefe tender and generous Tears paid to his Misfor- 
 tunes and Virtues together ; and that this melan- 
 choly fentiment of Pity be accompanied with vigo- 
 rous Admiration, which mail ftir up in our Souls a 
 fort of an amorous defire to imitate him. 
 
 We were oblig'd to mingle fomewhat of Love 
 in the new Tragedy, the better to remove thofe 
 black Ideas which the antient Tragedy caufed in us 
 by Superftition and Terror. And in truth, there 
 is no Pafiion that more excites us to every thing 
 that is noble and generous, than a virtuous Love, 
 A man who may cowardly fuffer himfelf to be in- 
 fulted by a contemptible Enemy, will yet defend 
 what he loves, tho to the apparent hazard of his 
 Life, againft the attacks of the moft valiant. The 
 weakeft and moft fearful Creatures ; thofe Crea- 
 tures that are naturally inclin'd to fear and to run 
 away, will fiercely encounter what they dread moft, 
 to preferve the object of their Love. Love has a 
 certain heat which fupplies the defect of Courage 
 in thofe who want it moft ! But to confefs the 
 truth, our Authors have made as ill an ufe of this 
 noble Paflion, as the Antients did of their Fear and 
 Pity : for if we except eight or ten Plays, where 
 its impulfes have been managed to great advantage v 
 we have no Tragedies in which both Lovers and 
 Love are not equally injur'd, 
 
 We
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 109 
 
 We have an affected Tendernefs where we ought 
 to place the nobleft fentiments. We beftow a 
 foftnefs on what ought to be moft moving ; and 
 fometimes, when we mean plainly to exprefs the 
 graces of Nature, we fall into a vicious and mean 
 Simplicity. 
 
 We imagine we make Kings and Emperors per- 
 fect Lovers, but in truth we make ridiculous Princes 
 of them , and by the complaints and fighs which 
 we beftow upon them, where they ought neither 
 to complain nor figh, we reprefent them weak, 
 both as Lovers and as Princes. Our great Heroes 
 upon the Theatre, do often make love like Shep- 
 herds ; and thus the innocence of a fore of rural 
 Paflion, fupplies with them the place of Glory and 
 Valour. 
 
 If an Actrefs has the art to weep and bemoan 
 herfelf after a moving lively manner, we give her 1 
 our tears, at certain places which demand gravity ; 
 and becaufe me pleafes beft when me feems to be 
 affected, me mail put on grief all along, indiffe- 
 rently. 
 
 Sometimes we muft have a plain, unartificial, 
 fometimes a tender, and fometimes a melancholy 
 whining Love, without regarding where that Sim- 
 plicity, Tendernefs, or Grief is requifite : and the 
 reafon of it is plain ; for as we muft needs love 
 every where, we look for diverfity in the manners, 
 and feldom or never place it in the Paflions. 
 
 I am in good hopes we mail one day find out the 
 true ufe of this Paflion, which is now become too 
 common : that which ought to fweeten cruel or cala- 
 mitous accidents ; that which ought to affect our 
 very Souls, to animate our Courage, and raife our 
 Spirits, will not certainly be always made the Sub- 
 ject of a little affected Tendernefs, or of a weak 
 Simplicity. Whenever this happens, we need not 
 envy the Antiencs j and without paying too great a 
 
 refpect
 
 no THE WORKS OF 
 
 relpect to Antiquity, or being too much prejudiced 
 againft the prefent Age, we mall not let up the 
 Tragedies of SOPHOCLES and E u R i p i D B s, 
 as the only models for the Dramarick Compofitions 
 of our times. 
 
 However, I don't fay that thefe Tragedies want- 
 ed any thing that was necefTary to recommend them 
 to the palate of the Athenians : but mould a man 
 tranflate even the Oedipus, the beft performance of 
 all Antiquity, into French, with the fame fpirit 
 and force as we fee it in the original, I dare be 
 bold to affirm, that nothing in the world would 
 appear to us more cruel, more oppofhe to the true 
 fentiments which mankind ought to have. 
 
 Our Age has, at leaft, this advantage over theirs, 
 that we are allow'd the liberty to hate Vice and 
 love Virtue. As the Gods occafion'd the greateft 
 crimes on the Theatre of the Antients, thefe crimes 
 captivated the refpect of the Spectators ; and the 
 People durft not find fault with thofe things which 
 were really abominable. When they faw AGA- 
 MEMNON facrifice his own Daughter, and a 
 Daughter too that was fo tenderly belov'd by him, to 
 appeafe the indignation of the Gods, they only confi- 
 der'd this barbarous Sacrifice as a pious obedience, 
 and the higheft proof of a religious fubmiffion. 
 
 Now in that fuperftitious Age, if a man ftill pre- 
 ferv'd the common fentiments of Humanity, he 
 could not avoid murmuring at the cruelty of the 
 Gods, like an impious perfon ; and if he wou'd 
 fhow his Devotion to the Gods, he muft needs be 
 cruel and barbarous to his own Fellow-Creatures : 
 he muft, like AGAMEMNON, offer the greateft 
 violence both to Nature, and to his own Affection : 
 
 fantum Relligio potuit fuadere malorum, 
 
 fays LUCRETIUS, upon the account of this bar- 
 barous Sacrifice. 
 
 Now-
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 
 
 Now-a-days we fee men reprefented upon the 
 Theatre without the interpofition of the Gods ; and 
 this conduct is infinitely more ufeful both to the 
 Publick, and to private Perfons : for in our Tra- 
 gedies we neither introduce any Villain who is not 
 detefted, nor any Heroe, who does not caufe him- 
 felf to be admir'd. With us, few Crimes efcape 
 unpunifhed, and few Virtues go off unrewarded. 
 In fhort, by the good Examples we publickly re- 
 prefent on the Theatre, by the agreeable Senti- 
 ments of Love and Admiration, which are difcreetly 
 interwoven with a rectified Fear and Pity, we are 
 in a capacity of arriving to that perfection which 
 HORACE defires : 
 
 Omne tulit punftum, qui mifcuit utik dulci : 
 
 which can never be effected by the rules of the 
 Antient Tragedy. 
 
 I mail conclude with a new and daring Thought 
 of my own, and that is this : we ought in Tragedy, 
 before all things whatever, to look after a Great- 
 nefs of Soul well exprefs'd, which excites in us a 
 tender Admiration. By this fort of Admitation our 
 Minds are fenfibly ravifhed, our Courages elevated, 
 and our Souls deeply affected. 
 
 O N
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 O N T H E 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 O F 
 
 TRAGEDIES, 
 
 I Formerly defign'd to write a Tragedy ; but 
 what I found the hardeft matter of all, was, to 
 defend my felf from a fecret fuggeftion of Self- 
 love, which will not eafily fuffer a man to lay afide his 
 own Temper, to take up that of another. I remem- 
 ber that I drew my own Character, without ever de- 
 figning it ; and that the Heroe dwindled infenfibly 
 into the little merit of ST. EVREMOND ; where- 
 as ST. EVREMOND ought to have raifed himfelf 
 to the great virtues of his Heroe. It fell out with 
 my Paflions as it did with my Character ; for I ex- 
 prefs'd my own motions while I endeavour'd to ex- 
 prefs his. If I was amoroufly inclin'd, I turn'd 
 every thing upon Love i if I found my felf in- 
 clined to Pity, I was not wanting to provide 
 Misfortunes for it : I made the Actor fpeak 
 whatever I found within my own breaft at home ; 
 and, in fliort, reprefented my felf under the name 
 of another. Let us not quarrel with the Heroes 
 of our Tragedies, for being too liberal of their 
 Tears, which they mould only Ihed upon proper oc- 
 cafions > they are the Poet's own Tears, whofe na- 
 tural
 
 M. DE ST. EVREM6ND. ifj 
 
 tural temper being too compafiionate, he is not 
 able to refift their Tendernefs, which he has formed 
 within himfelf. If he cou'd content himfelf only 
 with entring into the fentiments of his Heroes, 
 we might expect that his Soul, which he only 
 lends to Grief for a few moments, might obferve 
 fome moderation : but when Authors take it to 
 themfelves, they exprefs in reality, what they ought 
 only to reprefent as probable. 'Tis a fecret to 
 know how to exprefs our felves juflly in what re- 
 lates to the Thoughts, but infinitely more in what 
 concerns the Pafiions : for it is more difficult for 
 the Soul to difengage it felf from Pafiions, than 
 for the Mind to divert its Thoughts. The Pafiions, 
 *tis true, ought to be lively, but never {train* d ; 
 for if it were left to the Spectators to chufe one 
 of two extremes, they would much fooner pitch 
 on the defect than the excefs. He that does not 
 carry on the Pafiions far enough, does not content 
 his Audience, and merits no applaufe -, but he that 
 pulhes them on too far, wounds the Imagination^ 
 and muft expect to be exploded for his pains. 
 The former gives us the pleafure to fupply his 
 defects by our own invention -, the latter gives us 
 the trouble to retrench his fuperfluilies, which is 
 always painful and tirefom. When the Heart, for 
 inftance, finds it felf touch'd fo much as it ought 
 to be, it endeavours to comfort it felf ; and as 
 of our own natures we return from our Pafiions to 
 our Judgment, we judge not very favourably of 
 Tendernefs and Tears. Thofe of the moft unfor- 
 tunate ought to be managed with great difcretion } 
 for the tendereft Spectator foon dries up his : cito 
 arefcit lacryma in aliena miferia * 
 
 Vol. II, H In 
 
 * Nihil eft tarn miferabile, quam et beato miTer. Et hoi 
 totum quidena moyeat, fi bona ex fortuna quis cadat ; & a quo-*
 
 ii4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 In truth, if we fee a perfon too long afflicted 
 upon the Theatre, we either laugh at his weak- 
 nefs, or the long pitying of a tedious Torment, 
 which renders the misfortunes of another our own, 
 offends Nature, which ought only to be touch'd. 
 Every time that I go to hear our moft moving Tra- 
 gedies, the Tears of the Actors draw forth mine 
 with a fecret pleafure, which I find in being mov'd : 
 but if the Affliction continues, I am uneafy, and 
 impatiently expect fome turn of the Scene to de- 
 liver me from thefe melancholy Imprefiions. I 
 have frequently feen it happen in thofe long dif- 
 courfes of Tendernefs, that towards the end, the 
 Author gives us another idea, than that of a Lover 
 whom he defigns to reprefent. This Lover fome- 
 times commences a Philofopher, and reafons grave- 
 ly in his Paflion, or by way of Lecture explains 
 to us, after what manner it is form'd. Sometimes 
 the Spectator, who at firft fuffer'd his Imagination 
 to range with the perfon reprefented, comes home 
 to himfelf, and finds that 'tis not the Hero, but 
 the Poet that fpeaks, who in doleful ftrain of 
 elegy, wou'd needs have us weep at fome feign'd 
 misfortune. 
 
 An Author miftakes, when he thinks to get my 
 gdod opinion at this rate : he provokes my Laugh- 
 ter, when he pretends to poflefs me with Pity. 
 But what is more ridiculous, even than this, is to 
 hear a man declaim eloquently on his misfortunes, 
 He that takes a great deal of pains in defcribing. 
 them, faves me the trouble of condoling with him; 
 'tis Nature that fuffers, and 'tis me that ought to 
 complain : me fometimes loves to fpeak her pri- 
 vate 
 
 rum caritate divellatur ; quaz amittat, aut amiferft in quibus 
 malts fit, futurufve fit exprimatur breviter. CITO ENIM A- 
 
 KSSCIT lACRYMA, PRASERTIMINAHENIS MALI*. 
 
 Cictr. Part. Orat. Se&. 17.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. il$! 
 
 vate thoughts, in order to gain relief by it ; but noc 
 to expatiate eloquently, to fhew her fine parts. 
 
 Neither have I any mighty opinion of the vio- 
 lence of that Paffion, which is ingenious to exprefs 
 it felf with great pomp and magnificence. The 
 Soul, when it is fenfibly touch'd, does not afford 
 the mind an opportunity to think intenfely ; much 
 lefs to ramble and divert it felf in the variety of 
 its conceptions. 'Tis upon this account that I can 
 hardly bear with O v i D'S luxuriant fancy. He is 
 witty in his Grief, and gives himfelf a world of 
 trouble to fhew his Wit, when we expect nothing 
 but natural thoughts from him. Vi R c i L de- 
 fervedly makes a juft imprefiion upon us, in which 
 we find nothing either languifhing or ftrain'd. As 
 he leaves us nothing more to defire in him ; fo 
 on the other hand, he has nothing that offends us 5 
 and for this reafon, our Souls behold with plea- 
 fure, that amiable proportion which fhines in all 
 parts of his Work. 
 
 For my part, I am aftonimed, that in our age, 
 when all Dramatick Pieces turn upon Love, we 
 Ihould be grofly ignorant of its nature and mo- 
 tions -, altho JLove acts differently according to the 
 diverfity of temper, yet we may reduce all the ef- 
 fects of fo general a Paflion, to three principal 
 heads, which are, to Love, to Burn, and to Lan- 
 guijh. 
 
 To Love, (imply confider'd, is the firft condition 
 of our Soul, when me moves by the impreflion of 
 fome agreeable Object, whereupon is form'd a fe- 
 cret complacency in the perfon that loves ; and 
 this complacency becomes at laft, a devoting one's 
 felf to the perfon that is loved. To Eurn^ is a 
 violent condition, fubject to Inquietudes, to Pains, 
 to Torments, fometimes to Troubles, to Tranl- 
 ports, to Defpair , in a word, to every thing thac 
 agitates us, and diilurbs our repofe. To Langui/h 
 Ha is
 
 \tt* THE WORKS OF 
 
 is the fineft movement of Love ; 'tis the delicate 
 effect of a pure Flame, which gently confumes us ; 
 'tis a dear and tender Malady, which makes us 
 hate all thoughts of a cure. We entertain it fe- 
 cretly in the bottom of our Hearts, and if it comes 
 to difcover it felf, our Eyes, our Silence, a Sigh 
 that efcapes us, a Tear that drops in fpite of us, 
 exprefs it infinitely better, than all the eloquence 
 of the mod elaborate Difcourfe. As for thofe 
 long converfations of Tendernefs, thofe Sighs we 
 hear incefTantly, and thofe Tears that are fhed every 
 moment, they may be afcrib'd to fome other caufe -, 
 for, in my opinon, they are not fo much the effects 
 of Love, as the folly of the Lover. I have a 
 greater refpect for that Pafiion than to load it with 
 any fcandal which does not belong to it. A few 
 Tears are fufficient for a Lover to exprefs his Love 
 by : when they are immoderate or unfeafonable, 
 they rather fhew his Infirmity than his Paflion. I 
 dare venture to fay, that a Lady who might have 
 fome compafllon for her Lover, when me fees 
 him difcreetly and refpeclfully expreffing the In- 
 quietudes me gives him, would laugh at him for 
 a chicken-hearted milk-fop, if he whin'd and fobb'd 
 eternally before her. 
 
 I have obferved, that CERVANTES always 
 efteems in his Cavaliers, a probable Merit, but he 
 never fails to lafh, in good earneft, their fabulous 
 Combats, and their ridiculous Penances. Upon this 
 laft confideration, he prefers DONGALAOR, ta 
 the honeft AMADIS DE GAULE, Porque tenia 
 inuy accommodada condition para todo ; que no era 
 Cavallero melindrofo, w tan Ikron comv fu her-' 
 mano '. 
 
 One 
 
 * Secaufe he was a man who wou'd difyenfe 'with any thing^ 
 neither 'was he fo finical, nor fetch a whining Lover as hit Ero* 
 thtr* C n Y A N T s la hit Don Quixot, Vol, I. Chaf. I i
 
 M. DEST. EVRE MO N D. 
 
 One great fault of Authors in their Tragedies, 
 is, that they employ one Pafilon for another : as 
 for inftance, they make it to be Grief, where it 
 ought only to be Tendernefs ; and on the contrary, 
 they introduce Defpair, when it fhould be Grief. 
 QJJ i N A u T, in his Tragedies, is frequently ten- 
 der, where he ought to grieve in good earned. 
 In the Titus of R A c i N E, you find Defpair, where 
 there is fcarce occafion for bare Grief. Hiftory 
 informs us, that Ti T u s, who was a cautious pru- 
 dent Prince, fent back BERENICE to Judea, that 
 he might not give the leaft offence to the people 
 of Rome i but the Poet makes a defperate Lover 
 of him, who is refolved to kill himlelf, rather than 
 confent to this feparation. 
 
 CORNEILLE is equally faulty in his Titus 9 . 
 He reprefents him as ready to leave Rome, and 
 throw up the Empire, to go and make love in Ju- 
 dea. In this he trefpafies directly againft Truth 
 and Probability, deftroying the character both of 
 the private Man and the Emperor, only to afcribe 
 every thing to a Pafllon that was extinguifh'd. In 
 fhort, he makes this Prince perfectly befotted on 
 BERENICE, whereas he parted from her either as 
 a wife Man, or a difgufted Lover. I own, in- 
 deed, that there are certain occafions, wherein good 
 Senfe, and even Reafon it felf, allows us Pafiion, 
 and in thofe cafes Paflion ought to carry it above 
 the Character. HORACE would have us repre- 
 lent ACHILLES active, cholerick, inexorable, one 
 that look'd upon himfelf fubject to no Laws, and 
 owning in his undertakings no other right but what 
 his Sword gave him 4 i but then we are to confi- 
 
 der, 
 
 3 In his Heroical Comedy, Entitled, TITUS AND BERB 
 MICE. 
 
 4 Aut famam fcquere, aut fibi convenienria fingc 
 Scriptor. Honoratum fi forte reponis AchiUcm i 
 
 H $
 
 578 THE WORKS OF 
 
 der, that he is only to be painted fo in his ordinary 
 temper. This is the Character which HOMER 
 gives him, when he contends for his fair Captive 
 with AGAMEMNON: neverthelefs, neither H o- 
 M E R nor HORACE would have us extinguiih all 
 humanity in ACHILLES; and EURIPIDES 
 was certainly in the wrong to give him fo little love 
 for I PHI GEN i A, juft upon the point when fhe 
 was going to be facrificed *. The Prieft feem'd 
 to be touch'd with Companion, and the Lover ap- 
 pear'd as it were infenfible. If he mews Anger, 
 it refults from his temper, not from his affection 
 for I p H i G E N i A. It will be granted me, on all 
 hands, that Humanity demanded Pity , that Na- 
 ture, and even good Manners requir'd Tendernefs ; 
 and all perfons of a true tafte will blame this Poet, 
 for laying too great a ftrefs upon the Character of 
 his Hero, when he ought to have made fome al- 
 lowances to Paflion. But when a Paflion is gene- 
 rally known, we ought to afcribe as little as we 
 can to the Character of the perfon. 
 
 For inftance, if you were to defcribe MARK 
 ANTHONY, after he had abandon'd himfelf to 
 his love, you ought not to paint him with thofe 
 mining qualities which nature beftow'd upon him. 
 ANTHONY befotted with CLEOPATRA, is not 
 ANTHONY the friend of C E s A R. Of a brave, 
 bold, active man, he is become a weak, effemi- 
 nate, lazy, whining wretch. Of a man who had 
 in no refpect been wanting, either to his Intereft, 
 or to his Party ; we find him wanting to himfelf, 
 and utterly undone by himfelf. 
 
 HORACE, 
 
 Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer, 
 
 Jura neget fibi data, nihil non arroget armis. 
 
 Hor. de Art. Poet. jr. 119122. 
 
 f This is one of Grotwfs Thoughts. 
 
 '
 
 M. D E ST. EVREMOND. up 
 
 Ho RACE, whom I mention'd a little above, 
 has laid down the Character of old Age, which he 
 advifes us carefully to obferve. If we have an Old 
 Man to reprefent, he would have us draw him heapr 
 ing up riches, yet denying himfelf the ufe of them, 
 cold, timorous, peevifli, melancholy, diffatisfied 
 with the prefent times, and a zealous admirer of 
 what he faw when he was a young fellow 6 . How- 
 ever, if we are to introduce an old man who is paf- 
 fionately in Love, we muft not give him either 
 coldnefs, or fear, or lazinefs, or melancholy : we 
 muft make him liberal inftead of covetous, and 
 complaifant inftead of morofe or furly : he muft 
 find fault with all the Beauties he has feen, and 
 only admire that which enflaves him at prefent i 
 he muft do every thing for his Miftrefs, and go- 
 vern himfelf by no other will but hers, as thinking 
 to obtain by his fubmiflion, whatever he lofes by 
 the difadvantage of his Age : 
 
 He thinks the low SubmiJJion by himjhown y 
 Will for his Age and Impotence atone 7 . 
 
 Such an one was in effecl:, and as fuch, has been 
 painted by CORNEILLE, the old and unfortu- 
 nate S Y p H A x. Before he was charm'd by S o- 
 p H o N i s B A, he held the Ballance between the 
 Carthaginians and the Romans : no fooner did he 
 become a Lover in his old days, but he loft his 
 H 4 Domi- 
 
 6 Multa fenem circumveniunt incommoda ; vel quod 
 Quacm, & inventis miter abftinet, ac timet uti ; 
 Vel quod res omnes timide, gelideque miniftrat, 
 Dilator, fpe longus, iners, avidufque futuri, 
 DifEcilis, querulus, laudator temporis afti 
 Se puero, cenfor, caib'gatorque rainorum. 
 
 Hor. de Art. Poet. $. 
 
 7 Corneille't SOPHONISBA.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Dominions, and himfelf together, for refigning 
 himfeif to a Woman's will. 
 
 When I ufe the word Paffion, 'tis Love I mean : 
 for all the other paffions ferve to form the Cha- 
 racter inftead of deftroying it. To be naturally 
 gay, melancholy, cholerick, and fearful, is to have 
 Humours, Qualities and Affections that compofe a 
 Character : to be very much in love, is to take up 
 a Pafiion which not only deftroys the qualities of 
 a Character, but likewife commands the motions 
 of other qualities, 'Tis certain, that they who tru- 
 ly love, are never hurried to any ocher pafiions, 
 but according as they humour and ftrike in with 
 their love. If they have any indignation againft a 
 Lover, love both provokes and pacifies them ; 
 they intend hatred, and can't ceafe loving , Love 
 excufes Ingratitude, and juftifies Infidelity. The ve- 
 ry torments of a true paflion are Pleafures ; we 
 feel the Pains of it only when it is paft, juft as af- 
 ter the Delirium of a Fever we feel the pain oc- 
 cafion'd by it. In loving well, we are never mife- 
 rable, but we think pur felves to be fo, when we 
 ceafe to love. 
 
 A beauteous Jhe^ with all her pow'r, 
 
 Can't make us wretched for an hour : 
 
 Vho we muft never hope for the poffej/ing, 
 
 Her charms are favours^ and her fighfs a 
 
 To
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O ND. 121 
 
 an Author who asKd my Opinion 
 of a flay, where the Heroine does 
 nothing hut lament her fe/f. 
 
 TH E Princels you make the Heroine of your 
 Play, would have pleas' d me well enough, 
 had you manag'd her Tears with more frugality : 
 but you make her died them fo prodigally, that 
 when the Audience come to themfelves, this pro- 
 fufion of Tears, cannot but make the perfon whom 
 you reprefent lefs affecting ; and thofe that behold 
 the Reprefentation lels fenfible. CORNEILLE 
 has had the misfortune, to difguft the generality of 
 his fpectators in his latter days ; becaufe he muft 
 needs difcover that w^ich is moft hidden in our 
 Hearts; that which is moft exquifite in the Paf- 
 fions ; and moft delicate in the Thoughts. After 
 he had, as it were, worn out the ordinary Pafllons 
 with which we are agitated, he was in hopes of 
 gaining a new reputation, if he touch'd our moft 
 conceal'd Tenderneffes, our niceft Jealoufies, and 
 our moft fecret Griefs : but this ftudied penetra- 
 tion, being too delicate for great Afiemblies, fb 
 precious and painful a difcovery has made him lofe 
 ibme efteem in the world, whereas it ought to have 
 procured him new applaufe. 
 
 'Tis certain, that no man underftood Nature bet- 
 ter than CORNEILLE : but he has defcribed it 
 differently, according to the different periods of his 
 life. When he was young, he contented himfelf 
 with defcribing its motions : when he was old, he 
 
 was
 
 (?2i T H E W O R K S OF 
 
 was for difcovering its moft fecret fprings. For- 
 merly, he afcrib'd every thing to the Sentiment ; 
 at prefent, Penetration does every thing with him r 
 now, he opens the Heart, and its moft conceal'd 
 recefles ; whereas he formerly reprefented it with 
 all its anxieties and agitations. Other Authors have 
 fucceeded better in complying with the prefent hu- 
 mour of the Age, which loves nothing but Grief 
 and Tendernefs upon the Theatre : but I am afraid 
 your Tragedy will contribute to rectify the depra- 
 ved palate of the Town, and that the Audience 
 will naufeate the infupportable excefs of a Paflion, 
 which has the good fortune at prefent to pleafe. 
 
 I own that nothing is fo moving, as the lively 
 reprefentation of a beautiful Perfon in diftrefs , 'tis 
 a new fort of a Charm, that unites every thing 
 that is tender within us, by impreffions of Love 
 and Pity mingled together. But if the fair Lady 
 continues to bewail her misfortunes too long, that 
 which at firft affected us, makes us fad ; and as 
 we are foon weary of comforting one who takes 
 a pleafure in whining and complaining, we leave 
 her as a troublefome creature, in the hands of old 
 Women and Relations, who know how to manage 
 one in this fad condition, by the received rules of 
 condoling. 
 
 A Writer who thorowly underflands the Paf- 
 fions, will never exhauft his flock of Grief, be- 
 caufe this profufion muft naturally create an indo- 
 lence in the Spectators, which will infallibly end in 
 a general diflike. The firft Tears are natural to the 
 Paflion which we exprefs , they have their fource 
 in the heart, and convey grief from an afflicted to 
 a tender heart. The latter are purely owing to 
 the Poet's wit ; Art has produced them, and there- 
 fore Nature will not own them. Affliction ought 
 to have fomething that is moving, and the end of 
 Affliction fomething that is animated, in order to 
 
 make
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 123 
 
 make a new imprefiion upon us. 'Tis likewife re- 
 quifite that it terminate by good Fortune, which 
 finifhes misfortunes by Joy, or by a great Vir- 
 tue, which draws our Admiration. Sometimes it 
 ends in Death, and from thence arifes in our fouls 
 a Comrniferation, proper and natural to Tragedy : 
 but this never ought to be after long Lamentations, 
 which gives us more difguft for the weaknefs of 
 the perfon reprefented, than compaffion for his mif- 
 fortunes. 
 
 I cannot endure to fee a dying Perfon upon the 
 Stage, who is more lamented by him that dies, than 
 by the Spectators that fee him die. I love great 
 Griefs, attended with few Complaints, but deep 
 Concern : I love a Defpair which does not wafte 
 it felf in words, but where Nature is overcome, 
 and finks under the violence of the Paffion. Long 
 tedious difcourfes rather fhew our defire of life, 
 than our refolutions to die ; to fpeak much upon 
 thefe occafions, is to languifh in Defpair, and to lofe 
 all the merit of one's grief: 
 
 Silvia, tu fe* morta, 
 
 and to fwoon away like A M i N T A ' ; 
 
 1 dorft weep, Madam, but I die * ; 
 
 and to expire like EURYDICE. 
 
 Our misfortunes are certainly alleviated by tears 
 and lamenting : and the greateft pain in the world, 
 when it begins to abate, increafes our defires of liv- 
 ing, in proportion as it lefiens. It falls out with our 
 reafoning, as it does with our tears : if we reafon 
 never fo little in our afflictions, reafon will rather 
 
 advife 
 
 1 AMIN T A of Taflo, Aft. III'. Scene II. 
 
 i 5 u R. N A, one of Corntilk's Tragedies, Alt. V. St. V.
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 advife us to bear them, than to die. Let us relieve 
 on the Theatre thofe Perfons whom we reprefent 
 lamenting and grieving fo excefiively : let us be- 
 ftow more Calamities than Tears and Jong Difcour- 
 fes, on thofe who we defign fhould die there. 
 
 A LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 THE COUNT DE LIONNE. 
 
 AS irkfom and heavy as my Difgraces are, yet 
 I find fome alleviation, when I find a per- 
 fon of fo much honour as your felf, who has the 
 tendernefs to pity them, and the generofity to en- 
 deavour to put an end to them. I am infinitely 
 oblig'd to Madam * * * for her kindnefs, and 
 to you for your zealous endeavours : but I mould 
 be glad that, for the future, no body would ftir 
 up Count DE LAUZUN to ferve me ; for I am 
 fure he'll do, of his own accord, all that (hall lie 
 in his power for me, without doing himfelf hurt -, 
 and I mould be very forry to draw upon him the 
 leaft mortification. He ought to entertain his Maf- 
 ter with nothing but what's agreeable, and hear no- 
 thing from him, but what brings him fome fatif- 
 faction. For, when a Mafter has once begun to re- 
 fufe, he eafily gets a habit of not granting what's 
 a(k*d of him. I have heard a great Courtier fay, 
 that a man ought very carefully to avoid the firft re-
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 12 j 
 
 pulfe , and I fiiould be very forry to have occa- 
 fion'd one, to a perfon I honour fo highly, as I do 
 Count LAUZ UN. 
 
 Not but that I lie under a fort of neceflity of 
 going to France, for two Months, unlefs I will re- 
 folve to lofe the little I have there, and all that 
 makes me fubfift in foreign Countries. There is, 
 as I take it, about forty thoufand Livres (till due to 
 me, of which I can get nothing : however, I fear 
 more than want the Relief of Nature, which 
 might put an end to the ill treatments I receive 
 from Fortune. I am tormented with devilifh Va- 
 pours ; but as foon as they are over, I am as merry 
 as ever. In one hour, all that is fad, and all that 
 is pleafant, prefents it felf, by turns, to my imagi- 
 nation : fo that I am more fenfibly affected with the 
 effects of Humour, than by the power of Reafon. 
 I mould eafily fall to moralizing ; which is the in- 
 clination of all the unfortunate, whofe imagination 
 is generally taken up either with melancholy, or, 
 at leaft, ferious thoughts. As I fear the ridicule 
 that attends Gravity, I (lop fhort, to tell you only, 
 Sir, that no man is more abfolutely yours, &c. 
 
 I befeech you, when occafion offers, to afllire 
 Madam * * * of my moil humble acknowledg- 
 ments, for all her kindneffes. 
 
 Since I had the honour to write to you laft, I 
 have pafs'd my tedious hours in trifles. I have 
 made fome Observations on our Hljlorians ; on tra- 
 gedy, and on the Spanijh, French, Italian^ and En- 
 glijh Comedy ; on Operas^ &c. But thefe were only- 
 particular Obfervations, without much Defign or 
 Regularity, tho grounded on the different Genius 
 of thofe refpective Nations. I have loll part of 
 them, and the reft is ftill in confufion : however, 
 fuch as it is, I mail tranfmit it to you. You will in- 
 finitely oblige me to fend me all that's new, provi- 
 ded it be curious, and fcarce, 
 
 A
 
 126 THE WORKS OF 
 
 A 
 
 -D I S C O U R S E 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 FRENCH HISTORIANS. 
 
 IT muft be acknowledg'd, that the greateft part 
 of our Hijlorians, are Men of an indifferent 
 merit ; and were it not for the natural defire of 
 knowing what has happen'd in one's own Country, 
 I can't imagine how any perfon, that has been con- 
 verfant in antient Hiftory, could ever bear the te- 
 dioufnefs of ours. 'Tis certainly very furprizing^ 
 that in a Monarchy, where there have been fo ma- 
 ny memorable Wars, and fo many fignal Revolu- 
 tions ; that amongft a People that wants neither 
 Courage to perform things, nor the Vanity to talk 
 of them, there fliould not rife up one Hiftorian, 
 who anfwers either the dignity of the Subject, of 
 our own inclination. 
 
 I was formerly of opinion, that we ought to 
 charge this defect on our Language j but when I 
 afterwards confider'd, that the beauty of the French, 
 in our Tranflations, almoft equall'd that of the 
 Greek and Latin, in the Originals, I cou'd not help 
 thinking with my felf, that the meannefs of our 
 Genius falls vaftly fhort of the Majefty of Hiftory. 
 Befides, altho .we had among us fome perfons of 
 an elevated mind and great Abilities, yet there are 
 i too
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. iij 
 
 too many things neceflary to the Compofition of 
 a juft Hiftory, to be met with in one and the fame 
 Perfon. We might find perhaps a Style pure and 
 elevated enough in fome of our Authors, who by 
 reafon of their living at a diftance from the Court 
 and Bufmefs, would run into general Maxims, and 
 Common-places, which relifh more of the Politicks 
 of Antiquity, than our own. On the other hand, 
 our Men of Bufmefs and Experience, are well ac- 
 quainted, 'tis true, with our Interefts ; but they lie 
 under the difadvantage of being ufed to an Epifto- 
 lary Style, which as it is proper for Negotiations, 
 fo it does not come up to the dignity of Hiftory. 
 'Tis likewife a ufual thing with them, to fpeak im- 
 properly of War; unlefs their fortune led them 
 formerly to a Camp, or they lived in the confidence 
 and familiarity of great men, who had the manage- 
 ment of military Affairs. This is a confiderable 
 defect in G R o T i u s, who after he has penetra- 
 ted into the mod fecret caufes of the War, the na- 
 ture of the Government of the Spaniards, and the 
 difpofition of the People of Flanders ; who, after 
 he has enter'd into the true Genius of Nations ; 
 form'd a juft Character of Societies, and principal 
 Perfons; has fo well explain'd the different ftate 
 of Religion ; and trac'd up things to Originals, 
 unknown to Cardinal BENTIVOGLIO, and 
 S T R A D A, cannot maintain the admiration which 
 he caufed in us, fo foon as he begins to open 
 the fcene of War ; fpeaks of the motions of Ar- 
 mies, defcribes Sieges, and relates Battles. 
 
 We have among us Perfons of Quality of an 
 extraordinary merit, who having pafs'd thro* great 
 Employments, by the help of good natural parts* 
 and fome acquir*d knowledge, are equally capable 
 of acting, and fpeaking well ; but, generally, they 
 either want a Genius, or have not the art of wri- 
 ting : befides that, being wholly taken up with the 
 
 Court,
 
 ii THE WORKS OF 
 
 Court, and the function of their Offices, they don't 
 endeavour to inftrucl: themfelves in the forms of 
 the Government, and orders of the Kingdom. They 
 would be apt to imagine, that they debafed them- 
 felves, and took the bufmeis of the Gentlemen of 
 the Long Robe upon them, againft the dignity of 
 their Profeflion, if they mould apply themfelves to 
 the knowledge of our principal Laws. Tho with- 
 out thefe lights, I am afiur'd it is in a manner im- 
 poflible to make a good Hiftory, filled as it ought 
 to be, with found and judicious Inftructions. 
 
 My Lord BACON often complains, that Hifto- 
 rians take pleafure in enlarging on foreign Affairs, 
 and feem purpofely to avoid thofe Statutes to which 
 the publick Tranquillity is awing, as if this would 
 make the Narration languifti : and that indulging 
 themfelves with pleafure in the recital of thofe 
 Calamities which war occafions, they don't, with- 
 out a fenfible diftafte, treat of the good Laws, 
 which eftablifh the happinefs of civil Society. His 
 complaints appear to me the better grounded, be- 
 caufe there is not one Hiftory among the Romans, 
 where we cannot difcover the infide of the Repub- 
 lick, by its Laws, as well as the outfide by its Con- 
 quefts. You find in LIVY, fometimes the re- 
 pealing of old Laws, and fometimes the fanftion 
 of new ones ; in him you fee every thing that de- 
 pends on Religion, and relates to Ceremonies. The 
 Confpiracy or CATILINE in S A L L u s T, is all 
 along fill'd with matters relating to the Conftitution 
 of the Republick ; and that ingenious and artful 
 fpeech of C E s A R, doth it not wholly run upon 
 the Portian Law ; upon the juft confiderations their 
 Anceftors had, to lay afide the ancient rigour in 
 the punifhment of Citizens ; and upon the dange- 
 rous confequences that would follow, if fo wife an 
 Ordinance mould be violated ? 
 
 r The
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 129 
 
 The fame CESAR, in his Commentaries, never 
 lofes any occafion, to fpeak of the Manners, Cuf- 
 toms, and Religion of the Gauls. TACITUS is, 
 perhaps, even to a fault, full of Accufations, De- 
 fences, Laws, and Judgments. QJJ INTUS C u R- 
 TIUS, in a Hiftory made rather to pleafe, than 
 to inftruct, puts the Laws of the Macedonians into 
 ALEXANDER'S mouth, to anfwer the reproaches 
 of HERMOLAUS, who had confpired againft his 
 life. This ALEXANDER, that feems to have 
 known no other law than his own will, while he 
 was conquering the World ; this very ALEXAN- 
 DER, doth not difdain to fupport himfelf by the 
 authority of the Laws, for having order'd a young 
 Boy to be whipt, even when he was mafter of the 
 Univerfe. 
 
 As there is no Nation but what defires to fecure 
 it felf from foreign violences, when it is weak, or 
 to render its condition more glorious by Conquefts, 
 when it is powerful ; as there is none, but ought 
 to fecure its repofe by the conftitution of a good 
 Government, and the tranquillity of Conference by 
 the impreffions of Religion: fo there is no Hit 
 torian but ought to be inftructed in all thefe dif- 
 ferent concerns, when he undertakes to write Hif- 
 tory *, but ought to (hew, what it is that renders 
 Men unhappy, to the end it may be avoided, or 
 what makes their happinefs, that it may be purfued. 
 Thus 'tis impofiible for a man to write a good 
 Hiftory of France, whatever Wars he is to defcribe, 
 without mewing the Conftitution of the Kingdom, 
 the Difference of Religion, and the Immunities of 
 the Gallican Church. 
 
 It would be ridiculous to undertake to write that 
 of England, without knowing the affairs of the 
 Parliament, and being well inftrufted in the diffe- 
 rent Religions of that Kingdom. No lefs abfurd 
 would it be to attempt that of Spain, without know- 
 
 Vol. H. I ing
 
 i 3 o THE WORKS OF 
 
 ing exactly the various forms of its Councils, and 
 the myftery of its Inquifition, as well as the fe- 
 cret of its foreign Interefts, and the motives and 
 fucceffes of its Wars. 
 
 But, in truth, thefe diverfities of Laws, Religion, 
 Politicks, and War, ought to be ingenioufly min- 
 gled, and very difcreetly managed : for a man that 
 wou'd often affect to fpeak of the Conftitution and 
 Laws of a State, would rather mew us the Legif- 
 lator, or Lawyer, than the Hiftorian. To treat 
 of every point of Religion with a nice curiofity, 
 would be making Lectures of Divinity ; and we 
 fhould fcarce be able to endure this in the Hiftory 
 of F R A PA o L o ', did we not know that his long 
 tirefome Controverfies between the Doctors, were 
 merely occafion'd by the neceflity of his fubject. 
 
 Altho the defcriptions of Wars feem to bear the 
 firfl place in Hiftory, yet a man would pafs for a 
 fort of a tedious Story-teller, to heap up accidents 
 upon accidents, without any variety of matter : in 
 fhort, he would manage a true fubject as aukward- 
 ly, as the contrivers of old Romances did their 
 feign'd Combats and fabulous Adventures. 
 
 The Latin Hiftorians knew how to blend admi- 
 rably well all thefe different parts of Knowledge I 
 have mention'd : for the Hiftory of the Romans 
 ought to bear fome refemblance with their Lives, 
 which were divided between the different functions 
 of feveral Profeffions. Indeed, there were hardly 
 any Perfons of eminence at Rome, but who palled 
 thro' the Dignities of the Priefthood -, were Mem- 
 bers of the Senate ; and call'd out from thence to 
 the -command of Armies. But now every Profef- 
 fion takes up a man entirely. The greateft Virtue 
 of the Clergy, is to apply themfelves wholly to 
 Ecclefiaftical affairs ; and thofe whofe Ambition hath 
 
 pufh'd 
 
 1 The Hljlory of the Council of Trent.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 131 
 
 pufh'd them to the management of fecular Bufmefs- 
 have met with a thoufand reproaches, for corrupt, 
 ing the fanctity of that life they were deftin'd to. 
 The Lawyers are ridicul'd fo foon as they ftep out 
 of their profeffion ; and a Soldier is, for the moft 
 part, alham'd, to know any thing beyond his bu- 
 finefs. 
 
 'Tis certain, however, that the di;7erent applica- 
 tions of the Ancients, formed a Capacity much 
 more extenfive ; the fame perfons underilanding 
 how to employ the forces of the Republick, and 
 to keep the People within their Duty, by the 
 awe of Religion, and the authority of the Laws. 
 It was a great advantage to the Magiftrates, that 
 they were mafters of the ftrongeft impreflions that 
 can be made upon our minds ; and that they had 
 the management of all thofe Sentiments, by which 
 we are difpos'd to docility, or conftrain'd to obe- 
 dience. Nor was it leis beneficial to their Gene- 
 rals, that they were inftructed in the fecrets of their 
 Religion, to enable them to infpire their own No- 
 tions, and make them to be receiv'd with the fame 
 refpect, as if they had been truly dictated by the 
 Gods ; to have the art of turning all things into 
 Prefages of good or ill fortune ; and to know fea- 
 fonably the critical time, when to fill the Soldiers 
 with confidence or fear. But befides this, there ac- 
 crued another advantage to the Republick ; which 
 was, that by this means the Magiftrates made them- 
 felves perfectly known : for it was impofiible, that 
 in thefe different functions, the true natural temper 
 of a man, tho it lay never fo deep, mould equally 
 conceal it felf thro'out , and that his good or ill 
 qualities mould not, at length, be difcern'd. In 
 men of a narrow genius, whom nature has reftrain- 
 ed to a certain talent, they difcover'd, that a loft 
 and peaceable temper, which is fit enough for reli- 
 I 2 gious
 
 i 3 2 THE WORKS OF 
 
 gious fervices, had not Ibmetimes conftancy enough 
 to maintain the Law with vigour. 
 
 Sometimes it was obferv'd, that a Senator was 
 proof againft Bribery in Law-trials, who had nei- 
 ther the activity nor vigilance of a good Comman- 
 der. Such a man was a great Warrior, as MA- 
 RIUS, who had no capacity for what related to 
 Religion and Bufmefs. To fpeak the truth, we 
 fometimes meet with an univerfal Capacity, and a 
 confummate Virtue amongft them, which render'd 
 fome men ufeful to the Publick, upon all occafions 
 whatever : but then there were alfo amongft them 
 men of lefs extenfive parts, who were only em- 
 ploy'd in thofe Affairs for which they were fit. 
 
 This was vifibly feen in the Confulfhip of C i c E- 
 RO, and AN TON i us, wherein the firft was or- 
 der'd to watch for the fafety of the Republick, 
 which was his proper talent j while the other was 
 fent to afiemble Troops, in conjunction with P E- 
 TREIUS, to fight CATILINE. 
 
 If we reflect upon what I have faid, we fhall not 
 be furpriz'd to find excellent Hiftorians amongft a 
 People, where thofe that writ Hiftory were moft 
 frequently very confiderable perfons, who wanted 
 neither Genius, nor the Art of writing well ; and 
 who poffeffed, in an equal meafure, a profound 
 knowledge of the Affairs of Religion, War, and 
 Men. 'Tis certain, the Antients had a great ad- 
 vantage over us, in knowing the genius of Men, 
 by the different trials thro* which they were obliged 
 to pafs, before they came to the adminiftration of 
 the Commonwealth ; neither were they wanting to 
 paint and defcribe them to the life ; for whoever 
 will examine their Characters, with a little curiofity 
 and flull, will difcover a particular ftudy in all this, 
 and an Art deeply laid. 
 
 In
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 
 
 In effect, you will find that they put together, as 
 it were, oppofite qualities, which a man would ne- 
 ver imagine, at firft fight, to find in one and the 
 fame perfon: animus audax, fubdolus. You fee them 
 make a difference in certain qualities, which appear 
 to be abfolutely the fame, and which one cannot 
 difcover without a great nicety of difcernment : 
 fubdolus^ varius, cujujlibet rei fimulator, ac dtjjimu- 
 lator \ 
 
 There is another diverfity in the Characters of 
 the Antients, more curious, and yet is lefs known 
 to us, viz. a certain difference, wherewith each 
 Vice, or Virtue is mark'd, by the particular impref- 
 fion it makes in the minds where it is. For exam- 
 ple, the Courage of ALCIBIADES hath fome- 
 thing fmgular in it, to diftinguifh it from that of 
 EPAMINONDAS, altho both of them defpis'd 
 death alike. The Integrity of C A T o, is different 
 from that of CATULUS; the Daringnefs of C A- 
 TILING, is not the fame with that of A N T H o- 
 NY; the Ambition of SYLLA, and that of CE- 
 SAR, have not a perfect refemblance : for which 
 reafon, when the Antients form the Characters of 
 their Great Men, they form at the fame time the 
 Character of the Qualities they afiign to them, 
 that they may appear not only ambitious and da- 
 ring, or moderate and prudent ; but that we may 
 know more particularly, what fort of Ambition 
 and Courage, or Moderation and Prudence they 
 had. 
 
 S A L L u s T * defcribes CATILINE asa perfon 
 of a wicked difpofition ; and the wickednefs of his 
 temper is immediately expreffed : fed ingenio malo^ 
 pravoque. The particular kind of his Ambition is 
 diftinguifli'd by the irregularity of his Morals ; and 
 I 3 that 
 
 * Stlluft in the Charafler of Catiline. 
 
 1 Stt the Obfcrv aligns on Salluft, and Tacitus, Vol. I. f 114,
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 that Irregularity is fliewn by the Character of his 
 Mind, whofe imaginations were too vaft, and too 
 high: vaftus animus immoderata^ incredibilia, nimis 
 alia femper cupiebat. He had a Temper wicked e- 
 nough to undertake any thing againft the Laws, 
 and too vaft a Soul to fix himfelf to dcfigns pro- 
 portion'd to the means, by which they ufe to fuc- 
 ceed. . 
 
 The bold Spirit of a voluptuous and lewd Wo- 
 man, fuch as SEMPRONIA was, might indeed 
 make one bdieve, that her Boldnefs would under- 
 take any thing, to carry on her Amours : but 
 as this fort of Darin gneis is not very proper for 
 dangers, to which one is expofed in a Confpiracy, 
 S A L i u s T prefently explains what me was capable 
 of doing, by telling us what me had done before : 
 qua mulia fizpe vtrilis audacia facmora commiferat. 
 Here is the Species of her Daringnefs exprefs'd. 
 He makes her dance and fing, not with the Fafhi- 
 ons, Geftures, and Motions, which the finging and 
 dancing Women at Rome ufed, but with more art 
 and curiofity than became a virtuous woman : pfal- 
 lere, faltare elegantius^ quam necejje eftproba. When 
 he afcribes Wit to her, he tells us at the fame time, 
 wherein the merit of it confided : veritm 9 ingenium 
 ejus band abfurdum ; pojfe ve rfus facer e, jocos movere, 
 termone uti, i)d modefto, vel molli^ vel procaci. 
 
 You will find by the Character of S y L L A, that 
 his Temper happily fuited with his Defigns. The 
 Republick, at that time, being divided into Facti- 
 ons, thofe that afpired to Power had no nearer con- 
 cern than to acquire friends ; and S Y L L A took no 
 greater pleafure than to get them. Liberality is 
 the bed way to gain Affection : and S y L L A knew 
 how to part with every thing. Amongft the things 
 we beflow, nothing enflaves men more, and fecures 
 fo much their Service to us, as the Money we give 
 them : and in this the Liberality of Sy LLA was parti- 
 2 cularJy
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 135 
 
 cularly feen : rerum omnium ,pecuni a maximcjargitor* 
 He was liberal in his own nature ; liberal of his mo-- 
 ney, out of intereft. His Leifure was voluptuous ; 
 but an Hiftorian had given us a wrong idea of this 
 great man, had he defcrib'd him with fenfuality 
 or lazinefs : this obliges SALLUST to reprefent 
 it as the Pleafure of a Gentleman, fubordinate to 
 glory, which never retards the difpatch of bufmefs ; 
 left we mould miftake it for a foftnefs, in which the 
 effeminate generally languifli : cupidus 'volu^tatum^ 
 gloria cupidtor\ otio luxuriofo effe, tamen ab negotiis 
 mnquam voluftas remorata. He was the happieft 
 man in the world, before the Civil War, but this 
 happinefs was not the pure effect of chance ; and 
 his Fortune, as great as it always was, ever came 
 fhort of his Induftry : atqiie illi, feliciffumo omnium 
 ante civilem viftoriam, minquam [uper induflriam for- 
 tuna fuif. 
 
 When TACITUS defcribes PETRONIUS to 
 us, he diftinguifhes the Qualities he beftows upon 
 him in the like manner : he makes him confume his 
 wealth, not like a profufe fpendthrift in Debau- 
 chery, but like a delicate perfon, in a polite and 
 refin'd Luxury. The Contempt of Death, which 
 he afcribesto him, hath nothing common with that, 
 which the other Romans had. It is not the fteddy 
 Gravity of THRASEAS, who read a Lecture to 
 the Meffenger, that brought to him the Death- 
 warrant : it is not the forc'd Conftancy of S E N E c A, 
 who is oblig'd to encourage himfelf, by the remem- 
 brance of his own Precepts and Difcourfes : it is not 
 that affected Bravery, upon which HELVIDIUS 
 valued himfelf : in fhort it is not a refolution groun- 
 ded upon the opinions of Philofophers , 'tis a foft 
 and carelefs Indifference, which left in his Soul no 
 I 4 room 
 
 4 Salluft's words are : multarum rerum ac maxumc pecuoiae 
 largitor,
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 room for the difmal thoughts of Death ; it is a con- 
 tinuation of the ordinary courfe of his Life to the laft 
 moment *. 
 
 But if the Ancients (hew'd fo great a nicenefs in 
 marking thefe Pifferences, they difcover no lefs 
 art in the Stile of their Characters, to oblige us to 
 fake the more notice of them. In their Narrations 
 they engage us to follow them by the jnfenfible 
 charms of an agreeable and natural tale. They 
 hurry us along in their Orations, by the vehemence 
 of their difcourfe, left if we continued calm and un- 
 moved, it might make us difcover what a want of 
 good Senfe there is, amidft all this Pomp of Elo- 
 quence i and afford us leifure fecretly to refolve 
 not to be perfuaded by it. Sometimes, at a Con- 
 fultation, they bring reafons upon reafons, to de- 
 termine the unrefolved to that Party they would 
 have them embrace : but in Characters where we 
 fliould difcern Vices and Virtues ; where we mould 
 fort the Differences which meet in one and the fame 
 man ; where we mould not only diftinguifh the dif- 
 ferent Qualities, but the Differences likewife by 
 which each Quality is chara&eriz'd ; we ought nop 
 to ufe a warm declamatory Style, nor urge argu- 
 ments one upon the neck of another, either to hur- 
 ry away, or captivate the underftanding. Qn the 
 contrary, we ought to ftand upon our guard, and 
 fecure pur felves from whatever appears to have a 
 delign upon pur Reafon ; which we muft preferve 
 free and unbyals'd : we ought likewife diligently to 
 fcan every word in an abrupt Style, when the words 
 will admit of a various conftruction, left we mould 
 Jofe our felves in too general Confiderations. In or- 
 der to that, the Reader i$ oblig'd to beftpw Jiis ut- 
 
 Set the Judgment upon 3eneca> Plutarch, and Petroniui,
 
 M.DE ST. EVREMOND. 137 
 
 riioft attention on the different fingularities, and to 
 examine feparately each feature in the Picture. 
 
 'Tis thus the Ancients form'd their Characters. 
 As for us, if we were to defcribe a Temper like 
 that of C A T i L i N E, we mould be at a lofs to 
 conceive in one and the fame Perfon, Qualities 
 which appear to be oppofite. So much Boldnefs, 
 with fo great Artifice , fo much Pride, and fo much 
 Policy , fo much fire and impetuofity in his defires, 
 joyn'd to fo much fraud and diflimulation. 
 
 There is a nice difference between Qualities, that 
 feem to be the fame, which 'tis difficult to difcover. 
 There is fometimes a mixture of Vice and Virtue in 
 one fingle Quality, which we never truly feparate. 
 It is eafy for us, indeed, to know Virtues, when 
 they are pure and entire ; and fo, for the moft part, 
 we allow prudence in councils ; quicknefs in exe- 
 cution , and valour in battels. And as for Morals, 
 we confine them to Piety towards God ; Integrity 
 with men, and fidelity to our friends, or to our 
 fuperiors. We make the fame ufe both of Defects 
 and Vices ; and fo we talk of incapacity in affairs ; 
 of bafencfs towards enemies ; of infidelity to friends; 
 of idlenefs, avarice, and ingratitude: but where 
 Nature hath not left great purity in Virtues, where 
 me has left fome mixture of Virtue amongft Vices, 
 we want fometimes penetration to difcover what lies 
 concealed ; fometimes a nice difcernment to difen- 
 tangle what is confus'd. 
 
 Thofe particular diftinctions, which varioufly de- 
 note the Qualities, according to the Men who pof- 
 fefs them, are yet more remote from our know- 
 ledge, The diverfity pf Vajour is unknown to us : 
 we have but one Courage for all the valiant , one 
 Ambition for all the ambitious ; one Honefty for 
 all good men , and, to fpeak truth, the character of 
 a Perfpn pf great defert, as we generally draw it, 
 may as well fit all the Men of merit now living.^
 
 138 THE WORKS OF 
 
 If we were to fpeak of thofc Dukes of Gu i s E, whofc 
 fame will be immortal, we fliould call them va- 
 liant, generous, liberal, ambitious, zealous for the 
 Catholick Religion, and profefs'd enemies of the 
 Proteftants : but as this would not fufficiently dif- 
 tinguim the Qualities of one from the other, their 
 Characters, confequently, would not be fo diftin- 
 guiftYd as they ought to be. Thofe Virtues, which 
 Morality and general Difcourfes reprefent to us as 
 the fame, aflume a different Air, by the difference 
 of the humour and genius of the perfons that pof- 
 fes them. 
 
 We judge right enough, that the Conftable *, 
 and the Admiral 7 , were capable of fuftaining the 
 moft important Affairs , but the difference of their 
 capacity is not fufficiently mark'd by our Authors. 
 They acquaint us that AND E LOT B , Bussi', and 
 G i v R Y I0 , were the ftouteft men in the world : 
 but they do not tell us that there was a factious ob- 
 ftinacy in A N D E L o T'S Daringnefs ; that there ap- 
 pear'd fomething vain and audacious in Bussi's 
 Bravery ; and that G i v R Y's Valour had ever the 
 air of Knight-Errantry. 
 
 There is fomething peculiar in men's Courages 
 that diftinguifhes them, as well as fome Angularity 
 in their minds, that makes a difference between 
 them. The Courage of the Marefchal D E C H A- 
 
 T ILLON 
 
 6 Anne de Montmorenci, Conftable of France. He died in tht 
 year 1567. 
 
 1 Gaffard de Coligni y Admlrul of Trance, murder* d at Pans in 
 the general Majfacre of the Proteftants, in 1572. 
 
 8 Francis de Coligny, Lord of Andelot. Brother to Admiral 
 Caligni. He died in 1569. 
 
 * Lewis d'dmboife,LordofBuffy> &c. He was ajfajjinated 
 By the Count of Monforeau, for an intrigue with his Wife, in 
 1580. 
 
 10 De Longvic t Lord of Givrj. He 'was killtd at the Siege tf 
 Laon in 1594.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 T i LLON n was a flow and lazy intrepedity : that 
 of the Marefchal DE LA MEILLERAYE" was 
 attended with a heat very proper to prefs a Siege, 
 and a paffion which diforder'd him in a pitch*d Bat- 
 tel. The Valour of the Marefchal D E R E N z A u IJ , 
 was admirable for great Aclions ; it could fave a 
 Province, it could preferve an Army : but one would 
 have thought, that it efteemed common Dangers 
 below it felf, to have beheld it fo remifs in little 
 and frequent occafions, where common fervice was 
 perform'd. That of the Marefchal DE GASSI ON 14 , 
 more lively and active, might have been ufeful at 
 all moments i there was not a day, wherein it gave 
 not to our troops fome advantage over the enemy. 
 'Tis true, it was not fo well compofed, when any 
 thing of great Importance lay at ftake. This Ma- 
 refchal, who had fo often ventur'd himfelf in falling 
 upon Parties ; who was fo brisk in charging the 
 Rear of an Army, fear'd an entire engagement, be- 
 ing wholly taken up with the thoughts of events, 
 when it was more necefiary to act, than to think. 
 
 Sometimes we afcribe every thing to Qualities, 
 without confidering what Humour mixes with them. 
 Sometimes we allow too much to Humour, and 
 don't fufficiently examine the depth of Qualities. 
 The thoughtful meditating temper of Monfieur D E 
 T u R E N N E, who was ftill forming and weighing 
 defigns in his head, made him pafs for timorous^ 
 irrefolute, and uncertain ; altho he gave battle with 
 
 as 
 
 " Gafpard de Coligni, Marefchal of France. He died in tht 
 year 1646. 
 
 '* Charles de la Porte, Duke of la Meilleraye, Marefchal of 
 France. He died in 1664. 
 
 13 3ojtas y Count of Rantzau, of the illttjirious Family of Rant- 
 zau in the Dutchy of Holftein > Marefchal of France. He died 
 
 in 
 1 
 
 . 
 
 4 John de Gaflion, Marefchal of France. He died in 1*47, of 
 a wound he received in the Siege of Lens.
 
 140 THE WORKS OF 
 
 as much alacrity, as Monfieur DEGASSION went 
 to a skirmifli. And the natural heat of the Prince 
 of C o N D E', made him be thought impetuous in 
 Battels ; tho he was matter of himfelf more than 
 any perfon whatever, in the heat of action; and 
 had more prefence of mind at Lens, Friburgh,Nort- 
 lingen, and Senef, than he would, perhaps, have 
 had in his Clofet. 
 
 After fo long a Difcourfe upon the Knowledge of 
 Men, I will affirm, that our Hiftorians have not 
 fufficiently fhewn their talent that way, for want of 
 application and judgment to know Men aright. They 
 imagin'd, that a faithful narration of Events was fuf- 
 ficient to inftrudb us, without confidering that affairs 
 are done by men who are oftner tranfported by Paf- 
 fion, than conducted by Policy. Prudence governs 
 the wife ; but there are but a few of that fort, and 
 the mod wife are not fo at all times : whereas Paf- 
 lion governs almoft all the world, and at moft times. 
 
 In Commonwealths, where the Maxims of true 
 Intereft ought to be better purfued, we fee moft 
 things carried on by a fpirit of Faction, and all Fac- 
 tions are pafiionate. Paffion is found every where, 
 and the zeal of the beft perfons is not free from it. 
 The Animofity of C A T o and CESAR; and the 
 Fury of CICERO againft ANTHONY, no lefs 
 contributed to the ruin of Liberty, than the ambi- 
 tion of thofe that fet up Tyranny. The oppofition 
 of two great men, equally, but differently, zealous 
 for the good of Holland, had like to have deftroy'd 
 it, when it had nothing to fear from the Spaniards. 
 Prince MAURICE would have it powerful abroad ; 
 BARNEVELT would have it free at home. The 
 firft put it into a condition to cope with a King of 
 Spain 5 the fecond endeavour'd to fecure it againft a 
 Prince of O R A N c E. It coft BARNEVELT his 
 life ; and what frequently enough happens, the ftick- 
 Jers for Liberty were deftroy'd even by the People,
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 141 
 
 I pafs from obfervations upon Hiftory, to reflecti- 
 ons upon Politicks : perhaps I may be pardon'd for 
 fo doing ; but let their reception be what it will, I 
 fhall fatisfy my felf. 
 
 In the firft eftablimment of a Republick, the love 
 of Liberty is the chief virtue of the citizens, and the 
 jealoufy which it infpires, makes up the principal 
 Policy of the State. As men grow weary of the 
 troubles, perplexities, and dangers, which they muft 
 undergo to live always independent, they follow 
 any ambitious man that pleafes them, and fall eafi- 
 ly from a troublefom Liberty, to an agreeable Sub- 
 jection. I remember what I have often faid in Hol- 
 land, and even to the Penfioner " himfelf, that men 
 were miftaken as to the temper of the Hollanders. 
 The world believes, that the Hollanders love Li- 
 berty ; whereas they only hate Opprefiion. There 
 are amongft them few proud, haughty fpirits ; and 
 'tis pride and haughtinefs that makes the true Repub- 
 lican. The People there would be apprehenfive ei- 
 ther of a covetous Prince, who fhould be able to 
 take away their eftates -, or of a violent Prince, who 
 fliould offer outrages to them : but the name or 
 title of Prince, is what they fubmit to with plea- 
 fure. If they love the Republick, 'tis for the bene- 
 fit of their Trade, more than for any fatisfadion 
 they find in being free. The Magiftrates love to 
 be independent, to govern thofe that depend on 
 them : as for the People, they would more eafily 
 acknowledge the authority of the Prince, than that 
 of the Magiftrates. 'Tis true, that when a Prince of 
 ORANGE had a defign to furprize Amfterdam, all 
 declared for the Burgomafters ; but that was rather 
 out of a hatred of Violence, than love of Liberty. 
 When another oppofed a Peace !', after a long ex- 
 
 penfive 
 
 l * Monfiettr dt Wit. 
 
 *' The PtAft of N'wttgHtn,
 
 I 4 i THE WORKS OF 
 
 penfive War, a Peace was made in fpite of him : 
 but it was done thro* a fenfe of the prefent 
 mifery, and the refpect they had naturally for 
 him, was only fufpended, not deftroyed. When 
 thefe extraordinary ftrokes were over, they re- 
 turn'd to the Prince of ORANGE. The Repub- 
 licans had the difiatisfaction to fee the People 
 take up their firft Affections, and they apprehenc|- 
 ed a defpotical Government, without daring to ap- 
 pear jealous of Liberty. 
 
 When the Prince of O R A N G E had neither poft 
 nor office in the Government, when he had 
 nothing but his own name to fupport him, the 
 Penfioner, and Monfieur DE NOORTWICK were 
 the only perfons, that durft boldly pronounce 
 the Word Republick at the Hague. The Fami- 
 ly of O R A N G E had other Enemies enough ; 
 but thefe enemies always fpoke of the States in 
 general expreflions, which did not explain the 
 Conftitution of Government. 
 
 Holland, fays G R o T i u s, is a Republick made 
 by chance, which is kept up by their fear of the 
 Spaniards : Refpublica cafu faffa, quam metus Hif- 
 fanorum continet. The apprehenfions which France 
 now gives them, produces the fame effect; and 
 the neceffity of a good Intelligence unites the 
 Prince to the States, and the States to the Prince. 
 But to judge of things by themfelves, the Hol- 
 landers are neither free, nor flaves. Their Go- 
 vernment is made up of leveral pieces, very (lightly 
 tack'd together ; where the power of the Prince, 
 and the liberty of the People, have equal need of 
 artificial props to fupport themfelves. 
 
 Let us now come to what concerns Courts, 
 and reflect upon the effects that Paffions occafion 
 there. 
 
 la
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 143 
 
 In what Court have not the Women had an In- 
 tereft, and in what Intrigues are they not con- 
 cern'd? Did not the Princefs of Eboly manage 
 all under PHILIP II; as prudent and politick 
 as he was ? Did not the Ladies take off H E N- 
 R y the Great ", from a War happily begun ; 
 and did they not engage him in one both un- 
 certain and dangerous, juft before he was kill'd ? 
 A pique between Cardinal RICHELIEU, and 
 the Duke of BUCKINGHAM, about the Super- 
 fcription of a Letter, arm'd England againft 
 France. Madam DE CHEVREUSE has play'd 
 a hundred Engines, both at home and abroad. 
 And did not the Countefs of CARLISLE, from the 
 inmoft receffes of Whitehall, animate all die 
 Fadions of Weftminfler " ? 
 
 'Tis a Confolation for us to find, that thofe 
 who have a Right to govern us, carry the 
 fame Infirmities about them as we do -, and 
 'tis a great Delight to thofe that are diftinguim- 
 cd by Power, to be made foi Pleafure as well 
 as we. 
 
 *? Henry IV. King of France. 
 
 ** Seetht Life of M. dc St. Evremond, undtrthe yt*r I 76. 
 
 RE-
 
 , 44 THE WORK S O F 
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 FREKCH TRANSLATORS. 
 
 THE performances of our Tranflators, are 
 generally efteem'd by all the world. Not 
 that our AB L A N c o u R T, is to be commended 
 for being critically faithful to his Original : but 
 we muft admire the agreeable force of his Ex- 
 preffion, in which we find nothing harm or obfcure. 
 You cannot fay there is one fmgle word wanting 
 in him, for the clearnefs of the fenfe. And on 
 the other hand, nothing is fuperfluous in him : : 
 nothing that is difguftful, nothing that can be par'd 
 off without maiming him. Every word is, as it 
 were, meafured, to make the Period exact, and 
 yet the Style does not appear lefs natural for it ; tho 
 a Syllable more or lefs, would ruin that harmony, 
 I know not how to defcribe, which is as agreeable 
 to the ear, as that of Verfe. But, in my opinion, 
 he is oblig'd for thefe advantages, to the ftyle of 
 the Antients, which rules his own.; for fo foon as 
 he returns from their Genius to his own, as in his 
 Prefaces and Letters, he lofes the bed part of all 
 thefe beauties : and he who is an admirable Au- 
 thor, whilft he is animated by the Spirit of the 
 Greeks and Latins, becomes but an indifferent 
 Writer, when he is only fupported by himfelf. The 
 fame happens to the greateft part of our Tranfla- 
 tors,
 
 M. DE ST. EVPvEMOND. 145 
 
 tors, who, in my opinion, feem'd fufficiently con- 
 vinc'd of their own Sterility, by making Tranfla- 
 tion their bufmefs : for certainly, a man that places 
 his merit in communicating the thoughts of others, 
 is not very confident of being capable to recom- 
 mend himfelf by his own : however, the publick 
 is infinitely obliged to him for the pains he takes, 
 to bring us the wealth of foreign Countries, when 
 our own won't fuffice. I am not of the humour of 
 a certain Perfon of Quality of my acquaintance, 
 who is a declared enemy to all Tranflations. fie 
 is a learned and ingenious Spaniard r , who cannot 
 endure that what he has learn'd among the Antients, 
 at fo great an expence of time and labour, mould 
 be proflituted to the lazinefs of every common 
 Reader. 
 
 As for me, befides that I improve in a thoufand 
 places, by the laborious enquiries of Tranflators, 
 I mould be glad to fee the knowledge of Antiquity 
 become more general ; and am well pleas'd to find 
 thofe Authors admir'd by thofe very perfbns who 
 would have call'd us Pedants, if we had mention'd 
 them in company, when they did not underftand 
 them. I therefore join my acknowledgment to that 
 of the Publick , but do not part with my efteem, 
 and can be very liberal of my prailes for the Tran- 
 flation, when I mall be very {paring of them for the 
 Genius of the Tranflator. I can fet a high value on 
 the Verfions of ABLANCOURT, VAUCELAS, 
 D u R Y E R, and many others, without having any 
 great efteem for their Wit, if they have not dif- 
 cover'd it by fomething of their own compofing. 
 
 We have the Verfions of two Latin Poems in 
 French Verfe, which deferve to be as much confi- 
 der'd for their beauty, as for the difficulty of the 
 
 Vol. IL K attempt. 
 
 1 Don Antonio de Cofdoua, Favourite of Don Juan t and 
 Lieutenant General of the tyantfh Horfe in
 
 i 4 5 THE WORKS OF 
 
 attempt. That of B RE B E u F has been generally 
 efteem'd ; and I am neither fo fplenetick, nor fo 
 fevere, as to oppofe the reputation it has got in the 
 world. I will obferve, neverthelefs, that he hath 
 carried the heat of L u c A N in our language, far- 
 ther than it goes in his own , and that by attempt- 
 ing to equal the fire of his Poem, he has, if I 
 may be allow'd the Expreffion, fired himfelf much 
 more. This is what happens to BREBEUF very 
 frequently, but he flags fometimes ; and when L u- 
 c A N happily hits on the true beauty of a thought, 
 the Tranflator falls much below him ; as if he had 
 a mind to appear eafy and natural, when he might 
 be allow'd to exert all his force. You may obferve 
 a hundred times the truth of my firft Obfervation ; 
 and the fecond will not appear lefs juft to you in 
 fome places : for example, when BREBEUF is to 
 render, 
 
 ViElrix caufa Deis placuit, fed viffa Catoni^ 
 
 He fays no more than, The Gods ferve CESAR, 
 and C A T o follows P o M P E Y : which mean Ex- 
 preflion does not anfwer the noblenefs of the La- 
 tin ; befides, that it maims the fenfe of the Author: 
 for L u c A N, who had his imagination full of the 
 Virtue of C A T o, intended to raife him above the 
 Gods, as to the merit of the caufe, which occa- 
 fion'd the oppofition ; and BREBEUF turns a no- 
 ble image of C A T o raifed above the Gods, into 
 that of C A T o fubjected to P o M P E Y. 
 
 As for S E G R A i s, he comes infinitely fhort of 
 VIRGIL, which he frankly acknowledges himfelf ; 
 and indeed it would be next to a miracle, to be 
 able to make a Tranflation equal to fo excellent an 
 Original. Befides, one of the greateft advantages 
 of that Poet, confifts in the beauty of the Expref- 
 fion, which fure it muft be impofiible to equal in 
 2 our
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 147 
 
 our language, fince it could never be done in his 
 own. S E o R A i s ought to content himfelf with 
 having found out the Genius of Vi R G i L, better 
 than any of our Authors ; for whatever Graces the 
 jEneis has loft in his hands, I dare affirm, that it 
 by far furpafies all thofe Poems, which our Coun- 
 trymen have publifhed with more confidence than 
 fuccels. 
 
 The great application of S E G R A i s, to find out 
 the Genius of the Poet, appears no lefs in his Pre- 
 face than in the Translation ; and in my opinion, 
 he has judg'd well of the whole, except the Cha- 
 racters. In that I cannot be of his opinion ; and 
 he muft pardon me, if I have been difpleas'd a 
 thousand times with his Hero, and if I lay hold 
 on this occafion, to examine the little merit of the 
 good JE N E A s. 
 
 Altho Conquerors ufually take more care to fee 
 their orders executed upon Earth, than religioufly 
 to obferve thofe of Heaven ; yet fince Italy was 
 promis'd to this Trojan by the Gods, 'tis with rea- 
 fon that Vi R G i L has given him a great fubmiflion 
 to their wills : but when he defcribes him fo devout, 
 he ought to have beftow'd upon him a Devotion 
 full of confidence, which may agree with the fpirit 
 and temper of Heroes ; and not a fcrupulous No- 
 tion of Religion, which never confifts with true 
 Valour. A General who firmly believ'd in his 
 Gods, ought to raife the greatnefs of his Courage, 
 by the hopes of their affiftance : his condition would 
 be unhappy, if his belief in them could not fubfift 
 without fuperftition, which at the fame time would 
 rob him of the natural ufe both of his underftand- 
 ing and his valour. Such an infatuation it was that 
 ruin'd NIC IAS, who loft the army of the Athe- 
 nians, and himfelf too, by a credulous and fuper- 
 ftitious opinion of the difpleafure of the Gods. It 
 fared otherwife with ALEXANDER the Great, 
 K 2 who
 
 148 T H WO R K S OF 
 
 who believ'd himfelf to be the Son of Ju p i T E R; 
 that he might undertake more extraordinary Ac* 
 tions. S c i p i o, who pretended, or thought he 
 had a commerce with the Gods, made an advan- 
 tage of it, to recover the Roman Commonwealth, 
 and overthrow that of the ^Carthaginians. Ought 
 then the Son of VENUS, afiured by JUPITER 
 of his profperity, and future glory, to mew his 
 Piety only in fearing danger, and in diftrufting 
 the fuccefs of every undertaking ? S E o R A i s up- 
 on this defends a caufe that perplexes him, and has 
 fo much affection for his Hero, that he rather chufes 
 not to exprefs the fenfe of Vi R G i L in all its lati- 
 tude, than frankly to lay open the mameful fears of 
 poor ./ENEAS: 
 
 Extemplb &ne<E folvuntur frigore membra. 
 Jngemit, & duplices tendens ad fydera p almas, 
 Talla voce refert : O terque quaterque beati^ 
 hteis ante ora patrum^ troje fub mcenibm altis 
 Contigit oppetere a / 
 
 I own, that thefe fudden qualms will (eize us 
 fometimes in fpite of our felves, thro' a defect in 
 our Conftitution : but fmce Vi R G i L had the li- 
 berty to model ^E N E A s's according to his own 
 fancy, I wonder he mould give him one fufceptible 
 of thefe frights. Philofophers take a pride in na- 
 tural defects, when they know how to correct them 
 by wifdom. SOCRATES was eafily induc'd to 
 confefs thofe evil inclinations, which Philofophy 
 taught him to conquer. But Nature ought to be 
 all noble in Heroes , and if by the neceflity of the 
 humane condition, it muft fometimes make a falfe 
 ftep, their Reafon is employ'd in moderating tranC- 
 ports, not in furmounting weaknefles : nay, many- 
 times, 
 
 * Virgil. JEneid. Iti* L jfr. ? 100.
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 149 
 
 times, their impulfes have fomething divine in them, 
 which is above Reafon. What is call'd Irregularity 
 in others, is in them but a full liberty, where their 
 fouls difplay themfelves in their utmoft extent. In 
 fine, their impetuofity makes that heroick Virtue, 
 which forces our admiration, without paying a defe- 
 rence to our judgment. But mean Paflions dif- 
 grace them : and if Friendfhip fometimes exacts 
 rears and afflictions from them, (like thofe of A- 
 c H i L L E s for PA T R o c L u s, and of A L E x A N- 
 D E R for H E P H E s T i o N) it is not allow'd them 
 in their own particular dangers and misfortunes, 
 either to mew the fame fear, or make the fame 
 complaints. Now JE N E A s knows how to fear 
 and lament upon every occafion that concerns him : 
 'tis true, he doth the fame for his friends ; but we 
 ought to attribute that, not fo much to a noble and 
 generous Pafiion, as to an inexhauftible fource of 
 apprehenfions and tears, which naturally furnilhes 
 him with them, both for himfelf and others. 
 
 Extemplb JEnece fohuntur frigore membra. 
 Ingemit, & duplices tendens ad fydera palmas. 
 
 Seized as he is with this Coldnefs thro* all his 
 members, the firft fign of life we difcover in him 
 is his groaning : then he lifts up his hands to hea- 
 ven ; and in all appearance would implore its fuc- 
 cour, if the condition wherein the good Hero finds 
 himfelf, would afford him ftrength enough to raife 
 his mind to the Gods, and pray with fome atten- 
 tion. His Soul, which could not apply it felf to 
 any thing, abandons it felf to lamentations; and 
 like thofe defolate Widows, who upon the very firft 
 trouble they meet with, wifli they were in the grave 
 with their dear Hufbands, the poor M N E A s be- 
 wails his not having perifh'd before Troy with 
 HECTOR, and efteems them very happy, who 
 K 3 left
 
 i 5 o THE WORKS OF 
 
 left their bones in the bofom of fo fweet, and fo 
 dear a Country. Some people, perhaps, may be- 
 lieve that he fays fo becaufe he envies their happi- 
 nefs ; but I am perfuaded, that 'tis for fear of the 
 danger that threatens him. 
 
 'Tis farther to be obferv'd, that all thefe lamen- 
 tations begin almoft as foon as the Storm. The 
 Winds blow fiercely, the Air is darkned, it thun- 
 ders, it lightens, the Billows fwell and grow more 
 furious : all this is neither better nor worfe than what 
 happens in all Tempefts. Yet there is neither Maft 
 fplit, nor Sails torn to pieces, nor Oars broken, nor 
 Rudder loft, nor Leak made, for the water to en- 
 ter the Ship ; which a man mould at leaft have 
 waited, before he took on in earneft. For there 
 are a thoufand Boys in England, and as many Wo- 
 men in Holland, who would hardly mew their 
 Amazement, where the Hero mews his Defpair. 
 
 'Tis, methinks, very remarkable in VIRGIL, 
 that the Gods mould leave /ENEAS wholly to him- 
 felf, when he is upon the lamenting ftrain. Let 
 him fpeak of the deftruction of Troy, in as compaf- 
 fionate terms as he can, they won't interfere to mo- 
 derate his Tears , but as foon as there's a great 
 Refolution to take, or an Affair difficult to execute, 
 they won't truft either his capacity, or his cou- 
 rage ; and thefe Deities are ready upon every occa- 
 fion to take that upon them, which other great 
 men are ufed to undertake and execute by them- 
 felves. I know very well how necefiary the inter- 
 vention of the Gods is to an Epick Poem ; but ftill 
 that does not hinder the Poet from laying a greater 
 ftrefs upon the Valour of his Hero : for if the He- 
 ro is too confident, who in contempt of the Gods, 
 will take all upon himfelf, certainly the God is too 
 favourable, who in performing all, quite drowns the 
 jfneritpfthe Hero. 
 
 Ifo
 
 M. DE ST. E VREMOND. 151 
 
 No man better underftood this critical manage- 
 ment of the afiiftance of Heaven, and the courage 
 of great Men, than LONGINUS. " AJAX, fays 
 " be, finding himfelf engaged in battle, in a ter- 
 *' rible dark night, doth not afk JUPITER to 
 * c refcue him from the danger he was in ; that had 
 " been below him : he doth not afk of him a fu- 
 " pernatural ftrength, to overcome with fecurity ; 
 " for then he ftiould have had too fmall a fhare in 
 " the Vi&ory : he only begs for Light 9 that he 
 " might be able to difcern his Enemies, and to ex- 
 ** ercife againft them his own valour : da lucem ut 
 " wdeam*." 
 
 The greateft fault of the Pharfalia, is, that pro- 
 perly fpeaking, 'tis nothing but a Hiftory in verfe, 
 where Uluftrious Men perform almoft all things by 
 methods purely human. PETRONIUS had rea- 
 fon to blame him for it, and remarks judicioufly, 
 that per ambages Deonimque minifteria &? fabuhfum 
 fententiarum tormentum pr&cipitandus eft liber fpiri- 
 tus, ut potius furentis animi vaticinatio appareat, quam 
 religiofes orationis fub teftibus fides. But the Mntis 
 is an eternal Fable where the Gods are introduced 
 to manage, and execute every thing. As for the 
 good JE N E A s, he hardly concerns himfelf in any 
 important and glorious Defign : 'tis enough for 
 him, that he difcharges his Confcience in the offices 
 of a pious, tender, and compaflionate man. He 
 carries his Father on his moulders ; he conjugally 
 laments his dear C R E u s A ; he caufes his Nurfe 
 to be interred, and makes a funeral Pile for the 
 trufty Pilot PALINURUS, for whom he fheds a 
 thoufand tears. 
 
 Here was a forry Hero in Paganifm, who would 
 
 have made an admirable Saint among Chriftians, 
 
 and work'd miracles plentifully. In fhort, he was 
 
 K 4 fitter 
 
 I LongtntK in bis Treaty of the Sublime, Ch*}. 9.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 fitter to make the Founder of a religious Order, 
 than a State. To confider him now as to his Religion, 
 I can heartily reverence his Piety : but if I were to 
 judge of him by the impreffions that Glory makes 
 upon him, I can never endure fuch a Conqueror, 
 that affords nothing but Tears in his misfortunes, 
 and Fears in every danger that befals him. I can- 
 not endure that he mould become mafter of fo de- 
 licious a Country as Italy, with qualities that were 
 more proper to lofe his own, than to fubdue ano- 
 ther's. 
 
 VIRGIL, was undoubtedly very compaffionate 
 in his temper. In my opinion, the reafon why he 
 makes the defolate Trojans complain of fo many 
 misfortunes, was becaufe he found a fecret pleafure 
 in relenting. Had he not been of that Conftitu- 
 tion, he would not have afcrib'd to the good JE N E- 
 A s fo great an affection for his dear Troy -, for 
 Heroes eafily part with the remembrance of their 
 native Country, in Nations where they are to per- 
 form great exploits. Their Souls, wholly taken up 
 with ideas of Glory, have no room to entertain 
 fuch trifling endearments. The Trojans therefore 
 mould have been lefs afflicted for their mifery. 
 Military men, when they would excite our pity for 
 their misfortunes, do, in truth, make us only de- 
 fpife them for their weaknefs. But JE N E A s par- 
 ticularly ought to have been taken up with his great 
 Defign ; and to have diverted his thoughts from his 
 paft fufferings, upon the new fettlement he was go- 
 ing to make : he, that was decreed to found the 
 Greatnefs and Virtue of the Romans, ought to have 
 had an elevation and magnanimity worthy of them. 
 
 In other things, S E o R A i s could not bellow 
 too many commendations upon the &neh\ and 
 perhaps, I am pleas'd with the fourth and fixth 
 Books, as much as he is himfelf. As for the Cha- 
 racters, I muft own they don't affect me : and I 
 
 find
 
 M.DE ST. EVREMOND. 153 
 
 find thofe of H o M E R as lively, as thofe of Vi R- 
 c i L flat and infipid. 
 
 And indeed, there's no man but finds himfelf 
 elevated by the imprefiion the Character of ACHIL- 
 LES makes upon him. There's no man to whom 
 the impetuous Courage of A j A x doth not give 
 fome motion of impatience ; neither is there any 
 who is not animated, and excited t>y the Valour or" 
 D i o M E D E s. The Rank and Gravity of AGA- 
 MEMNON, muft certainly imprint a refpect in every 
 Reader. Who hath not a veneration for the con- 
 fummate Experience and Wifdom of N E s T o R ? 
 In whom does not the deliberate Induftry of the 
 fubtle and ingenious ULYSSES raife the imagina- 
 tion ? The unfortunate Valour of H E c T o R makes 
 him lamented by all the world : the miferable con- 
 dition of old King P R i A M u s, touches the moft 
 obdurate foul ; and altho Beauty has, as it were, 
 a fecret privilege to reconcile the Affections to it> 
 yet that of PA R i s and HELENA attracts nothing 
 but our indignation, when we confider the blood it 
 caus'd to be fpilt, and the fatal misfortunes it drew 
 after it. However it be, every thing animates in 
 HOMER, every thing affects: but in VIRGIL* 
 who is not tired with the good /E N E A s, and his 
 dear ACHATES? If you except N i s u s and 
 EURYALUS, (who, indeed, interefs you in all 
 their adventures) you muft of neceflity languifh in 
 the company of all the reft, fuch as I L i o N E u s, 
 SERGESTUS, MNESTEUS, CLOANTES, Gi- 
 A s, and fuch other ordinary men that accompany 
 an indifferent Leader. 
 
 Judge by this, how much we ought to admire 
 the Poetry of V i u G I L, fince in fpite of the fuper- 
 lative virtues of the Heroes of H o M E R, and the 
 little merit of his own, the beft Criticks will noc 
 allow the Latin, to be inferior the Greek Poet. 
 I 
 
 UPON
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 UPON 
 
 TRAGEDIES 
 
 TT Confefs we excel in Dramatical Compofitions ; 
 J^ and, without flattering CORNEILLE,! think 
 I may prefer many of his Tragedies before thofe 
 of Antiquity. I know the antient Tragedians have 
 had admirers in all times ; but am not fo fure that 
 the Sublime which is afcrib'd to them, is built up- 
 on a good foundation. To believe that SOPHO- 
 CLES and EURIPIDES are fo admirable as we 
 are told they are, one tnuft fancy greater matters of 
 their Works, than can be conceived from their 
 Tranflations ; and in my opinion, Language and 
 Expreflion, muft have a confiderable {hare in the 
 beauty of their Tragedies. 
 
 Thro' all the praifes which their moft zealous 
 and celebrated Advocates give them, methinks one 
 may perceive, that Greatnefs, Magnificence, and 
 above all, Dignity, were things they little un- 
 derftood : Wits they were indeed, but cramp'd by 
 the frugality of a fmall Republick, where a neceffi- 
 tous Liberty was all they had to boaft of. When 
 they were oblig'd to reprefent the Majefty of a great 
 King, they made horrid work with a Grandeur that 
 was unknown to them ; becaufe they faw nothing 
 but low and mean objects, to which their fenfes 
 were in a manner enflaved, 
 
 It
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 155 
 
 It is true, that their Poets being difgufted with thefe 
 Objects, did fometimes raife themfelves to whac 
 was fublime and wonderful , but then they brought 
 fo many Gods and Goddefles into their Tragedies, 
 that hardly any thing human was to be found in 
 them. What was great, was fabulous ; what was na- 
 tural, mean and contemptible. In CORNEILLE, 
 Grandeur feems to have attain'd the laft perfection. 
 The Figures he employs, when he would embellilh 
 it with any ornament, are proper and fuitable : but, 
 for the moft part, he neglects the pomp of Meta- 
 phors, and does not plunder the Heavens to enrich 
 with its fpoils, what is confiderable enough upon 
 earth. His principal aim is to penetrate into the 
 nature of things , and the full image he gives of 
 them, makes that impreflion which pleafes men of 
 fenfe. 
 
 Indeed, Nature is to be admir*d wherever we 
 find it ; and when we have recourfe to figurative 
 Ornaments, with which we think to embellilh our 
 fubject, 'tis many times a tacit confeflion, that we 
 know not what is proper for it. To this are owing 
 moft of our Figures and Similes, which I cannot 
 approve, unlefs they are rare, altogether noble, and 
 juft : otherwife 'tis nothing elfe but a trick in the 
 Author to drop a fubject, which he does not un- 
 derftand. How beautiful foever Comparifons may 
 be, yet they fute much better with Eptck Poetry, 
 than Tragedy : in an Epick Poem the mind feeks 
 to pleafe it felf out of its fubjecl: , in Tragedy, the 
 foul full of fentiments, and pofTefs'd with paflions, 
 does not care to be interrupted by vain flamy Si* 
 miles. 
 
 But let us return to the Antients, from whom 
 we have infenfibly digrefs'd ; and to do them juf- 
 tice, let us acknowledge that they have much better 
 fucceeded in exprefling the Qualities of their He- 
 rpes, than in defcribing the magnificence of great 
 
 Kings.
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 Kings. A confufed Notion of the Grandeur of Ba- 
 bylon fpoil'd, rather than rais'd their imagination ; 
 but they could not be impofed upon as to Forti- 
 tude, Conftancy, Juftice, and Wifdom, of which 
 they had daily inttances before their eyes. Their 
 fenfes being wean'd from Pomp in a mean Repub- 
 Jick, gave their reafon a greater latitude to confider 
 Men in themfelves. 
 
 Thus nothing took them off from the ftudy of 
 human Nature, and from applying themfelves to 
 the knowledge of Vice and Virtue, Inclinations and 
 Tempers : hence it is that they learnt to paint their 
 Characters fo well, that jufter cannot be defir'd, 
 confidering the time they liv'd in, if we will be con- 
 tented to know Perfons by their Actions. 
 
 CORNEILLE thought it not enough to make 
 them act : he has dived to the very bottom of 
 their foul, to find out the Principle of their actions ; 
 he hath defcended into their heart, to fee how their 
 Paflions are form'd there, and difcover the moft 
 hidden fprings of their motions. As for the antient 
 Tragedians, either they neglect the Paflions by ap- 
 plying themfelves to an exact reprefentation of the 
 Incidents ; or elfe they make Speeches amidfl the 
 greateft perturbations, and amufe you with moral 
 Sentences, when you expect nothing but Confuiion 
 and Defpair from them. 
 
 CORNEILLE takes notice of the principal E- 
 vents, and expofes as much of the Action as decen- 
 cy can allow : but this is not all ; he gives the Paf- 
 fions all the extent they require, and leads Na- 
 ture, without conftraining or abandoning her too 
 much to her felf. He has banifh'd from the Thea- 
 tre of the Antients all that was barbarous ; he hath 
 foften'd the Horror of their Drama, by fome ten- 
 der paflions of Love judicioufly interwoven. BuC 
 then he takes care all along to preferve our Fear 
 and Pity for the tragical fubjects that deferve them, 
 
 without
 
 M. D E S T. E V R^E M O 1STD. 157 
 
 without diverting us from real Pafiions, to whining 
 tirefome Scenes of Love i which tho varied an hun- 
 dred feveral times, are, for all that, dill the fame* 
 
 As ready as I am to acknowledge the merit of 
 this excellent Author, yet I will not pretend that 
 none but his Pieces deferve applaufe on our Thea- 
 tre. We have been pleafed and affected with Ma- 
 riana^ Sophonisba^ Alcionea, Venceflaus^ Stilico^ An* 
 dromache, Britannicus ', and many others ; from 
 whofe beauty I would not be thought in the leaft to 
 derogate, becaufe I do not name them, 
 
 I avoid being tedious as much as pofiibly I can 
 and will only add, that no Nation can difpute with 
 us the fuperiority in Tragedy. As for thofe of the 
 Italians, it is not worth the while to fpeak of 
 them ; to name them only is enough to create a 
 Diftafte. Their Peter's Feaft * would make a 
 Stoick lofe all his patience *, and I never faw it 
 acted, but I wifli'd the Author of the Piece had 
 been deftroy'd with his Libertine. 
 
 There are fome old Englifh Tragedies f , which, 
 if fome things were retrench'd in them, might be 
 made admirable Plays. In all the reft, written in 
 thofe days, you fee nothing but a fhapelefs indi- 
 gefted mafs ; a croud of confufed adventures, with- 
 out any regard to Time, Place, or Decency ; where 
 Eyes that delight in cruel fights, are fed with Mur- 
 ders, and Bodies weltering in Blood. Should the 
 Poets palliate the horror of them by relations, as 
 it is the cuftom in France, they would deprive the 
 Spectators of that fight which pleafes them moft. 
 
 The men of better breeding among them con- 
 demn this cuftom, which perhaps owes its efta- 
 
 bliihment 
 
 1 Trifian it the Author of Mariana j Malrtt of Sophonisba ; 
 Du Ryer of Alcionca } Rot ran of Wenceflaus j Corneille Junior of 
 Stilico j Racine of Andromache and Britannicus. 
 
 * CaWd in Engltfli, The Libertine Deftroy'd. 
 
 } Such as the Catilina and the Sejanus of Etn. ^ehnfon, c.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 blilhment to fomething inhuman and favage ; but 
 an ancient habit, or the humour of the Nation in 
 general, prevails over the delicacy of a few pri- 
 vate perfons. To die, is fo fmall a matter to the 
 Englifh, that they want images more ghaftly than 
 Death it felf to affect them. Hence it is, that 
 upon very good ground, we' object to them, that 
 they allow too much to their fenfes upon the Stage. 
 We muft alfo bear with the reproach they return 
 upon us, of pafling to the other extreme, when, 
 amongft us, we admire Tragedies for the little 
 tendernefles of Paflion, which make not an impref- 
 fion ftrong enough upon the Mind. For this rea- 
 fon, being fometimes difiatisfy'd with a Paflion ill 
 managed, we expect a fuller emotion from the Ac- 
 tion of our Players -, and fometimes we would have 
 the Actor, more tranfported than the Poet, lend 
 fury and defpair to an ordinary agitation, and a 
 common grief. The truth is, what ought to be 
 tender, is, with us, generally but foft ; what ought 
 to form pity, fcarce amounts to Tendernefs ; emo- 
 tion ferves us inftead of rapture ; aftonifhment 
 inftead of horror. Our fentiments have not depth 
 enough -, and Paflions, when they are not thorowly 
 work'd up, only excite imperfect motions in our 
 fouls, that neither leave them wholly to, nor tranf- 
 port them out of themfelves. 
 
 UPON
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 UPON OUR 
 
 COMEDIES, 
 
 Except thofe of MoKere, in which 
 the true fpir'it of Comedy is found : 
 and upon the SPANISH Co- 
 M E D y. 
 
 AS for Comedy, which ought to be the Re- 
 prefentation of human Life, we have, in 
 imitation of the Spaniards, made it run altogether 
 upon Gallantry : not confidering that the Antients 
 made it their bufinefs to reprefent Man's Life ac- 
 cording to the diverfity of Humours ; and that the 
 Spaniards following their own Genius, have only 
 painted out the Manners of Madrid in their In- 
 trigues and Adventures. 
 
 I grant that the Comedy of the Antients might 
 have had a more noble air, with fomewhat more 
 of Gallantry too ; but this was rather the defect 
 of thofe Ages, than the fault of the Authors. Now- 
 a-days, mod of our Poets know as little what be- 
 longs to the Manners, as in thofe times they knew 
 what belonged to Gallantry. One would think 
 that there were no more Mifers, Prodigals, foft 
 cafy Tempers, no more furly Morofes to be found 
 in the world : and, as if Nature her felf were 
 chang'd, and Men had laid afide thefe various dif- 
 pofitions, they are always reprefented under one and 
 
 the
 
 THE WORKSOF 
 
 the fame Character ; for what reafon I cannot tell, 
 unlefs it be that the Women of this age, think all 
 Men ought to be Gallants. 
 
 We are ready to acknowledge that the Wits of 
 Madrid have a more fruitful invention than ours ; 
 and this has made us borrow from them moll of 
 our Plots, which we have fillM with paflionate and 
 amorous Difcourfes, and reduc'd to more regula- 
 rity and decorum. The reafon is, that in Spain, 
 where the Women are hardly ever feen, the Poet 
 exhaufts his imagination in contriving ingenious 
 ways to bring his Lovers together j and in France, 
 where the freedom of Converfation is allow'd, the 
 ingenuity of the Author is employ'd in exprefling 
 the fentiments, in a tender and amorous manner. 
 
 A Spanifh Lady ', not long ago, was reading 
 the Romance of Cleopatra, and after a tedious re- 
 lation of Adventures, falling upon a nice Conver- 
 fation between a Lover and his Miftrefs, who 
 were alike paflionate, What a deal of Wit illem- 
 ploy'd is here, faid me, and to what end fo many 
 fine Speeches when they are got together ? 
 
 This is one of the prettied Reflections that ever 
 I heard made in all my life ; and CALPRENEDE, 
 tho a Frenchman, ought to have remembred, that 
 Lovers born in a hotter climate than that of France, 
 need but few words on fuch occaflons. But the 
 good judgment of that Lady would not be re- 
 ceiv'd in our ordinary Gallantries, where a man 
 muft fpeak a thoufand times of a fham Paffion 
 before he can perfuade his Miftrefs ; where he 
 muft daily complain to her, before he finds an op- 
 portunity of putting an end to that aftected pain. 
 
 The Predeufe, or Finical Lady of M o L i E R E, 
 is ridiculous in her Carriage as well as Language, 
 
 for 
 
 The Princefs of IfenghttTt.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 161 
 
 for not fhaking off the romantlck humour % when 
 her friends were treating for her fo ferious an af- 
 fair as Marriage : but it had been no falfe nicety 
 with a Gallant, to have expected his declaration, 
 and gradual advance in the conduct of an A- 
 mour. 
 
 As for Regularity and Probability, it's no won- 
 der they are lefs to be found among the Spaniards 
 than the French : for as all the Gallantry of the 
 Spaniards is deriv'd from, the Moors, it retains 
 frill a certain tincture of Africk, that is foreign and 
 uncouth to other Nations, and too extraordinary to 
 be fuited with the exactnefs of Rules. Befides, 
 the old whim of Knight-Errantry, common to all 
 Spain, fets the Cavaliers upon odd and freakifh 
 Adventures. The young women too from their 
 childhood, learn the fame vanity from their Books 
 of Chivalry, and the fabulous tales of the women 
 that are about them. Thus both fexes fill their 
 minds with the fame Notions ; and moft Lovers, 
 men and women, would interpret the fcrupling of 
 an amorous extravagance to be an indifference 
 unworthy of their Pafiion. 
 
 The Love never obferves very regular meafures 
 in any Country whatfoever, neverthelefs I dare be 
 bold to fay, that in France 'tis feldom extravagant, 
 either in the way of making it, or in the ordinary 
 effects it produces. That which is call'd a PaJJionate 
 Love runs a great rifque of being thought ridicu- 
 lous : for Gentlemen there, being taken up with 
 various bufinefs, give not way to it, as the Spani- 
 ards do in the idlenefs of Madrid,, where nothing 
 but Love can put them in motion. 
 
 Vol. n. ''-.${ Ac 
 
 * M. de St. Evrtmond brings in here * kind of Pun, of tfo- 
 litre* we. prendre le Roman par la queue. Set Les Prccieufes 
 Ridicules of that Pott,
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 At Paris, we are bufied by the afliduity of ma- 
 king our Court, the difcharge of an Office, or 
 the purfuit of an Employment ; Fortune outrival- 
 ling Miftrefies, in a place where it is the cuftom 
 to prefer that which one owes to himfelf, to what 
 he loves. The Ladies, who are to take thtir mea- 
 fures accordingly, are alfo more gallant than paf- 
 fionate ; nay, and make ufe of Gallantry to infi- 
 nuate into Court-Intrigues and Bufmefs. There are 
 but few who are not govern'd by Vanity and In- 
 tereft ; and the Gallants and their Miftrefies vie 
 who lhall make the beft ufe one of another for 
 attaining their feveral ends. 
 
 Love however mingles with this fpirit of Inte- 
 reft , but it is very feldom the Matter : for, the con-. 
 duel: that we are oblig'd to follow in our Affairs, 
 accuftoms us to fome regularity in our Pleafures, 
 or, at leaft, keeps us from extravagance.. In Spain 
 there is no living without Love ; but what is called 
 Love in France, to fpeak properly, is no more than 
 to talk of Love, and to mix the vanity of Gallantries 
 with <di Elates of Ambition. ... 
 
 Thefe differences being confidered, 'tis not to 
 be wonder'd that the Spanifh Comedy, which is 
 nothing but a reprefentatkm of their Adventures, is 
 us irregular as thofe can be ; and that the French 
 Comedy, which deviates but little from the prac- 
 tice of our Nation, obferves the fame decorum in 
 the reprefentation of our Amours, which common- 
 ly we obferve in reality. I confeis, that Judgment, 
 which'ought to be of all Countries, has eftablifh'd 
 fome Rules, which are no where to be difpens'd 
 with : but it is a hard matter not to make fome al- 
 lowances to Cuftom, fmce ARISTOTLE himfelf, 
 in his Art of Poetry, places fometimes Perfection 
 in that which was beft liked at Athens, and not in 
 that whkh is really moil '.perfect. 
 
 < .
 
 M.DE ST. EVREMONB. i$j 
 
 Comedy cannot pretend to greater privileges 
 than the Laws, which tho they ought all to be 
 founded on Juftice, are neverthelefs different, ac- 
 cording to the different genius of the People who 
 made them. And if we are oblig'd to retain the 
 air of Antiquity ; if we muft preferve the Character 
 of Heroes who have been dead two thoufand 
 years ago, when they are to be reprefented upon 
 the Stage ; how is it poflible not to follow the 
 humours, and fuit our felves to the manners of the 
 living, when we reprefent to their eyes, what 
 they do every day ? 
 
 Neverthelefsj what authority foever Cuftom may 
 challenge, without doubt Realbn oughr/'to have the 
 prerogative , but yet it ought not to b6 over-rigid : 
 for, in things which are altogether calculated to 
 pleafe, as Comedy, it is uneafy to be fubjefted to 
 too auftere a Confinement, and to cramp and fet- 
 ter thofe Subjects, where we aim at nothing but 
 diverfion. 
 
 O F T H E 
 
 . ITALIAN 
 
 -3fi nm gai -I. :u; euotfasi rrj 
 
 310} ajdr i "jjc 'at b'lL 
 
 Smuch for the French and Spanifh Comedies : 
 I'll now give my opinion of the Italian. I will 
 not fpeak of Am\nta^ Pa/lor Fido y Phillis of Sciw, 
 and other Plays of that nature. I ought to be bet- 
 ter acquainted than I am with the graces of the 
 Italian Language j and therefore I defign tp fpeak 
 L 2 only
 
 i$ 4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 only of Comedies that are acted upon the Stage. 
 What we fee in France upon the Italian Theatre, 
 is not properly Comedy, fince there is no true Plot 
 in it -, no coherence in the Subject ; no Character 
 ftrictly obferv'd, nor regularity in the Compofition, 
 at leaft according to the rules of Art : in fhort, 
 'tis nothing but a kind of ill-form'd confort amongft 
 feveral Actors, each of whom furmmes, out of his 
 own head, what he judges proper for the part 
 he acts. To take it rightly, it is no more than a 
 medley of impertinent Concetti in the mouth of 
 Lovers, and filly buffbonries in that of their Za- 
 nis '. There is no fuch thing as good Senfe any 
 where in it? but a kind of falfe Wit predomi- 
 nates, either in the Thoughts, which are borrow'd 
 from the Heavens, Sun, Stars, and Elements, or in 
 an affectation of Simplicity, which hath nothing of 
 true Nature in it. 
 
 The Buffoons, I grant, are inimitable ; and of 
 an hundred that I have feen ape and mimick them, 
 not one could ever come near them : and for Gri- 
 maces, Poftures, Motions, Agility, Supplenefs and 
 diftorting of their Faces, which they can vary and 
 alter as they pleafe ; it is certain, that if one mud 
 be a great Lover of idle jefting and drollery, to 
 be taken with what he hears, he muft be alfo very 
 grave and compofed, not to laugh at what he fees : 
 a man would affect too great a nicety, not to be 
 pleas'd with their acting, becaufe a Critick will not 
 be fatisfied with their difcourfe. 
 
 All reprefentations wherein the Mind has n mare 
 in the entertainment, are tedious at long run ; ne- 
 verthelefs they furprize, and are agreeable for fome 
 time, before they tire us. As Buffoonry diverts not 
 a man of breeding, but by intervals, it ought to 
 be foon over ; and the Hearers mould not have 
 
 time 
 
 1 Harfynint, or 'Buffoon^ in t&e Italian Plays.
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. i5j 
 
 time enough allow'd them, to reflect upon the ex- 
 aftnefs of the difcourfe, and confider what is truly 
 natural. 'Twere well if" they obferv'd this conduct 
 in the Italian Comedy, where a greater mortification 
 comes upon the neck, of another ; and the variety 
 inflead of relieving us, brings us only fomething 
 new to tire us. 
 
 The truth is, when you are weary of the Buffoons 
 that have too long kept the Stage, the Lovers ftep 
 in next to compleat your perfecution. This, in my 
 opinion, is the worft of punimments to a delicate 
 and nice man, who would, with more reafon, pre- 
 fer a fpeedy death before the patience of hearing 
 them, than the Lacedemonian in B o c c A LI N i had, 
 when he chofe the gallows, before the reading of 
 the tedious Hiftory of the War of Pifa, written by 
 G u i c H A R D i N *. If any man over fond of li- 
 ving, is able to endure fo killing a fatigue, inftead 
 of fome agreeable diverfity to refrefli his mind, all 
 the change he finds is the impertinence of a Doctor 
 that plagues him infinitely more. I know, that to 
 reprefent the follies of a Pedant aright, he muft 
 be made to turn all his difcourfe upon that fort of 
 Learning he is mafter of: but that without ever 
 anfwering one fingle Queftion, he fliould cite a 
 thoufand Authors, with a volubility that puts him 
 out of breath , this is to bring a mad man upon the 
 Stage, who ought to be fent to Bedlam, and not 
 juftly to reprefent the impertinence of a Pedantick 
 Scholar. 
 
 L 3 PETRO- 
 
 * Inftamifllmamente fupplico, che per tutti gl'anni della fua 
 vita lo condannefTero a remare in una Galea, che lo muraflero 
 tra due mura, e che per mifericordia fino lo fcorticaflero vivo t 
 perche il legger quei Difcorfi fenza fine, quei Configli tamo 
 tediofi, quelte fredilllnie Confcioni, fatte nella prefa d'ogni vil 
 Colombaia, era crepacuore che fuperava tutti gl'aculei Inglcfi, 
 &c. B O C C A L. Ra$$ua%li dt Parna]fo t Cent. I. Ragg. VI,
 
 \66 THE WORKS OF- 
 
 PETRONIUS go.es a different way to work, 
 when he ridicules EUMOLPUS: the Pedantry of 
 S i D i A s is otherwife manag'd byTHEOPHiLE: 
 the Character ofCARiiiDES in the Facheux 
 or Morcfe of M o L i E R E, is altogether exact \ and 
 nothing can be cut off from it, without disfiguring 
 the whole Piece. Thefe are the ridiculous Scholars 
 who may be pleafantly enough reprefented upon 
 the Stage : but is it not a mod wretched diverfion 
 for a Gentleman to be plagued with a pitiful Pe- 
 dant, whom Books have belbttcd j and who, as I 
 (aid, ought carefully to be fhut up, to conceal from 
 us the frailty of our human Condition, and the mi- 
 fery of our nature ? 
 
 But I muft not launch out too far in my obfer- 
 vations upon the Italian Comedy. To fum up then, 
 in a few words, what I have fufficiently enlarg'd up- 
 0n, I fay, that inflead of agreeable Lovers, you 
 have nothing but affecled talkers of Love ; inflead 
 of natural Comedians, incomparable Buffoons, but 
 ftill they are Buffoons : inilead of ridiculous Pe- 
 dants, wretched mad Scholars. There is hardly any 
 part but what is forced, unlefs it be that of P A N- 
 TALON, which is the leail efteem'd, and yet is the 
 only one that does not exceed the bounds of pro- 
 bability. 
 
 Tragedy was the chief delight of the ancient 
 Commonwealth -, and the old Romans, endow'd on- 
 ly with a rough Virtue, introduced no other Exam- 
 ples in their Theatres, but fudi as might fortify 
 their natural difpofition, and entertain their habitual 
 fiercenefs and aufterity. When politenefs of Con- 
 verfation was joyned to their greatnefs of SouJ a 
 t^en they began to take delight in Comedy, and 
 fometimes they were pleafed with noble ideas, and 
 fometimes diverted with agreeable ones. 
 
 As foon as Rome grew corrupted, the Romans 
 foribok Tragedy, and could np{ endure to fee up- 
 
 Qn
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 167 
 
 on the Stage any fevere reprefentation of the an- 
 cient Virtue. From that time, to the ruin of the 
 Republick, Comedy was the recreation of the 
 great Men, the diverfion of the Polite, and the a- 
 mufement of a People either grown loofe or civi- 
 liz'd. 
 
 A little before the Civil Wars, the Romans were 
 again animated with the fpirit of Tragedy : their 
 genius fecretly difpofing and preparing them for 
 the fatal revolutions that happen* d afterward. C E- 
 s A R wrote one, and many perfons of quality did 
 the like. The troubles ceafing under AUGUSTUS, 
 and peace being reftor'd and fettled, all forts of 
 Pleafures were cultivated. Comedies came again 
 into vogue ; the Pantomimi were in credit ; and 
 Tragedy ftill preferv'd a great reputation. Under 
 the reign of NERO, SENECA was taken up with 
 dire {peculations, which fet him upon writing thole 
 Tragedies that are ftill extant. When Corrup- 
 tion was at the height, and Vice univerfal, the Pan- 
 tomimi wholly ruin'd both Tragedy and Comedy : 
 Wit had no more mare in Plays , and all they aim'd 
 at, was to divert the Spectators with fuch poftures 
 and motions, as would give' them voluptuous i- 
 deas. 
 
 The modern Italians think it enough for them to 
 be warm'd by the fame fun, to breathe the fame 
 air, and to inhabit the fame country with the an- 
 cient Romans : but they leave to their Hiftorians to 
 talk of that fevere Virtue which the Romans prac- 
 tis'd ; and therefore think they have no need of Tra- 
 gedy, to animate them to hard and difficult Things, 
 which they have no mind to undertake. As they 
 affect the foftnefs of an ordinary, and the delights 
 of a voluptuous life, fo they love Plays that have 
 relation to both. This has introduced that mixture 
 of Comedy, and diverfion of Mimicks, which we 
 fee upon all the Stages of Italy. A,nd this is almoft 
 L 4 att
 
 i68 THE WORKS OF 
 
 all that can be faid of the Italians, who, as yet, have 
 appear'd in France. 
 
 All the prefent Actors of their Company are ge- 
 nerally good Comedians, even thofe that act Lo- 
 vers ; and to do them neither injuftjce nor favour, 
 I muft own, that they are excellent Players, who 
 have very bad Plays. Perhaps they can make no 
 good ones ; perhaps they have reafon not to have 
 any -, for as the Earl of BRISTOL J was, one day, 
 objecting to Ci N T H i o, that there was not probabi- 
 lity enough in their Pieces ; he anfwer'd, That if 
 there was more, goofl Comedians with good Comedies 
 might go ftarye. 
 
 O F T H E 
 
 ENGLISH 
 
 COMEDY 
 
 is no Comedy more conformable to 
 that of the Ancients, than the Englifti, as 
 for" what relates to the Manners. It is not a meer 
 piece of Gallantry, full of Adventures and amorous 
 Difcourfes, as in Spain and France , but a repre- 
 fentation of the ordinary way of living, according 
 to the various Humours and different Characters of 
 Men. It is an Alcbymift, who by the illufions of 
 this Art, feeds the deceitful hopes of a vain Curio- 
 fo : it is a Jilly credulous Coxfomb^ whofe foolilh fa- 
 
 cility 
 
 I George Q'zfy, Sari of Brijiol. He died in the yer I6j6 t
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 169 
 
 cility is continually abufed : it is fometimes a ridicu- 
 lous Politician, grave and compos'd, ftarch'd in e- 
 very thing, myfterioufly fufpicious, that thinks to 
 find out hidden defigns in the moft common 
 intentions, and to difcover artifice in the moft 
 innocent actions of Life : it is a whimfical Lover ', 
 a fwaggering Bully, a fedantick Scholar, the one 
 with natural extravagancies, the other with ridi- 
 culous affectations. The truth is, thefe Cheats and 
 Cullies, thefe Politicians, and other Characters fo 
 ingenioufly devifed, are carry'd on too far, in our 
 opinion ; as thofe which are to be feen upon our 
 Stage, are a little too faint to the relilh of the En- 
 glim * and the reafon of that, perhaps, is, becaufe 
 the Englifh think too much, and we, commonly, 
 not enough. 
 
 And indeed, we are fatisfied with the firft images 
 of things ; and by (ticking to the bare outfide, we 
 generally take appearance for reality ; and the eafy 
 and free for what is natural. Upon this head I mail 
 obferve, by the by, that thefe two laft qualities are 
 fometimes moft improperly confounded : the eafy 
 and the natural agree well enough in their oppofi- 
 tion to what is ftiff and forc'd ; but when we are to 
 dive into the nature of things, or the natural hu- 
 mour of perfons, it will be granted me, that the 
 eafy will fcarce carry us far enough. There is fome- 
 thing within us, fomething hidden, that would dif- 
 cover it felf, if we founded the fubject a little more. 
 It is as difficult for us to enter in, as for the Englifh 
 to get out : they become matters of the thing they 
 think on, tho they are not fo of their own thoughts. 
 Their mind is not at reft, even when they pofTeis 
 their Subject ; they ftill dig when there is no more 
 ore to be got, and go beyond the juft and natural 
 idea, which ought always to be maintain'd, by car- 
 rying their enquiries too far. The truth is, I never 
 (aw men of better underftanding than the French, 
 2 who
 
 170 THE WORKS OF 
 
 who apply themfelves to confider things with due 
 attention ; and the Englifh, that can fhake off their 
 too deep meditations, to return to that faculty of 
 Difcourfe, and freedom of Wit, which, if poflible, 
 ought always to be had. The fineft Gentlemen in 
 the world, are the French that think, and the En- 
 glifh that fpeak. 
 
 I fhould infenfibly run into too general confidera- 
 tions ; and therefore muft reaffume my fubject of 
 Comedy, and obferve a confiderable difference which 
 is to be found betwixt theirs and ours. It confifts 
 in this, that being zealous to copy the regularity of 
 the Ancients, we ftill drive to the principal Action, 
 without any other variety than that of the means 
 that bring us to it. It is not to be denied but that 
 the reprefentation of one principal Event ought to 
 be the fole fcope and end propofed in Tragedy ; for 
 we cannot without fome violence and pain find our 
 felves taken off from what employed our firft 
 thoughts. The misfortune of an unhappy King, 
 the fad and tragical death of a great Hero, wholly 
 confine the mind to thefe objects ; and all the vari- 
 ety it cares for, is to know the different means that 
 contributed to bring about this principal action ; but 
 Comedy being contriv'd to divert and not to bufie 
 us, provided probability be obferv'd, and extrava- 
 gance avoided, variety in the opinion of the Englifli, 
 is an agreeable furprize and change that pleafes ; 
 whereas the continual expectation of one and the 
 fame thing, wherein there feems to be no great 
 matter of importance, muft of necefiity make our 
 attention flag. 
 
 Thus, inftead of representing a fignal Cheat car- 
 ry'd on by means all relating to the fame end, they 
 reprefent feveral Cheats, each of which produces its. 
 proper effect. As they fcarce ever flick to the Unity 
 of Action, that they may reprefent a principal per- 
 fon, who diverts them by different actions : fo they 
 
 often.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 171 
 
 often quit that principal perfon, to fliew various things 
 that happen to feveral perfons in publick places. 
 BEN JOHNSON takes this courfe in his Bartholo- 
 mew-Fair : we find the fame thing in Epfom-Welh * ; 
 and in both thefe Comedies, the ridiculous Adven- 
 tures of thofe publick places are comically repre- 
 fented. 
 
 There are fome other Plays which have in a 
 manner two Plots, that are interwoven fo ingeni- 
 oufiy the one into the other, that the mind of the 
 Spectators (which might be offended by too fenfible 
 a change) finds nothing but fatisfaction in the agree- 
 able variety they produce. It is to be confefied that 
 regularity is wanting here , but the Englifh are of 
 opinion, that the Liberties which are taken in or- 
 der to pleafe the better, ought to be preferr'd be- 
 fore exact Rules, which dull Authors improve to an 
 art of tiring their Audience. 
 
 Rules are to be obferv'd for avoiding Confufion -, 
 good Senfe is to be -follow'd for moderating the 
 flight of a luxuriant Fancy : but Rules muft not fo 
 conftrain the mind, as to fetter it ; and a fcrupu- 
 lous Reafon ought to be banifh'd, which adhering 
 too ftrictly to exactnefs, leaves nothing free and 
 natural. They who cannot attain a Genius, which 
 Nature hath denied them, afcribe all to Art, which 
 they may acquire ; and to fet a value upon the only 
 merit they have, which is that of being regular, 
 they employ all their intereft to damn any Piece 
 that is not altogether fo. As for thofe that love 
 the Ridicule , that are pleafed to fee the follies of 
 Mankind ; that are affected with true Characters ; 
 they will find fome of the Englifh Comedies as 
 much, or perhaps, more, to their relifh, than any 
 they have ever feen, 
 
 Our
 
 172 THE WORKS O F 
 
 Our MOL i E R E, whom the Ancients have in- 
 fplred with the true fpirit of Comedy, equals their 
 BEN JOHNSON in reprefenting truly the vari- 
 ous humours and different ways of Men, both ob- 
 ferving in their Characters a juft regard to the pe- 
 culiar tafte and genius of their own nation : I be- 
 lieve they have both carried that point as far as the 
 Ancients ever did , but it is not to be denied, but 
 that they had a greater regard to their Characters 
 than to the Plot, which might have been better 
 laid together, and more naturally unravell'd. 
 
 UPON 
 
 O P E R A'S 
 
 T O 
 
 r/ ' pw w 
 
 T HE D U K E O F 
 
 BUCKINGHAM 1 . 
 
 I HAVE long had a defire to tell your Grace 
 my thoughts of Operas, and to acquaint you 
 with the difference I have obferv'd betwixt the Ita-, 
 lian and French way of finging. The occafion I had 
 of fpeaking of it, at the Duchefs of M A z A R i N E'S, 
 has rather increafed than Satisfied that defire i there- 
 fore I will gratify it in the Difcourfe I now fend to 
 your Grace. . 
 
 1 George Vtlliers, Qnkt of Buckingham^ who died in 1687.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 173 
 
 I Ihall begin with great freedom, and tell your 
 Grace, that I am no great admirer of Comedies in 
 mufick, fuch as now-a-days are in requeft. I con- 
 fefs I am not difpleafed with their magnificence ; 
 the Machines have Ibmething that is furprizing ; 
 the Mufick, in fome places, is charming , the whole 
 together feems wonderful : but it muft be granted 
 me alfo, that this wonderful is very tedious ; for 
 where the Mind has fo little to do, there the Senfes 
 muft of necefllty languifh. After the firft pleafure 
 that furprize gives us, the eyes are taken up, and at 
 length grow weary of being continually fix*d upon 
 the fame object. In the beginning of the Conforts, 
 we obferve the juftnefs of the Concords ; and a- 
 midft all the Varieties that unite to make the fweet- 
 nefs of the harmony, nothing efcapes us. But 'tis 
 not long before the Inftruments ftun us ; and the 
 Mufick is nothing elfe to our ears but a confufed 
 found that fuffers nothing to be diftinguifh'd. Now 
 how is it poflible to avoid being tir'd with the Re- 
 citativOj which has neither the charm of finging, 
 nor the agreeable energy of fpeech ? The Soul fa- 
 tigued by a long attention, wherein it finds nothing 
 to affect it, feeks fome relief within it felf ; and the 
 Mind, which in vain expected to be entertained 
 with the mow, either gives way to idle mufing, or 
 is difiatisfied that it has nothing to employ it. In 
 a word, the fatigue is fo univerfal, that every one 
 wiflies himfelf out of the houfe -, and the only com- 
 fort that is left to the poor fpeclators, is the hopes 
 that the Shew will foon be over. 
 
 The reafon why, commonly, I foon grow wea- 
 ry at Opera's, is, that I never yet faw any which 
 appear' d not to me defpicable, both as to the Con- 
 trivance of the fubject, and the Poetry. Now it is 
 in vain to charm the Ears, or gratify the Eyes, if 
 the Mind be not fatisfied \ for my Soul being in 
 better intelligence with my mind than with my fen- 
 
 fes,
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 fes, ftruggles againft the imprefiions which it may 
 receive^ or at lead does not give an agreeable con- 
 fent to them, without which, even the moft delight- 
 ful Objects can never afford me any great pleafure. 
 An extravagance fet off with Mufick, Dances, 
 Machines, and fine Scenes,' is a pompous piece of 
 folly, but 'tis ftill a folly. Tho the embroidery is 
 rich, yt the ground it is wrought upon is fuch 
 wretched fluff that it offends the fight. 
 
 There is another thing in Opera's fo contrary to 
 Nature, that I cannot be reconciled to it; and that 
 is the finging of the whole Piece, from beginning 
 to end, as if the Perfons rcprefented were ridicu- 
 loufly match'd, and had agreed to treat in mufick 
 both the moft common, and moft important affairs 
 of Life. Is it to be imagin'd that a mafter calls 
 his fervant, or fends him on an errand, finging ; 
 that one friend imparts a fecret to another, fing- 
 ing; that men deliberate in council, finging; that 
 orders in time of battle are given, finging , and 
 that men are mclodioufly killed with fwords and 
 darts ? This is the downright way to lofe the life 
 of Reprefentation, which without doubt is prefera- 
 ble to that of Harmony : for, Harmony ought to be 
 no more than a bare attendant, and the great m af- 
 ters of the Stage have introduc'd it as pleafing, not 
 as neceflary, after they have perform'd all that re- 
 lates to the Subject and Difcourfe. Neverthelefs, 
 our thoughts run more upon the Mufician than the 
 Hero in the Opera : LUIGI, CAVALLO, and 
 CE s T i, are ftill prefent to our imagination. The 
 mind not being able to conceive a Hero that fings, 
 thinks of the Compofer that fet the fong ; and I 
 don't queftion but that in the Opera's at the Palace- 
 Royal, L u L L i is an hundred times more thought 
 of than THESEUS or CADMUS. 
 
 :.[ 1 : 
 
 e *n !
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 175 
 
 I pretend not, however, to banifh all manner of 
 Tinging from the Stage : there are fome things 
 which ought to be fung, and others that may be 
 fung without trefpafilng againft reafon or decency : 
 Vows, Prayers, Praifes, Sacrifices, and generally all 
 that relates to the fervice of the Gods, have been 
 fung in afl Nations, and in all times ; tender and 
 mournful Pafllons exprefs themfelves naturally in 
 a fort of querulous tone ; the exprefiions of Love 
 in its birth ; the irrefolution of a foul tofs'd by dif- 
 ferent motions, are proper matters for Stanzas, a* 
 Stanzas are for Mufick. Every one knows that the 
 Chorus was introduc'd upon the Grecian Theatre, 
 and it is not to be denied, but that with equal rea- 
 fon it might be brought upon ours. So far, in my 
 opinion, Mufick may be allow'd: all that belongs 
 to Converfation, all that relates to Intrigues and 
 Affairs, all that belongs to Council and Action, is 
 proper for Actors to rehearfe, but ridiculous in the 
 mouth of Muficians to fing. The Grecians made 
 admirable Tragedies where they had fome fmging , 
 the Italians and the French make bad ones, where 
 they fing all. 
 
 Would you know what an Opera is? I'll, tell 
 you, that it is an odd medley of Poetry and A. 
 wherein the Poet and Muficlan, equally confitxd vtis v 
 the other , take a world of pains to compofe a wretched 
 performance. Not but that you may find agreeable 
 Words and very fine Airs .in our Opera's ; but you 
 will more certainly find, at length, a diOike of the 
 Verfes, where the genius, of the Poet is fo ccampt ; 
 and be cloy'd with the fmging, where the Mufidan 
 is fpent by too long a fervice. 
 
 If I thought my felf capable of giving counfel 
 to Perfons of" Quality, who delight in the Theatre, 
 I would -advifr them to take up their old relifh for 
 good Corned;^ where Dance? arid Mufick might 
 be introduced. " That would not, in the -Wft, hurt 
 
 the
 
 i 7 5 THE WORKS OF 
 
 the Reprefentation. ThePrologue might be fung with 
 an agreeable Accompaniement. In the Inter me des * 
 finging 'might animate words, that fhould be as the 
 life of what had been reprefented. After the end of 
 the Play the Epilogue might be fung, or fome Re- 
 flections upon the fineft things in the Play , which 
 would fortify the idea, and rivet the imprefiions 
 they had made upon the Spectators. Thus you 
 might find enough to fatisfy both the Senfes and 
 the Mind ; wanting neither the charms of fmging in 
 a bare Reprefentation, nor the beauty of acting in 
 a long continued courfe of Mufick. 
 
 It remains that I give you my advice in general 
 for all Comedies, where any fmging is ufed -, and 
 that is, to leave to the Poet's difcretion the whole 
 management of the Piece. The Mufick muft be 
 made for the words, rather than the Words for the 
 mufick. The Mufician is to follow the Poet's di- 
 rections ; only, in my opinion, L u L L i is to be 
 exempted, who knows the Paffions better, and en- 
 ters farther into the heart of man, than the Authors 
 themfelves. CAMBERT% without doubt, hath 
 an excellent genius, proper for an hundred different 
 forts of Mufick, and all well managed with a juft 
 fymphony of Voices and Inftruments : no Recitativo 
 is better underftood, nor better diverfified than his ; 
 but as to the nature of the Paflions, and the quality 
 of the Sentiments that are to be exprefied, he 
 ought to receive from the Authors thofe lights 
 which L u L L i can give them ; and fubmit to be 
 directed, when LULLI, thro* the ftrength of his 
 Genius, may juftly be allowed to be the director. 
 
 Before 
 
 * An entertainment of Mufick and Dancing between the Afts, 
 ivhich has no connexion with the Play. 
 
 3 See an account of him in M. de St. Evremond's Life, nndtr 
 the year 1678.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 177 
 
 Before I put an end to my Difcourfe, I will tell 
 your Grace what a fmall efteem the Italians have 
 for our Opera's, and how great a diflike thofe of 
 Italy give us. The Italians, who apply themfelves 
 wholly to the Reprefentation, and take a particular 
 care in exprefllng things, cannot endure that we 
 fhould give the name of Opera to a mixture of 
 Dances and Mufick, which have not a natural rela- 
 tion, or exact connexion with the Subject. The 
 French, on the other hand, accuftom'd to the beau- 
 ty of their Entries, the delightfulnefs of their Airs, 
 and charms of their Symphony, cannot endure the 
 ignorance, or ill ufe of the Inftruments in the 
 Opera's of Venice, and are weary of a long Reci- 
 tative, which becomes tedious for want of variety. 
 I cannot properly tell you what this Recitativo of 
 theirs is ; but I know very well that it is neither 
 finging nor reciting ; it is fomewhat unknown to 
 the Antients, which may be defined, an aukward 
 ufe of Mufick and Speech. I confefs, I have found 
 things inimitable in the Opera of Lu i G i, both for 
 the expreffion of the Thoughts, and the charms of 
 the Mufick ; but the common Recitativo was very 
 tirefom, infomuch that the Italians themfelves impa- 
 tiently expected thofe fine places, which in their 
 opinion came too feldom. I mail in a few words 
 fum up the greateft defects of our Opera's : one 
 thinks he is going to a Reprefentation, where no- 
 thing will be reprefented ; and expects to fee a Co- 
 medy, but finds nothing of the fpirit of Comedy. 
 
 So much I thought I might fay concerning the 
 different constitution of Opera's. As for the manner 
 of finging, which we in France call Execution^ 4 , I 
 think, without partiality, that no Nation can juftly 
 vie with us. The Spaniards have admirable pipes ; 
 but with their warblings and {bakings, they feem 
 
 Vol. II. M to 
 
 Performance.
 
 i 7 8 THE WORKS OF 
 
 to mind nothing in their finging, but to out-rival 
 the 'Nightingales. The Italian finging is either 
 feign'd, or at leaft forc'd : for want of knowing 
 exactly the nature or degree of the Paflions, they 
 bur ft out into laughter, rather than (ing, when they 
 would exprefs any Joy ; if they figh, you (hall hear 
 violent fobs form'd in the throat, and not Sighs 
 which unawares efcape from the pafiion of an amo- 
 rous heart , inftead of a doleful tone, they fall in- 
 to the loudeft Exclamations , the Tears of abfencej 
 are with them the downright weeping at a funeral ; 
 fadnefs becomes fo forrowful in their mouths, that 
 they roar rather than complain; and fometimes 
 they exprefs a languifhing pafiion, as a natural 
 fainting. Perhaps there may be at prefent fome al- 
 teration in their way of finging ; and by converf- 
 ing with us, they may be improved as to the juft- 
 nefs of a neat Execution, as we are improved by 
 them, as to the beauties of a ftronger and bolder 
 Compofition. 
 
 I have feen Plays in England, wherein there is 
 a great deal of mufick ; but to (peak my thoughts 
 with difcretion, I could not accuftom my felf to 
 the Englim finging. I came too late to find a re- 
 iifh in that which is (b different from all others. 
 There is no Nation that affords greater Courage in 
 the men, more Beauty in the women, nor more 
 Wit in both fexes. 'Tis impofiible to have every 
 thing ; and where fo many good qualities are fo> 
 common, 'tis no misfortune that a good Tafte is a 
 rarity there. 'Tis certain that 'tis very rarely to be 
 found : but thofe perfons that have it, pofiefs it in 
 as eminent a degree of nicenefs and perfection, as 
 any in the world ; being diftinguim'd from the reft 
 of their Nation, either by an exquifite Art, or by 
 a moft happy Genius. 
 
 Solus
 
 M. DE ST. EVREM O N D. 179 
 
 Solus Gallus cantat ; none but the Frenchman 
 fings. I will not be fo injurious to all other Na- 
 tions, as to maintain what an Author has publim'd, 
 Hifpaws flet^ dolet Italus, Germanus boat, Flander 
 ululat^ & folus Gallus contat : I mall leave thefe 
 pretty diftinclions with the Author, and only beg 
 leave to back my opinion by the authority of 
 L u i c i, who would not endure that the Italians 
 mould pretend to ling his Airs, after he had heard 
 them fung by N Y E R T, HILAIRE, arid the little 
 V A R E N N E. On his return to Italy, he made all 
 the Muficians of that Nation his Enemies, by fay- 
 ing openly at Rome, as he had faid at Paris, that 
 to make fine Mufick, Italian Airs muft come out 
 of a French mouth. He made little account of 
 our Songs, except thofe of B o i s s E T, which he 
 admired, as well as the confort of our Violins, our 
 Lutes, Harpficords, and Organs : and how would 
 he have been charmed with our Flutes, if they 
 had been then in ufe ? It is moft certain, that 
 he was much difgufted with the harfhnefs of the 
 greateft Mailers of Italy, when he had once heard 
 the fweet touch, and agreeable manner of the 
 French. 
 
 I mould be too partial, if I infilled only upon 
 our advantages : therefore I muft own, that no peo- 
 ple have a flower apprehenfion both for the true 
 fenfe of Words, and for humouring the thought 
 of the Compofer, than the French. There are 
 but few who lefs underftand the quantity, and who 
 with greater difficulty find out the pronunciation ; 
 but when, by long ftudy, they have furmounted all 
 thefe difficulties, and are Matters of what they fmg, 
 nothing comes near them. The fame thing hap- 
 pens to us in our inftrumentaJ Mufick, and parti- 
 cularly in Conforts, where we can pretend to no- 
 thing very fure or juft, till after an infinite number 
 of Rehearfals j but when once we are perfect in 
 M 2 them.
 
 i8o THE WORKS OF 
 
 them, nothing can be fo juft and fine. The Ita- 
 lians, for all their profound skill in Mufick, bring 
 their Art to our ears without any fweetneis. The 
 French, not fatisfied to take away from the skill 
 the firft harfhnefs that fhews the labour of the 
 Compofition, find in the beauty of their Perfor- 
 mance, as it were a charm for our Souls, and I 
 know not what that touches ; which they carry 
 home to the very Heart. 
 
 I forgot to fpeak to your Grace about Machines, 
 fo eafy it is for a man to forget that which he 
 would have laid afide. Machines may fatisfy the 
 curiofity of ingenious Men, who love Mathemati- 
 cal Inventions, but they'll hardly pleafe perfons of 
 good judgment in the Theatre : the more they 
 furprize, the more they divert the mind from at- 
 tending to the Difcourfe ; and the. more admirable 
 they are, the lefs Tendernefs and exquifite Senfe 
 they leave in us, to be touch'd and charm'd with 
 the Mufick. The Antients made, no ufe of Ma- 
 chines, but when there was a necefiity of bringing 
 in fome God ; nay, the Poets themfelves were ge- 
 nerally laughed at for fufFering themfelves to be re- 
 duc'd to that neceffity. If men love to be at ex- 
 pences, let them lay out their Money upon fine 
 Scenes, the ufe whereof is more natural and more 
 agreeable than that of Machines. Antiquity, which 
 expos'd their Gods, even at the gates, and chim- 
 ney-corners ; Antiquity, I fay, as vain and credu- 
 lous as it was, expofed them, neverthelefs, but very 
 rarely upon the Stage. Now the belief of them is 
 gone, the Italians, in their Opera's, have brought 
 the Pagan Gods again into the world ; and have 
 not fcrupled to amufe men with thefe ridiculous 
 vanities, only to make their Pieces look great, by 
 the introduftion of that dazzling and furprizing 
 Wonderful. Thefe Stage Deities have long enough 
 abufed Italy : but the People there being happily 
 2 undeceived
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 181 
 
 undeceived at laft, are difgufted with thofe very- 
 Gods they were fo fond of before, and have re- 
 turn'd to Plays ; which, in truth, cannot pretend 
 to the fame exactnefs, but are not fo fabulous, 
 and which with a little indulgence, may pafs well 
 enough with men of fenfe. 
 
 It hath happen'd with us as to our Gods and 
 Machines, what happens with the Germans as to 
 our Modes and Fafhions : we now take up what the 
 Italians have laid afide ; and as if we would atone 
 for the fault of being prevented in the invention, 
 we run extravagantly into a Cuftom which they 
 brought up prepofteroufly. In truth, we cover 
 the Earth with Deities, and make them dance in 
 troops, whereas, they made them defcerid with dif- 
 cretion, and on the moft important occafions. As 
 A R i o s T o carried too far the Wonderful of Poe- 
 try, by a vain profufion of Fables, fo we ftrain 
 even Fable it felf by a confufed affembly of Gods, 
 Shepherds, Heroes, Enchanters, Apparitions, Furies, 
 and Devils. I admire LULLI, as well for the di- 
 verfion of Dances, as for what concerns the Voices 
 and Inftruments ; but the conftitution of our Ope- 
 ra's muft appear very extravagant to thofe who 
 are true Judges of the Probable and the Won- 
 derful. 
 
 Neverthelefs, one runs a rifque of having his 
 Judgment call'd in queftion, if he dares declare 
 his good tafte , and I advife others, when they hear 
 any difcourfe of Opera's, to keep their knowledge 
 a fecret to themfelves. For my own part, who 
 am paft the age and time of fignalizing my felf 
 in the world by the invention of Modes, and the 
 merit of new Fancies, I am refolv'd to ftrike in 
 with good Senfe, and to follow Reafon tho in 
 difgrace, with as much zeal, as if it were ftill in, 
 as great vogue as formerly. That which vexes me 
 moft at this our fondnefs for Opera's, is, that they 
 M 3 tend
 
 i82 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 that they tend dire&ly to ruin the fineft thing we 
 have, I mean TR A G E D Y, than which nothing is 
 more proper to elevate the Soul, or more capable 
 to form the Mind. 
 
 After this long Difcourfe, let us conclude, that 
 the conflitution of our Opera's cannot be more 
 faulty than it is. But it is to be acknowledg'd at 
 the fame time, that no man can perform better 
 than L u L L i, upon an ill-con ceiv'd Subject ; and 
 that it is not eafy to out-do Qu i N A u L T in what 
 belongs to his part. 
 
 A 
 
 DISSERTATION 
 
 UPON THE WORD 
 
 V A S T. 
 
 T O 
 
 The Gentlemen of the 
 FRENCH ACADEMY. 
 
 AFTER I had condemn'd my felf as to the 
 word Vaft^ I was in hopes the world would 
 have been fatisfied with my Recantation , but fince 
 the Gentlemen of the Academy have thought fit 
 to add their Cenfure to mine, I declare my Re- 
 traftation was not fincere, but the mere effect of 
 
 Com-
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 183 
 
 Complaifance ; and a voluntary fubmiffion of my 
 thoughts to thofe of Madam M A z A R i N. There- 
 fore I refume againft them, that Reafon which I 
 quitted for her fake, and which every well-bred 
 man would take a pride to lofe to her. 
 
 We may difpute with the Gentlemen of the Aca- 
 demy the privilege of regulating our Language, as 
 they pleafe. It doth not depend upon Authors to 
 abolim old Terms becaufe they diflike them, and 
 to introduce new ones according to their own fancy. 
 All the favour we can do them, is, to make them 
 Mafters of Ufe, when Ufe does not contradict true 
 Reafon. Some Authors have refin'd Languages ; 
 on the other hand, others have corrupted them : 
 fo that a Man muft have recourfe to good fenfe 
 to decide the matter. Never had Rome fuch a fet 
 of noble Genius's, as at the latter end of the Repub- 
 lick : the reafon is, becaufe there was then Liberty 
 enough remaining amongft the Romans, to give 
 a due force to their minds ; and Luxury enough 
 to give them Politenefs and Agreeablenefs. At 
 this time, when the beauty of their Language 
 was arriv*d to its higheft pitch ; when there 
 was at Rome fuch admirable men, as CESAR, 
 S A LLUST, CICERO, HORTENSIUS, BRU- 
 TUS, ASINIUS POLL 10, CURIO, CATU LLUS, 
 AT TIC us, and many others, whom I need not 
 here cite, it was juft to fubmit to. their opinions, 
 and to receive their decifions with docility. But 
 when the Language came to be corrupted under 
 the Emperors , when Luc A N came to be preferred 
 to Vi R G i L, and SENECA to CICERO, was any 
 one oblig'd to fubmit implicitly to the authority of 
 thefe Gentlemen, who then fet up for Wits? Is 
 not PETRONIUS highly commended by all ju- 
 dicious perfons, for ridiculing the Eloquence of his 
 time, for knowing the falfe Judgment of his age, 
 and giving to Cic ERO,I ROIL, and Ho RACE, 
 M 4 the
 
 184 THE W O R K S OF 
 
 the praifes which they deferved ? Homerus teftis 
 5? Lyrici, Romanujque Firgilius^ & Horatii curiofa 
 falicitas. 
 
 Let us proceed from Latin Authors to the French. 
 When N E R v E z E'S r falfe Eloquence was admired, 
 would not the Court have been obliged to any Man 
 of good fenfe, who would' have undeceiv'd them ? 
 When COEFFETEAU charm'd all the world 
 with his Metaphors, and Main-maft Sails of Elo- 
 quence a were thought miraculous i when the florid 
 Language of C o H o N 3 , which had neither force 
 nor folidity, pleas'd all the pretended Wits, and 
 -the would-be Criticks : when the affectation of 
 BALZAC, that deftroy'd the natural beauty of 
 Thoughts, pafs'd for a majeftick, noble Style ; 
 would it not have been an important fervice to the 
 publick, to withftand the authority which thefe 
 Gentlemen ufurp'd, and prevent the ill tafte that 
 each of them differently fet up in his own time ? 
 
 I confefs, that we have not the fame right a- 
 gainft the Gentlemen of the Academy. VA u c E- 
 L AS, D'AB LANCOURT, PATRU, have brought 
 our Language to its perfection ; and I make no 
 queftion, but that our prefent Authors will keep 
 it up in the fame condition wherein the former 
 left it. But if one day a falfe notion of Politenefs 
 fhould make our Difcourfe feeble and languifhing ; 
 if out of too great a fondnels for writing puny 
 Tales and Novels, we fhould ftudy an affected eafi- 
 nefs, which is nothing elfe but Nature ill-copied ; 
 if too great an application to Purity, mould, at 
 length, end in Drinefs j if, in purfuing always the 
 
 fame 
 
 1 Nerveze has publijk'd a Volume of Mtrd Epijlles, full of 
 Bombaft and Nonfenfe. 
 
 * An Exprejfion of Coejfeteau. 
 
 * JL farvwt Preacher, afterwards Biflop o
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 fame method of thought, we fhould rob our Lan- 
 guage of its fine turns ; and depriving it of all 
 ornament, Ihould make it barbarous, when we in- 
 tend to render it natural : would it not be reafon- 
 able then to oppofe thefe Corrupters, who would 
 fubvert the good and true Style, to give us ano- 
 ther inftead of it, as little proper to exprefs noble 
 Sentiments, as delicate Thoughts ? 
 
 But what have I to do to recal what's paft, or 
 to forefee what's to come ? I acknowledge the 
 Jurifdiction of the Academy , let them therefore de- 
 cide, whether Vaft be a word in ufe or no? So 
 far as this comes to, I will fubmit to their judg- 
 ment : but to know the force and propriety of 
 the word, to be fatisfied whether 'tis an imputa- 
 tion, or an honour, they muft give me leave to 
 confult Reafon. This fmall Difcourfe will fhew, 
 whether I have a true notion of it, or no. 
 
 I maintain'd, that this term vaft Genius 4 , was 
 taken in a good or bad fenfe, according to the 
 things which were join'd to it; that a Genius, va/l, 
 admirable, piercing, fignified a wonderful Capa- 
 city -, and that on the other fide, a Genius vaft 
 and immoderate, was a Genius that loft it felf in 
 rambling Thoughts -, in bright, but airy Ideas -, 
 in defigns too great, and not at all proportion'd 
 to the means that may render them fuccefsful. 
 This opinion, methinks, was moderate enough. 
 I have now a mind to deny that Vaft can ever 
 be a commendation, and that nothing is capable 
 of rectifying that quality. Great is a perfec- 
 tion in Minds : Vaft always a defect. A juft and 
 regulated extent makes the Great , an immode- 
 rate Greatnefs the Vaft. Vaftitas fignifies an ex- 
 
 cejjive 
 
 + Af. df St. Evremond's Criticifm relattt to this French ex- 
 prejjton, Efprit Vafte, 'which in Englijh imflyt a, vaft Genius, a 
 vaft Mind, a vaft Soul, 4 vaft Spirit, &c.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 eeffive Greatnefs. The Faft and the Dreadful, have 
 a great affinity one with another : Faft things dif- 
 fer mightily from thofe which make an agreeable 
 impreffion upon us. Vafta Solitudo, is not one of thofe 
 Solitudes, that afford a delicious repofe, that charm 
 the misfortunes of the miferable ; *tis a wild Soli- 
 tude, where we are frighted with being alone ; 
 where we regret the lofs of Company ; where the 
 remembrance of loft Pleafures afflicts us, and the 
 fenfe of prefent Misfortunes torments us. A vaft 
 Houfe offers, fomething ghaftly to the fight : Faft 
 Apartments never made any perfon defirous of 
 living in them : Faft Gardens cannot have either 
 the agreeablenefs which is owing to Art, or thofe 
 graces which Nature produces : Faft Forefts put us 
 into a fright ; the fight lofes it felf in looking 
 over vaft Plains. Rivers of a reafonable Greatnefs 
 give us the profpeft of fine Banks, and infenfibly 
 charm us with the pleafanmefs of their gentle 
 Streams. Rivers too large, Over-flowings, and In- 
 undations, difpleafe us by the noife and violence of 
 their Billows, and our eyes cannot with any plea- 
 fure behold their Faft Extent. Savage Countries 
 that are uncultivated -, Countries ruin'd by the de- 
 folation of War ; Lands forfaken and abandon'd, 
 Have fomething of Faftnefs, which produces, as it 
 were, a fecret horror within us. Faftus, quafi vajta- 
 tus : Faft t fignifies almoft the fame with laid wafte y 
 fpoil*d, and ruin'd. Let us pafs from Solitudes, Fo- 
 Vefts, Plains, and Rivers, to living Creatures and 
 Men. 
 
 Whales and Elephants are call'd Fafta s? imma- 
 nes lettuce. That which the Poets have feign'd moft 
 monftrous, as the Cyclops, and the Giants, are. 
 nam'd Faft : 
 
 Faftofque.
 
 M ? DE ST. EVREMOND. 187 
 
 Vaftofque ab rupe Cyclopas 
 Profpicio '. 
 
 Fafta fe mole moventem 
 Paftortm Polypbemum 6 . 
 
 Amongft Men, thofe who exceeded the ordinary 
 flature, thofe whom bignefs or height diftinguifh'd 
 from the reft, were call'd by the Latins, Fafta 
 Corpora. 
 
 Faftus has obtain'd fo far, as to be applied to 
 Cuftoms and Manners. C A T o, who had other- 
 wife fo many good qualities, was a perfon Faftis 
 moribus, according to the Romans. He had no- 
 thing of elegance in his Difcourfe, nothing of Grace 
 either in his Perfon or his Actions : a rough fa- 
 vage air attended all he did. The Germans, who 
 at prefent are civiliz'd and polifh'd in many places, 
 lov*d, formerly, that every thing about them mould 
 have fomething of Faftnefs. Their Habitation, 
 their Attendance, their Equipage, their Affemblies, 
 their Feftivals, Faftum aliquid redolebant ; that is to 
 fay, they were pleas'd with an immoderate Great- 
 nefs, wherein there was neither Politenefs nor Or- 
 nament. I have obferv'd, that the word Faftus hath 
 four or five different fignifications in CICERO, 
 but all in an evil fenfe : Fafta Solitudo 7 , Faftus & 
 agreftis *, Fafta & immanis bellua ', Faftam & bian- 
 tem orationem I0 . The moft ufual fignification of 
 Faftus, is, too Ipacious, too extended, too great, 
 immoderate. 
 
 It 
 
 5 Virg. JEneid. Lib. III. #. 47, 48. 
 
 6 Ibid. >. 656, 57. 
 
 7 Cicer. in Sotnn. Scij>. Se6t. 6. 
 * De Oratore Lib. I. Setl. 15. 
 9 Dt Divin. Lib. I. Sect. 14. 
 
 i Rhetor, ad Hcrenn. Lib. IV. Setf, ia.'
 
 i88 THE WORKS OF 
 
 It may be replied, that Vafle in French, does not 
 fjgnify what Vaftus may fignify in Latin, in the 
 full extent of its meaning. I confefs it. But why 
 fhould it not keep the moft natural, as well as Li- 
 berty, Favour, Honour, Affliction, Confolation, and a 
 thoufand words of the like nature keep theirs ? 
 Befides, there is a reafon for Vaft, which cannot 
 be pretended for the reft ; 'tis this, that we have 
 never a French term that exprefies fully and truly, 
 what the Vaftus of the Latins can exprefs : and 
 furely we did not make it French to encreafe the 
 number of Words, which fignify the fame thing ; 
 but to give our Language a word which it really 
 wanted. We think with more force than we ex- 
 prefs our felves : fome part of our thought always 
 ftays behind ; we very feldom communicate it en- 
 tirely ; and 'tis by a fpirtt of Penetration, more 
 than by the intelligence of Words, that we enter 
 abfolutely into the conceptions of Authors. Ne- 
 verthelefs, as if we were afraid to underftand aright 
 the thoughts of others, or to have our own com- 
 prehended, we weaken thofe very terms that would 
 otherwife have force to exprefs them. But in fpite 
 of our felves, Vaft will preferve in French the 
 true fignification it has in Latin. We commonly 
 fay too Vaft, as we fay too Infolent, too Extravagant, 
 too Covetous, and 'tis the excefs of a vicious quali- 
 ty : we don't fay Vaft enough, becaufe enough fup- 
 pofes fomething juft and reafonable ; whereas, as 
 foon as a thing is Vaft, there is an Excefs, there 
 is too much ; Enough can never agree with it. 
 Let us now examine particularly the Vaft Genius ^ 
 fince that's the fubject of the Queftion. 
 
 That which we call Genius, Mind, or Soul, is di- 
 vided into three Faculties, the Judgment, the Me- 
 mory, and the Imagination or Fancy. The Judg- 
 ment may be commended for being folid, profound, 
 nice in difcerning, juft in defining -, but, in my opi- 
 nion,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 189 
 
 nion, no man of good fenfe will ever give it the 
 quality of Vaft. 'Tis a common expreflion, that 
 fuch a one has a Memory happy, faithful, fit to re- 
 ceive and preferve Images : but I never heard, any 
 one call it Vaft, except once ", and that too pre- 
 pofteroufly, in my opinion. Vaft may be applied 
 to an Imagination that rambles, that lofes it felf, 
 that creates vifions and chimera's. 
 
 I am not ignorant, that fome have pretended to 
 praife ARISTOTLE, by attributing to him a vaft 
 Genius. They believ'd too, that this very epithet 
 of Vaft, was a great commendation to HOMER. 
 We hear it often faid, that ALEXANDER, PYR- 
 RHUS,CATALINE, CESAR, CHARLES V. and 
 Cardinal RICHELIEU, had a waft Genius, a waft 
 Soul : but if we take the pains to examine them 
 well, we mall find that 'their great Works, and 
 their great Actions, ought to be afcrib'd to the 
 other qualities of their minds ; and their errors and 
 faults imputed to the predominance of Vaft. They 
 had fomething of Vaftnefs, I own it ; but ftill it 
 was a vice in them, and a vice not to be pardon'd, 
 but in confideration of their Virtues. It is an error 
 of our Judgment to value them for what cannot 
 be excufed but by indulgence. If they had not 
 been almoft always great, we fhould not forgive 
 them for being fometimes vajl. Let us come to 
 an examination of their Works and Actions ; let 
 us aflign to each quality the effects that really 
 belong to it ; and begin with the Works of A- 
 
 RISTO TLE. 
 
 His Treatife of Poetry is one of the moft finifh'd ; 
 but to what are owing fo many judicious precepts, 
 and fo many juft obfervations, but to the clearnefs 
 of his Judgment ? No body will fay, that it was 
 to his vaft Genius. In his Politicks, which may ftill 
 
 ferve 
 
 II ttt mant Patru.
 
 THE WORKS O fr 
 
 ferve to guide Legiflators, he fhews himfelf wife, 
 prudent, and skilful in regulating the different Con- 
 ilitutions of States : he was by no means vaft. 
 No Writer ever pierced fo far as he into the heart 
 .of Man, as one may fee in his Morals, and in his 
 Rbetorick, in the chapter about the Pajfiom. But 
 this he perform'd as a Philofopher, that knew how 
 to make profound reflections, that had exactly 
 ftudied his own motions , and nicely obferv'd thofe 
 of other men. Don't found the merit of Vaft 
 upon that, for it had no mare therein, ARISTO- 
 TLE fhew'd properly a 'vaft Genius in his Pbyftcks, 
 and to that we may truly afcribe all his errors ; by 
 that he loft himfelf in his Principles, in his own 
 Materia prima, in the Heavens, in the Stars, and 
 in the reft of his falfe Opinions. 
 
 As for Ho M E R, he is admirable fo long as he is 
 purely human ; juft in his Characters, natural in 
 his Paflions, wonderful in knowing and expreffing 
 well what depends upon our Nature. When his 
 waft Genius leads him to talk of the Gods, he 
 jpeaks of them fo extravagantly, that PLATO ba- 
 nifti'd him out of his Republick as a Madman. 
 
 SENECA was in the wrong to reprefent ALEX- 
 ANDER as a ram Adventurer, who ow'd his Gran- 
 deur to his Fortune. PLUTARCH feems, in my 
 opinion, to have reafon on his fide, when he at- 
 tributes the conquefts of A L E x A N D E R to his 
 Valour, more than to his good Fortune. In effect, 
 confider ALEXANDER at his firft acceffion to 
 the Throne, and you will find, that he fhew'd no 
 lefs Conduct than Courage, in fettling himfelf in 
 the Dominions of his Father. A contempt of this 
 Prince's youth, encourag'd his Subjects to rebel, 
 and his Neighbours to take up arms againft him ; 
 he punifh'd the feditious, and vanquifh'd the reft- 
 lefs. When this ftorm was over, his next ftep was 
 to get himfelf chofeh G -eral of the Greeks a- 
 
 gainft
 
 M. DE ST. E VREMOND. 191 
 
 gainft the Perfians , and thefe meafures were fo 
 well concerted, that one could not have expected 
 more juft from the moft confummate Politician. 
 Thus being chofen, he undertook the War ; and 
 made the Lieutenants of D A R i u s, and even D A- 
 R i u s himfelf, commit a thoufand faults, without 
 making one himfelf. If the greatnefs of his Cou- 
 rage had not made him pafs for a ram man, by 
 the dangers to which he expofed himfelf, his Con- 
 duct would have left us the idea of a wife and 
 prudent Prince. I defcribe him to you great and 
 politick, in all the fine Actions he perform'd. But you 
 muft needs have him vaft, and 'tis that fingle quality 
 that fet him upon all his extravagant, prepofterous 
 undertakings. An unbounded defire of Glory 
 engag'd him in a very foolifh War againft the Scy- 
 thians : an immoderate Vanity perfuaded him that 
 he was the fon of J u p i T E R. Vaft extended as 
 far as his Affliction, when it carried him to facrifice 
 entire Nations to the Manes of E P H E s T i o N. 
 After he had conquer'd the great Empire of D A- 
 R i u s, he might have been contented with the 
 known world ; but his vaft Mind form'd the de- 
 fign of conquering another. As vaft, he under- 
 took his expedition into India, where his Army 
 threaten'd to abandon him, and where his Fleet 
 was near being loft ; from whence he return'd to 
 Babylon, melancholy, difturb'd, uncertain, diftruft- 
 ing both Gods and Men. Are not thefe noble ef- 
 fects of the waft Soul of ALEXANDER? 
 
 Few Princes ever had fo vaft a mind as P y R- 
 R H u s : his famous Converfation with C i N E A s, 
 which every one has heard of, is a iufficient proof 
 of it. His Valour and experience in War gain'd 
 him frequent Victories : his vaft Spirit^ that pufh'd 
 at all things, would not give him leave to accom- 
 pliih any one of them. He engag'd in enterprize 
 upon enterprize, in war upon war, but without ef- 
 fect*
 
 i 9 2 THE WORKS OF 
 
 fed:. Tho he was a Conqueror in Italy, in Sicily, 
 in Macedonia, and wherever he came, yet. his 
 power was no where well eftablilh'd ; his Fancy 
 ftill prevailing over his Reafon, threw him upon new 
 imaginary defigns, that hindred him from making 
 any advantage, even of good fuccefs. 
 
 CATILINE is exclaim'd againft as a deteftable 
 perfon : the fame Character had been given of C E- 
 s A R, if he had been as unfortunate in his under- 
 taking, as the former was in his. It is certain, that 
 CATILINE had as great Qualities as any of the 
 Romans : a noble birth, courage, vigour of mind, 
 ftrength of body ; nobili genere natus^ magna vi ani- 
 mi &? corporis, &c. He was S Y L L A'S Lieutenant, 
 as well as P o M P E Y was ; of a family much more 
 illuftrious than that of the laft, but of lefs autho- 
 rity with the Party. After the death of S Y L L A, 
 his chief aim was to get thofe employments in the 
 Republick, which the other had the good luck to 
 carry ; and if nothing was too great for P o M- 
 p E Y'S Intereft to obtain, nothing was high enough 
 for the Ambition of C A T i L i N E to purfue. 
 What was impofiible, appear' d to him but extraor- 
 dinary ; and the extraordinary feem'd to him com- 
 mon and eafy : Vaftus animus immoderata y incredibi- 
 lia, nimis alia cupiebat. 
 
 By this you may fee what a relation there is be- 
 tween a Vaft Soul, and immoderate things. Good 
 men condemn his crime, Politicians blame his un- 
 dertaking as ill-contriv'd ; for all thofe that attempt- 
 ed to opprefs the Commonwealth, except him, had 
 the favour of the People, and the afliftance of the Le- 
 gions to fupport them. CATILINE had neither 
 one nor t'other of thefe fupports ; his Induftry and his 
 Courage fupplied the place of every thing elfe in that 
 great and difficult affair. He himfelf got together 
 a body of Soldiers that had hardly any arms or 
 fubfiftence ; and yet thefe Troops, under all thefe 
 
 difadvantages,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 difadvantages, fought with as great obftinacy as ever 
 troops did. Every Soldier ihew*d the audaciouf- 
 nefs of CATILINE in the fight, as CATILINE 
 fhew'd the capacity of a great Captain, and the 
 ftoutnefs of the braveft and moft refolute Soldier. 
 Never did man die with fuch noble bravery and 
 firmneis. 'Tis difficult even for the beft man to 
 read this Batde, and be very much of the Repub- 
 lick's fide againft him ; 'tis impoflible not to for- 
 get his crime, and pity his misfortune. He might 
 have fecurely gotten a great power, without infring- 
 ing the Laws : this ambitious man, fo vaft in his 
 projects, always aim'd at Power, and at length en- 
 gaged in that fatal Confpiracy which proved his 
 ruin. 
 
 Who was greater, or more dextrous than CE- 
 SAR ? What addrefs, what induftry did he not 
 difcover, in fending home that prodigious multi- 
 tude of Switzers, who endeavoured to fettle them- 
 felves amongft the Gauls ? It requir'd as much 
 prudence as valour to defeat and diQodge the Ger- 
 mans, and he equally difplay'd both thofe talents. 
 He fhew'd an admirable dexterity in managing the 
 Gauls, improving their private jealoufies to enfnare 
 them by the help of one another. Something of 
 Vafti that mingled with his noble Qualities, made 
 him forfake his ordinary meafures, to undertake the 
 expedition of Britain. A chimerical Expedition, 
 vain in regard of his reputation, and altogether un- 
 ferviceable to his interefts ! What ftratagems did 
 he not make ufe of, to remove the obftacles that 
 oppofed his project of Sovereignty ? he undermin'd 
 the credit of all the good men that could fupport 
 the Republick. He made CICERO be banifh'd 
 by C L o D i u s, who had been familiar with his 
 Wife. He gave fo much uneafinefs to CATUL- 
 LUS and LUCULLUS, that they left all bufineis. 
 He rendered the Integrity of C A T o odious, and 
 
 Vol. UN the
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 the Greatnefs bf POMPEY fufpected. He made 
 the People rife againft the aflerters of their Liberty. 
 Thus you fee how CESAR play'd his cards againft 
 the Defenders of the State. Let us confider how 
 he carried himfelf towards thofe that affifted him to 
 overturn it. His inclination for factious perfons 
 difcover'd it felf in C A T i L i N E'S Confpiracy : he 
 was a friend to the latter, and a fecret accomplice 
 of his crime. He courted the friendfhip of C L o- 
 t> i v, s, a man violent and ram. He join'd intereils 
 with C R A s s u s, who was rather rich, than a good 
 Citizen. He made ufe of P o M P E Y'S acquaintance 
 to gain reputation : but as foon as 'twas thought 
 high time to clip the wings of his authority, and 
 to prevent the eftablifhment of his power, he left 
 no ftone unturn'd to ruin P o M P E y. He fecured 
 ANTHONY on his fide : he gain'd over CURIO 
 and DOLABELLA: he retain'd to his fervice 
 HIRTIUS, OP PIUS, BALBUS, and all the 
 ftirring, bufy, bold, and daring ; in mort, all that 
 were capable of bringing about under him the 
 ruin of the Commonwealth. Meafures fo fine and 
 artificial ; methods fo fecret and fo delicate ; actions 
 all tending to one centre ; fo much diflimulatiori, 
 fo many fubtle fetches cannot be afcrib'd to a vaft 
 Soul : his faults, his misfortunes, his ruin, and his 
 death, can be imputed to nothing elfe. It was this 
 vaft Mind that hindred him from enflaving Rome 
 as he might have done, or from governing it as 
 he ought. 'Tis this that gave him the thoughts of 
 making war upon the Parthians, when it was more 
 neceflary for him to have made fure of the Romans. 
 At that uncertain critical juncture, when the Ro- 
 mans were neither Citizens, nor Subjects ; when 
 CESAR was neither Magiftrate, nor Tyrant ; 
 when he violated all the Laws of the Republick, 
 and could not fet up his own ; being perplexed, 
 unfettled, loft in vaft Ideas of his imagin'd Gran- 
 deur j
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND, 
 
 deur ; not knowing how to rule his thoughts, nor 
 his affairs, he offended the Senate, and yet trufted 
 the Senators ; he abandon'd himfelf to faithlefs 
 and ungrateful Men, who preferring Liberty before 
 all virtues, chofe rather to murder a friend and 
 benefactor, than to have a Matter. Commend, 
 Gentlemen, commend a vaft Soul ; it coil CESAR 
 both his Empire and his Life. 
 
 B A UT RU, who judg'd well enough of the me- 
 rit of men, ufed to prefer CHARLES the fifth 
 to all the men that Europe ever produced fince the 
 time of the Romans. I will not pretend to deter- 
 mine fo nice a cafe, but I am inclin'd to believe, 
 that his natural parts, his courage, his activity, his 
 vigour, his magnanimity, and his conftancy, made 
 him more confiderable than any Prince of his time. 
 When he took upon him the Government of his 
 Dominions, he found Spain revolted againft Car- 
 dinal X i M E N E s who was Regent there, and whofe 
 fevere humour, and intractable behaviour, were in- 
 fupportable to the Spaniards. CHARLES was 
 oblig'd to go to Spain, and taking the manage- 
 ment of the affairs out of the hands of XIMENES 
 into his own, all the Grandees return'd immediately 
 to their duty, and all the Cities to their obedience. 
 CHARLES the fifth was more politick, or more 
 fortunate than FRANCIS the firft, in their com- 
 petition for the Empire : FRANCIS was more 
 rich and more powerful ; CHARLES carried it 
 by his Fortune, or by the fuperiority of his Genius. 
 The victory of Pavia, and the taking of Rome, 
 put into his hands a King of France and a Pope : 
 a triumph, that furpafs'd all thofe of the antient 
 Romans. The great League of Smalcald was de- 
 feated both by his conduct, and his valour. He 
 chang'd the whole face of affairs in Germany ; tranf- 
 ferr'd the Electorfhip of Saxony from one branch 
 to another ; I mean from FREDERICK, who 
 N 2 *as
 
 i 9 6 THE' WORKS OF 
 
 was difpofiefs'd, to the Houfe of M A u R i c E, who 
 had follow'd the victorious Party. Religion it felf 
 was enflav'd to victory , and received from the will 
 of the Emperor the famous Interim ", which will 
 never be forgotten. But this vaft Soul embraced 
 too many things, to regulate any one in particular : 
 he did not confider that he could do more by 
 others, than by himfelf ; and at that very time 
 when he thought he had fubdued Rome and the 
 Empire, MAURICE turning againft him the Ar- 
 mies which he feem'd to command for his fervice, 
 was fo near furprizing him in Infpruck, that he 
 forc'd him to fly in his fhirt, and to retire in all 
 hafte to Villach. It is certain, that CHARLES 
 the fifth had great Qualities, and performed very 
 great Actions , but this vaft Soul, for which he is 
 applauded, made him commit many errors, and 
 brought many misfortunes upon him. To that are 
 owing his fatal Undertakings in Africk, and feve- 
 ral other defigns, as ill projected as they were ill 
 executed -, to that are owing thofe voyages and 
 travels from Nation to Nation, wherein there was 
 more fancy than real interefl. 'Tis this vaft Soul, 
 that made the Spaniards call him a Knight-Errant, 
 and gave an occafion to thofe that did not love 
 him to look upon him as a greater Traveller than 
 Conqueror. Admire, Gentlemen, admire if you 
 pleafe, the virtue of the vaft Spirit : it turns the 
 Hero into a Knight-Errant, and gives to heroical 
 Truths the air of fabulous Adventures. 
 
 I could fhew that this fame fpirit was the caufe 
 of all the misfortunes of the laft Duke of B u R- 
 x c u N D Y, as well as thofe of CHARLES EMA- 
 
 NUEL, 
 
 " This was a kind ef Regulation which Charles V. made in 
 1^48, concerning the Articles of Faith lahich he would have 
 to be generally vnbrac 'd in Germany t till A Council hd dtcidtd, 
 the matters in contrwtrfy.
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 197 
 
 N u E L, Duke of Savoy. But I am impatient to 
 come to Cardinal RICHELIEU, to difcover in his 
 perfbn the different effects of the Great and the Vaft. 
 
 One may fay of Cardinal RICHELIEU, that he 
 had a very great Genius ; and as it was Great, he 
 brought extraordinary advantages to our Kingdom ; 
 but as it was fometimes Vafl^ he brought us alfo 
 to the brink of ruin. When he firft came into 
 the Miniftry, he found that France was govern'd 
 by the Counfels of Rome and Madrid. Our Mini- 
 fters receiv'd all the impreflions that Cardinal M A R- 
 QJJ E M o N T IJ gave them , and the Pope manag'd 
 this Cardinal, as the Spaniards manag'd the Pope. 
 The King, who was as jealous of the grandeur of 
 his Kingdom, as any King could be, defign'd with- 
 in himfelf to follow the true intereft of it : the 
 artifices of thofe that govern'd, made him follow 
 thofe of ftrangers ; and if Cardinal RICHELIEU 
 had not fat at the helm, this Prince, who was na- 
 turally an enemy to Spain and Italy, had been a 
 good Spaniard, or good Italian, in fpite of his aver- 
 fion. I will inftance in a pafiage that's little known, 
 but very true : Cardinal MARQJJEMONT writ a 
 long Letter to Cardinal RICHELIEU, concerning 
 the bufinefs of the Valtoline ; and to be in favour 
 with this new Minifter, he carefully inftructed him 
 in all the nice meafures that a man ought to ob- 
 ferve, when he has any thing to do with the Italians 
 and Spaniards. Cardinal RICHELIEU, for an an- 
 fwer, fent him four Lines, to this purpofe : 
 
 The King bath cbang'd bis Council, and the Council 
 their Maxims. An Army will be fent to the Valto- 
 lme y which Jhatt make the Pope more compliant, and 
 oblige the Spaniards to give us fatisfaftion, 
 
 N 3 Monfieur 
 
 11 Denys Simon de Marquemont, Archbifiop of Litnt, then 
 'Ambaffador of franct at Rome* and afterwara't raiftd to tht
 
 }$8 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Monfieur D E MARQUEMONT was much fuiv 
 prized at the fmartnefs of the Letter, and yet more 
 to fee the new fpirit, that now began to inform 
 the Miniftry. As he was a man of parts, he al- 
 ter'd the. fcheme of his conduct, and begg'd par- 
 don of the Minifter, for being fo prefumptuous as 
 to give him inftru&ions, which himfelf ought to 
 have received from him ; acknowledging he was 
 in an ejror to believe, that the Spaniards would 
 be ever brought to a reafonable Treaty, by a bare 
 Negotiation. Monfieur DE SENECTERRE often 
 faid, that this fhort Letter of Cardinal RICHE- 
 LIEU to Cardinal MARQJLJEMONT, was the firft 
 that let people into the fecret of this Minifter's 
 defign to pull down the power of Spain, and to 
 reftore to our Nation the fuperiority it had loft. 
 But before any thing of importance could be un- 
 dertaken abroad, it was neceflary to be fecure ae 
 home ; and the Hugonot Party was fb confiderable 
 in France, that it feem'd to compofe another State 
 within the State. This did not hinder RICHELIEU 
 from reducing them. As the War had been un- 
 fortunately carried on in the Miniftry of the Con- 
 ftable D E L u Y N E s, he was oblig'd to fall upon a 
 new Scheme ; and this produc'd effects full as hap- 
 py, as the other had done the quke contrary. It 
 was agreed on all hands, that Rochelle was the 
 foul of the party: there it was that confultations 
 were held, and defigns form'd : the interefts of a 
 hundred and a hundred Cities united there ; and 
 'twas from thence, that a body compos* d of fo 
 many feparate Parties, receiv'd life and motion. 
 Therefore there was nothing elfe to be done, but 
 to take Rochelle, and when that fell, all the reft 
 muft fall of courfe. But when the ftrength of the 
 place came to be confider'd ; when they thought 
 on the vaft numbers that would defend it ; and $ie 
 zeal of th'ofe that would engage in its defence 
 
 ^ , -i * * ^-,* | , - > ,- ; V ,W* .Vi. * .
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 
 
 when they reflected how eafy it was to relieve it 
 when they faw the Sea free, and confequently the 
 gates open to ftrangers, then they believed that to 
 be impregnable, which had never been taken. In 
 fhort, all but Cardinal RICHELIEU defpair'd of 
 any poflibility to reduce it. He was in hopes, and 
 his hopes made him form the defigr! of this great 
 Siege. In the deliberation, all difficulties were re- 
 moved ; in the execution, all conquer'd. Men. 
 mall eternally remember that famous Dyke, that 
 ftupendous work of Art, which offer'd violence to 
 Nature it felf, and gave new bounds to the Ocean. 
 They mall always remember the obftinacy of the 
 Befieg'd, and the refolution of the Befiegers. To 
 what end mould we make a longer Difcourfe ? 
 Rochelle was taken, and it was hardly furrender'd, 
 when a greater Enterprize call'd us abroad. 
 
 The Dukedom of Mantua coming by fuccefiion 
 to the Duke of NE v E R s, France had a mind to 
 fettle him there ; and Spain raifed an Army to 
 prevent us. The Emperor, under pretence of fe- 
 curing his Right, but indeed with a defign to ferve 
 Spain, march'd fome Troops into Italy j and the 
 Duke of S AVO Y, who had embrac'd the interefts, 
 of the Houfe of Auftria, had engaged to ftop us. 
 at the pafiage of the Mountains, to give the Spa^ 
 niards and Germans leifure to execute their Defigns* 
 So many oppofitions were to. no purpofe : the Pafs 
 of Suza was forced ; the Emperor's Army was en- 
 tirely ruin'd i S P i N o L A died with grief for not 
 taking Cafal ; and the Duke of N E v E R s being ac- 
 knowledged Duke of MA N TU A, remain'd in quiet 
 poffeflion of his Dominion. Whilft the Emperor's 
 Army wafted it felf in Italy, GUSTAVUS. King 
 of Sweden was engaged to enter Germany, where 
 he won Battles, took Cities, and extended his Con- 
 quefts from the Baltick-Sea to the very Rhine. 
 He was growing too powerful fpr us, when he was 
 N 4 kill'd ;.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 kill'd 5 and his death left the Swedes too feeble 
 to fupport our Interefts. Here it was that Cardinal 
 RICHELIEU fhew'd the rnafter-piece of his Poli- 
 ticks. He retain'd the Troops that were defirous 
 of marching home to Sweden : he confirm'd the 
 good intentions of a young Queen not well fix'd 
 in her Throne -, and made himfelf fo fure of Ge- 
 neral BAN i E R, that the War was maintained tin- 
 xler a new Reign, with as much vigour, as itlmd 
 been under that great King. When the Duke of 
 W E Y M A R, and Marefchal D E HORN had loft 
 the battle of Nortlinghen, Cardinal RICHELIEU 
 redoubled his fuccours ; fent great Armies into 
 Germany ; flopt the progrefs of the Imperialifts, 
 and gave the Swedes an opportunity to retrieve ther 
 affairs in the Empire. 
 
 All this was perform'd by Cardinal RICHE- 
 LIEU, as he was Great, Magnanimous, Wife and 
 Refolute. Now let us fee what he did by his vaft 
 Soul. 
 
 The imprifoning of the Elector of Triers gave 
 us an occafion, or at leaft a pretence, to declare 
 War againft the Spaniards ; and this defign was 
 worthy of the great Soul of Cardinal RICHE- 
 LIEU: but that vaft Spirit^ which fome afcribed 
 to him, loft itfelf in too many projects. He 
 took fuch falfe meafures abroad, and gave fuch ill 
 orders at home, that our Affairs, in all likelihood, 
 muft have been ruin'd. The Cardinal entertain'd 
 the moft fantaftical defign that ever was form'd : 
 which was, to attack Flanders behind, and to cut 
 off its communication with Germany, by the means 
 of the Maefe. He imagin'd he might take Bruf- 
 fels, and reduce the Low-Countries at the fame 
 time. In order to that, he fent an Army of thirty 
 five thoufand men to join the Prince of O R A N c E 
 m Brabant. But inftead of inclofjng Flanders be- 
 e Maefe and the Somme, he fhut up our 
 
 Army
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 201 
 
 Army between the Fortrefles of Flanders and thofe 
 on the Maefe -, infomuch, that there were neither 
 Provifions nor Ammunition in our Camp : and 
 without amplifying the matter, the Mifery was fb 
 great among us, that after we were oblig*d to raife 
 the Siege of Louvain, defended by fome Scholars 
 only, the Officers and Soldiers returnM into France, 
 not in a body like Troops, but ftraggling, begging 
 an alms for their Subfiftence, like Pilgrims. See 
 what the vafl Spirit of the Cardinal produc'd by 
 the fantaftical project of joining the two Armies ! 
 This great Genius, whofe thoughts were too dif- 
 fufed, took yet worfe meafures the following Cam- 
 paign. The Enemies forced the Count DE S o i s- 
 SONS, who defended the pafiage of Bray, with 
 an inconfiderable body. Having pafs'd the Somme, 
 they made themfelves Matters of the Field, took 
 our Cities, which they found unprovided with all 
 things ; carried Defolation as far as Compiegne, 
 and Terror even to Paris. A fine commendation 
 for Cardinal RICHELIEU, that his projects were 
 Fajl ! The very quality, which the Gentlemen of 
 the Academy value fo highly, made him commie 
 full as grofs faults in the Campaign of Aire. He 
 undertook a great Siege in Flanders, at the fame 
 time that the Count of SOISSONS entred Cham- 
 pagne with an Army. Hardly had we taken Aire, 
 but die Marefchal' DE LA MEILLBRAYE *ras 
 defeated, and the City befieged by the Enemy. If 
 the Count had not been killed after he had won the 
 battle of Sedan M , we might have expected the 
 greateft diforder in the world, confidering what 4 
 difpofition the People were then in. Had the Gen- 
 tlemen of the Academy been particularly acquainted 
 with Monfieur DETVRENNE, they would have 
 
 o . , plainly 
 
 '* Lnvit dt Xcurbon, Count of Stiffens, wasi'tlPd 
 Ik of la Marftt near Std*n>
 
 'ioi THE WORKS OF 
 
 plainly found that the vaft Spirit of the Cardinal 
 was by no means approved by him. That wife 
 General admir'd a hundred qualities of this Mini- 
 fter, but he could not endure the Vafa for which, 
 he is commended. 'Twas that caufed him to af- 
 firm, Vbat Cardinal M A z A R i N was wifer than 
 Cardinal RICHELIEU; that tbe defigm of Cardi- 
 nal M A z A R i N were juft and regular ; tbofe of 
 Cardinal RICHEL, IEU gr eater ^ but not fo well con- 
 certed^ as being the $rcduft of too extenftve an Ima- 
 gination* 
 
 Thefe, Gentlemen, are fome of thofe Reafons I 
 had to offer to you againft the word Vafl. If I 
 have not fubmitted to the Judgment you have given 
 in favour of Madam M A z A R i N, 'tis becaufe I 
 found in your Writings a cenfure of Vaft, of much 
 greater force than can be found in this Difcourfe. 
 And indeed you have given fuch juft bounds to 
 your own Wits, that you feem yourfelves to con- 
 demn the Word you defend. 
 
 UPON 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIK 
 
 OF all the Sayings of the Antients, which you 
 have fo judicioufly obferv'd, and fo happily 
 retain'd, none affects me more than that of A G E- 
 5 1 L A u s, \yhen he recommends the affair of one. of 
 
 '
 
 M. DE ST, EVREMOND. 203 
 
 his Friends to another. If N i c i A s, fays he, has 
 committed no fault, fet him at liberty -, if be bas, fet 
 him at liberty for my fake : let the matter be bow it 
 will, fet him at liberty. Behold here, Madam, the 
 force of Friendfhip ! A King of the Lacedemo- 
 nians, fo upright, fo virtuous, fo fevere ; a King, 
 who ought to give his Subjects examples of Juftice, 
 not only allows, but even commands Injuftice, in an 
 inftance wherein his Friend is concern'd. 
 
 Had a private man acted asAcESiLAus did, 
 there would be no wonder in the cafe. Private 
 men are but too much fetter'd by the Laws of Ci- 
 vil Society -, fo that one of the greateft pleafures 
 they can enjoy, is fometimes to follow the dictates 
 of Nature, and to indulge their own Inclinations. 
 'Tis with regret they obey thofe that govern , and 
 on the contrary, love to ferve thofe they are pleas'd 
 with : but that a King, taken up with his greatnefs, 
 mould renounce the adorations of the Publick, and 
 derogate from his own Authority and Power, to 
 defcend to himfelf, and feel the moft natural fcn- 
 timents of Humanity, 'tis what is not eafy to appre- 
 hend, and which well deferves our Reflections. 
 
 'Tis certain, one ought not to look on his Prince 
 as his Friend. The great diftance between Sove* 
 reignty and Subjection, does not admit that union 
 of Affections, which is neceffary to love well ; and 
 the power of a Prince, and the duty of Subjects, 
 have in them fomething oppofite to the Tendernefs 
 that Friendfhip requires. 
 
 To exercife dominion without violence, is all 
 that the beft of Princes can do ; to obey without 
 murmuring, is all that can be required of the beft 
 of Subjects. Now Moderation and Docility have 
 no great allurements : and thofe two Virtues are 
 not lively enough to raife inclinations, and kindle 
 the ardour of Friendfliip. The ordinary intercourfe 
 between Kings and their Courtiers, is generally an 
 3 intercour/Q
 
 204 THEWORliSOF 
 
 intercourfe of Intereft. Courtiers purfue fortune 
 with Kings ; Kings expert fervices from Cour- 
 tiers. 
 
 However, there are times, wherein either the fa- 
 tigue of bufinefs, or the being difgufted with pomp 
 and magnificence, obliges Princes to feek in the 
 purity of Nature, thofe enjoyments which they can- 
 not find in their Grandeur. Tired out with cere- 
 monies, affected gravity, ftate, and mew, they caft 
 about for thofe natural Sweets, and endearments of 
 Freedom, of which their condition deprives them. 
 Perplexed and troubled with jealoufies and fufpi- 
 cions, they look out, at laft, for a bofom Friend, 
 to whom they may open a heart, which they keep 
 fhut up to all the reft of the world. The flattery of 
 fawning Adulators makes them wiih for a fincere 
 Friend ; and this produces thofe Confidents, who 
 are call'd Favourites : thofe perfons endear* d to 
 Princes, with whom they eafe themfelves of the 
 burden of their fecrets ; and with whom they are 
 pleas'd to enjoy all the fweets, which a familiar 
 intercourfe, and a free converfation may yield to 
 intimate Friends. 
 
 But how dangerous are fuch Friendmips to a 
 Favourite who is more follicitous of mewing his 
 Love, than watchful on his conduct and behaviour ! 
 This Confident thinks to find a Friend, where he 
 meets with his Mafter -, and, by an unexpected 
 turn, his familiarity is punim'd, as the indifcreet 
 freedom of a Servant who forgot himfelf. Thofe 
 Courtiers, whole conduct is ruled by their intereft, 
 find in their own induftry wherewithal to make 
 themfelves agreeable ; and prudence makes them 
 avoid whatever may be offensive or difpleafing. He 
 who truly loves his Mafter, only confuks his own 
 heart and affection : he thinks himfelf fafe in what 
 he fpeaks, and what he does, by what he feels 
 within himfelf ; and the warmth of an ill-govern'd
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 205 
 
 Friendfhip caufes his ruin, where the caution of 
 thofe who have not the fame affection, would pre- 
 ferve to him all the advantages of his fortune. 
 Thus men generally lofe the favour of Princes, who 
 are more careful of punifhing what offends their 
 Character, than eafy to forgive what is done by an 
 impulfe of Nature. Happy thofe Subjects, whofe 
 Princes know how to excufe what the weaknefs of 
 human condition renders excufable in Men ! But 
 let us not envy all thofe who make themfelves dread- 
 ed : for they lofe the pleafures both of loving and 
 of being loved. Let us return to more particular 
 confiderations on Friendfhip. 
 
 I ever admir'd EP i c u R u s's Morals ; and what 
 I value moft in his Morals, is, the preference he 
 gives to Friendfhip, before all other Virtues. In 
 truth, Juftice is only a Virtue eftablifh'd for the fup- 
 port of human Society ; it is the work of Men, 
 whereas Friendfhip is the work of Nature. Friend- 
 Ihip is the onlypleafure of our Lives; when Juftice, 
 with all its rigors, can hardly make us fafe. If 
 Prudence makes us avoid fbme evils, Friendfhip al- 
 leviates them all : if Prudence makes us acquire 
 fome goods, 'tis Friendfhip gives a relifh to the 
 enjoyment of them. Have you occafion for whole- 
 fom Counfel, who can give it you but a faithful 
 Friend ? Who can you entruft with your Secrets, 
 to whom can you open your Heart, and unveil your 
 Soul, unlefs it be a Friend ? and how tirefom would 
 it be for a man to be always dofe confined within 
 himfelf, without a Confident either of his affairs or 
 pleafures ? Enjoyments ceafe to be fo, as foon as 
 they are not communicated. Even the heavenly Fe- 
 licity would be tirefom, without the confidence of & 
 Friend '. I have obferv'd, that devout Perfons who 
 are moft difengaged from the world, and love God 
 with the greateft affection, love in God other de- 
 
 vouc 
 ! Thit M a Thought of one of the AntitMt.
 
 2o$ THE WORKS OF 
 
 vout Perfons, that they may have vifible objects of 
 their Friendfhip. One of the great Pleafures which 
 is found in loving God, is to be allow'd to love 
 thofe that love him. 
 
 I wonder'd formerly to fee fo many Confidents of 
 both Sexes upon our Stage ; .but found, at laft, that 
 die ufe of them was very prudently introduced : for a 
 Paffion imparted to no body, proves oftener a tire- 
 fom conftraint to the Mind, than an agreeable plea- 
 fure to the Senfes. As an Amour cannot be made 
 publick without fhame, fo it cannot be kept altoge- 
 ther fecret without uneafmels : but with a Confident* 
 a man is more fafe in his conduct, his Uneafinefles 
 are allay'd, his Pleafures redouble, and all his Trou- 
 bles diminim. Poets, who well know the conftraint 
 which attends a conceaPd Paffion, make us talk of it 
 to the Winds, to Rivulets, and to Trees -, upon a be- 
 lief, that 'tis better to Ipeak of what one feels, even 
 with inanimate things, than to keep it too fecret, 
 and make one*s own filence a fecond Torment. 
 
 As I have no mining merit to boaft of, I hope 
 I may be allow'd to mention one, upon which men 
 do feldom value themfelves ; which is, the having 
 gain'd the entire Confidence of my Friends ; and the 
 moft fecret perfon that ever I knew, was only re- 
 ferv'd with others, that he might be the more 
 open with me. He conceal'd nothing from me, 
 as long as we convers'd together ; and he would, 
 perhaps, have been glad of an opportunity to tell 
 me every thing, when we were afunder. The re- 
 membrance of fuch an endearing Confidence is very 
 fweet to me -, but the thoughts of the condition he 
 is in, is ftill more grievous. I have contracted a 
 familiarity with my own Misfortunes, but never {hall 
 with his ; and fmce I can beftow nothing but for- 
 row on his Difgrace, no day (hall pafs, but J fhaU 
 grieve and lament it. 
 
 Sjich
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 107 
 
 Such entire Confidences, admit of no manner of 
 difiimulation. We ufe a great deal better an Enemy 
 whom we openly profefs to bate, than a Friend from 
 whom we conceal any thing, or with whom we diffem- 
 ble * : for, ah enemy may, indeed, receive more 
 hurt by our hatred, but a friend will fuffer a greater 
 injury by our diflimulation. The latter is a vice 
 which is not tolerated in civil Society : therefore, 
 with more reafon, ought it not to be fufferM in pri- 
 vate Friendmips. 
 
 But to preferve fo precious a thing as Friendship, 
 it is not enough to be upon one's guard againft 
 Vices, but one muft be fo even againft Virtues, nay, 
 againft Juftice it felf. The feverities of Juftice do 
 not confift with the tendernefies of Friendfhip ; 
 whofoever pretends to be juft, is either confcious he 
 is already an ill friend, or inclined to be fo. The 
 Gofpel feldom recommends Juftice, without re- 
 commending Chanty at the fame time ; with de- 
 fign, in my opinion, to foften a Virtue which would 
 be auftere, and almoft favage, but for the mixture 
 of a little Love. Juftice, blended with other vir- 
 tues, is excellent ; but all alone, without any mix- 
 ture of good-nature, mildnefs, and humanity, it is 
 more wild than the men it firft brought together ; 
 and it may be faid, that it banifhes all manner of 
 fweetnefs and agreeablenefs from the civil Society 
 it has fettled. 
 
 Friendfhip is not only apprehenfive of the rigour 
 of Juftice, but likewife of the profound reflections 
 of Wifdom, that keep us too much within our 
 felves, when Inclination would carry us towards 
 another. Friendmip requires a fire that animates, 
 and does not like circumfpections that ftop ic : it 
 ought always to be abfolute miitrefs of the fortunes, 
 and fometimes of the lives of thofe it unites. 
 
 In 
 
 ' This it * Thought of tnt of tht Annintt.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 In this union of wills, different Opinions may, 
 however, be allow'd : but difputing, in fuch a cafe, 
 ought to be a conference in order to clear doubts, 
 and not an exafperating contention. A man ought 
 not to ftir up pafiion, where he only feeks for 
 lights , and therefore Friends ought to avoid very 
 claming Opinions in Religion. A man who fubjecls 
 all to Reafon, and one who depends wholly upon 
 Authority, will hardly agree together. H o B B E s 
 and S P i N o s A, who admit neither Prophecies nor 
 Miracles, but upon a long and judicious examination, 
 will have no great value for thofe credulous people, 
 who receive the Revelations of St. B R i D G E T, and 
 the Legend of the Saints, as Articles of Faith. I re- 
 member I have feen an eftrangement among Devout 
 perfons, becaufe fome of them entertain* d too great 
 apprehenfions from God's Juftice, and others too 
 large hopes from his Goodnefs. 
 
 I mould never have done, if I would explain 
 whatever conduces either to eftablim,or to deftroy the 
 confidence of fuch Friendmips. They cannot fub- 
 fift without faithfulnefs and fecrecy ; for 'tis what 
 makes them fecure : but this is not fufficient to ren* 
 der them agreeable and endearing. There muft be, 
 befides fafety, a certain union between two Souls, 
 which is form'd by a fecret charm, I cannot exprefs, 
 and which is more eafily felt than perfectly known. 
 A familiar intercourfe with a beautiful, ingenious, 
 and judicious Woman, would, in my opinion, 
 make fuch a union yet more agreeable, if one 
 could depend on its duration. But when any thing 
 of Paflion mixes with it, difguft terminates confi- 
 dence with Love , and if there be nothing but bare 
 friendfhip, the fentiments of "friendfhip cannot hold 
 it long againft the motions of a Paflion. 
 
 I have wonder'd a hundred times why the Fair 
 Sex had been excluded from the management of 
 Affairs ; for I found foffce of them more 
 fldlfu!
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 20? 
 
 fkilful and abler than men. I was, at length, fen- 
 fible that this exclufion did not proceed either from 
 the malice of envy, or any fuggeftion of private in- 
 tereft ; nor yet from an ill opinion of their wit ; 
 but merely (I hope I may fpeak it, as I mean it, 
 without offence) becaufe one could not rely on their 
 weak and unfteady affection, their heart being too 
 much fway'd by their natural frailty. A Woman 
 who may wifely govern a Kingdom one day, will give 
 herfelf a mafter the next, as one would not entruft 
 with the looking after a dozen of Hem, to ufe Cardi- 
 nal M A z A R i N'S own words. What would not 
 Madam DECHEVREUSE, the Countefs of C A R- 
 LISLE, and the Princefs PALATINE, have 
 brought about, had not they fpoil'd by their affec- 
 tions, all they might have perform'd by their Wit J ? 
 The errors of the Heart, are far more dangerous than 
 the extravagancies of the Imagination : thefe may, 
 every one of them, be corrected by the Judgment ; 
 whereas our Affection inclines us to evil, and makes 
 us adhere to it, in fpite of all the lights of our un- 
 derftanding : 
 
 Video meliora, proboque, .'..-' 
 
 Deteriora fequor. 
 
 A very ingenious Woman 4 told me one day, 
 that Jhe returned God thanks, every night, for her 
 Wit, and pra-fd him, every morning, to preferve her 
 from the follies vf her Heart. Oh LOT, Oh LOT', 
 how little you are in danger from thefe follies ! 
 be thankful to God for your bright pares, and rely 
 
 Vol. II. O on 
 
 3 See tht Life of M. de St. Evremond, under tht year 1676. 
 
 * Madam de fEnclos. 
 
 5 Charlotte de Najfau, daughter of Lewis de NaJJau Lord of 
 Bevenveert, Ambafftdor extraordinary from the States General at 
 the Court of England. She was fifler to the Counteffes f At* 
 Itngton and Offory, And tt Mefftun d'Qdyck, AH<wtrktrk t Ccc,
 
 iio THE WORKS OF 
 
 on your felf for your Inclinations. I know fome 
 perfons, LOT, who have no great reaibn to thank 
 God for your Wit. The little Eouffctte^ among 
 the reft, would willingly confent that your Heart 
 were fomewhat diforder'd, and your Judgment lefs 
 free and independent. 
 
 Superior Genius, how pleas'd are your Vafials to 
 admire in you fo much Reaibn, and fo much Beau- 
 ty ! what fatisfaftion it is to them to fee you defpife 
 the tedious difcourfes of Beauties , the fulfom Con- 
 verfations about Commodes, new-fafhion'd Sleeves, 
 and Indian Stuffs ? How fweet it is to fee you 
 abandon the falfe Gallantry of others, Bajkets full 
 of Ribbons i and the genteel Cane of Monfieur D E 
 NEMOURS 6 ! Soul elevated above all other 
 Souls, what pleafure it is to fee you make fuch a 
 noble ufe of what you have ', fo little regret what 
 you had, and fo little delire what you have not ! 
 
 Add, Madam, the merit of the Heart, to that 
 of the Soul and Mind : defend that heart of yours 
 againft officious Fops 7 ; thofe bufy fellows, who are 
 ever ready to fhut a door or a window, to take 
 up a glove or a fan. 
 
 Love does aot injure the reputation of Ladies ; 
 but the {lender merit of their Lovers difgraces 
 them. You'd do me wrong, Madam, if you 
 thought me an enemy to Tendernefs : for as old 
 as I am, I mould be forry to be free from it. We 
 love as long as we can draw breath. What I 
 defire in Friendmip is, that Knowledge fhould 
 go before Affection , and that an efteem juftly 
 form'd in the Mind, mould animate it felf in the 
 
 Heart, 
 
 6 See la Princefle de Cleves j a Romance written by the Dukt 
 de la Rochefoucault, Madam de la Fayette, and M. de Segrais. 
 
 7 Our Author calls them in French, Rendeurs de petits (bins, 
 an exprejfion taken out of la Carte de Tendre, in the firft Tome 
 of tht Romance of Clelia.
 
 M. D E ST. EVREMOND. ait 
 
 Heart, and receive there fuch warmth as is nece 
 fary for Friendfhip, as well as Love. Love there- 
 fore, Madam ; but love no objects but what are 
 worthy of you. I contradict my felf here unawares, 
 and forbid whatever I will allow. To give you 
 fuch a piece of advice, is to be more fevere than 
 Preachers in a Jpulpit, and lefs indulgent than Fa- 
 ther Confeflbrs. 
 
 If my wifhes were accomplifh'd, you mould be 
 ambitious, and govern thofe that govern others 8 
 Either become miftrefs of the World, or remain 
 miftrefs of your felf ; not in order to pafs tedious 
 days in that fad and melancholy Indolence, which 
 fome would trump up for Virtue , but to have an 
 abfolute power over your affections, and over-rule 
 your pleafures. 
 
 Sometimes let Reafon^ with a foifreign fway>> 
 
 Controul all your dejires : 
 Sometimes let Keafon to your heart give ?vay t 
 
 And fan your warmeft fires. 
 
 If Confidence be one of the greateft comforts of 
 life, enjoy the fweetnefs of it both with your dear 
 L O <T ; and with him whom you may be fure you 
 can truft, as well as your felf. 
 
 O2 A 
 
 ? Ste the Life of M. dc St. Eyrcmond, under th ytar ltf;tf
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 A 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 EARL OF ST. ALB ANS'. 
 
 "VT O company is fo agreeable and good, but 
 X^\ one time or other it muft part : therefore, 
 by a much ftronger reafon, a melancholy fociety 
 ought not to laft for ever. As for ours, my Lord, 
 'tis the moft doleful that ever was known. Since 
 I have begun to play at Madam M A z A R i N'S, I 
 have not had SpadUlo fix times ; Bafto has come 
 oftner to me, but 'tis a decoy that tempts me to 
 play, and caufes me to be beaded. I draw none 
 but Trays of Clubs or Spades, or Sixes of Hearts 
 and Diamonds. However, my Lord, I return 
 heaven thanks, when nothing but lamentations of 
 murmurs might be expected from me. God be 
 praifed, I fet a good example, and fuch a one as 
 your partner ought to fet : however, it will, at 
 long run, ruin my Affairs, and not mend yours ; 
 which made me fay laft night, like M D E B E L L E- 
 GARDE, / pay and play w more, and do what I 
 fleafe \ 
 
 Let 
 
 * Henry Jermyn, arl of St. Albant, Lord Chamberlain t 
 Queen Henrietta, Confort of King Charles I. He dyed in 1684. 
 
 * M. de Bellegarde, maternal Uncle of Madam de Montefpan, 
 who -was fomewbat pajjionate and whimjical, ufed to fay, luhen 
 
 ht
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 2i j 
 
 Let us comfort our felves, my Lord, that we 
 are in a better condition than thofe that win our 
 money ; for 'tis better by much to fuffer an injury, 
 than to do it. Madam M A z A R i N has an excel- 
 lent hand at filching my Fi/hes, and dropping a 
 Card out of the ftock, when I play without taking 
 in, with four Matadors in hand. I addrefs my felf 
 to the Prince DE MONACO*, who tells me very 
 feriouily, and with an air of fmcerity : Upon my 
 ivtrd^ Monfieur DESr. EVREMOND, / lookd 
 another way. Your friend the Marquis D E S A i s- 
 s A c laughs much, and decides nothing ; and Mon- 
 fieur COURTIN declares that my hardfhips are 
 great. But all the declarations of Monfieur COUR- 
 T i N fignify little or nothing. The Ambaffador is 
 as little regarded in this houfe, as he would be at 
 the Exchange, if he went about to juftify Sir EL- 
 LIS L A Y T o N 4 there. In this extremity I call 
 heaven to witnefs, but heaven has no more credit 
 than the AmbafTador. 
 
 Come to town, my Lord, to maintain your own 
 rights your felf ; the Country was never made for 
 fuch as you. Let thofe be difgufted with the world, 
 with whom the world is already difgufted. But let 
 thofe perfons of worth and honour, who are belov- 
 ed by it, ftill continue in it. A man of honour 
 and politenefs ought to live and die in a capital Ci- 
 ty ; and, in my opinion, there are but three capital 
 Cities in Europe, Rome, London, and Paris. But 
 Paris is no longer a place for your Lordfhip to live 
 jn ; of the many friends you had there, fome are 
 O 3 dead, 
 
 ke was in ill luck, I pay and play no more $ I do what I 
 pi cafe ; -which faying became proverbial among the other Came' 
 Jters bis cotemporarits. 
 
 3 The Prove of Monaco came o/ver to England^ in the year 
 Ujrf. 
 
 * He WMt one of the Commljfioners of Prizts, whom tk* 
 thantf (bArfd -with great
 
 ii4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 dead, and the others are imprifon'd : Rome cannot 
 fuit with you ; nor can the Difciple of St. PA u I, 
 Jike a place, where St. PETE R'S fucceflbr is the 
 fovereign : this goodly and great City, called Lon- 
 don, daily expecls you ; and here, my Lord, you 
 ought to fix your abode. ' Free conventions at 
 table, with a few guefts \ a game at Hombre at 
 her Royal Highnefs's 5 , and Chefs at home, will 
 make you as eafily wait the laft period of life at 
 London, as Monfieur D E s Yv E T E A u x did at 
 Paris. He died at eighty years of age, caufmg a 
 Saraband to be 'play'd to him, a little before he 
 expir'd, that his 6W, as he exprefs'd himfelf, might 
 Jlide away the eafier 6 . You'll not pitch upon Mu- 
 fick to fbften the hardships of that voyage. A 
 Vole at Hombre, and three aces eldeft hand 
 againft three nines at Crimpo, will determine your 
 days with as great fatisfaction. This will not hap- 
 pen the Lord knows when, if you come and live 
 at London : but I'll not give you fix months life, 
 if you flay in the Country with thofe melancholy 
 thoughts you have taken up there. 
 
 A 
 
 5 The Dutchefs of Tork. 
 
 6 See the Melanges d'Hiftoire Sc de Litterature de Vigneul 
 Marville, Tern. I. />, 154. & feqq.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 21 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIN. 
 
 IHave refolv*d, Madam, to give you a piece of 
 Advice, tho I am not unleniible how lictle the 
 Ladies care to receive any. But let the effect be what 
 it will, I am too much concern'd for your Beauty, 
 not to inform you, that you'll injure it extremely, 
 if you mould put on fine clothes on the Queen's 
 birth-day. Let others of your fex make ufe of Or- 
 naments : thefe are artificial Beauties that ferve 
 them inftead of the natural , and we are oblig'd 
 to 'em for gratifying our eyes with fomething more 
 agreeable than their own peribns. But mould you 
 follow their example, we fhould not have the fame 
 obligation to your Grace. Every ornament that is 
 beftow'd upon you, hides a charm ; as every orna- 
 ment that is taken from you, reftores you fome 
 new grace, and you are never fo lovely, as when 
 we behold nothing in you but your felf. 
 
 The greateft part of the Ladies are very advan- 
 tageoufly loft under their drefs. Some women look 
 well enough with a pearl-necklace, that would 
 make a very forry figure with their bare necks. 
 The richeft necklace in the world, would have an 
 Q 4 M
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 ill effect upon you, it would make fome alteration 
 in your perfon, and every alteration that happens 
 to a perfect Beauty, cannot be an advantage to it. 
 Thofe who keep your Jewels from you, are better 
 friends to your beauty than you may imagine. I 
 am more your humble fervant than any man ; but 
 as much your humble fervant as I am, there are 
 fome days, when I can find excufes for Meffieurs 
 COLBERT and D u M E T z '. Were you in the 
 condition you ought to be in, it would not be fo 
 eafy to diftinguifh the advantages of your perfonal 
 merit, from thofe of your fortune. Thofe Gentle- 
 men fave us that trouble : thanks to the care they 
 have taken to feparate thofe two things j we plain- 
 ly fee you are oblig'd to none but your felf for 
 all the tender fentiments men have for you. Let 
 others lay out all they are worth in Jewels and fine 
 Clothes ; Nature has been at all the expence : 
 and as you would be ungrateful, fo we mould be- 
 tray an ill tafle, mould we not be equally content 
 with that profufion of gifts me has heap'd upon 
 you. 
 
 I would counfel you, Madam, to take the fame 
 meafures on her Majefty's Birth-day, which the fa- 
 mous Bussi D* A M B o i s E formerly obferved at 
 a Tournament. Being inform'd before-hand that 
 all the Noblemen of the Court defign'd to put 
 t'hemfelves to an extraordinary expence in their 
 Equipage and Clothes, he order'd his Retinue to be 
 drefs'd like Lords, and appear'd himfelf in the 
 plained drefs in the world, at the head of fo rich a 
 train. The advantages of Nature were fo confpi- 
 cuous in the perfon of Bus si, that he alone was 
 taken for a great Lord, and the other Noblemen, 
 who rely'd fo much upon the magnificence of their 
 
 habits, 
 
 1 M. Col&ert, and M. du Metx, Ketptr of the Royal Treaf*ry, 
 had tit their cvftody the Dutchefs of Mandarin's Jewels.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 217 
 
 habits, pals'd but for Valets. Govern your felf, I 
 befeech you, Madam, by the example of B u ss i : 
 let F A N c H o N and G R E N i E R % be attir'd like 
 Dutcheffes ; but as for your felf, appear in the or- 
 dinary drefs of a country Nymph, with nothing 
 but the charms of your Beauty to recommend you : 
 all the Ladies will be taken for FANCHONS, and 
 the plainnefs of your habit will not hinder you from 
 out-mining all the Queens in the univerfe. 
 
 I have no great inclination to tell ftories, which 
 perhaps is nothing but the effect of an ill-grounded 
 Vanity, that makes me prefer the exprefling of 
 what I imagine, to the reciting of what I have feen. 
 The profeflion of a Story-teller fits but aukwardly 
 upon young people, but is downright weaknels in 
 old men. When our mind is not arrived to its due 
 vigour, or when it begins to decline, we then take 
 a pleafure in telling what does not put us to any 
 great expence of thought. However, I will for 
 once renounce the pleafure which I generally take 
 in my own Imagination, to entertain you with a 
 fmall Adventure, of which I was an eye-witnefs at 
 the Hague. 
 
 During my refidence in that place, the fancy 
 took, one day, the Count DE GUICHE S , and 
 Monfieur D E L A VA L i E R E 4 , to draw the eyes 
 of the fpeclators after them : to put which noble 
 defign in execution, they both refolv*d that their 
 Drefs mould have all the magnificence which this 
 part of the world was able to afford, and, at the 
 fame time, difcover the nicety of their inventions. 
 The Count diftinguifh'd himfelf by a thoufand fm- 
 gularities : he had a tuft of feathers in his hat, 
 
 which 
 
 * Two Wtitmg'-voomtn of Madam Mazjr'm't. 
 3 Arm and. de Grammont, who died towards the end of tin 
 year 1671. 
 
 + Brother to jhe Dmcheft
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 which was button'd up by a buckle of Diamonds, 
 that he could have wifh*d to have been larger, 
 for this occafion. He wore about his neck Come 
 Point de Venife, which was neither a Cravat nor a 
 Band ; but a fmall Ruff, that might gratify the fe- 
 cret inclination he had contracted for the Golilia^hen 
 he liv'd at Madrid. After this, Madam, you would 
 expect to find him in a Doublet, after the Spanifh 
 manner ; but, to your furprize, I muft tell you, it 
 was an Hungarian Veft. Next, the ghoft of An- 
 tiquity haunted his memory ; fo he cover' d his legs 
 with Bufkins, but infinitely fprucer and genteeler 
 than thofe the antient Romans ufed to wear ; and 
 on which he had order'd his Miflrefs's name to be 
 written in letters that were extremely well defign'd, 
 upon an embroidery of pearls. From his Hat 
 down to his Veft, he had fquar'd himfelf by the 
 odd fancy of the Admirante of CASTILE; 
 Count D E S E R i N i, was confpicuous in the Vefl ; 
 and the idea of S c i P i o had made him put on 
 Bufkins. As for L A VA HERE, he had appa- 
 rell'd himfelf after as extraordinary a manner as he 
 poflibly could, but he follow'd too much the French 
 way, and could not raife himfelf to the perfection 
 of fantafticalnefs. 
 
 This was the equipage of our Gentlemen, when 
 they made their appearance in the Voorhout, which 
 is the place where Perfons of Quality ufe to take 
 the air at the Hague. They had fcarce en,ter'd 
 it, when multitudes ran from all hands to gaze and 
 flare at them ; and as every body was furpriz'd at 
 the novelty of the thing, they were at firfl puzzled, 
 whether to admire it as extraordinary, or to laugh 
 at it as extravagant. In this fhort uncertainty of 
 thought, Monfieur DE LOUVIGNY* arriv'd in 
 
 the 
 
 5 Anthony Charles de Grammontj Count de Lpuvigny, facr 
 Duke of Grammont,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 219 
 
 the place, and put a (lop to their grave contem- 
 plation. He wore a plain black fuit, and clean 
 linnen made up the reft : but then he had the fined 
 head of hair, the moft agreeable face, and the gen- 
 tcelefl air that can be imagin'd. His modeft de- 
 portment filently infinuated the merits of all his ex- 
 cellent Qualities : the Ladies were touch'd, and the 
 Men were infinitely pleas'd. Were it not for you, 
 Madam, the queftion would be foon decided, and 
 the advantages of your fex loft for ever. You are 
 the only Woman in the world, who are able to 
 make ftronger imprefiions. Having thus defcrib'd 
 his Charms to you, 'twill be no difficult matter for 
 you to guefs the effects of them. In fhort, Ma- 
 dam, all the fpedtators were as much affected, as 
 the poor Count and his friend were mortified, to 
 their great difappointment. People ftill remember 
 at the Hague how triumphantly Monfieur D E 
 LOUVIGNY came off, and ftill make fport with 
 telling the ill fuccefs of the other two Gentlemen. 
 If I wer not in England, I mould often think on 
 this adventure : but, Madam, you deftroy all ob- 
 jects and all ideas -, you would eclipfe a thoufand 
 MIDDLETONS, and a thoufand LOUVICNYS. 
 What has either fex left to oppofe to your Charms ? 
 
 FOR
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 FOR MADAM 
 
 DE BEVERWEERT'. 
 
 WE were fcarce got three miles from Eufton a , 
 before we heartily repented our leaving it. 
 The beauty of the Place , the agreeable manner of 
 living there ; the merit and obliging temper of the 
 Matter and Miftrefs of the houfe ; the Charms of 
 the beautiful Egyptian ; the indearing Qualities of 
 the fair Indifferent, for whom 'tis impoflible for 
 any one that fees her to be indifferent ; Ihe whom 
 we always behold with pleafure, and whom we al- 
 ways hear with admiration, that Wit fo lively and 
 fo juft, that Humour fo gay and free, with a con- 
 dud: fo juft and regular : all thefe Perfons, all thefe 
 things prefented themfelves to our imaginations, 
 and Convinced us, to our forrow, that happinefs is 
 lefs known, and lefs valued when poffefs'd, than 
 when loft. 
 
 Thefe melancholy thoughts had lull'd the Am- 
 baflador of Portugal 3 afleep, out of fympathy, 
 perhaps, with Madam DE BEVERWEERT, who 
 never fleeps fo foundly, as when me is in deep af- 
 fliction. As the Conftitutions of people are (diffe- 
 rent, my concern kept me awake to reflect on what 
 we had loft. I entertain'd for fome time thefe fad 
 thoughts, which were not difagreeable ; but one 
 
 whimfyr 
 
 See above pag. aoj^ 
 
 * The Earl of Arlington's Country-feat in Suffolk, 
 3 Don Francifco, Count de Mela.
 
 M_DE ST. EVREMOND. ai? 
 
 whimfy ufliering in another, I found my felf at laft 
 in one of D o N Qy i x o T'S Fits ; and being feiz'd, 
 all on a fudden, with the fpirit of Chivalry, I cried 
 out with a loud voice, Te Knights of Suffolk, ye 
 Palmerins of Bury 4 , come and confefs to the Knight 
 of the 'Tagus^ and the Norman DON QJJ i x o T, 
 that all the Oriana's and Angelica's in the world^ 
 are not worthy to carry the flippers of the mojt in- 
 comparable Carolina of Eufton. 
 
 Tranfported as I was, and really more a D o N 
 QJJ i x o T than DON Qy i x o T himfelf, I faw a 
 brace of Higlers coming upon the Road, whom I 
 immediately took for two Knights. They had both 
 of them Cudgels in their hands, which I fancied to 
 be Lances, as I did their Caps, which were flouch'd 
 down, like that of my Lord To WN s H E N D, to be 
 Helmets, with the Vifer down. This Equipage, 
 which I miftook for a warlike preparation, made 
 me conclude, that Blood and Battle would foon 
 enfue ; for which reafon, I thrice cried out, as loud 
 as I was able, SANCHO, SANCHO, faddle Rozi- 
 nante, and get Grizzle ready. 
 
 The Doctor y , who was behind the Coach, ima- 
 gining that I call'd him, leapt down immediately, 
 and ask'd me what I wanted. Saddle Rozinantt 9 
 SANCHO, with all expedition^ for lo ! a new Ad- 
 venture offers it felf. The honeft Doclor thought, 
 that being weary with riding in the Coach, I had 
 a mind to eafe my felf on Horfeback : upon which, 
 he told me, 'That they had not even Horfes enough 
 for his Excellency's ufe. This anfwer of the Doctor 
 brought me to my felf again, and the Dreams of 
 Knight-Errancry which had got into my head, be- 
 ginning to vanilh, the Knight of Tagus came by 
 degrees to be the Portugal Ambajfador t the Norman 
 
 DON 
 
 A Town in Suffolk. 
 
 Ow ofthtEwl of Arlington* tTootmt*, fo nick-ntm'd*
 
 222 T H E W O R K S O F* 
 
 DON Qi x o T changed to ST. EVREMOND ; 
 and the brace of Higlers patted quietly by us, with 
 their Cudgels and Caps. 
 
 I muft needs own, that I made no great facri- 
 fice to Madam DEBEVERWEERT, when I loft 
 my Reafon for the love of her. The little I had 
 to part with, made the lofs inconiiderable. That 
 indeed of the Ambafiador was important, and ac- 
 cordingly he husbanded it much better than I did 
 mine ; and you'll find by what I am going to tell 
 you, that he preferv'd it as ferene and compos'd, as 
 if he had been altogether unconcern'd. 
 
 Coming to a River-fide, whofe Waters were 
 fweird by the excefiive Rains that had fallen a little 
 before, I reprefented to him with what eafe he 
 might put in execution what Mademoifelle D E L A 
 R o c H E 6 , in a Copy of Verfes, once defir'd of 
 him, as a proof of his Pafiion j which was nothing 
 in the world elfe, but only to take a civil leap 
 into the Water, and drown himfelf, in order to 
 gain the reputation of an amorous Heroe. " If my 
 " Pafiion for Madam DE BEVE^IWEERT, faid 
 " he to ?ne, was difhonourable or bafe, I would 
 " never fcruple to drown my felf in fuch a nafty 
 " puddle as this : but all my Defires are pure and 
 " innocent ; fo that if ever the whim takes me to 
 " drown my felf, I am refolv'd it mail be in clear 
 " and fair Water, that may bear fome refemblance 
 " to the purity of my Thoughts." My Lord, faid 
 I to him, if you are not to drown till you find out 
 Water as dear as your Under ft anding, we [fhall not, 
 in all probability , lofe you this good while. 
 
 We pafs'd the River with thefe forts of Dif- 
 courfes, when CHARLES appear'd, and gallop'd 
 
 towards 
 
 6 Mademoifelle de la Roche Guilben, -was then Governefs t 
 the Earl of Arlington's only Daughter, who was afterward* mar* 
 ried to the Duke of Grafton. Mademoifelle de la Roche is tht 
 Author of fome trench Tr inflations t and tf fiver al Romamti,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 225 
 
 towards us with fo good a grace, that one would 
 fboner have taken him for a Knight who was en- 
 tring the lifts in a tournament, than for a Lackey, 
 who came to give us an account of his Errand. 
 I muft own, indeed, that his Eloquence was fome- 
 what confus'd when he came to deliver himfelf ; 
 for after he had fputter'd out, My Lord, Mr. JER- 
 M Y N, Bury, my Lord CROFTS, and Cbively^ 
 fome thirty times, all we could pick out of his 
 incoherent Speech was, that CHARLES had found 
 no body at home. 
 
 If my concern for leaving fo delicious a place as 
 Eufton, could have given place to any other vexa- 
 tion, it would have been a great mortification to 
 me, to fee the ill fuccefs of my Letters, but one 
 thing only could then afted: me. So I e'en left it 
 to the care of my Lord Ambafiador to make feri- 
 ous reflections upon the abfence of Mr. J E R M Y N. 
 
 We laid afide all thoughts of going to Chively, 
 imagining that Mr. J E R M Y N I was not there, 
 when we found one of his Servants at New-Market, 
 who brought me a Letter from him. This in- 
 form'd us, that being acquainted, after his return 
 from Bury, with our defign of making him a vi- 
 fit, he conjur'd us to do him that honour, and 
 not to fail him. Accordingly, we went thither, 
 and were very kindly receiv'd, by a Perfon, who 
 tho he has taken his leave of the Court, has car- 
 ried the civility and good tafte of it into the 
 Country. 
 
 While my Lord Ambaflador was admiring the 
 Grove, the Gardens, and the Wall-trees ; while he 
 was commending the Stables, plucking down this 
 Wall, finilhing the Houfe, and contriving a better 
 
 entrance 
 
 7 Henry Jenny*, created Baron of Dover in the year 1^85. 
 He dyed in 1708. Chivtly was hit Country-Slat, -within twt 
 mile*
 
 T ti E WORKS OF 
 
 entrance to it, I fanfied Madam DE BEVER- 
 w E E R t playing at Billiards, or at Hombre ; and 
 fometimes methought I fee her put a Pearl in the 
 ear of a certain Knight, as a proper ornament for a 
 perfon of his gallantry, and which might heighten 
 the merit of his agreeable Civilities. 
 
 After we had been treated with a noble Din- 
 ner, to which I brought more fpeculation than 
 appetite, we were oblig'd to take our leaves of 
 our Hoft, and purfue, our intended Journey. My 
 Lord Ambaflador at our coming out of the Grove, 
 refum'd the affliction he had laid afide for fome 
 minutes, and I continued that which I had not quit- 
 ted. 'Twas nothing elfe but melancholy ; and the 
 fit was fo fevere, that the worft Road, and the 
 worft Weather in the world were not able to in- 
 creafe it. 
 
 The tirefomnefs of Audley-End 8 made a greater 
 impreffion upon me. That vaft and folitary houfe 
 increas'd my melancholy, and fo difcompos'd the 
 Count D E M E L o s, that he was fcarce able to 
 commend the Gallery, find fault with the Apart- 
 ments, and make his critical reflections upon the 
 Garden. Then I thought it was a proper time to 
 make a fecond attempt upon him j and to omit no- 
 thing that lay in my power to cure the Defpair of 
 my friend, I civilly propos'd to him to hang himfelf 
 on one of thofe tall and melancholy Trees, which 
 according to Madam BEVERWEERT, refembled 
 my Lord SUFFOLK : but I found that the Am- 
 baflador had got the afcendant over the Lover, 
 and that the Count was a Politician fit to negotiate 
 Affairs at Nimeguen 9 , rather than a defperate Lo- 
 ver, who was refolv'd to put a tragical conclufion to 
 
 the 
 
 * A Country-feat belonging to the Earl of Suffolk, 
 9 Count de Melos was thtn lately named by the King of PortH* 
 fal, h'K dmbaffador Plenipotentiary at the Treaty of Nimeguen*
 
 M. DEST. EVREMOND. 225 
 
 the violence of his Pafllon. Perhaps the Counc 
 D E ME LOS would not die of grief in her abfencc, 
 becaufe he was refolved to die of joy when he faw 
 her at his return. Perhaps, he hopes that after he 
 has given peace to Europe, Madam D E B E v E R- 
 w E E R T will not refufe to give him that happy re- 
 pofe which his long fervices fo well deferve. As 
 for my felf, I am refolv'd to live, I own it frank- 
 ly > and would be glad with all my heart to live for 
 ever, that I might for ever adore and ferve Madam 
 DE BEVERWEERT. 
 
 A 
 
 L E T T E R| 
 
 TO MADAM 
 
 DE BEVERWEERT. 
 
 IHave made but a forry apology with you, for 
 the wrong ufe I made of the title we had to his 
 Excellency's life. If you would be contented with 
 the death of an ordinary perfon, I would ofter yoa 
 mine, that you might order Mademoifelk LA 
 ROCHE to difpofe of it as you think fit : but my 
 death is not worth the notice. I am inconfiderable 
 in every thing : a fmall Garriefter with Madam 
 M A z A R i N j a little Mortal with you, unworthy 
 even to die in your fervice. I will therefore live, 
 and join my relentment with yours, to revenge you 
 upon the Ambaflador, and thereby vindicate and 
 Vol. IL P retrieve
 
 225 THE WORKS OF 
 
 retrieve the honour of your Charms. I entertain 
 no longer any hopes from the Rivers or Trees of 
 Audley-End. His Excellency is not an Excellency 
 that will either drown, or hang himfelf : he fattens 
 upon your hard ufage ; and your indifference gives 
 him fo ftrong and firm a gate, that I find in him 
 a fufficient flock of health to conclude four Trea- 
 ties of general Peace, inftead of one . If you 
 continue to ufe him ill, he will be in a condition to 
 bury all the Plenipotentiaries at Nimeguen : ma, 
 lafciate far a me, fon furbo ; and I will (hew a 
 trick to reduce Count DE MELOS to a moft la- 
 mentable condition. I have obferv'd that your 
 Cruelties prolong his life : take a contrary courfe, 
 and kill him with Kindnefs. I remember a certain 
 Amour wherein his Excellency was happy : but he 
 did not mock the favours of the fair Lady, as he 
 does your rigors ; for he had fuch a fit of ficknefs 
 upon it, that his Phyficians had much ado to reftore 
 his health. When one has good Patterns to go by, 
 it is no difficult matter to manage aright : I advife 
 you, Madam, to fquare your conduct, by this ex- 
 ample , and never believe me more, if four days 
 good ufage don't put off the Ambaflador's journey 
 to Nimeguen, more effectually than the oppofition 
 of the Spaniards, and of all the Confederates toge- 
 ther, could do. 
 
 Count de Melos was extremely lean ; and fo ftagger'd, as ht 
 Vd) that one would have thought he -was going to fall at eve* 
 
 ry flep he fet. He died at London at the time he was preparing 
 
 19 croft the fta to repair to Nimeguen.
 
 JM D E ST. EVkEMOND. 227 
 
 DEFENCE 
 
 Offome Dramatick Tieces of 
 
 M. Go R NEIL LE. 
 
 T O 
 
 M. DE BARILLOK*; 
 
 T Never doubted your inclination to Virtue : but 
 A did not believe you fo fcrupulous, as not to 
 bear with RODOGUNA upon the Stage, becaufe 
 flie would fuggeft to her Lovers the defign of putting 
 their Mother to death, after their Mother had en- 
 deavour'd to perfuade her Children to kill their 
 Miftrefs. I befeech you, Sir, to forget the lenity 
 of our Temper, the innocency of our Morals, the 
 humanity of our Politicks, that you may confider 
 the barbarous Cuftpms, and criminal Maxims of 
 Eaftern Princes. When you have reflected, that 
 in all royal families of Afia, Fathers make away 
 with their Children upon the flighted fufpicion ; 
 that Children put their Parents to death, thro' an 
 impatience of afcending the Throne ; that Huf- 
 bands kill their Wives, and Wives poifon their Huf- 
 P ^ bands; 
 
 1 Antlajftdor Extraordinary from trance to King Charlti II.
 
 228 THE WORKS OF 
 
 bands , that Brothers make nothing of murdering 
 Brothers : when, I fay, you have confider'd fo de- 
 teftable a Cuftom, eftablifh'd among the Kings of 
 thofe Nations, you'll not wonder fo much at R o- 
 D o c u N A'S endeavouring to revenge the death of 
 her Hufband upon CLEOPATRA, fecure her 
 life, recover her liberty, and advance a Lover to 
 the Throne, by the deftru&ion of the molt wicked 
 Woman that ever lived. CORNEILLE has given 
 the young Princes all the affection they ought to 
 have for the bed of Mothers ; and has made the 
 young Queen take fuch refolutions as the necefiity 
 of her Affairs required. 
 
 You'll lay, perhaps, that fuch Crimes may be 
 committed in Afia, but ought not to be reprefent- 
 ed in France. But what reafon induces you to de- 
 ny our Theatre to a Lady, merely for advifing a 
 crime for her own fafety, while you grant that fa- 
 vour to thofe who committed the fame Crime, 
 without any provocation ? Why mould we banifti 
 RODOGUNA from our Stage, and admit upon it 
 with applaufe E L E c T R A and ORESTES? why 
 fhould A T R E u s be fuffer'd to ferve up to T H V- 
 ESTES his own Children in a fealt ? or NERO 
 to poifon BRITANNICUS ? Why mould H E- 
 ROD, King of the Jews, the people whom God 
 loved, be allow'd to put his wife to death , or A- 
 M u R A T to ftrangle R o x A N A and BAJAZET? 
 And to_pafs from the Jews and Turks to the Chri 
 tians, why fhould P H i L i p II, the mod Catholick 
 Prince, be fuffer'd to put DON CARLOS to 
 death upon a fufpieion not clearly made out ? One 
 of the moil diverting Novels * we have in French, 
 has reviv'd the memory of a thing aim oft bury'd 
 in oblivion, and has produc'd a Tragedy J in Eng- 
 
 land, 
 
 Don Car!os Nouvelle Hiftorique, by thi A^ot ofSt 
 
 - Written b Mr. Otiaay 

 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 229 
 
 land, whofe fdbject has pleas'd all Englifhmen. 
 RODOGUNA, that poor opprefs'd Princefs, has 
 not defired the committing of a Crime for the 
 crime-lake -, but only her fafety, which could not 
 be eflablifh'd but by a Crime : tho after all, this 
 was more a Crime, with refpect to a Monk, than 
 with refpcct to an Anibaffador \ a Crime which 
 MACHIAVEL would have accounted a political 
 Virtue, and which the wickednefs of CLEOPA- 
 TRA may well make pafs for a piece of Juftice 
 lawfully adminifter'd. 
 
 One thing which you found great fault with, was, 
 that a young Princefs Ihould be made capable of 
 fb vigorous a Refolution. I am not well acquaint- 
 ed with her age : but I know me was a Queen, 
 and a Widow ; and either of thefe qualities is fuffi- 
 cient to make a Woman lay afide fcruples, at any 
 age. Spare, Sir, fpare, I befeech you, RODO- 
 GUNA. The world will furnim us with greater 
 Crimes than hers, wherein you may make a better 
 ufe of the virtuous abhorrence you have for villain- 
 ous Actions. 
 
 To the Dutchefe of M A z, A R I N. 
 
 II. TV yTEthinks RODOGUNA is pretty well jufti- 
 i. V JL fied ; let's do the fame fervice to E- 
 M i L i A, with refpecl: to Madam M A z A R i N. 
 Sufpend your Judgment, Madam, E M i L i A is not 
 guilty of any great Crime for expofing C i N N A to 
 the danger of a Confpiracy. Condemn her not, 
 left you condemn your felf : 'tis by your own fen- 
 timents I defign to defend hers, and by H Q R- 
 T E K s i A to juftiry EMILIA. 
 
 P EMILIA
 
 230 THE WORKS OF 
 
 EMILIA had fcen her Family profcrib'd ; her 
 Father murder'd: and what was yet more infup- 
 portable to a Roman Lady, fhe faw the Republick, 
 fubdued by CESAR AUGUSTUS. The thirft 
 of Revenge, and the defign of reftoring Liberty, 
 made her look out for friends, to whom the like 
 injuries might infpire the fame fentiments ; and 
 whom the fame fentiments might unite in the de- 
 finition of an Ufurper. C i N N A, a Nephew of 
 P o M P E Y, and the only remainder of that great 
 family, who had perifh'd in the caufe of the Com- 
 monwealth, join'd his refentments with thofe of 
 EMILIA , and both being animated by the re- 
 membrance of their refpedive Wrongs, as well as 
 by the intereft of the Publick, form'd together the 
 bold fcheme of that illuflrious and celebrated Con- 
 ipiracy. 
 
 In the Conferences that were held for carrying 
 on this defign, their hearts united, as well as their 
 minds : but 'twas only in order to add vigour and life 
 to the Confpiracy , nor did ever EMILIA pro- 
 mife her Love to CINNA, but upon condition 
 that he mould entirely devote himfelf to their En- 
 terprize. Thus they plotted before they loved one 
 another ; and their Paflion, which blended its un- 
 eafin-efles. and feai?& with thofe that ever attend 
 Confpiracies, was ftill fubmifTive and fubfervient to 
 the defire of Revenge, and the love of Liberty. 
 
 As their Defign was upon the point of execution, 
 CINNA being wrought upon by the confidence 
 and benefits of AUGUSTUS, difcover'd to E M i- 
 L i A a foul affected with remorfe, and ready to 
 follow other counfels : but EMILIA, more a Ro- 
 man than CINNA, reproach* d him with his weak- 
 nefs, and remain'd more firm in her refolution than 
 ever. Hereupon fhe reviled her Lover, and im- 
 pofed upon him. thofe Conditions which you could 
 not endure ; but which, Madam, you will certainly 
 
 approve,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 2$ j 
 
 approve, when you have better confuked your own 
 Reafon. The defire of Revenge was the firft paflion 
 of EMILIA : the defign of reftoring the Com- 
 monwealth, join'd it felf with that defire ; Love 
 was only the refult of the Confpiracy, and entred 
 the foul of the Confpirators more like a fervant 
 than a mafter. 
 
 Joignons a la douceur de venger nos Parens 
 La Gloire qu'on remporte a punir les Tyrans \ 
 Et faifons publier par toute l*Italie, 
 La Liberte de Rome eft Foeifure d*Eimlie ; 
 On a toucbe fon ame, & fon coeur feft epris ; 
 Mais die tfa (lonne fon amour qifa ce prlx T . 
 
 That is, 
 
 *Tis fweet t' avenge a profcrib'd Family, 
 *Tis glorious to pull down proud Tyranny : 
 This deed thro* Italy will found my fame, 
 And Rome will owe its Freedom to my name. 
 My heart, 'tis true, was won : but fuch a prize^ 
 Was only to reward the enterprize. 
 
 You was born at Rome, Madam, and have 
 there receiv'd a Soul of the fame ftamp with thofe 
 of the P o R c i A'S, and A R R i A'S % whereas the 
 others that are born there, have but common Ita- 
 lian Souls. With this great, this Roman Soul, if 
 you liv'd now-a-days in a Republick that mould be 
 opprefs'd ; if your Parents were out-law'd i your 
 Houfe defolate ; and, which is moil odious and in- 
 tolerable to a free-born Perfpn, if one of yout 
 P 4 Equate 
 
 * Emilias foetcb to- her Confident in Cerntillt's Ciopa, ..^ . 
 ^ Tbt Wives of Brtttui and PetHt*
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Equals was become your Matter : that Dagger you 
 have bought to plunge it into your own breaft, 
 upon the profpedb of the ruin of your Country, 
 would you not try its edge on the Tyrant, before 
 you ufed it againft your felf ? Undoubtedly you 
 would plot: and a miferable Lover who would fiig- 
 geft to you the weaknefs of a Remorfe, would be 
 treated with more feverity byHoRTENSiA, than 
 C i N N A ever was by EMILIA. 
 
 I put the cafe, you and I fhould live in the fame 
 Commonwealth, \yhofe Liberty is opprefs'd by an 
 ambitious Fellow-Citizen. In fuch a deplorable con- 
 dition I fhpuld offer to you an old CINNA, who 
 would make but a very fmall imprefllon on your 
 heart: but, however, if you had commanded him 
 to punifli the Tyrant, he would not come back to 
 you with qualms of confcience, and felfifh confi- 
 derations. He would look upon the Confidence 
 and Benefits of the new AUGUSTUS as Injuries ; 
 Dangers would but animate him to ferve you ; and, 
 in fhort, he would carry fuch a generous fpirit to 
 the execution of the Enterprize, that yp'4 would 
 either pity him dead, for having obey'4 your Or- 
 ders, or commend him alive, for having perform'd 
 them. 
 
 How miferable is the Condition of an old Philo- 
 fopher ! he cares not for Glory, and the belt that 
 can befal him, is to have all his fervices rewarded 
 by a little Praife. Nor is this mew of favour, as 
 vain and empty as it is, granted him but very rare- 
 ly : and he even finds others more inclin'd to vex, 
 than commend him. God grant the Portuguefe 
 Ambaflador ' long to live ! for if he was dead and 
 gone, the Philofopher 4 would be next expos'd to 
 the ill ufage his Excellency undergoes every day. 
 
 * Cfunt if Mtloi. 
 
 * M. dt St. Evrtmend hittfelf.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 <To Mefleurs de * * *. 
 
 III.T F I fomctimes difpute with you, Gentlemen, 
 J^ 'tis only to fill up the vacancy of Play, and 
 to divert the tedioufnefs of a languiihing dull Con- 
 verfation. I contend with defign to yield ; and 
 bring but weak Reafons to oppofe you, being rea- 
 dy prepar'd to acknowledge the fuperiority of your 
 Arguments. 
 
 Upon thefe Confiderations, I have maintained 
 that Le Menteur ' was a good Comedy , that the 
 Subject or Plot of the Cid was happy and wel! 
 laid , and, tho that Play be not altogether without 
 faults, yet that it appear'd very well upon the Stage. 
 I have likewife maintain'd that Rodoguncvtzs a very 
 fine Tragedy , and that Oedipus ought to pafs for a 
 matter- piece of Art : could I do you a greater plea- 
 fure, Gentlemen, than to give you fo juft an occa- 
 fion to contradict me, and to mew the ftrength 
 and clearnefs of your Judgment at the expence of 
 mine ? 
 
 I had maintain'd, that in order to make a fine 
 Play, a man ought to pitch upon a noble Subject, 
 lay the Plot right, purfue it well, and conduct it 
 naturally to its end ; that Characters ought to en- 
 ter into the frame of the Plot, and not the Plot be 
 framed after the drawing of the Characters -, that 
 our Actions ought to go before our Qualities and 
 Humours ; that we ought to aflign Philofophy the 
 province of acquainting us with what Men are, and 
 
 Comedy 
 
 ! That it, The Lyan
 
 234 THE WORKS OF 
 
 medy with what they do : in fhort, that 'tis not hu- 
 man Nature we ought principally to explain, but 
 rather human Condition we ought to reprefent upon 
 the Stage. 
 
 Did I not do you a good turn, Gentlemen, when 
 I made my felf ridiculous by fuch foolifh pofitions ? 
 Could I do more for you, than to expofe to your 
 cenfure the uncouthnefs of an old Tafte, which has 
 fliewn the refinement of yours ? You are in the 
 right, Gentlemen, you are in the right to laugh at 
 the Dreams of ARISTOTLE, and HORACE-, 
 the Reveries of H E i N s i u s, and G R o T i u s ; 
 the Caprices of C o RN E i L L E, and BEN Jo H N- 
 sotf; and the Imaginations of R A p i N, and 
 BOILEAU. The only Rule for Gentlemen, is the 
 Mode. What avails a Reafon not eftablifh'd ; and 
 who can find fault with a pleafing Extravagance ? 
 
 I confefs times have been, when 'twas neceflary 
 both to chufe noble Subjects, and to manage them 
 well : but now-a-days Characters are fufficient -, and 
 I beg Mr. BAYS* pardon for thinking him ridi- 
 culous, when he boafts of having found the way to 
 make Plays without a Plot. I muft alfo beg your 
 pardon, Gentlemen ; for as you are of the fame 
 opinion, I have equally offended you ; which obli- 
 ges me to give you the like fatisfaction : but I do 
 not pretend to be reconcil'd with you barely as to 
 Comedy ; I hope you will for the future treat me 
 more favourably in every thing, and that Madam 
 M A z A R i N will be lefs oppofite to me than fhe is. 
 
 What have I done to your Grace, my Lady 
 Dutchefs, to treat me at the rate you do ? There's 
 none but I and the Devil of Don Qy E v E D o, to 
 whom all contradictory Qualities are afcrib'd 3 . 
 
 You 
 
 * See the lUhearfa], a Play written, by the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham. \ 
 
 3 See Don Queveelo's Vifions.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 235 
 
 You find me infipid in my compliments, you find 
 me biting in telling truth : if I hold my tongue, 
 I am too difcreet ; if I fpeak, I am too free. 
 When I difpute, you are offended at the con- 
 tention : when I forbear difputing, you look up- 
 on my difcretion as the effect of fcorn and dif- 
 dain. Do I tell any piece of news ? I am wrong 
 inform'd : do I tell none, I am myfterious. At 
 Hombre I am watch'd as if I were a Sharper ; and 
 yet am cheated as a filly Bubble. I am wrong'd, 
 and yet condemn'd. I am punilh'd for other peo- 
 ples faults : every body makes a noife, every body 
 complains ; and I am the only fufferer. 
 
 I am oblig'd to you for all thefe things, Ma- 
 dam ; not to mention that you give the Publick 
 fuch a Character of me, as you pleafe. You make 
 me reverence thofe I defpife ; defpife thofe I ho- 
 nour; offend thofe I fear. Quarter, quarter, my 
 Lady Dutchefs ; I yield : there's no Victory in en- 
 gaging thofe that have furrender*d thcmfelves. 
 Carry your arms againft Rebels ; force the obfti- 
 nate; but govern the conquer'd with gendenefs. 
 The difference that's now between the one and 
 t'other will toil long. A day will come (and that 
 great day is not far off) when Count D E M E L o s 
 will no longer murmur at Hombre, and Baron 
 DE LA TAULADE lofe without fretting. For 
 roy own part, I have abandon'd the Vijionaires 4 , 
 and Le Menteur : RACINE is preferred to C o R- 
 n E i L L E ; and the Characters before the Plot. I 
 not only renounce my own opinion, Madam, but 
 maintain yours with more refolution than Mr. 
 V i L L i E R s can mew in maintaining the Beauty 
 of his Relations. I have chang'd the order both of 
 my Praifes and Cenfures : from five a-clock in the e- 
 
 vening, 
 
 4 A. Comedy r wfitt by M. Defmaretz., and much efteem'd by 
 the late Earl ofDorfet, as well as the Menteur tfCornttlU.
 
 236 THEWORKSOF 
 
 vening, I (hall blame what you fhall judge blameable ; 
 and at midnight I fhall commend what you fhall 
 think praife-worthy. As the laft facrifice I can 
 make, I fhall continue as long as you pleafe the 
 cuffed Partnerfhip between the Ambafiador of 
 France, Count CASTELMELHOR J , and my felf. 
 Propofe any thing that's more difficult -, and your 
 commands, Madam, will enable me to perform it. 
 
 A 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIN. 
 
 IF you find any Extravagancies in the little Book 
 I fend you, you are oblig'd to excufe them, 
 fince you have robb'd me of my Judgment, which 
 might have hinder'd me from committing them to 
 writing. I have been honoured in my time, with 
 the company of very amiable Perfons, to whom I 
 am beholden for leaving me fo much good fenfe as 
 I had occafion for, to efteem their merit, without 
 difturbing my repofe : but I have jufl grounds to 
 complain of you, for plundering me of all my Rea- 
 fon, which the others had left me. 
 
 How 
 
 s Don Luis de Vafconcellos and Soufa, Count de Caftelmelhor y 
 firft Minifter and Favorite of Alphonjb King of Portugal. After 
 the Revolution that happened in that Kingdom in 1667 1 he was 
 obliged to retire to Turin, from whence he obtained leave to conn 
 into England^, where hejiaid tea or twelve years,.
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 237 
 
 How unhappy is my condition ! I have loft every- 
 thing on the fide of Reafon, and I lee nothing for 
 me to pretend to on the fide of Paffion. Shall I 
 afk you to love a man of my age ? I have not 
 been fo good a Chriftian as to expect miracles in 
 rny favour. If the merit of my Paffion could ob- 
 tain of you a concern for my being old, and a de- 
 fire that I were young again, I mould be content. 
 The favour of a Wifh is but a fmall matter -, pray 
 refufe me not that. It is natural to wifh that every 
 thing we love were amiable. 
 
 There never was fo difinterefted a Paffion in the 
 world, as mine. I love thofe you love, nor do I 
 love lefs thofe who love you ; I confider your Lo- 
 vers as your Subjects, inftead of hating them as my 
 Rivals : and that which is yours is dearer to me, 
 than that which is againft me is hateful to me. As 
 for what relates to the Peribns who are dear to you, 
 I take no lefs a concern in them than you ; my foul 
 carries its movements and affections to the place 
 where yours are ; I relent when you grow tender j 
 when you languifH 'tis the fame cafe with me. The 
 paflionate Songs at the Opera make no impreffion 
 upon me of themfelves ; they have no manner of 
 influence over me, but by that which they have over 
 you. I am touch'd to fee you touch'd > and thofc 
 melancholy Sighs, which, now and then, (teal una- 
 wares from you, put my heart to no leis expence 
 than they do yours. 
 
 I have little or no mare in caufing any of your 
 pains, but I fuffer from them as much as you do. 
 Sometimes you produce in us a Paffion different 
 from that which you defign'd to excite. If you re- 
 peat any Verfes out of the Andromache, you infpire 
 Love with the fentiments of a Mother who would 
 only llir up Pity. You endeavour to make us fen- 
 fible of her Misfortunes, and you foon fee us fenfi- 
 blc of your own Charms. Sad and compaffionate 
 
 exprcf-
 
 2 3 8 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 expreffions revive fecretly in our hearts the Pafllori 
 which they have for you ; and the grief which you 
 would raife in us for an unfortunate Lady, be- 
 comes a natural fenfe of our own torments. 
 
 One mould not believe this without making ex- 
 perience of it, at his own co'ft. Thofe matters that 
 feem moft oppofite to tendernefs, aflume an affect- 
 ing air in your mouth : your Reafonings, your 
 Difputes, your Altercations, nay, your very Anger 
 have their charms , fb difficult it is to find any 
 thing in you, which does not contribute to the Paf- 
 fion you infpire. Nothing comes from you which 
 is not amiable j nothing is form'd in you which does 
 not turn to love. 
 
 A ferious Reflection puts me in mind that you 
 will laugh at me for this Difcourfe ; but you cannot 
 make merry with my weaknefs, without being 
 pleas'd with your Beauty ; and I am fatisfied with 
 my Ihame, if it gives you any fatisfaction. A 
 man may facrifice his Repofe, his Liberty, and his 
 Fortune : but Glory , fays MONTAIGNE, is ne- 
 ver facrificed. I will make bold to contradict 
 MONTAIGNE in this particular , and don't re- 
 fufe to become ridiculous for the love of you. 
 
 But upon fecond thoughts, Madam, we cannot 
 make you a facrifice of this nature : fince a man 
 can never be ridiculous in loving you. A Minifter 
 of State renounces his Politicks for you ; and a Phi- 
 lofopher his Morals, without any prejudice to their 
 reputation. The power of an exquifite Beauty juf- 
 tifies all the Paffion which it is capable of produ- 
 cing 5 and after having confulted my Judgment as 
 nicely as my Heart, I will tell you, without fear- 
 ing to be ridicul'd for it, that / love you.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 239 
 
 A 
 
 -feL E T T E R 
 
 TO THE 
 
 EARL OF ST. ALBANS. 
 
 I Have been at Death's door, my Lord, fince I 
 had the honour of feeing your Lordlhip ; and 
 what contributes to make me yet more unhappy, 
 there is no Diftemper now ftirring at London, but 
 only what I languifh under, no Grout, no Rheumatifm, 
 nay not fo much as the Tooth-ach. My Lord 
 ARLINGTON, to whom you yielded the title of 
 the firil gouty Man in England, might now take 
 twenty turns in the Mall, as well as the good Gen- 
 tlewoman that ufes to attend you. As for my felf, 
 I am not yet fully reftor'd to my health -, and had 
 it not been for fome Remedies I met with, I had 
 certainly died. 
 
 But why, my Lord, mould you refolve to pafs 
 the winter in a Country where the Horfes are a 
 hundred times better look'd after than we are ? 
 where there are M A Y E R N E s r to cure the difea- 
 fes of the Race-horfes, and little better than Far- 
 riers to cure thofe of the men. If you were pof- 
 feis*d with any of thofe religious Enthufiafms, which 
 
 make 
 
 1 Sir Theodort Mayerne was a famous Phjfician in the Reigns 
 of Kins Charles I. and King Charles II.
 
 14 o THE WORKS OF 
 
 make Ib many Fanaticks weary of their Jives, I 
 fhould be able to account for this ftrange impatience 
 of yours to die. But, my Lord, if you are a Mart 
 like one of us , if you ftill preferve a natural incli- 
 nation to live, as Monfieur the Marefchal D E 
 VILLEROY, the Mafter of the Horfe to the 
 King of France % Monfieur DE RUVIGNY, and 
 your other Contemporaries continue to do 5 why 
 fhould you fo obflinately pitch upon a place where 
 you don't pafs one day, without retrenching five 
 or fix, at lead, of your life ? 
 
 But I dwell too long upon a Difcourfe, which I 
 ought to have lightly pafs'd over. I muft now 
 come to more agreeable ideas. The Dutchefs of 
 PORTSMOUTH will give you what mare in her 
 Bank you pleafe. My Lord HYDE* promifes to 
 ihew you certain Civilities, which will ahnofl a- 
 mount to a Confidence. My Lord Ambafiador of- 
 fers to give you a full infight into the affairs of 
 Hungary, and the War that the Northern Princes 
 are now going to engage in ; and what I efteem 
 Snuch more, the Duke of ORMOND is ready to 
 play with you at Trick-Track without odds. You 
 will tell me now, that you are fcarce able to fee, and 
 that you are troubled with fo many indifpofitions 
 that the World is weary of you. My Lord, you 
 take the thing wrong : 'tis the Country, and not 
 the World that is weary of you. 
 
 In the Country, people judge of you by the 
 weaknefs of your fight : your Infirmities there are 
 taken for faults , and you can't imagine what a 
 defpicable opinion your robuft Country Gentlemen 
 have of an infirm Courtier. Here in Town^ my 
 Lord, you are valued for the ftrength of your Judg- 
 ment ; 
 
 * Monfieur d< Eeringhen. 
 
 * Ajttrwards Earl of Roch efler.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 241 
 
 ment ; your Infirmities are pitied, and your good 
 Qualities reverenc'd. 
 
 What a difference is there then between thofe 
 two places to live in ! and yet, my Lord, you have 
 chofen that which is fo contrary to your Health, and 
 to your Reputation. That which ufes to be the 
 greateft punifhment of perfons in difgrace, you 
 have voluntarily impofed upon your felf : you have 
 depriv'd your felf of the Society of men that know 
 the world, and with whom you have always lived. 
 A man may comfort himfelf for the lofs of his 
 Fortune, but cannot receive confolation after he has 
 loft the fweetnefs of agreeable Converfadon, and 
 is perpetually perfecuted by Impertinents. Relieve 
 your felf with Reafon as long as you pleafe : the 
 relief of Reafon fignifies nothing, where the deli- 
 cacy of one's Tafte is offended. 
 
 Return, my Lord, return to your friends, that 
 know your merit, as you know theirs. There is 
 not one of them who will not contribute, as far 
 as in him lies, either to your relief, or your pleafure. 
 The politenefs of my Lord SUNDERLAND, will 
 foon make you fenfible that that fort of life, which 
 you thought the fweeteft and moft natural, is rude 
 and grofs : and that eafy, free, and unconftrain'd 
 way of living which he has fet up at Court, will 
 for ever make you out of love with the falfe tran- 
 quillity you boafl of in the Country. The Dutchefs 
 of M A z A R i N will eafe you of your fcruple about 
 Vifits ; me will not take it ill that you fit juft by 
 her without feeing her ; and, lefs fenfible of the 
 injury me will receive than of the lofs you will 
 fuffer by it, me will make you tafte the fweetnefs 
 of a Converfation, which is not at all inferior to the 
 charms of her Beauty. For your fake (he will 
 fufpend her eagernefs for Baffett ; and oblige you 
 with that pure and calm Reafon, which me refufes 
 us every day. Mr. WALLER has in ftore a deli- 
 
 Vol. n, cious
 
 i 4 i THE WORKS OF 
 
 cious Converfation for you. I am not fo vain as 
 to tell you any thing of my own : I had better pro- 
 mife you my fervices on Sundays, and fuffer my 
 felf to lofe at Chefs, every time that Monfieur p E 
 S A i s s A c bets on my fide. I will fay nothing 
 to you of Miftrefs CROFTS : fince fhe has been 
 Dutchefs of Cbaftellerault, I can't tell how Ihe will 
 behave her felf towards the Earl of St. Albans*> 
 
 If thefe temptations are too weak, and you are 
 fully refolved to retire out of the world from this 
 hour; pray confider, my Lord, that a Perfon of 
 Quality ought to retire into a capital City. Your 
 Reafon will fteal you out of the world in a City, 
 whenever you pleafe : your Imagination will carry 
 you into the Country j even when you would not 
 have it. Live here, my Lord, like a Philofopher 
 at your own houfe. 'Twill be a new merit, for 
 which the world will efteem you. To live like a 
 Philofopher in Suffolk, is to make one's felf ob- 
 fcure rather than wife ; and forgotten by others, in- 
 ftead of knowing one's felf. 
 
 The greateft Philofophers of Antiquity lived in 
 the fineft City of Greece , and he who advifed his 
 Pifciples to conceal their Life J , had delicate fine 
 Gardens at Athens, where five or fix of his Friends 
 plaid the Philofophers with him. I know not how 
 
 to 
 
 * Miftrefs Crofts, Sifter to the Lord. Crofts, had been one of 
 the Maids of Honour to the Qgeen. After flit retired from Court, 
 her houfe became a pleafurable Rendezvous, where the Earl of St. 
 Albans, and two or three more Per fans ef Quality ufed to fup al- 
 moft every night. The Earl of Arran^ after-wards Duke of Ha- 
 milton, paid ajfiduous court to that Lady, whereupon the Earl of 
 St. Albans -withdrew. M. de St. Evremond in this place rallies 
 this new Intrigue : calling Miftrefs Crofts Dutchefs of Chaftelle- 
 rault \ becaufe the Earl of Arran had been in France, topurfue an 
 eld claim of the Houfe of Hamilton, te- the Dutchy of Chajlelle- 
 rault. 
 
 S See Vol. I. fag. 54. 
 
 3
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 143 
 
 to find my way from Athens back to London. 
 However, I could wifh that you would return thi- 
 ther as foon as I. And now, my Lord, I am here 
 to expect you, and defire you to bring Mr. J E R- 
 M Y N along with you. Reftore him to the Worldj 
 even in fpite of himfelf. It will not be long ere 
 he will return you thanks for a violence fo happily 
 committed ; neither will you, my Lord, be be- 
 hind-hand with us long, for owing this Refolution 
 to our advice. 
 
 LETTER 
 
 TO THE DUKE OF 
 
 BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 MR. BURNET' is fo ftrongly perfuaded of 
 the firicerity of your Converfion, that he 
 fpeaks of it to all your Friends after this rate : 
 / dare venture my own Salvation upon the fame bot- 
 torii with that of the Duke (/BUCKINGHAM, fo 
 firm a belief have I of the Reformation of his Life. 
 " Converfion, Mr. B u R N E T, fays Mr. W A L- 
 " L E R, have a care what you fay ; people don'c 
 " ufe to be converted fo now-a-days : 'tis neither 
 tc to you, nor me, nor any perfon living, that we 
 " are beholden for 1 this ftrange alteration in the 
 Q^2 " Duke 
 
 * The late Bijhop of S
 
 244 THE WORKS OF 
 
 " Duke of BUCKINGHAM. 'Tis a new friend 
 " of his, but one that has been dead many hundred 
 " years fince, that has very lately brought about 
 " this miraculous change that fo furprizes us. I 
 " mean PETRONIUSARBITER, the moft de- 
 " licate man of his age for Poetry, Painting, and 
 " Mufick. One that perpetually ftudied and pur- 
 " fued Pleafure, one that turn'd the day into night, 
 " and the night into day , but at the fame time, 
 " one who had fo abfolute a command over his 
 " Vices and Irregularities, that whenever he 
 " thpught fit, he was one of the moft regular 
 " men in the univerfe. The Duke of B u c K- 
 " ING HAM, who has long refembled him in a 
 " thoufand other Qualities, was refolved of late to 
 " imitate him too in this. Thus I havemewn you, 
 " Mr. B u R N E T, from whence proceeds this alte- 
 " ration in his Grace's Life, which you, it feems, 
 " have miftaken for a Converfion." 
 
 But with Mr. B u R N E T'S and Mr. WA L L E R'S 
 leave, I fhall account for it after another manner. 
 'Tis a certain Maxim with me, that no man of a 
 nice palate can love Vice, when once it ceafes to 
 be agreeable , therefore I don't wonder that a Per- 
 fon of a refined tafte, takes up with the virtue of 
 Continence in the North, where there are no Ob- 
 jects to tempt him. But I dare engage, that if 
 your Grace were among Beauties that had Charms 
 enough to tempt you, we mould foon find the 
 new Convert of Mr. B u R N E T, and Mr. WA L- 
 L E R'S new P E T R o N i u s, to be nothing in the 
 world but the true genuine Duke of BUCKING- 
 HAM. 
 
 Heaven forbid that I mould ever perfuade you 
 to love. But I have another fin to propofe to you, 
 which of your felf you would never guefs ; and 
 yet I recommend it fincerely to you, and from the 
 bottom of my heart : I mean Covetoufnefsj which 
 
 in
 
 M. DEST. EVREMOND. 245 
 
 in my opinion would be more advantageous to 
 your Grace, than die Wifdom of Philofophers, or 
 the Glory of Conquerors. To be fliort, I mould 
 rather chufe to fee your Grace refemble SIR 
 CHARLES HERBERT, or any of the Heroes in 
 Lombard-ftreet, than either SOCRATES or CE- 
 SAR. The greater the difficulty is, the greater is 
 the merit of furmounting it. Now all the world 
 knows that your Grace will find more trouble to 
 imitate the former, than the two latter Gentlemen. 
 
 As we don't all on a fudden arrive to the height 
 of Perfection, I do not exact from you that fevere 
 difcipline of (Economy, which makes a man deny 
 himfelf every thing amidft an affluence of all. 
 What I beg of your Grace, is, that you would 
 have a watchful eye upon thole who have the fin- 
 gering of your Money, to keep them honed in fpite 
 of themfelves. For unlels out of tendernefs to 
 their Souls, you hinder them from playing the 
 Knaves, I dare fwear for them that they will ven- 
 ture Damnation an hundred times a-day, and all in 
 your Grace's fervice. 
 
 If ever you return to London, with a finall Re- 
 tinue, but a great deal of Money in your pocket, 
 you will certainly be the wonder of the whole Na- 
 tion. If you neglect this advice, the greater part 
 of the world will never be for you, and you mull 
 content your felf with a few Admirers in private, 
 of whom your moft humble Servant mall always 
 be the firft. 
 
 0.3
 
 ! 4 <J T H E W O R K S O F 
 A 
 
 L E T T E R - 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIK 
 
 With /^DISCOURSE upon 
 RELIGION. 
 
 A * ^ H E Difcourfe we had together yefterday in 
 JL the evening, has been running in my head 
 all night : nor do I wonder at it, Madam ; for 
 when a man has had the pleafure of feeing you, 
 and hearing you fpeak before he goes to bed, he 
 muft not expect that of found fleeping. I dreamt 
 that Monfieur B A R i L L o N argued with a great 
 deal of folidity. Count D E M E L o s, who ever 
 preferr'd a fubmiflive mind to reafoning, was wil- 
 ling to yield to your Arguments ; and look'd up- 
 on your knowledge as an Authority which he ought 
 to reverence. 
 
 I confefs I was both convinc'd by, and charm'd 
 with, your Reafons -, which made their impreflion 
 on my mind with all the force of Truth, and infi- 
 nuated themfelves into my heart, with all the al- 
 lurements of your Perfon. The Heart, foft and 
 tender as it is, has a natural repugnance to the 
 aufterity of Reafon : but your Reafon has found a 
 
 grea_t
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O ND. 247 
 
 great Secret ; for it enlightens the mind, and at the 
 lame time kindles a paffion in the heart. Hitherto 
 Reafon was never accounted among the attraftives 
 of the fair f ex ; you are the firft that have made it 
 proper to infpire Love. Had it not been for you, 
 Madam, the Truth we fearch after would have ap- 
 pear'd very harfh to us. Truth which was banim'd 
 common converfation, as impertinent, and fup- 
 prefs'd in a dark recefs, as a mover of fedition ; 
 Truth, I fay, changes its nature in your mouth, 
 and comes out only to reconcile to you the minds of 
 every body. You fet it up again in the world, 
 with an entire fatisfacTiion of all that hear you fpeak. 
 
 Not, Madam, but that you have your (hare of 
 the malignity of nature too. You have fometimes 
 a fet defign to offend us ; and without being a con- 
 jurer, a man may difcover your malicious intentions : 
 but your Charms are fuperior to thefe ill intenti- 
 ons. You pleafe even when you have a mind to do 
 the contrary; and the only difficulty which you 
 may find infeparable, is not to pleafe. 
 
 Truth can bear no longer the Violence you have 
 offer'd to it : and therefore will refume the dry- 
 nefs and aufterity you have taken from it. I am 
 going to reftore it its natural qualities ; and you'll 
 be foon fenfible of it, Madam, upon perufal of the 
 fmall Difcourfe I fend you herewith. 
 
 A DISCOURSE. 
 
 " As foon as we have loft the tafte of Pleafures, 
 " our fancy furnifhes us with agreeable Ideas, which! 
 " fupply the place of fenfible things. The Mind 
 " endeavours to make up loft pleafures, and fo goes 
 tc to feek advantages in the next World, when the 
 " enjoyments that; affected the Body are fted from 
 < us. 
 
 0.4 A
 
 248 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 " A difguft for Libertinifm and Debauchery rai- 
 " fes fometimes in us a defire to turn devout ; but 
 " as foon as we are fettled in a more religious and 
 " holy way of living, we fpend our days in endea- 
 " vouring to comprehend what cannot be compre- 
 ** hended ; and thefe barren and empty Contempla- 
 * c tions fometimes produce irkfom Reflections on 
 " the torment we fufFer, for a Good oppofite to the 
 " Senfes, little known to Reafon, and faintly con- 
 " ceived by an uncertain and unfure Faith. From 
 " hence fpring the greateft diforders and irregula- 
 " rities in Monafteries : For when the Felicity which 
 " is promifed to reclufe religious perfons happens to 
 *' appear doubtful, the certain 111 they muft under- 
 " go becomes infupportable to them. 
 
 " The variety of Tempers has a great mare in 
 " the diverfity of Opinions men entertain about 
 " things fupernatural. Soft and tender Souls na- 
 <c turally incline to the love of God ; and the timo- 
 ** rous to the fear of Hell ; the irrefolute lie in 
 *' doubt -, and the wife flick to what's moft folid, 
 ** without examining what's moft true. The doci- 
 " ble acquiefce ; the opiniated grow obftinate in the 
 " Sentiments they have either received from others 
 " or form'd themfelves -, and the fticklers for Rea- 
 " fon, will be convinc*d by proofs which they can^ 
 " not find. 
 
 " When Men, faid Mr. Wu R T s % have once taken 
 "out of Cbriftianity what they have foifted into it, 
 ** there will be but one Religion^ as plain in its Doc- 
 " trine i as fur e in its Morals. 
 
 " As we do not receive our Belief from Reafon % 
 " fo neither does Reafon make us change our Be- 
 * { lief. A fecret difguft for old Opinions, makes us 
 
 * renounce 
 
 8 General of the Dutch Troops, in the War of i6j2. 
 
 9 See M. Bayle's Philofophical Commentary on thefe wo*de 
 pf JESUS CHRIST, Compel th$m to cpwe in, chaf. x,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 249 
 
 " renounce the Religion we have been bred in ; the 
 " fatisfaction the mind finds in new thoughts, makes 
 " us take up with another j but yet when a man 
 " has changed his Religion, if he ufes ftrong argu- 
 " ments againft the Errors he has abandon'd, he has 
 " but very weak ones to maintain the truth of the 
 " Faith he has embrac'd. 
 
 " Doctrine is contentious every where ; and will 
 " eternally afford matter of controverfy in all Reli- 
 " gions ; but we may agree upon what relates to 
 " Morals. The World are unanimous and of the 
 " fame opinion as to the commands God has laid 
 *' upon us, and the obedience we owe to him ; for 
 " in this cafe God manifefts himfelf to men in things 
 " which men know and are fenfible of. As for 
 " Myfteries, they are above the reach of human un- 
 " derftanding ; and 'tis in vain we endeavour to 
 *' know what's beyond our Knowledge, and is nei- 
 * c ther the object of our Senfes, nor of our Reafon. 
 " Cuftom authorizes the difcourfing about it, but 
 *' Grace alone can infpire the belief of it. 
 
 " It is not in our power to believe, either what 
 " others pleafe, or even what we defire. The Un- 
 " derftanding cannot acquiefce but in fuch things as 
 " appear evident to it , but the Will ought to fub- 
 * 6 mit to the Commands it receives. 
 
 THE
 
 T H E W O R K S OF 
 
 THE 
 
 CHARACTER 
 
 OF THE 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIN. 
 
 I A M unjuftly accufed for having too great a Com- 
 plaifance for Madam MAZARIN: for in 
 truth, there is no Perfon that fhe has greater rea- 
 fon to complain of, than my felf. For fix months 
 together I have been malicioufly fpying out fome- 
 thing in her, which might difpleafe me, but in fpite 
 of all my endeavours, I could difcover nothing 
 there that was not too lovely, and too charming. 
 An ill-natur'd curiofity makes me examine every 
 Feature in her face, with a defign either to meet 
 there fome mocking irregularity, or fome difgufting 
 difagreeablenefs. But how unluckily do I fucceed 
 in my defign ! every Feature about her has a par- 
 ticular Beauty, that does not in the leaft yield to 
 that of her Eyes, which by the confent of all the 
 world are the fineft in the univerfe. One thing 
 there is that entirely confounds me : her Teeth, her 
 Lips, her Mouth, and all the graces that attend it, 
 afe loft amongft the great variety of Beauties in her 
 Face ; but if we compare them to thefe fine mouths, 
 that make the greateft Charm of thofe Perfons 
 whom we moft admire, they drown, and edipfe 
 
 every
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 25I 
 
 every thing elfe, and what's but indifferent in her, 
 will not fuffer us to confider what's moft remarka- 
 ble in others. The malice of my Curiofity does 
 not flop here. I proceed to fpy out fome defect in 
 her fhape , and I find I know not what Graces of 
 Nature fo happily, and fo liberally fcatter'd in her 
 perfon, that the genteelnefs of others only feems to 
 be conftraint and affectation. 
 
 When Madam M A z A R i N pleafes me too much 
 in her negligence, I advife her to have recourfe to 
 Art, hoping that her ornaments and her drefs will 
 not fail to ruin her native Charms : but fcarce has 
 (he drefs'd her felf, but I am forc'd to confefs, that 
 I never faw in any perfon fo great and fo noble an 
 Air as hers. Nor is my ill-nature fatisfied with this. 
 I have a mind to fee her in her chamber, amongft 
 her Dogs, her Monkeys, and her Birds, hoping 
 that the diforder of her drefs, will make her lofe 
 the majefty of that Beauty, that aftonifh'd us at 
 Court. But here it is, that (he is a hundred times 
 more amiable ; here it is, that a more natural Charm 
 gives us a difguft to all that art and induftry can 
 do ; here it is that the freedom of her wit and of 
 her humour leaves none to the perfon that beholds 
 her. 
 
 What could the greateft of her enemies do more? 
 I wifh fome (icknefs might invade her to under- 
 mine her Graces : but, alas ! we are more to be pitied 
 than (he in her Pains. Her very Pains have a charm 
 that does us a greater mifchief, than the fufferer by 
 them. 
 
 After having relented and grieved at her Indifpo- 
 fition, I endeavour to give her an occafion to abufe 
 me, that I may be exafperated againft her : with 
 this defign I purpofely contradict all me fays ; I pro- 
 voke her Anger by contention v I put her in the 
 way to wrong me at play , I fuggeft to my felf all 
 the means or my oppreffion that I may be furnifh- 
 
 ed
 
 THE WORKS O F 
 
 ed with a pretence for a real Refentment. But, 
 alas ! to what purpofe is all this troublefom Induftry ? 
 Her ill treatment pleafes inftead of provoking ; 
 and her injuries, more charming than the carefies of 
 others, are fo many Charms, that enflave me to her 
 will. I pafs from her ferious moments, to thofe of 
 her gaiety ; for as I am fometimes willing to fee 
 her ferious, out of hopes to find her lefs agreeable ; 
 fo am I defirous to fee her more free, thinking to 
 find her indifcreet. But when (he's ferious, me 
 makes us admire her good Senfe ; when free and 
 jovial, her Sprightlinefs. 
 
 She knows as much as a Man can know ; and 
 me conceals her Knowledge with all the difcretion 
 that becomes a prudent Woman. She has fome 
 acquired Learning, which never betrays the Study 
 flie employ'd to gain it. She has fome happy 
 Thoughts, that are as far from an affected Art that 
 difpleafes us, as from a natural Luxuriancy that of- 
 fends us. 
 
 I have feen fome Ladies that have made con- 
 quefts by the advantage of their Beauty, and loft 
 them again thro' a defect of Wit. I have feen o- 
 thers that engag'd us to them, by being beautiful 
 and witty together ; but difcourag'd us from a far- 
 ther purfuit by their indifcretion, ficklenefs and a- 
 varice. But in Madam M A z A R i N, if you pafs 
 from her Face to her Wit, from the qualities of her 
 Mind to thofe of her Soul, you will find that every 
 thing attracts you, that every thing fallens and binds 
 you, and that nothing can difengage you. We de- 
 fend our felves from the Charms of other Ladies by 
 our Reafon : but 'tis Reafon that fubjects us to her 
 Power. With other Ladies our Love generally 
 begins, where our Reafon ends: here our Love 
 cannot end, unlefs we lofe our Reafon. 
 
 What I oblerve to be moft extraordinary in Ma^ 
 dam M A z A R i N, is, that me daily infpires new 
 
 Defires ;
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 253 
 
 Defines; and that after a long familiarity, fhe 
 makes us feel all the tender fweetnefs of a growing 
 Paflion. She is the only perfon of her Sex, for 
 whom we may be eternally conftant; and with 
 whom one may enjoy every hour the diverfion of 
 Inconftancy. We never change for her Perfon: 
 we change every moment for her Features ; and 
 relifh, in fome manner, all that new, that lively 
 joy, which unfaithfulnefs in Love makes us feel. 
 
 Sometimes her Mouth is abandon'd for her 
 Eyes ; fometimes we leave her Eyes to admire her 
 Mouth, her Cheeks, her Nofe, her Eyebrows, her 
 Forehead, her Hair, nay, her Ears, ( fo much pains 
 has Nature taken to make every thing perfect in this 
 beautiful body !) her Ears attract our inclinations in 
 their turn,and make us tafte the pleafure of change. 
 To confider her Features feparately, one would be 
 apt to fay, that there is a fecret jealoufy between 
 them ; and that they are ftill upon the watch to 
 fteal Lovers from one another : To confider them 
 in conjunction, and as they are united and joyned 
 together, we fee them form a Beauty, that neither 
 fuffers Inconftancy for it felf, nor Fidelity for others. 
 I have faid enough of what's to be feen : let us 
 now guefs at hidden Beauties ; and boldly affirm, 
 by conjecture, that the Merit of what we do not fee 
 far furpaffes all that we have feen.
 
 5j4 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 A 
 
 L E T T E R 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIN, 
 
 IRead juft now, with Monfieur VAN BEUNIN- 
 GEN ', the Copy of Verfes you did me the ho- 
 nour to fend me *. That Ambaflador, who has; 
 pafs'd his life in ftudy, as well as in the manage- 
 ment of affairs, thinks them very fine ; and for my 
 own part, I am of opinion, that there are in that 
 little piece fome verfes of as high and noble ftrain 
 as I have feen this good while, in our language. 
 What makes me value them the more, is, becaufe 
 there's Novelty and good Senfe ; which are not ea- 
 fily match'd. For our Novelties have often a caft 
 of extravagance ; and the good Senfe which is of- 
 ten found incur Writings, is generally borrowed from 
 Antiquity, rather than of our own growth. I 
 would have the Moderns infpired by the wit of the 
 Ancients, but would not have them fteal it, and 
 pafs it for their own. I allow 'em to teach us how 
 to think well, but hate to make ufe of theirThoughts. 
 
 What 
 
 1 Ambaffador of the States Central to King Charles II 
 * The Duke of Never s, Brother to the Dutchefs of 
 toas the Author ofthofe ferfes.
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 255 
 
 What remains of their Works had the advantage of 
 Novelty, when they wrote it, whereas, what we 
 borrow from them now, is grown obfolete by length 
 of time ; and is dropt, as it were dead and extin- 
 guifh'd, into the brain of our Authors. 
 
 What have we to do with a new Author, who 
 puts forth nothing but old Productions ; who fets 
 himfelf out with the fancies of the Greeks, and 
 impofes on the world their Knowledge for his own ? 
 A vaft number of Rules, made three thoufand years 
 ago, are fet up to be the Standard of what's writing 
 now-a-days; without confidering that neither the 
 Subjects to be treated, nor the Genius to be regu- 
 lated are the fame. 
 
 If we mould make Love like ANACREON and 
 SAPPHO, nothing would be more ridiculous - y if 
 like TERENCE, nothing more Plebeian, or Ci- 
 tizen-like ; and if like L u c i A N, nothing more 
 grofs and lewd. All ages have a peculiar character 
 proper to themfelves : they have their Politicks, 
 their Interefts, their Affairs ; and, in fome mea- 
 fure, their Morals, having their particular Virtues 
 and Vices. I own 'tis all Humanity ftill : but Na- 
 ture is various in men ; and Art, which is nothing 
 but an imitation of Nature, ought to vary as me 
 does. Our impertinences are not the fame which 
 HORACE ridicul'd ; nor are our vices the fame 
 which JUVENAL rebuk'd : we mult therefore 
 make ufe of other raillery and reproofs. 
 
 I am oblig*d to the Duke of NE VERS : for I 
 have a long while been looking for Novelty, and he 
 has brought it in my way. I find in him one who 
 thinks himfelf what he writes, and gives his own 
 turn to his exprefiions. 
 
 May qui tfai dam mes Vsrs ecbapes au hazard, 
 $ue Faudace four regie, & le bon-fens four art. 
 
 IT
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 If Chance, Boldnefs, and Good-fenfe produce fo 
 many Beauties, I advife Poets to lay afide all Rules 
 of Art, and to give a loofe to their natural Ge- 
 nius. 
 
 Pour orner le Francois de nouvelles parures, 
 Je bazar de en mes Vers d'infolentes figures. 
 
 He who ventures upon fuch infolent Figures, is 
 fure to have none but noble ones: 'tis a happy 
 boldnefs, which has nothing extravagant or falfe in 
 it -, it is a flafh of imagination, which judgment 
 may own for one of its lights. 
 
 I know not whether the advantages which the 
 Duke of N E v E R s afcribes to Madam D E L A FA Y- 
 E T T E, and to Monfieur D E MERE', are fincere. 
 Their merit perfuades they are fo: otherwiie I 
 mould fufpecl: the nicenefs of the turn ; and be a- 
 fraid that there might be a banter concealed under 
 the Sublime of the one, and the various Charms of 
 the other. The Praife he gives to Monfieur Bo u R- 
 D E L o T is more plainly exprefs'd. For my own 
 part, I mould beftow no lefs on his Perfon ; but I 
 mould take care that my commendations mould 
 not have fo near a relation to his Profefiion. In my 
 opinion, Phyfic kills more than it cures ; and no- 
 thing lefs than your Brother's Poetry, could reftore 
 the honour of a Science, which that of M o L i E R E 
 had run down. To be free with you, I would re- 
 trench fomething from the skill of the Phyfician, to 
 beftow more, if pofilble, on the wit and knowledge 
 of the Gentleman. 
 
 I have more veneration for the Court of Rome, 
 than for the Faculty of Paris ; and tho I have full 
 liberty to fpeak of the Pope, in a Country where 
 they burn him yearly, I ftill fay nothing of his Elo- 
 gy, fave only, that St. P E T E R ought to be jealous of 
 
 it:
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 it : for it is more eafy to found a State than to re- 
 form it ; to fettle order in it, than to reftore it. 
 
 The caution you fhew whenever you fpeak of 
 your Husband, makes me pafs (lightly over Organ, 
 and my difcretion, founded on yours, takes away 
 from me the idea of the Duke of M A z A R i u-, 
 But a man who mould beat the price of his Salvation 
 with money in band, would give me an ill opinion of 
 the chapman that purchafes Heaven, and ftill a 
 worfe of thofe that fell it. 
 
 Let's return to the beauty of thofe Verfes, which 
 cannot be the fame throughout. The elevation of 
 the mind leaves fome little things for exact Criticks 
 to lay hold on j and it is a comfort which great 
 Wits ought not to grudge thofe of a moderate fize^ 
 Let poor wretches, to whom Nature has not been 
 indulgent, put themfelves as forward as they can 
 by the labour of fo crabbed a ftudy: for my 
 own part, I have run over with pleafure fome pla- 
 ces that tranfport me ; and my Admiration leaves 
 me no room for the fpleen of Cenfure. 
 
 It's far eafier to praife the King in profe, than in 
 verfe, Verfes, with all the pomp of Poetry, fall 
 fhort of the magnificence of the Subject ; whereas 
 in Profe a plain truth, is a great Elogy. One needs 
 but barely to relate what the King has done, to ef- 
 face all that has been written of others. The Duke 
 D E NE v E R s has undertaken a more difficult task : 
 he has endeavour'd to find out thoughts that mighc 
 equal the achievements of his Heroe; The defigrl 
 was bold ; nor was he altogether unfuccelsful in it : 
 for if he comes much mort of the glory of him he 
 commends, he raifes himfelf infenfibly above the 
 Genius of all thofe that have commended him; 
 
 4Ji peindra les beaux traits de fa glorie immortelle t 
 Le pinceau trembler Git entre les mains d 9 Appelle. 
 R
 
 258 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Quel bonheur tfeftre nez au Siecle de L O U I S ! 
 Admirons^ Bourdelot, fes exploits inou'is^ 
 Que nous pouvons tous voir, que nous pouvons ecrire^ 
 Et plaignons I'avenir, qui ne peut que les lire, 
 
 I fhould lament the condition of our defcendants, 
 if my own were not more to be lamented. They 
 will live on 2 day ; they will enter the world out of 
 which I am upon the point of going ; and in which 
 I am reduc'd to read over the King's exploits, with- 
 out being allow'd to be an eye-witnefs of them, any 
 more than they. 'Tis a great misfortune for a man 
 to pafs away his life at a diftance from his Empire : 
 but then if Fortune had not banim'd me from it, I 
 ihould not have the happinefs to live in yours. You 
 infpire Paflion in every thing that is capable of it ; 
 and Reafon yields to you even thofe that are paft any 
 fenfe of paffion. 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 COUNT D'OLONNE. 
 
 TT Know not why you fhould admire my Verfes, 
 JL fmce I don't admire them my felf ; for I muft 
 inform you, that in the opinion of a celebrated 
 mafter in Poetry', a Poet is always the moft 
 affected with his own Compofitions. As for 
 my felf, I acknowledge abundance of Faults 
 in mine, which I might correct, if exactnefs 
 
 were
 
 M. DE St. EVREMOND. 2& 
 
 were not extremely troublefom to my humour, 
 and did not take up more rime than a perfon of 
 my Age can fpare. Befides, I have another ex- 
 cufe, which, if I am not miftaken, you will allow 
 of: EfTays are feldom Mafter-pieces ; and the Praifes 
 I beftow upon the King, being the firft true and 
 fincere I ever writ, it can be no Wonder I had no 
 better fuccefs. As for thofe you beftow upon me, 
 they are an ingenious Irony, of which rhetorical 
 Figure, I was formerly fo great a Mafter, that the 
 Marefchal of CLEREMBAUT thought no body 
 but my felf capable to vie with you in it. You 
 ought not to have employ*d it againft a mart who 
 has loft the ufe of it ; and who is fo entirely your 
 humble fervant as I am. You fee I am pretty well 
 upon my guard againft Ridicule ; and yet in fpite 
 of all my precautions, I cannot forbear to indulge 
 my felf in the praifes you give me upon the fcore 
 of my Tafte. 'Tis your intereft it fhou'd be 
 good, true, and delicate ; for the idea of yours, 
 which I always preferve by me, is the rule of mine. 
 
 That miracle of Beauty * which I formerly faw 
 at Bourbon, is the fame miracle of Beauty which I 
 daily fee at London. Some additional years have 
 given her more wit, and t?ken away none of her 
 charms. 
 
 Fair Eyes fo Jweetly charming and divine^ 
 That caufe fuch tranfports where you Jhine+ 
 Oh ! ne'er to grief your cbryftal treafures pay 9 
 Tour pearls on grief are thrown away. 
 Tears from thofe orbs let no misfortunes move ; 
 So rich a tribute's only due to Love, 
 
 R 2 As 
 
 * Tht Dtttcheft
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 As for the wicked expedients you advife me to, 
 I am not in a condition to pracYife them, neither is 
 me in humour to fuffer them. If I muft fit up 
 all night, they tell me I have .not yet feen forty. If 
 I am to take a long journey in the wind and rain, 
 what a noble conftitution has M. DE S T. E v RE- 
 MO N D ! But if I lay my head clofe to hers, fmell 
 to her hair, or kifs the tip of her ear, I am pre- 
 fently asked, whether I knew Madam GABRI- 
 EL L E ? , and if I made my court to MARY D E 
 M E D i c i s ? But my Paper fails me. Place me, 
 I pray, among your folid Friends, immediately after 
 M, DE CANAPLES*. The miracle of love pre- 
 fents her fervice to you. 
 
 FRIEND- 
 
 3 Galritllt d* Eflrees, Mijlrefs to Henry IV. of Ttanct. 
 * Jlfhonfe de Creyti, Marquis de Canafles, face Duke of 
 Ltfdigttierts*
 
 M. DEST. EVREMOND. 161 
 
 FRIENDSHIP 
 
 WITHOUT 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 E-ARL OF ST. ALBANS 1 . 
 
 IWas a long while of opinion, that Women have 
 no inconfiderable advantage over us ; in that 
 we are loved only by the lefs wife ; and that the 
 wifeft of Men thought fit to love them all his 
 life-time. The politeft Men in Antiquity, the 
 moft virtuous, and the greateft, I mean ALCI- 
 B i A D E s, AGESILAUS, and ALEXANDER, 
 were acquainted with other charms befides thofe 
 of the Ladies. The moft magnanimous among 
 the Romans ; S c i p i o, the honour of a Repub- 
 lick, which can be reproach'd with nothing, but 
 her ingratitude towards him ; S c i P i o, I fay, is 
 commended for continency, which was no other 
 than his want of tafte, or fenfibility for the Fair. 
 CESAR, whofe name alone is a Panegyrick, fhew'd 
 no averfenefs to any fort of Love. SOLOMON 
 was altogether unacquainted with fuch various like- 
 ings .and difgufts : for he wholly devoted himfelf 
 R 3 to 
 
 1 The Dutchefs of Mazarin caus'd this Piece to be printed Ati 
 London in iffBi, andfut this rogu'tjl) Title to if*
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 to the Female Sex, being infenfible of any other 
 charms but theirs. 
 
 'Tis fomewhat furprizing, that the politeft, the 
 greateft, the beft of Men, and the mod magnani- 
 mous, could forbear the love of Women ; and 
 as if this kind of Love was referv'd for the wife, 
 that SOLOMON made it his principal bufmefs of 
 his Life. It is furprizing, I own it ; but after due 
 reflection, I find nothing in it that we ought to 
 wonder at. The Polite among the Antients had 
 a great averfenefs to all manner qf fubje&ion : and 
 in the purfuit of all Pleafures, they ftill retain'd 
 the liberty of pafling from one Sex to the other, 
 according to their fancy. The love of Women 
 would have foften'd the courage of Men ; the vir- 
 tue of the good Men had been adulterated by it ; 
 and the fpirit of the magnanimous might have been 
 weakned : but true Wifdom ran no great danger 
 with the Female Sex. The wife Man, ftill fupe- 
 rior to their weaknefs, their unfteadinefs, and their 
 caprice, can either govern them at his pleafure, 
 or part with them when he thinks convenient. 
 While he beholds others in flavery, and tofs*d by 
 an unfortunate Paflion, he enjoys a fteadinefs and 
 calmnefs, that fooths his pain, and takes off the 
 fenfe of a thoufand difquietudes which are not 
 cured by Reafon alone. Not but that he may fall 
 into fome error ; for there's no fuch thing as con- 
 ftant liability in human nature : but it is not long 
 before he recovers his wandering Judgment, and 
 comes to re-fettle his former Tranquillity. 
 
 The world has feen an egregious inftance of this 
 in S o L p M o N, who loved the Fair Sex all his 
 life-time , but differently, according to the diffe- 
 rent periods of his Age. When young, he hacj 
 all the tendernels of a Lover : of which his fofc 
 an.d melting expreflions are fufficient proof; and 
 'tis but reading his Son% or Canticle to be con- 
 i vinc'd
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 
 
 vinc'd of it. I muft beg pardon for nor interpre- 
 ting ic in a myftical fenfe. I fhall never be per- 
 fuaded to believe that SOLOMON intended to 
 make our Saviour JESUS CHRIST fpeak to his 
 Church with more effeminate fentiments, and more 
 lafcivious exprefiions than CATULLUS ufed for 
 L E s B i A, and OVID for C o R i N N A : in verfes 
 more tender than thofe of P E T R A R c H for L A u- 
 R A ; and more gallant than thofe of V o i T u R E 
 for B E L i z A. Neither do I think that SOLOMON 
 fpoke to a Wife : a dear Miftrefs muft undoubted- 
 ly be the object of fuch Love, fuch Raptures, fuch 
 Eagernefs. However, he loved lefs than he was 
 belov'd : and he knew by experience that the Wo- 
 men were more pafiionate than the Men. This is 
 a truth which even the Holy Scripture has thought 
 fit to confirm : for, to exprefs the fentiments which 
 DAVID and JONATHAN had one for the other, 
 it fays, they loved one another with the Love of & 
 Woman * : to denote the tendered Love. 
 
 SOLOMON, in the vigour of his Age, fhew'd 
 lefs tendernefs and fmcerity in his Affections and 
 Amours. He made ufe even of the fame of his 
 Wifdom to make himfelf belov'd. 'Tis by that 
 means he got fo much Gold from the Queen of 
 S H E B A, a Princefs fo fondly intoxicated with his 
 Wifdom, that (he left her Kingdom to fee a Sage. 
 When SOLOMON grew in years, he alter'd his 
 conduct with the Fair. Having loft the merit of 
 pleafmg, he purfued that of obeying. He might 
 have commanded, and forc'd Love, but would not 
 be beholden for it to Power , and endeavour'd by 
 fupplenefs and fubmiflion to make up his paft En- 
 R 4 dearments. 
 
 * In the ^d book of Samuel Chaf. i. vtr. i6. There it i* the He- 
 brew, Your Love for me was extraordinary, it exceeded the Pa 
 fion of Women. Our Tranflation fays, Thy Love to me wa. 
 wonderful, paffing the Love of Women. David /peaks of bit 
 tear Jonathan) vhom ht had lately loft.
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 dearments. Tho a King, tho a wife Man, he be- 
 comes a flave to his Miftrefies in his old Age j 
 being of opinion, that in that melancholy and un- 
 fortunate period of our Lives, we ought, as far as 
 poffible, to fteal away, as it'were, from our felves ; 
 and that 'tis better for us to give up our felves 
 to the charms of a Beauty that enchants our ills, 
 than to fad Reflections and frightful Imagina- 
 tions. 
 
 I am not ignorant that SOLOMON has been 
 cenfured for this laft conduit : but tho his Reafon 
 appear'd weaken'd, he was neverthelefs wife with 
 refpecl: to himfelf. He thereby foften'd his forrow, 
 footh'd his pains, diverted the ills he could not 
 overcome ; and Wifdom, which could no longer 
 find out means to make him happy, made good 
 ufe of diverfions to render him lefs miferable. We 
 fcarce begin to grow old, but we begin to be di 
 pleafed with our felves, thro' a difguft of our felves, 
 which fecretly grows within us. Then our Soul, 
 void of Self-love, is eafily filled with the love of 
 external objects ; and fuch of thefe as would for- 
 merly have pleas'd us but indifferently, thro' the 
 refiftence they met with from our own fentiments, 
 charm and captivate us thro' our weaknefs. Hence 
 it comes to pafs, that Miftrefles difpofe of their 
 old Lovers, and Wives of old Husbands, as they 
 pleafe : hence it was that S Y p H A x abandon'd 
 himfelf to the will of SOPHONISBA, and that 
 AUGUSTUS was govern'd by L i v i A. And not 
 to fetch all my examples from Antiquity, this made 
 Monfieur DESENECTERRE 3 , a perfon worthy 
 to be named with Kings and Emperors, upon the 
 bare fcore of being a man of true honour , this^ 
 I fay, made that Courtier, who was equally wife, 
 nice, and polite^ jfupinely give way to the fondnefs 
 
 of 
 
 3 F #ktr to tht Marefcbal of la Pert*
 
 M. DE ST. EV RE MONO. 
 
 of a young Woman he had married in his latter 
 days. If you knew, faid he to his Friends, the con- 
 dition of a perfon of my Age^ who has nothing but 
 himfelf to entertain in bis Solitude^ you would not won- 
 der at my refolution to have a Companion that f leafed 
 me, let the purchase coft what it will. For my part, 
 I never blamed him for it : and indeed, how can 
 one cenfure what SOLOMON heretofore, and the 
 Marefchal o'Esx R E'ES 4 of late years, have au- 
 thoriz'd by their examples ? However, in fpite of 
 all thefe Authorities, I mould have a great efteem 
 for a man who mould have ftrength enough to 
 preferve the tafte of Liberty to the end of his 
 Life. 
 
 Not that a full independency is always to be 
 commended : for, fuch free and difengaged Gentle- 
 men, often become indifferent and ungrateful. Let 
 us avoid the two extremes of abfolute Subjection, 
 and entire Freedom ; and content our felves with 
 an eafy and honourable intercourfe, as agreeable to 
 our Friends as to our felves. If any thing more is 
 required of me than a hearty concern, and fincere 
 endeavours, for the intereft of thofe I love ; any 
 thing more than my fmall afiiftance, as weak as 
 'tis, when they are in diftrefs -, or more than dif- 
 cretion in converfation, and fecrecy in affairs of mo- 
 ment, let them feek for a Friend elfewhere ; for I 
 can afford them no more. 
 
 Violent Pafiions are unequal, and portend the 
 diffraction of change. In Love, we muft leave 
 thofe excefies for the POLEXANDER'S and the 
 C Y R u s's of our Romances : and in Friendfhip, for 
 ORESTES and P y L A D E s of our Plays. Thefe 
 are things we read, and fee reprefented, which are 
 not to be found in the commerce and practice of 
 
 the 
 
 4 The Marefchal d'Ejlrees married to his thtrd Wife, at jl 
 years of Age> Gabriele de Longueval, Daughter to M, Manicamp.
 
 266 THE WORKS OF 
 
 the world. And indeed, 'tis well they are not ; 
 for they would produce very extravagant adven- 
 tures. 
 
 What did ORESTES ever do, that great and 
 illuftrious example of Friendfhip ? what did he ever 
 do, I fay, that ought not to ftrike us with horror ? 
 He kill'd his own Mother, murder'd P Y R R H u s, 
 and fell into fuch ftrange convulfions of fury, that 
 it coft fome Players their Lives 5 , who endeavour'd 
 to top his Character. Let us carefully obferve the 
 nature of thofe entire Friendfhips, and Engage- 
 ments which are fo cry'd up, and we fhall find 
 them to be made up of fullen black Melancholy ; 
 the chief ingredient in the compofition of all Man- 
 haters. And indeed, the reducing ones felf to love 
 but one Perfon, is a difpofition to hate all the reft : 
 and what is taken for an admirable virtue with re- 
 fpe<ft to a private perfon, is a great crime towards 
 all the world. He that makes us lofe the conver- 
 fation of the reft of mankind, by deferting them 
 as he has done, makes us lofe more than he is 
 worth, let his merit be never fo great. Let us pre- 
 tend to as great difintereftednefs as we pleafe ; let 
 us confine all our defires to the purity and excel- 
 lence of our Paffion, conceiving no good but what 
 refults from it : yet, we mall languifh and pine in 
 this refined Friendfhip, unlefs we draw from ge- 
 neral Society, thofe conveniencies and delights that 
 animate private Converfation. 
 
 The Union of two Perfons entirely devoted to 
 one another : that fublime union wants yet the af- 
 fiftance of foreign things to excite the tafte of 
 Pleafure, and the fenfe of Joy. Notwithftanding 
 
 s Montfleuri, a celebrated French Player, made fuch extraor- 
 dinary effort t in afting the part ofOreJles in Racine'i Andromache, 
 that he fell Jtck upon it, and died. Mondori t anothtr Freneh 
 Tragedian, hd the fame Fate in the reprefentatlon of Trifltm's
 
 M, D E S T. E V R E M N D. 2*7 
 
 all the boafted fympathy between them, the partici- 
 pation of Counfels and Secrets, it will hardly yield fa- 
 tisfadlion in proportion to the vexation and uneali- 
 nefs it occafions. 'Tis in the intercourfe of the world, 
 and amongft diverfions and bufmefs, that the moft 
 agreeable and profitable Friendfhips are form'd. I 
 fet a greater value upon the correfpondence between 
 the Marefchal D* E s T R E' E s and Monfieur D B 
 SENECTERRE, who liv*d fifty years at Court in 
 an uninterrupted intimacy ; I more efteem the con- 
 fidence the Prince DE TURENNE had in the 
 Marquis DE RUVIGNY, for forty years together, 
 than thofe Friendfhips fo often inftanc'd, and never 
 pradis*d amongft men. As nothing contributes 
 more to the happinefs of Life than Friendfhip, fo 
 nothing difturbs its repofe fo much as Friends, if 
 we have not judgment enough to chufe them well. 
 Importunate friends make us wifh they were indif- 
 ferent, fo they were more agreeable. The morofe 
 give us more uneafmefs by their humour, than they 
 do us good by their fervices. The imperious ty- 
 rannize over us : we muft hate whatever they do, 
 be it never fo agreeable ; we muft love what they 
 love, tho we think it naufeous and difpleafing. We 
 muft do violence to our Nature ; enflave our Judg- 
 ment -, renounce our Tafte ; and under the fair 
 name of Complaifance, pay a general fubmiflion to 
 all they think fit to impofe upon us with autho- 
 rity. Jealous friends are an infupportable plague : 
 they hate all Advice that is not of their own giving : 
 and as they are angry at all the good that happens 
 to us without their interpofition, fo they rejoice at 
 all the ill that befals us by following the directions 
 of others. There are men in the world, that make 
 profeflion of Friendfhip, and value themfelves up- 
 on taking our parts at random, and upon all occa- 
 fions : and fuch vain Friends ferve for nothing elle 
 but to incenfe the world againft us by their impru- 
 dent
 
 268 THEWORKSOF 
 
 dent contefts. There are others that juftify us 
 when no body accufes us ; who by their indifcreet 
 zeal, bring us into affairs where we had nothing to 
 do ; and draw inconveniences upon us, which we 
 would willingly avoid. Let who pleafe be con- 
 tented with fuch Friends. As for me, I am not 
 fatisfy'd with a man's good intention, that proves 
 to my prejudice : I would have it attended with 
 Difcretion and Prudence. A man's Affection makes 
 me no amends for the mifchief his Rafhnefs has 
 done me. I return him thanks for his impertinent 
 zeal, and advife him to feek to be applauded for it 
 amongft Fools. If the light of the underftanding 
 does nor guide the motions of the heart, Friends 
 are more apt to vex and difquiet, than to pleafe us ; 
 and more capable to hurt, than to ferve us. 
 
 In the mean time, we hear nothing talk'd of but 
 the Heart, in all the difcourfes about Love and 
 Friendfhip. Poets become troublefom upon this 
 theme ; Lovers tedious, and Friends ridiculous^ 
 We fee nothing in our Plays but King's Daughters 
 yield the Heart, butr refufe the Hand ; or Prin- 
 ceffes that give the Hand, but cannot confent to 
 yield the Heart. Lovers become naufeous by per- 
 petually demanding the fmcerity of the Heart ; and 
 Friends fetting up for affected Precifians, challenge 
 it for their due as well as Lovers. This betrays 
 a very imperfect knowledge of the nature of it : 
 whereas for a little irregular heat, for fome une- 
 qual and uncertain tendernefs it may fometimes af- 
 ford, there's no caprice, ingratitude, and infidelity, 
 but we ought to apprehend from it. 
 
 Begging pardon of the whimfies of Poets, and 
 imaginations of Painters, we call Love very impro- 
 perly blind. LOVE is a Paffion of which the 
 heart makes generally an ill ufe. The Heart is a 
 blind guide which leads us into all our errors. 'Tis 
 that which prefers a fool before a man of fenfe, that 
 
 makes
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D, 
 
 makes us doat on ugly Objects, and difown very 
 lovely ones ; that bellows it felf on the moft de- 
 form'd, and refufes it felf to the moft beautiful. 
 'Tis that, in fhort, that fets J o c o N D E'S friend 
 a rambling, thro* the jealoufy of a Dwarf 6 . 
 
 'Tis that which diforders the moft regular ; that 
 bereaves the referved and difcreet of their Virtue, 
 and undermines the Devotion of the greateft faints 
 among the fair Sex. It pays as little regard to 
 rules in a Convent, as to duty in a private Family ; 
 'tis faithlefs to a Hufband, but much more fo to a 
 Lover : it difcompofes the former, and diffracts 
 the latter. It acts without either council or know- 
 ledge : it rebels againft Reafon, that mould be the 
 guide ; and being fecretly moved by hidden fprings 
 it does not conceive, it bellows and withdraws its 
 affections without reafon ; engages it felf without 
 defign; breaks off without obferving any deco- 
 rum ; and, in fhort, occasions ftrange follies, that 
 make a great deal of noife in the world, and 
 equally difgrace all the parties concern'd in them. 
 
 This is the common fate of Love and Friend- 
 fhip grounded on the Heart. As for thofe juft and 
 reafonable ties over-ruled by Judgment, there's no 
 rupture to be apprehended : for either they laft for 
 life, or infenfibly wear off with difcretion and de- 
 cency. It is certain that Nature has placed in our 
 hearts a Loving Faculty, (if I may fo fpeak) fome 
 fecret principle of Affection, fome hidden ftock of 
 Tendernefs, which opens and communicates it felf 
 in time. But the ufe of it has been no farther re- 
 ceiv'd and authoriz'd amongft men, than as it may 
 render life more eafy and happy. 'Tis upon this 
 fcore that EPICURUS recommended it fo much 
 to his Difciples : That CICERO exhorts us to it 
 
 by 
 
 6 See in the Talts or Contw de la Fontame, d% Tile ctll'4 
 Joconde*
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 by arguments, and invites us to it by feveral exam- 
 ples : That SENECA, as Hern and rigid as he is, 
 becomes foft and tender as foon as he begins to 
 fpeak of Friendfhip : That MONTAIGNE refines 
 upon SENECA in more -lively expreflions : and 
 That GASSENDUS fets forth the advantages of 
 that Virtue, and as far as in him lies, difpofes his 
 Readers to acquire them. 
 
 All men of fenfe, honefty, and good breeding, 
 agree with Philofophers ; upon this toundation, that 
 Friend/hip ought to contribute more than any thing 
 befides to our happinefs. And indeed, Man would 
 hardly depart from himfelf, as it were, upon any 
 account whatever, to unite himfelf to another, if 
 he did not find more pleafure in this union, than 
 in the firft fentiments of felf-lOve. The whole 
 world affords nothing more precious and valuable 
 than the Friendfhip of wife men. That of others, 
 as it is boifterous and diforderly, fo it difturbs the 
 peace of publick Society, and the pleafures of pri- 
 vate Converfations. 'Tis a favage Friendmip, which 
 reafon difowns, and which we could wifh to be the 
 lot of our enemies, to be reveng'd of them for 
 their hatred to us. 
 
 But let Friends be never fo fincere and regular, 
 'tis yet inconvenient to have too many of them. 
 If our cares are divided into many ftreams and 
 channels, we can neither attend our own concerns, 
 nor thofe of Bother men, with the application they 
 deferve : for when the foul diffufes it felf undiftin- 
 guifhably upon all objects, our Affections are fo 
 diftrafted, that they properly fix upon nothing. 
 Let us live for a few that live for us : let us feek 
 an eafy and agreeable Converfation, with every 
 body ; and our private advantages with thofe that 
 can promote our intereft.
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 27? 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 MONSIEUR JUSTEL : . 
 
 SIR, 
 
 1A M overjoy'd to fee you in England ; the con- 
 verfation of fo knowing, and fo inquifitive a 
 man as your felf, will afford me no little fatisfadion : 
 but give me leave not to approve the refolution 
 you have taken to quit France, fo long as I fee you 
 entertain fo tender and fo fond a remembrance of 
 that Kingdom. As often as I fee you doleful and de- 
 folate, wifhing for Paris on the banks of our Thames, 
 you put me in mind of the poor Ifraelites bewail- 
 ing their beloved Jerufalem on the banks of Eu- 
 phrates. Either live happy in England, with the 
 enjoyment of full Liberty of Confcience ; or make 
 Ihift to bear fmall hardihips, as to Religion, in your 
 own Country, to enjoy there all the conveniences 
 of life. 
 
 Is it poffible that Images, Ornaments, fmall Cere- 
 monies ; that little Novelties, which you account fu- 
 
 perftitious, 
 
 1 A perfon of merit and horning, much verfed in the Know- 
 ledge of Books, who came over into England -with all his family 
 in Oflobtr, uJ8i. Some years after he was made the King's 
 Library-Keeper.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 perftitious, and we religious ; that certain Queftions, 
 debated with more fubtlety for the reputation of 
 the learned Difputants, than knowledge and can- 
 dour for our edification : is it poflible, in fhort, 
 that differences, either fo rnconfiderable, or fo ill 
 grounded, fhould difturb the tranquillity of Na- 
 tions, and occafion the greateft misfortunes that be- 
 fal men ? 'Tis a commendable thing, I confefs, 
 to worjhip God in Spirit and Truth \ that firft 
 Being, that fupreme Intelligence, deferves our moft 
 purify'd and exalted fpeculations : but when we 
 endeavour to difcharge our fouls from all commerce 
 with our fenfes, car! we afTure our felves that an 
 abftracted underftanding will not lofe it felf in wan- 
 dering thoughts, and lead us into more Extravagan- 
 cies, than it will difcover Truths ? Whence think 
 you came all the abfurdities of fo many Sects, but 
 from deep meditations, wherein the mind, after 
 its dozing and dreaming, meets with nothing but 
 its own imaginations ? 
 
 Lay afide, Sir, your peevifh and ftubborn abhor- 
 rence of our Images : Images, in a manner, fix 
 what's fo hard to be fettled, the Mind. Befides, 
 as nothing is more natural to man than imitation ; 
 fo, of all imitations, none is fo lawful as that of 
 a Picture, that reprefents to us what we ought to 
 worfhip. The idea of virtuous perfons, creates in 
 us a love of their Virtues, and excites within us a 
 juft defire to attain that perfection which they arri- 
 ved to. There are emulations of fanctity, as well 
 as jealoufies of glory : and if a Picture of ALE- 
 XANDER animated the ambition of CESAR 
 with defire of conquering the World ; the Images 
 of our Saints may furely kindle in us the ardour 
 of their zeal, and infpire us with that happy vio- 
 lence that ravifhes Heaven. 
 
 v Every
 
 M. DEST. EVREMOND. 273 
 
 Every one knows, that NUMA prohibited all 
 manner of Images in the Temples of the Romans, 
 and his law was religioufly obferv'd for a good 
 while : but it was afterwards thought fit to return 
 to Nature, which can hardly forbear the reprefen- 
 tation of Objeds, when the Objects themfelves are 
 abfent ; and the Writings of that Legiflator having, 
 by chance, been found in his fepulchre, it was 
 judg'd more proper to burn them, than to take 
 them up again, with the drynefs of his firft Infti- 
 tutions. The Fathers of the Church have attack'd 
 nothing fo fiercely among the Heathens, as figures 
 and images ; which they called Gods of wood and 
 ftone^ -painted Deities^ vain contrivances of fancy, im- 
 pious handy-works of men. *Tis true, that Hea^ 
 thenifm was fcarce fupprefs'd, and Chriftian Reli- 
 gion fettled, when the ufe of reprefentations, tho 
 formerly fo much exclaim'd againft, was refumed, 
 and a great Council which was held ibme time af- 
 ter, order'd them to be reverenc'd *. 
 
 I own that the Old Teftament did not allow the 
 forming any thing that look'd like the refemblance 
 of God. The almighty Being had drawn himfelf 
 in the great work of the Univerfe. The Heavens, 
 the Sun, the Stars, the Elements, were the images 
 of his immenfity and power ; the wonderful Or- 
 der of Nature, exprefs'd his wifdom to us : our 
 Underftanding, which is defirous to know every 
 thing, found in it felf a kind of idea of his infinite 
 intelligence ; and this was all that could be imagin- 
 ed of a GOD, who difcover'd himfelf to Men no 
 other way but by his works* But the cafe is alter'd 
 under the difpenfation of the New Teftament, 
 Since God made himfelf Man for our redemption, 
 we may lawfully make to our felves Images of him, 
 
 Vol. II. S whereby 
 
 * The fccond Council of Nice, held in the ye/fr 7*7* h '*' 
 of the Emprefs Ircnt.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 whereby we may be exalted to acknowledge his 
 goodnefs and love. And indeed, if they were con- 
 demned as Hereticks who deny'd his Humanity, is 
 it not a ftrange abfurdity to call us Idolaters, for 
 loving to fee it reprefented ? We are command- 
 ed ever to have his Paflion in our thoughts, always 
 to meditate on his Sufferings *, and yet fome, it 
 feems, would make it criminal for us, the having 
 of Images that keep up the remembrance of them. 
 They would have the image of his Death to be 
 ever prefent to our mind, and yet will not allow 
 any before our eyes. 
 
 Your averfion for the Ornaments of our Priefts, 
 and of our Churches, has no better foundation. 
 You know, Sir, that GOD himfelf condefcended 
 to ordain even the Fringe that belonged to the 
 habit of the High-Prieft. Our Pontifical Habits 
 come far fhort of thofe ufed in the Jewifh cecono- 
 my ; and you would hardly forgive our Bifliops, 
 fliould they officiate at Mafs with the fine orna- 
 ments of a Breaft-plate and tittle Bells. As for the 
 pomp of our Churches, you have reafon to call it 
 vain, if you compare it to the folid magnificence of 
 the Temple of S o L o M o N, in which Gold and 
 Silver might have been ufed inftead of Stone, to- 
 wards the rearing up of that fumptuous ftrufture. 
 Nor is your aufterity lefs wild in the filencing our 
 Mufick, than in condemning our Images, You 
 ought to remember that DAVID recommended 
 nothing fo earneftly to the Jews, as the celebrating 
 of the Praifes of the Almighty with all forts of 
 inftruments. Mufick in Churches exalts the Soul, 
 purifies the Mind, moves the Heart, inlpires and 
 raifes Devotion. 
 
 When a Myftery or a Miracle comes in queftion, 
 you will admit of nothing but Senfe and Reafon : 
 but in natural things, that conduce to Devotion, 
 Senfe and Reafon are your enemies. There you 
 
 afcribe
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 275 
 
 afcribe all to Nature, here to Grace ; there we can 
 alledge nothing fupernatural but you laugh at it : 
 here we offer nothing human to you, but you think 
 it profane and impious. 
 
 Divifions and Controverfies have difturbed the 
 peace of mankind but too long. Agree with us 
 about Ceremonies lawfully eftablifh'd, and we will 
 join with you in exclaiming againft Abufes chat 
 have crept in. As for inftance, againft bafe intereft, 
 fordid gain, and fnares laid either for the weaknefs 
 of women, or the fimplicity of fuperftitious and 
 credulous men. Let them endeavour to grow pure, 
 who are reproach'd with Corruption ; let them who 
 have the vanity to think themfelves pure, bear with 
 fmall infenfible alterations, to which human nature 
 is led by neceffity. Let not, on the one hand, a 
 Roman Catholick be deftroy'd as an Idolater ; nor, 
 on the other, a Proteftant burnt as a Heretick. No- 
 thing is more reafonable, than for a man to adore 
 what he believes to be GOD; nor any thing lefs 
 criminal, than not to adore what he looks upon to 
 be a bare SIGN , and I cannot imagine how this 
 different way of believing could be the occafion 
 of fo much barbarity, in a Religion altogether 
 founded upon Love and Charity. If thefe are the 
 effects of zeal, Pd fain know what thofe of fury 
 and madnefs can be ? 
 
 One part of the Fathers has ftuck to the literal 
 fenfe of thefe words, 'This is my Body ; the other 
 has taken them in a figurative fenfe, in a Country 
 where almoft every thing was fpoken in figures. 
 The truth of what I fay is moft evidently prov'd by 
 the Books of M. A R N A u L D, and M. C L A u D E, 
 wherein, as foon as M. ARNAULD brings in a 
 paflage out of any of the Fathers, all the wit and 
 dexterity of M. C L A u D E are fcarce able to evade 
 it-, and when the latter inftances in another that 
 favours his Opinion, all the force and vehemence 
 S 2 of
 
 275 THE WORKS OF 
 
 of M. ARNAULD cannot overthrow the argu- 
 ment of M. CLAUDE. This diverfity of opinion 
 is manifeft among the Fathers ; and 'tis but having 
 either a moderate penetration, to be fenfible of it, 
 or a little fincerity to own it. Neverthelefs, Sir, 
 this difference did not break the communion of the 
 Church ; and all thofe Fathers went religioufly to- 
 gether to receive the bleffings that are promis'd us 
 in that Sacrament. 
 
 You'll fay, that 'tis difficult to agree with us up- 
 on the exiftence of a Body without either Form or 
 Extenfwn : but is it an eafy matter to take up with 
 your jfiritual eating it ; with that Faith which really 
 eats the Subjlance of this fame Body ? The difficulty 
 is great on both fides , and a miracle is neceflary 
 to fupport your Opinion, as well as ours. There- 
 fore fuffer us to enjoy the belief of an unconceiva- 
 ble Myftery, and we will allow you the ftrange 
 medley of Faith and Reafon, which cannot be ei- 
 ther explain'd.by you, or comprehended by others. 
 Let every one flick to his own Doctrine as he 
 thinks fit ; but let us agree in the ufe of the Sacra- 
 ment. This was the practice of the Fathers ; why 
 fliould not we follow their example now-a-days ? 
 
 The article of Adoration ought not to be an ob- 
 ftacle to it , fince true Adoration is an inward act, 
 dependent on you : and without the intention of 
 your mind, and the motion of your heart, for all 
 your kneeling down, you adore nothing. If kneel- 
 ing down were worfhipping, Children would be 
 Idolaters in England, for afking blefling of their 
 Parents. In like manner a Lover who falls at his 
 Miftrefs's feet, would perform an act of Idolatry ; 
 and the Spaniards, whole bows are a kind of kneel- 
 ing down, would at leaft be profane. 'Tis thro* a 
 refining upon your Notions, that Quakers pull off 
 their hats neither to Princes nor Magiftrates, upon 
 an apprehenfion of communicating to a Creature 
 
 the
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 277 
 
 the honour which is only due to the Creator. It 
 is ftrange, that your Minifters who make open war 
 againft Superftition, mould themfelves run into a 
 practice more iuperftitious, than that which they 
 afcribe to the moft ignorant Roman Catholicks. 
 For not to pay a due honour, thro* an ill grounded 
 fcruple of religion, is more inexcufable, than to 
 over-do it, thro' miftaken zeal. 
 
 Had I been in the place of the Reformed in 
 France, I would have receiv'd the Bifhop of C o N- 
 D OM'S 3 Book with all the favour imaginable ; and 
 having return'd that Prelate thanks for his infinua- 
 ting overtures, I would have begg'd of him to have 
 furnifh'd me with a Catholick Religion purg'd from 
 errors, and agreeable to his Expofition of the Catbo- 
 lick Faith. I confefs he would not have found it in 
 Italy, Spain, or Portugal : but he might have pro- 
 cur'd it to you in France, free from the Superfti- 
 tions of the multitude, and the infpirations of fo- 
 reigners ; regulated with equal wifdom and piety 
 by our Laws ; and maintain'd with refolution by 
 our Parliaments. In fuch a cafe, if you apprehend 
 the power of the Pope, the Liberties of the Galli- 
 can Church will fkreen you againft it : there His 
 Holinefs will neither be infallible, nor fovereign 
 umpire of your faith : he will neither difpofe of the 
 Dominions of Princes, nor of the Kingdoms of 
 Heaven at his pleafure : in fuch a cafe, if you be- 
 come Roman, fo far as, with lawful fubmiflion, to 
 refpect his Character and Dignity, it will be fuffici- 
 ent for you to be a Frenchman, not to dread his 
 Jurifdiction. 
 
 But if the love of Separation ftill poflefles you, 
 and you cannot in the leaft difcharge your felf from 
 the Opinions that are grown habitual with you, do 
 not complain of what is taken from you, as an in- 
 
 S 3 juftice, 
 
 * * 
 
 3 Jama Btnignt Boffttt, afttrwardt Bt/hff of Mtaux*
 
 2? 8 THE WORKS OF 
 
 juftice, but rather be thankful for what is left you, 
 as a favour. Sullennefs, murmuring, and oppofi- 
 tion, will rather hurt than ferve your Party : where- 
 as a more refpectful behaviour, and a management 
 of your intereft with more difcretion than violence, 
 might prevent the defign of your ruin, if any fuch 
 thing were refolv'd on. Controverfies do but ex- 
 afperate thofe in power : and things are now at fuch 
 a pafs, that you have more need of difcreet Lea- 
 ders, than good Writers to preferve you. Your 
 Fore-fathers employ'd all their talents and induftry 
 to have Privileges granted them *, now your fkill 
 muft be employ'd to prevent their being taken 
 away from you. The firft Settlement of the Pro- 
 teflants was owing to Daringnefs, Vigour, and Re- 
 folution : but nothing now can maintain you, but 
 Affection, Loyalty, and Submiflion , and fuch as 
 would be deftroy'd as Rebels, may be fuffered as 
 dutiful Subjects. In fhort, Sir, if your Religion be 
 peaceable and quiet, in which you have nothing 
 but your falvation in view, it is to be hoped that 
 her modeft and pious exercifes will not be difturb'd. 
 But if, jealous and quarrelfom, me attacks the efta- 
 blifh'd Religion, and cenfures and condemns the 
 moft innocent things, I will not be anfwerable for 
 a long indulgence towards the indifcretion of a 
 flranger, both unjuft and peevifh in her corrections. 
 One of the chief points of difcretion, and the moft 
 recommended, is, in all Countries to reverence the 
 Religion of the Prince : to condemn the Religion of 
 the Sovereign, is to condemn the Sovereign him- 
 felf at the lame time. An Englifli Roman Catho^ 
 lick, who in his difcourfe or writings calls the 
 Church of England Heretical^ treats the King o 
 England as an Heretick, and infults him in his own 
 dominions. Likewife, a Proteftant in France, who 
 charges the Catholick Religion with Idolatry, does 
 by 3 neceflary confequence accufe the King of be^ 
 
 ing
 
 M. D E ST. EVREMOND. 279 
 
 ing an Idolater : which the Heathen Emperors 
 themfelves could not bear. I think nothing is more 
 unjuft, than to perfecute a man for his belief ; but 
 nothing appears more fbolifh to me, than for a man 
 to draw perfecution upon himfelf. 
 
 Be rul'd by me, Sir, and peaceably enjoy what- 
 ever exercife you may be allowed ; and be perfua- 
 ded that Princes have as much right to the external 
 of Religion, as Subjects have over the inward re- 
 cefles of their Confciences. 
 
 If you duly confider this truth, you will not ac- 
 count an injury the pulling down a Proteftant Church 
 in Languedoc : but reckon it as a favour that that 
 of Charenton ftands. The fury of opinions, and 
 the obftinacy of parties, are not for a wife man 
 like your felf : your honour and zeal are fet above 
 all manner of reflection, by what you have already 
 fuflfered ; and you could not do better, than to go 
 and fix at Paris a wandring and ftroling Religion, 
 which you have dragg'd long enough from Country 
 to Country. I know very well, that confidering 
 the humour you are in at prefent, it would be la- 
 bour loft to exhort you to renounce it altogether : 
 an Opinion that becomes as it were natural, by be- 
 ing form'd of the firft imprefiions receiv'd in our 
 infancy ; the fondnefs a man has for antient Cufloms ; 
 the difficulty he finds to quit a Belief he was bred 
 in, to embrace another which he always oppos'd ; 
 a nicenefs of honour, and a miftaken notion of con- 
 ftancy, are chains which you will not break eafily : 
 but then leave your Children that free choice, which 
 your old engagements will not fuffer you to enjoy. 
 You complain of the Edict, which obliges them 
 to chufe a Religion at feven years of age ; and this, 
 in my opinion, is the greateft favour that could be 
 done them : for thereby they are reftor'd to their 
 Country, which you robb'd them of ; they are re- 
 inftated in the bofom of the Commonwealth, from 
 S 4 whence
 
 *8o THE WORKS OF 
 
 whence you drew them, and they refume their 
 birthrights to Honours and Dignities, from which 
 you excluded them. Do not envy them, Sir, thofe 
 advantages you have neglected; and keeping to 
 your felf your Opinions and -Misfortunes, leave Pro- 
 vidence to take care of their Religion and fortune. 
 What father does not endeavour to poflefs his 
 children with a zeal for his Party, as well as his Re- 
 ligion ? And how can any man tell what will be 
 the refult of this zeal, whether it will turn to fury 
 or piety ? whether it will produce crimes or vir- 
 tues ? In this uncertainty, Sir, refign all to the 
 difpofal of a Law, which has no other end than 
 the publick good, and the particular advantages of 
 your families. And indeed, is it not better to re- 
 ceive one's Religion from the Laws of one's Coun- 
 try, than either from the liberty of one's fancy, or 
 the animofity of a faction a man happens to be en- 
 gag'd in, than to make it the firft article of Faith, 
 to hate the Papifts, as you unjuftly call us ? Be 
 wife and difcreet, tho the paffionate mould call you 
 lukewarm for it ; it becomes you to fpend in peace 
 the remainder of your days. God Almighty will 
 reward you for your patience ; for he loves the 
 wifdom he infpires, but cannot endure indifcreet 
 zeal, which either occafions, or foolilhly draws a 
 man into trouble, 
 
 THOUGHTS*
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 281 
 
 THOUGHTS, 
 
 REFLECTIONS, 
 
 AND 
 
 MAXIMS. 
 
 Upon Health. 
 1. 
 
 IF you have any regard for the nicenefs of your 
 Palate, or concern for your Health, you will 
 cat none but plain Meat, without any mixture, but 
 exquifite by its natural goodnefs, and the curiofity 
 of your choice. 
 
 n. 
 
 Let all ftrong Soups, Gravy-fauce, Ragoos, Kick- 
 fhaws, and generally all made difhes, be banifli'd 
 your table, to prevent Diftempers unknown here- 
 tofore, during the fimplicity of meals. 
 
 m. 
 
 Variety of Wines may, fometimes, be agreeable 5 
 never wholefom : be temperate, and nice j drink 
 
 but
 
 282 THE WORKS OF 
 
 but little wine, but excellent ; and keep to the 
 fame as long as pofiible. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Champagne Wines are the beft ; don't keep too 
 long thofe of Ay ; neither drink too foon thofe of 
 Rheims. Cold preferves the fpirits of River- Wines ; 
 heat takes away the tafte of the foil of Mountain- 
 Wines. 
 
 V. 
 
 You can't be too careful of your Diet, nor too 
 cautious againft Phyfick. A moderate diet enter- 
 tains health and pleafure ; Phyfick is an ill prefent, 
 in view of an uncertain good to come. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Pleafures and Diet ought to be in a kind of con- 
 cert, and bear a juft proportion to one another. 
 Immoderate pleafures put Nature into diforder ; 
 but then a fparing and dry way of living dulls the 
 fpirits, and infenfibly extinguifhes them. 
 
 Upon Love. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Let us have a fufficient ftock of Love to ani- 
 mate us ; but not enough to difturb our repofe. The 
 heart was given us to love, which is an agreeable 
 motion ; not to fuffer, which is a painful fenfation. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 'Tis againft the intention of Nature, to make 
 that our torment, which fhe defign'd for our plea- 
 fure and comfort, 
 
 IX,
 
 M.DB ST. EVREMOND. 28* 
 
 IX. 
 
 Voluptuous Women are lefs fenfible of the mo- 
 tions of their Hearts, than of the impulfe of their 
 lewd Appetites : the finical or precife, to preferve 
 the purity of their hearts, tenderly love their Gal- 
 lants, without enjoyment ; and folidly enjoy their 
 Hufbands, whom they hate. 
 
 Upon ^Devotion. 
 x. 
 
 Amorous Ladies, who give up themfelves to 
 God, generally make him no other prefent, than of 
 an empty idle Soul that feeks to employ it felf ; fo 
 that their Devotion may be call'd a new paflion, 
 wherein a tender heart, that thinks to be penitent, 
 does only change the object of its love. 
 
 XI. 
 
 When we begin to turn devout, it is eafier for 
 us to love God, than to ferve him well. The rea- 
 fon of it is, becaufe we ftill retain a heart ufed to 
 Love -, and a foul that had a great familiarity with 
 Vice. The heart finds nothing new in its motions : 
 but a diforderly foul finds a great alteration in the 
 fentiments of Virtue ; fo that whatever change 
 there may appear to be, a man is flill the fame ; he 
 loves as he loved : and is unjuft, proud, revengs-r 
 ful, and felfifh as he was before, 
 
 XII. 
 
 True Devotion is reafonable, kind, and benefi- 
 cent : the more it ties us to God, the more it in- 
 clines us to live well with Men, 
 
 XIII,
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 xm. 
 
 The Life of Monks is ftill the fame, as to the 
 Rules of their Order : but unequal thro* the ine- 
 quality of the temper their minds are in. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 In a religious Houfe, Doubt over-rules fome 
 hours, and Perfuafion fome others : there are times 
 when a man regrets the pleafures he has loft , and 
 times when he laments the fins he has committed. 
 
 On Death. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The beft reafon one has to refolve to die, is, 
 becaufe he cannot help it. Philofophy gives us 
 force to diflemble the fenfe of Death, but does not 
 remove it : Religion makes us more fearful and lefs 
 confident. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 All things duly weigh'd and confider*d, Wifdom 
 rather confifts in making us live eafy and quiet, than 
 in making us die with conftancy. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Philofophical Deaths afford excellent matter of 
 difcourfe to the Living, but little comfort to the 
 Dying : 
 
 Expelling our fever e and common fate^ ' .'^ 
 Let us love Life, but not fear Death.
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 28 J 
 
 A 
 
 |jL E T T E R 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIN, 
 
 On her dejlgn of retiring into a Convent. 
 
 I Know not, Madam, whether the title of Friend- 
 Jhip without Friendjhip y which you have beftow- 
 ed on my Writing ', is proper for it ; but Pm fure it 
 fuits but ill with my fentiments, thofe particularly 
 which you excite in me. Since that unlucky even- 
 ing in which you acquainted me with the fatal Re- 
 folution you feem willing to take, I had not one 
 momenrs repofe ; or rather you have caft me into 
 continual pain, which is fomething more violent 
 than a bare privation of reft. 
 
 How is it pofiible for you to leave perfons who 
 are charm'd with you, and who adore you ; friends 
 that love you more than they love themfelves, to 
 go and hunt after unknown people you will not 
 like, and who perhaps will infult you ? Do you 
 confider, Madam, 'that you are going to throw 
 your felf into a Convent, which the Conftable's 
 
 Lady % 
 
 ^ Set above, f*g. atf i.
 
 286 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Lady% your fifter, abhorr'd? If fhe returns thi- 
 ther, 'tis becaufe fhe muft either chufe that, or 
 Death ; whereas, in order to go to it, you will 
 leave a Court where you are efteemed ; where the 
 affection of a gracious and good-natur'd King af- 
 fords you a kind treatment ; where all fenfible and 
 judicious perfons have both a refpect and friendfhip 
 for you. Think well upon it, Madam : The moft 
 happy day you will pafs in a Nunnery, will not be 
 worth the moft melancholy you pafs here at home. 
 
 Indeed, if you were touch d, and acted by a par- 
 ticular impulfe of divine Grace, that fhould prompt 
 you to devote your felf to God's fervice, the hard- 
 mip of your Condition might be excufed by the ar- 
 dour of your Zeal, which would render every thing 
 fupportable to you : but you are neither convinced, 
 nor affected ; and you muft even learn to believe 
 in him, whom you are going to ferve fo aufterely. 
 You will not only meet with all the hardfhips that 
 Nuns undergo, but will mifs the Spoufe that com- 
 forts them. To you every fort of fpoufe is odious ; 
 not only fuch a one as is to be found abroad in the 
 world, but even fuch a one as is to be found in a 
 Monastery. The being one day in doubt about the 
 happinefs of another life, is fufficient to caft into 
 defpair the chafteft maid in a Nunnery : for Faith 
 alone ftrengthens and fupports her, and enables her 
 to bear the mortifications fhe undergoes. Who 
 knows, Madam, whether you will believe one quar- 
 ter of an hour what fhe muft ever believe to avoid 
 being unhappy ? Who knows, whether the idea of 
 a promis'd Felicity will ever be powerful enough to 
 bear you up againft the fcnfe of prefent ills ? 
 
 Nothing is more reafonable to fuch as are fin- 
 cerely convinced, than to live under that aufterity 
 
 which 
 
 * Marie Mancini, oneoftheDutckefsofMaz.ar'm'sJifters, tvho 
 was marritd to Prince Colonna, Conflable of the Kingdom of No* 
 fit*.
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 287 
 
 which they believe neceflary for their arrival at the 
 fruition of eternal blifs ; and nothing is more juft 
 in them who are not convinced, than to indulge 
 their eafe here below, and to tafte with modera- 
 tion every pleafure for which they have any relifli. 
 For this reafon, thofe among the Philofophers who 
 believ'd the Immortality of the Soul, made no ac- 
 count of the delights of this world ; and fuch of 
 them who after this life expected no other, have 
 placed their fovereign Good in pleafure. You, 
 Madam, profefs a Philofophy entirely new : in op- 
 pofition to EPICURUS to purfue Pain, Mortifi- 
 cations, and Anguifh ; and in oppofition to S o- 
 CRATES, you expect no reward from Virtue. 
 Without much Religion you are going to profefs 
 a religious Life : you defpife this World, and don't 
 fet much value upon the other. Unlefs therefore 
 you have found out a third World created pur- 
 pofely for you, there is no way left to juftify your 
 conduct. 
 
 We muft, Madam, we muft be convinced be- 
 fore we lay a reftraint upon ourfelves : we muft 
 not fuffer without knowing for whom we fuffer. In 
 a word, we muft earneftly endeavour to know God, 
 before we deny ourfelves. 'Tis in the midft of the 
 Univerfe where the contemplation of the wonders 
 of Nature will lead you to his knowledge on whom 
 it depends. The fight of the Sun will make you 
 comprehend the greatnefs and magnificence of him 
 that form'd it ; that wonderful and juft Order, 
 which cements and entertains all things, will bring 
 you acquainted with his Wifdom. In fhort, Ma- 
 dam, in this World, which you defign to leave, 
 God lies all open and ready explain'd to our 
 thoughts i whereas he lies fo clofe in Monafteries, 
 that he rather conceals than manifefts himfelf ; and 
 is fo difguis'd by the mean and unworthy forms 
 under which he is reprefented, that the moft en- 
 2 lighten'd
 
 *88 THE WORKS OF 
 
 enlighten'd have much ado to know him. Howe* 
 ver, an old Abbefs will continually fpeak to you a- 
 bout him, whom, of all things, me has the leaft 
 knowledge of : fhe'll command you to do fome filly 
 things by way of Penance ; and an exact obedience 
 mult anfwer the command, let it be never fo ridi- 
 culous. Your ghoflly Father will afiume no lefs 
 an afcendant over you : and your Reafon thus hum- 
 bled, will find itfelf a flave to prefumptuous igno- 
 rance. Reafon, that fecret character or image of 
 God, which he has imprinted on onr fouls, will 
 reprefent you as a rebel, if you do not reverence in 
 this Director of your Confcience, the imbecillity of 
 human nature. Too fimple and credulous Nuns 
 will difguft you, and you'll be offended at the li- 
 bertine and the wanton. You will find there the 
 crimes of the world, whofe pleafures you have for- 
 faken. 
 
 Hitherto you have liv'd in grandeur, and en- 
 joy'd all the delights that attend it. You were 
 brought up as a Queen, and you deferv'd to be one. 
 Being the Heirels of a Minifter who govern'd the 
 Univerfe, you . brought a greater fortune to your 
 Husband, than all the Queens of EUROPE toge- 
 ther, to their Royal Conforts. One day robb'd you 
 of all that vaft eftate : but your merit fupply'd the 
 lofs of your fortune, and made you live with more 
 magnificence in foreign countries, than you would 
 have lived in ours. Curiofity, delicacy, cleanli- 
 nefs, nice drefs, conveniencies of life, and plea- 
 fures have not abandon'd you. If your difcretion 
 has forbidden you voluptuous enjoyments, you 
 have yet this advantage, that no favours were ever 
 fo defired as yours. 
 
 Now, Madam, what will you find in a Nunnery ? 
 a fevere prohibition of all that nature reafonably 
 requires ; of all that humanity allows : a cell, a 
 hard bed, more deteftable diet, nafty ftinking 
 
 cloaths,
 
 M. DB ST. EVREMOND. 28? 
 
 clbaths, (hall make up all your delights. You'll 
 be your fole attendant, the only perfon to humour 
 and pleafe you, amidft fb many things that will 
 difpleafe you > nor will you, perhaps, be in a con- 
 dition to have for your felf the moft fecret com- 
 plaifance for felf-iove ; perhaps your Beauty, be- 
 ing become altogether ufelefs, will not difcover 
 it felf, either to your own eyes, or thofe of o- 
 thers. 
 
 However, Madam, this wonderful Beauty of 
 yours, this great ornament of the Univerfe, was not 
 beftow'd upon you to be hid. You owe your felf 
 to the publick, to your friends, to your felf. You 
 were made to pleafe your felf, to pleafe all ; to dif- 
 fipate forrow, to inlpirejoy, to revive in general 
 all that languifhes. When the ugly and the foolifh 
 throw themfelves into Nunneries, 'tis a divine in- 
 fpiration that makes them quit the world, where 
 they can but difgrace its author : but in you,. Ma- 
 dam, 'tis a downright temptation from the Devil, 
 who envying God's Glory, cannot bear the admira- 
 tion, which the moft excellent of his Works raifes 
 in us. Twenty whole years fpent in fmging of 
 Pfalms, and Anthems in the Choir, will not con- 
 tribute fo much td that Glory, as will one day iri 
 Which your Beauty lies expos' d to the fight pf the 
 world. The mewing your felf is your true Vocati- 
 on : 'tis the fervice you owe God ; 'tis the moft fui- 
 table worfhip you can pay him. If time has pow- 
 er to deftrdy the excellent harmony and proportion 
 of your features, as well as thofe of others -, if it 
 fliould one day ruin that Beauty we now admire : 
 tlien indeed, you may retire from the world j and 
 after having fulfill'd the will of him that form'd 
 you, go, and fing his praifes in a Nunnery. But, 
 be fure to follow the difpofition he has made of 
 your life ; for if you foreital die hour he has ap- 
 
 Vol. IL T pointed
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 pointed for your Retreat, you fhall betray his in- 
 tentions, by a fecret complaifance for his enemy. 
 
 If you hearken to this enemy, one of your great- 
 eft misfortunes will be, that no body fhall be ac- 
 cefiary to them but your felf. My Lady COLON- 
 N A, your filler, charges hers on the violences that 
 are offer'd her. She has the cruelty of a Husband 
 that compels her, the injuftice of a Court that fup- 
 ports him, and a thoufand other grievances, either 
 true or falfe, to complain of. But you, Madam, 
 are the only caufe of your hard fate, and can ac- 
 cufe none but your own error. God makes his 
 will known to you thro' my mouth, and you will 
 not give me the hearing. He makes ufe of my 
 arguments to fave you, and you confult nothing but 
 your ruin. One day, over-whelm'd with all the 
 miferies I defcribe to you, you will, but too 
 late, think on him who endeavour'd to prevent 
 them. 
 
 You are Mattered, perhaps, by the noife your 
 Retreat will make ; and by an extravagant Vanity 
 you think nothing is more illuftrious, than to rob 
 the world of the greateft Beauty that ever was in it, 
 when others beftow nothing on God, but either na- 
 tural Deformity, or the ruins of a worn-out Face. 
 But how long have you preferr'd the emptinefs of 
 opinion before the reality of things ? And who, af- 
 ter all, will warrant you that your Refolution will 
 not be accounted as foolifh as extraordinary ? Who 
 can tell, but it will be look'd upon as the return of 
 a wandring and travelling humour ? Or, that peo- 
 ple will imagine that you go three hundred leagues 
 in queft of an Adventure, divine indeed, if you 
 pleafe to call it fo, but ftill an Adventure. 
 
 You hope, to find fome comfort in my Lady 
 
 C o L o N N A'S Converfation : but, if I am not mif- 
 
 taken, that comfort will not laft long. After you 
 
 have talk'd three or four days of France and Italy, 
 
 of
 
 M. DE ST. EV RE MONO, 
 
 of the King's paflion , and the timoroufneis of the 
 Cardinal your Uncle ? ; of what you are like to be, 
 and what you are at prefent ; after having exhaufted 
 your memory of what pafs'd at the Conftable's 
 Houfe, of your going out of Rome, and of your 
 unfortunate Voyages and Travels, you will find 
 your felf coop'd up in a Convent i and your Capti- 
 vity, the hardmip of which you will by that time 
 begin to feel, will make you reflect on the fweet 
 Liberty you enjoy'd in England. Thofe very things 
 that now feem tirefome to you, will appear charm- 
 ing to your Imagination ; and what you have quit- 
 ted thro* difguft, will revive, and tantalize your 
 appetite. Then, Madam, then, what force of 
 mind muft you be miftrefs of, to comfort your felf 
 under the fenfe of prefent ills, and loft pleafures ? 
 
 I grant, my guefies may prove falfe, and my 
 conjectures ill-grounded. I grant, my Lady C o- 
 LONNA'S Converfation may ever be agreeable to 
 you : but who will warrant that it will be in your 
 power freely to enjoy it ? 'Tis one of the Rules 
 obferv'd in religious Houfes, not to permit any 
 clofe correfpondence between perfons that take de- 
 light in each other's company ; becaufe the union 
 of private perfons is a kind of breach of the obli- 
 gations one has contracted with the whole fociety. 
 Befides, the Conftable's care and vigilance may ex- 
 tend fo far, as to prevent a communication, that 
 will raife a thoufand chimerical fears . in the head 
 of a fufpicious man, who has too much offen- 
 ded. I do not mention the caprice and freaks 
 of an Abbefs, nor the fecret jealoyfies of Nuns, 
 who will do all the fpite they can, to a perfon 
 T 2 whofe 
 
 The King of France, before he married the Infanta ofSpa'm t 
 was pajfionatcly in love with my Lady Cohnna, (then a Maid) j 
 kut Cardinal Mazarin, her Uncle, would not confent to that 
 Match, for fear the fame fiottld bt rtfented by the Princes ftb 
 Blood, and Nobility of France.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 whofe merit will drown theirs. Thus, Madam, 
 it may be your fate, that after you have turn'd 
 Nun, and live with your fitter, you will be fcarce 
 allow'd to fee her ; and fo you will either be alone 
 with your melancholy thoughts, or in a crowdj a- 
 midft impertinence, error ^ and folly , tired with 
 Sermons in a language you little underfland, fa- 
 tigu'd with Matins that will diftui b your morning- 
 reft, Wearied with the continual habit of faying 
 Vefpers, and the troublefom mumbling of a Ro- 
 fary. 
 
 What fhall I do then, will you fay ? preferve your 
 Reafon, Madam ; for you'll make your felf un- 
 happy if you lofe it. What a prodigious lofs is the 
 want of that exquifite difcernment and found judg- 
 ment you were miftrefs of? Have you committed 
 fo great a crime againft your felf, thus to inflict fo 
 fevere a puniihment on your own perfon? And 
 then what reafon have you to complain of your 
 friends, thus to exercife fo cruel a revenge upon 
 them? The Italians murther their enemies; but 
 their friends efcape their favage way of doing them- 
 felves juftice. 
 
 Madam DE BEVERWEJERT and I, have alrea- 
 dy received mortal ftrokes , the very thought of 
 your fufferings, has occafion'd ours ; and I find my 
 felf at prefent the moft miferable of Men, becaufe 
 you are going to make your felf the moft miferable 
 of all Women* When I go to fee her in the morn- 
 ing, we look upon each other fpeechlefs, for a 
 quarter of an hour ; and this mournful filence, is 
 ever attended with our tears. Take pity on us, 
 Madam, if you'll have none for your felf. One 
 may go fo far as to deprive one's felf, of the con- 
 veniencies of life, for the fake of friends : we 
 only defire you to forbear its torments, and fhan't 
 we obtain our requeft? You muft needs be naturally 
 very hard-hearted, fince you are the firft that feels 
 3 tiic
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 2P3 
 
 the effects, of your own rigour. Think, Madam, 
 think ferioufly, on what I tell you : you (land upon 
 the brink of ruin : one ftep forward, and you are 
 undone; one ftep backward, and you are fafe. 
 Your good, or bad Fortune, is in your own hands : 
 have but the courage to be happy, and you will 
 infallibly be fo. 
 
 If you leave the World, as you feem refolv'd, 
 my comfort is, that I (hall not flay long in it : Na- 
 ture, kinder than you, will foon put a period to 
 my melancholy life. In the mean time, Madam, 
 your commands will fupercede hers, when you 
 pleafe; for the right (he has over me, is fubor- 
 dinate, to that I have refigned to you. There's 
 no Voyage I (hall not undertake to be in your com- 
 pany ', and if you mail drain your rigour fo far, as 
 even to deny me that favour, I mall go and hide 
 my felf in fome defart, being utterly incapable to 
 rdifh any Converfation but yours. In that Soli" 
 tude, your image will fupply all other objects ; there 
 I mall difengage me from, and forget my felf, if I 
 may fo fpeak, that I may eternally think on you. 
 There I mail learn to die i and my laft Sighs, will 
 acquaint the whole world, with the power of you 
 charms, and merits, and the depth of my affliction. 
 
 A
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 TO THESAME: 
 
 On the 'Death of her Lover 1 . 
 
 I WAS told you were going to leave England, 
 -and tho yet uncertain where to fix your Refi- 
 dence, that you were refolved to go out of the 
 Country, where you ought to day. In the name- 
 of wonder, Madam, what do you mean ? what are 
 you going to do ? You will give your enemies in- 
 vincible reafons againft your felf, and deprive your 
 friends of all means to ferve you. You will, by 
 this new ramble, revive the dormant fault of all 
 the former ; and ruin all your prefent and future 
 intereft. But, fay you, can one appear in publick, 
 after this ftrange unlucky adventure ? But, anfwer I, 
 how can one hide one's felf without making a bare 
 misfortune a crime. 'Tis certain our ill conduct 
 often turns misfortunes into faults ; and I am a- 
 fraid, Madam, you will find it by experience. If 
 you continue any longer in your obfcure retreat, 
 every one will reproach you, with what you feem to 
 reproach your felf; and you'll be condemn'd by 
 thoufands, who are now difpofed to pity you. 
 
 But after all, Madam, is the accident that has, 
 befallen you, fo very extraordinary ? I could name 
 to you fome modern Beauties, who have born the 
 lofs of their Lovers with very moderate forrow, 
 but that I have a greater example in ftore for you. 
 
 HELENA, 
 
 * Baron Banter, -who vits killed in a Dtttl by Prince Philip ef 
 Savoy. See the Life of Monficur de St. Evreraond, in the year 
 1683.
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O ND. 
 
 HELENA, lefs beautiful than you, but next to 
 you, the moft beautiful woman the world ever 
 faw j HELENA, caufed both Gods and Men to 
 fight ten years together, and was more proud of 
 what others did for her fake, than afham'd of what 
 fhe had done herfelf. Thefe, Madam, are the 
 Heroins, you ought to imitate ; and not the D i- 
 D o's and T H i s B E'S j thofe wretches who have 
 difgrac'd Love by the defperate extravagance of 
 their paflion. But what mean you by your for- 
 row ? To lament a dead man, is not to lament a 
 Lover. Your Lover is now no more than a fad 
 $nd empty Objeft, form'd by your imagination : 
 'tis to be in love with your own idea ; and the La- 
 dy who is in love with ALEXANDER the Great % 
 is as excufable in her chimerical paflion, as you are 
 in yours ; firice a man who died to day, has no 
 more to do with this world, than that famous con- 
 queror. Therefore your felf are the fubjed matter 
 of your tears ; whilft being too faithful to your af- 
 flidion, you vainly endeavour to reftore what Na- 
 ture has deftroy'd. 
 
 Then talk of bis difaftrous fate no more; 
 A grief ~, which on your Beauty preys, give o'er: 
 Vhe man you mourn for ; is for ever, gone, 
 And you're alone the fubjeft of your moan. 
 Tour raving fancy, to your felf unkind, 
 Hasform'd a Fantom to dijtraft your mind, 
 
 I give you the beft Arguments in the world, 
 
 both in Profe and Verfe : but the more pains I take 
 
 to comfort you, the more I find you inconfolable. 
 
 Since the times of A R T E M i s i A, and the Dutch- 
 
 T 4 eft 
 
 Set tht Frtnth Play, (ailed L$ Vifionaires, yrit ly Dft 
 Marett.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 efs of MONTMORENCI, both famous for their 
 folemn affliction, and celebrated by the ManTole- 
 ums they erected for their Husbands, no forrow 
 like yours was ever feen. *Tis true, it was, in a 
 manner, enjoyn'd to you by the Direc~trefs of your 
 grief*. NO moment paffes, but DOLQRIDA^ 
 approaches your ears to tell you news of the other 
 world ; and there's no fccret me leaves untry'd, to 
 entertain in your foul the love of the dead, and the 
 hatred of the living. Sometimes (he makes ufe of 
 a fad and mournful countenance ; fometimes of a 
 woful ftory, and fometimes, for variety-fake, of a 
 melancholy and lamentable fong. And thofe very 
 Hymns which the Church has inftituted to celebrate 
 the death of our Saviour, are mournfully fung at 
 his nativity, when the fame Church ordains us to. 
 rejoice. 
 
 If one mould obferve in you the leaft fign of 
 your being reftor'd to your gay humour ; if, by an 
 impulfe of nature, you mould break out into the 
 leaft fally of joy, contrary to D o L o R i D A'S or- 
 ders, a fevere look of hers makes you immediately 
 return to the duty of your forrow : and fuch art of 
 grieving and lamenting is employ'd to. give you a 
 difgufl to the world ; that if the fame melancholy 
 methods, and gloomy application were to be ufed 
 with Mr, T A L B o T, I don's in. the leaft doubt that 
 in a fortnight one might make a, good Hermit of 
 the moft jovial of all men. Let therefore no body 
 wonder at D o L o R i D A'S fuccefsful machines of a 
 ftudied defolation : the wonder is, you have pre- 
 ferved fo much judgment as you have done. You 
 have enough left, Madam, in fpite of all the en- 
 ^eavours that have been ufed to. rob you of it en- 
 tirety, 
 
 J : Madam de Ruz, whom the Duke of Mazarin hadfent to 
 "London with fame young devout Ladies^ in order to engage, bis 
 Dutcbefs it- retire into a Nunnery, 
 .*. See Don Quixot, Ptirt II. Chaf. $6, &c.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 tirely, in order to difpofe of you with more eafe 
 to your ruin : but neverthelefs, do not take it ill 
 of me, if I mew you the difference there is be- 
 tween you and your felf. 
 
 What would formerly have faid that Dutchefs of 
 M A z A R i N, whom we knew full of wit, and pe- 
 netration ; what would our Madam M A z A R i N 
 have faid, if me had feen a frhall religious Flock 
 crofs the Sea, to fettle their wandring Sanctity in 
 the Houfc of a perfon of Quality ? And what would 
 (he not have laid of the ho(pitable Lady, who 
 would have entertain'd thefe pious Sifters? What 
 would Madam M A z A R i N have faid, if me had 
 feen the reverend Mother fuperior, divide her time, 
 between the exercifes of piety, and her amorous 
 lectures , between the fervency of prayers, and 
 the eagernefs of getting a guinea; between the pi- 
 ous frauds of Religion, and the cheats at Bafiet ? 
 What would me have faid, if me had feen thofe 
 young plants, that wanted mojfture, bear miracu- 
 loufly forward fruit, thro* the particular blefling of 
 that houfe ? Come on, little M A R o T E % you 
 profelyte of their holinefies, come and learn us 
 fomething of the myftery, in which you have been 
 initiated : mew your felf, M A R o T E, and convince 
 the publick of the efficacy of their wholefom in- 
 ftruftions. The thing is too ferious, and too pref- 
 fing, to make a jeft of it any longer. 
 
 In the name of God, Madam , that name which 
 is abufed by the Hypocrites, who in thejudgrrunt 
 of my Lord BACON, are the great Atheifts : in 
 the name of God, rid your felf of a contagious 
 commerce with wickednefs and folly. You will 
 no fooner have freed your felf from it, but you'll 
 recover all your former judgment, and retrieve 
 
 your 
 
 * One of the young Girls that came over with Madam dt R*c, 
 Wi who bore the forward fruit.
 
 2*8 THE WORKS OF 
 
 your priftinc Reputation. Confult folidly your in- 
 tereft, and wifely your repofe. This is all I beg 
 of you : make your felf happy, and you'll do more 
 for me than 'twere in your power to do for a Lo- 
 ver, let your favours be never fo precious. 
 
 TO THE SAME: 
 On her defign of leaving England. 
 
 ID O my felf the honour to write to you, Ma- 
 dam j not that I flatter my felf with the hope of 
 regaining your favour ; but only to have the fatis- 
 faftion to tell you the greateft truth in the world ; 
 which is, Madam, that you never had, nor never will 
 have, fo faithful a fervant as I have been, and will 
 ever be. 'Tis true, this fidelity of mine had no- 
 thing in view, but your intereft. Leaving for o- 
 thers, to humour your fancies, the complaifance 
 they have at prefent to entertain your forrows, I 
 confider'd what was conducing to your good, and 
 oppofed what unfortunately pleafed you to your 
 ruin. After fo juft an aflurance of my zeal, I will 
 tell you, that you have nothing to fear in England, 
 but thofe who endeavour to give you a difguft of 
 it : and would to God you were as truly perfuaded 
 of the civility of the Englifh, as they are ready to 
 give you proofs of it on all occafions. Shew your 
 felf, Madam: for you never can hurt your felf fo 
 much, as by hiding your felf. But when you be- 
 come acceffible, give us leave to come to you any 
 other way, but that curfed Apartment ', fitter to 
 
 conjure 
 
 1 Ste the Life of M. de St. Evremond, under the year
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 conjure up the Ghoft of SAMUEL, than to lead 
 to Madam M A z A R i N'S Chamber. If all thofe 
 difmal preparations are of A RC A B o N E'S J provi- 
 ding, we pray God to preferve us againft the in- 
 chantment. But if that black melancholy proceeds 
 from your own humour ; if you think on nothing 
 but to hurt and torment your fclf ; learn, Madam, 
 that the greateft cruelty is to torment ones felf. 
 Who does not forgive himfelf, deferves not to be 
 forgiven by others : for he teaches them to be fe- 
 vere and . unrelenting. Let us come to the point ; 
 for I begin to be weary of generalities. 
 
 Suppofe your Nephew J mould lofe his Benefi- 
 ces ; I don't deny but it is matter of grief: but you 
 have fuftained greater lofles without breaking your 
 heart for it. A man who profefs'd love to you, 
 has been kill'd. 'Tis an unfortunate accident, I 
 own it: but, bating your affliction, there's no- 
 thing very extraordinary in this adventure. Lovers 
 are mortal, like other men. If you can make 
 Love to be an exemption from dying, the Ladies 
 will be pefter'd with Lovers - 9 and there will be as 
 many as there are Men. I know 'tis decent to 
 mourn for the lofs of thofe that love us ; but to 
 fummon all that is direful to the afliftance of our 
 grief, and take thereupon deftrudive refblutions, 
 is what the Dead do not require from us. 
 
 Give me leave to reproach you with fomething 
 that's mean, but which is necefiary to animate you 
 to make off the concernment you are in. In times 
 of profperity, I know, no body mews more Philo- 
 fophy than you. You talk more gravely than P LU-. 
 T A R c H ; you fpeak more Sentences than S E N E- 
 c A ; you make more Reflections than M o N- 
 
 T AIGNE ; 
 
 A famous Enthantrefs, Sifltr to the Magician ArcalAus, in 
 the Romanci catted Amadis de Gaul. 
 
 3 Prince Phily of Savoy. Su tbt Life of M. de St. Evrcmond, 
 unjer the year 1683.
 
 3oo T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 T A i G N E : but upon the leaft accident, upon the 
 leaft trouble that befals you, you are bewilder'd, 
 and loft to all counfel; you renounce your own 
 reafon, and refign your felf to thofe who have none, 
 or whofe intereft lies in your ruin. 'Tis too much, 
 Madam, 'tis too much in all confcience to act the 
 lame Farce twice in one family. And why, I pray, 
 did you wonder fo much at my Lady C o L o N N A'S 
 leaving Turin, where me had nothing but the dry 
 and bare protection of the Duke of Savoy ? Why, 
 I fay, did you fo much wonder at it, if you can 
 now be capable of leaving the King of England, 
 as fecure by his power, as folid by his beneficence ? 
 Notwithftanding all thefe clear and forcible ar- 
 guments, I am ftill afraid left you over-look your 
 Intereft ; unfortunate, not to fee in England what 
 fuits beft with you , yet more unfortunate in feeing 
 it too well as foon as you are gone out of England ! 
 You mail then recover the light when you want 
 means to enjoy it. As long as you are in this 
 Kingdom, either in Town or Country, you may 
 mend your affairs, as bad a condition as they are 
 in , but after you are once on board the Ship, here's 
 no more refource. You muft go to places where 
 you'll find neither fatisfaftion nor intereft ; where 
 your imaginations will be fruftrated , and where, ta 
 torment you, you will find the fenfe of prefent mi- 
 iery, and the remembrance of paft felicity. 
 
 I know, Madam, you don't care to hear of Ex- 
 amples. But without regarding your averfion, I 
 mail make bold to tell you, that the Queen of 
 B o H E M i A% upon her going out of England, 
 dragg*d about a wandring neceffity from one Na- 
 tion to another-, and that MA R v of MED icis, 
 Mother, or Mother-in-law to three great Kings \ 
 
 went 
 
 * Elizabeth Stuart, Daughter to King James I. 
 
 5 Mary of.Medicis, was Mother to Lewis XIII. and Mother', 
 in-lav) to Philip IV. King of Spain, and Charles I. 
 land.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 went to ftarve at Cologne. I look upon you, 
 Madam, with tears in my eyes, as a perfon ready- 
 to be facrificed, unlefs you have the force to fave 
 your felf from the Altar. Do as much for your 
 ielf as R A c i N E did for I p H i o E N I A : put an 
 E R i P H i L E in your place, and come and comfort 
 men of honour with your fafety, and her ruin. 
 
 TO THE SAME: 
 
 On the fame Subjetf. 
 -V i 
 
 YOU doubt not, Madam, that I am fenfibljr 
 touch'd to fee you leave England ; but I 
 fhould be inconfolable, if you defign'd to go and 
 live either with the Princes of Germany, or the 
 Grandees of Spain. Nothing is more natural for 
 you, than living in France. For my own part, I 
 would not defire either a better Air, or a finer 
 Country. England, however, has its convenien- 
 cies: a great many Guineas, with the liberty of 
 enjoying them as one thinks fit. 
 
 I cannot go on with this fort of difcourfe. All di- 
 verfions are necefiary to amufe my forrow ; but it 
 is very difficult to make ufe of any, when it comes 
 into my thoughts that I (hall never fee you again. I 
 look upon you as a dead Perfon, with refpecl: to me. 
 All your good Qualities appear before me to affect 
 me ; and I can fix my eye on no imperfection that 
 can comfort me. Would to God you had left me 
 fome reafon to complain, more provoking than the 
 abandoning me to my little merit. A juft refent- 
 ment of an injury would exafperate me againft 
 
 you;
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 you ; but your contempt obliges me to do my 
 felf an irkfome piece of juftice, without afford- 
 ing me any thing to reproach you with. Pray let 
 this Letter ferve for an Adieu : for I mall not have 
 the ftrength to bid it by word of mouth ; and I 
 fhall weep in my Chamber, as I do already now, 
 to fpare my Age the fhame of fhedding Tears in 
 publick. Remember now and then an old Servant. 
 However, I fear what I ask : for you will not re- 
 member me, but when my Predictions come to 
 pafs ; and I had rather they mould prove falfe, 
 and be forgotten. As for you, Madam, you will 
 ever be remember'd by thole who had the honour 
 to know you. Thofe you think the lead difpofed 
 to regret you, will not forgive the refolution you 
 have taken to leave us. Your only enemy is your 
 felf; and your fad ideas, and melancholy atten- 
 dants. If a man could look into your head, as 
 well as on your face, he would find your brain 
 blacken'd with the Dead of La Trape ', and your 
 other difmal Imaginations. Farewel, Madam. 
 The bare mentioning your affliction, would make 
 me fad, if I were not fo already. Guefs at my for- 
 row and zeal for your fervice : for 'tis not in my 
 power to exprefs it. 
 
 For a Jong while, I have not taken upon 
 me to give you counfel. Let the laft be, to 
 reconcile your felf with the Duke of M A z A- 
 R i N, if you can do it with any fafety. If there 
 be none, return to England, to pafs fome time in 
 the country. I am perfuaded the King will not 
 abandon you ; and you will find more people rea- 
 dy to ferve you than you imagine. As for Mona- 
 fteries, one lives wretchedly there, unlefs one be- 
 comes 
 
 1 There is a Book of the Lives of fome Per font that died at tht 
 Monajlery of la Trapg, and left behind them the refutation of bt- 
 ing holy Men*
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 3 oj 
 
 comes crazy. All things confider'd, 'tis better for 
 a married woman to futfer with an Husband, than 
 to fuffer with an Abbefs. There is more honour 
 and virtue in it. Rid your felf, as fall as you can, 
 of the black whims that proceed from the fpleen, 
 and in which even your imagination has no (hare. 
 
 SOME 
 
 OBSERVATIO NS 
 
 n the Tafle and Judgment of the 
 FRENCH. 
 
 ALtho the Genius of the French feems gene- 
 rally to be but mean, it is certain, that thofe 
 who diftinguifh themfelves amongft us, are capable 
 of the moft noble productions : but when they 
 know how to perform them, we know not how to 
 admire them ; and if we have done juftice to fome 
 excellent work, our levity dorh not fuffer it to en- 
 joy long the reputation we have given it. I don't 
 at all wonder, that there is no good Tafte of things 
 where barbarity reigns, and no judgment where 
 Letters, Arts, and Difcipline are loft ; it would like- 
 wife be ridiculous to expect a vein of fine learn- 
 ing, in times of darknefs and ignorance : but that 
 which is really furprizing, is, to fee in the moft po- 
 lite Court, a true and vicious palate fucceed by 
 turns, and become a-la-mode, like our cloaths. 
 
 I have known confiderable men fometimes pafs 
 for the ornaments of the Court, and fometimes be 
 thought ridiculous ; to be liked again, then fall in- 
 to contempt j without any alteration, either in 
 their perfons, or their conduct. A Man retires 
 
 with
 
 THE WORKS O $ 
 
 with the applaufe of the whole world, who, the 
 next day finds himfelf the fubjeft of our raillery, 
 without knowing how he came to forfeit the good 
 opiniori we had of him lately. The true reafon is, 
 becaufe we rarely Judge of Men by folid advan- 
 tages, which good fenfe difcovers , but by the 
 fafhion, whofe applaufe ends as foon as the fancy 
 which had produced it. 
 
 The Works of Authors are fubjecl: to the fame 
 inequality of our Tafte. When I was young, T H E- 
 OPHILE was admired, in fpite of his irregularities 
 and negligence) which made a Ihift to efeape. thro* 
 want of a nice judgment in the Courtiers of that 
 time. I have feen him fince univerfally cried down 
 by all the Verfifiers, without any refpecl to his fine 
 imagination, and the happy graces of his genius. I 
 have known the time, when the Poetry of M A L- 
 H E R B E was thought admirable, for the turn, the 
 exactnefs, and the exprefiion. Not long after, he 
 was thrown afide, as the worft of Poets ; when rid- 
 dles, burlefque, bouts rimez *, carried all France be- 
 Fore them. I have feen CORNEILLE lofe his re- 
 putation, if it were poflible for him to lofe it, at 
 the reprefentation of one of his beft Pieces l . I 
 have feen two of the beft Comedians of the world *, 
 expoTed to all our raillery ; and when the influence 
 of this prejudice was over, they were as much ad- 
 mired as before. The Airs of B o i s s E T, which 
 formerly fo juftly charmed all the Court, were foon 
 left for little ballad-tunes ; and L u i G i, the firft 
 man of the univerfe in his art, muft come from I- 
 taly to admire them, and make us repent of this 
 our folly, and reftore them to that reputation, 
 which nothing but meer whimfy had robbed them 
 
 of. 
 
 1 A ft t of Rhimes given to a. Pott in order to his jOlty thdfff 
 Up in a Sonnet, or fomc other fie ft of Poetry. 
 
 * The Sophonisba. 
 
 * Floridor and Montftury.
 
 M. DESY. EVREMOND. 
 
 of. If you ask me the reafon of it, I muft tell you 4 
 that induftry in France fupplies the place of the' 
 greateft merit, and that the art of making one's 
 felf valued, oftner gives us a reputation than our 
 intrinfick value. 
 
 Since good Judges are as rare as good Authors ; 
 fince 'tis as difficult to find judgment in one, as 
 genius in the other, every one aims to give a repu- 
 tation to that which pleafes him ; and it happens, 
 that the multitude Values that which is agreeable to 
 their ill relifh, or at mod, to their indifferent un- 
 derftanding. Befides, Novelty is a temptation 
 from which our minds cannot eafily defend them- 
 felves. The Merit which we are accuftom'd to, 
 does not fail, in time, to raife our envy ; and even 
 defects are capable of furprizing us agreeably, in 
 things that we never faw. The moft valuable 
 things, after they have appeared fome time amongft 
 us, no longer make an imprefllon upon us as good j 
 but difguft us as old : on the other fide, things 
 that deferve no efteem, are lefs often rejected as de* 
 Ipicable^ than defired as new. 
 
 Not but that we have men of found judgment 
 in France, who never diflike any thing that ought 
 to pleafe, and are never pleas'd with what is trifling ; 
 but the multitude, either ignorant* or prepoflefs'd, 
 ftill prevails Over the fmall numbers of the know* 
 ing. Befide, perfons of the greateft figure fet a 
 value on every thing according to their fancy, and 
 when a perfon follows the mode, he may equally 
 efteem thofe things he knows, and thofe he doth 
 not. 
 
 There is no Country where Reafon cir Senfe is 
 fcarcer, than in France ; but when 'tis found there, 
 none is purer in the whole univerfe. For the moft 
 part indeed, we are govern'd by fancy ; but a fancy 
 fo fine, and a caprice fo noble, as to what regards 
 the outfide, that Foreigners, amamed of their good 
 
 Vol. IL U Senfe,
 
 306 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Senfe, as of a grofs quality, feek to make them- 
 felves efteemed at home, by imitating our Modes -, 
 and renounce efiential qualities, to affect an air and 
 manner, which 'tis hardly pofiible for them to at- 
 tain. Thus that continual alteration in our cloths 
 and houfhold-goods, with which our neighbours 
 reproach us, but always imitate, is without our fo 
 defigning it, a wife and politick contrivance : for, 
 befides, thofe infinite fums of Money it draws from 
 foreign parts, 'tis an intereft more folid than one 
 would imagine, to have French-men difperfed in all 
 places, who regulate the garb of other Nations by 
 our own ; who begin by enflaving their eyes, when 
 their heart ftill oppofes our Laws ; and gain the 
 fenfes to favour our Empire, when in their opinion 
 they ftill hold out for Liberty. 
 
 So advantageous and happy to us, is this noble 
 and fine fancy of ours, which makes it felf be re- 
 ceived by our greateft enemies. However, it ought 
 not to ufurp upon the Arts, nor pretend imperioufly 
 to pafs fentence upon the productions of the mind, 
 without confulting either a good Tafte or Reafon. 
 When we are arrived to the perfection of any thing, 
 we ought to mew our nicenefs by relifhing, and our 
 juftice by always efteeming it : unlefs we obferve 
 this rule, we may with reafon be reproached, 
 that Foreigners are more favourable to the merit 
 of our Works, than our felves. We fhall find fome 
 of our good Pieces preferve their reputation abroad, 
 when they have loll it in France: we'll fee pur 
 fopperies elfewhere rejected by good Senfe, when 
 we extol them to the skies, out of a ridiculous 
 folly. 
 
 There is a Vice oppofite to this, which is equally 
 infupportable , that is, our paffionate affection 
 for what was done in the ionner, and our dillike 
 for every thing that's done in our own time. Upon 
 this foundation HORACE drew the Character of 
 
 old
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 307 
 
 old Age ; and an old Man is, indeed, admirably 
 defcribed by him, 
 
 Difficilis, querulusy laudator temforis afiti. 
 
 In this melancholy fcene of Life, we impute the 
 defedts which proceed purely from our morofenefs, 
 to exterior Objects , and when a pleafant remem- 
 brance turns our thoughts from what we are, to 
 what we have been, we attribute Charms to 
 many things, which really had none, becaufe they 
 revive in our minds the idea of our Youth, when 
 every thing pleafed us by the warmth of our Tem~ 
 per. But we ought not to impute this humour to 
 old Age alone ; there are fome perfo.ns, who 
 imagine that Merit confifts in defpifing every thing 
 that is new, and Solidity, in valuing every thing that 
 is old. There are fome, who, of their own nature, 
 are pleafed with what they fee, and fond of what 
 they have feen. They will tell you wonders of an 
 old Court, where there was nothing but what was 
 ordinary, and endeavour to contemn the Grandeur 
 and Magnificence which they have before their eyes. 
 They are profufe of their praifes to deceafed Per- 
 fons of but a common Virtue, and will hardly do 
 juftice to the Glory of the greateft Heroe, if he is 
 living. The firft obftacle to their efteem, is to 
 live , as the moft favourable recommendation, is 
 to have been. After a Man is dead, they will 
 praife what they blamed in him, whilil alive ; and 
 then, difengaged from the morofenefs of their 
 humour, they will juflly render to his memory, 
 what they unjuftly denied to his perfon. 
 
 As for me, 'twas always my opinion, That to 
 make a found judgment of Men, and of their 
 Works, it is neceflary to confider them by them- 
 felves, and to have a contempt, or a refpeft for 
 things pall, according to their btrinfick Worth, 
 U 2 whatever
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 whatever it is. I am perfuaded, that we ought not 
 to oppofe all new things merely out of a fpirit of 
 Averfion -, nor on the other hand, to hunt after 
 them out of love of Novelty ; but to reject, or 
 receive them, according to' the true opinion we 
 ought to conceive of them. We muft pare with 
 our capricio's, and the fantafticalnefs of our hu* 
 mour, which, after all, is a hindrance to know 
 things well. The moft efifential point is to ac- 
 quire a true Judgment, and a pure Underftanding. 
 Nature prepares us for it, but experience and 
 converfation with polite perfons, brings it to per- 
 fection. 
 
 LETTER 
 
 ;, " ;; TO MR. *** 
 
 Who could not endure that the Earl of S T. 
 A L B A N S Jhould be m love in his old 
 Age. 
 
 WHY fhould you wonder, that old Men 
 have flill an inclination to love ? *Tis not 
 ridiculous for them to fuflfer themfelves to be moved -, 
 but 'tis vain in them to pretend that they are able 
 to pleafe. I muft own to you, I love the company 
 of pretty Ladies, as much as ever I did ; but I ad- 
 mire their Beauty without any defign, heaven 
 
 knows,
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 309 
 
 knows, of making any impreflion upon their hearts. 
 I only endeavour to pleafe my felf, and ftudy ra- 
 ther to find tendernefs in my own bread, than in 
 theirs. 'Tis by their charms and not by their 
 favours, that I pretend to be obliged ; and if ever 
 I complain of them, 'tis only of their difagree- 
 ablenefs, and not of their rigour, 
 
 Let others call you cruel and fevere, 
 
 I'll call you kind for being Fair. 
 
 Thanh to your Eyes that far out-Jhine the day* 
 
 They warm and animate my clay. 
 
 The greateft pleafure that old Men have left 
 them, is to live ; and nothing fecures their Life fo 
 effectually as Love. / think^ therefore I am, is the 
 conclufion upon which the whole Philofophy of 
 DESCARTES turns -, but 'tis cold and languiming 
 for an old Man. / love t therefore I am, is a confe- 
 quence that has all life and fpirit in it j it re-calls 
 the defires of youth, and fometimes bribes my 
 imagination to believe I am young. 
 
 You will tell me, that 'tis a double error, not 
 to believe we are what we are, and to fancy we are 
 what we are not. But what truths can be fo advan- 
 tageous as thefe pleafing errors, that take away 
 from us all thoughts of the Evils we fuffer ; and in 
 return, give us the fenfe of a Happinefs we don't 
 poflefs. But for want of confidering things with 
 due attention, we pretend that Love is only calcu- 
 lated for the meridian of Youth, tho Reafon 
 fhould reftrain the violence of its inclinations ; and 
 we calhthofe old people fools who have the courage 
 to love; tho the wifeft thing they can do, is to 
 animate and awaken the lethargy of Nature, by 
 flattering images of Love. What are we the better 
 for Life, if we are not fenfible that we are alive ? 
 U 3 We
 
 3 jo T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 We purely owe our life to our love, if it is able 
 to reanimate it, when the decays of age have made 
 us lofe all fenfe of it. 
 
 At this age all the fprings of ambition leave 
 us, the defire of glory no. longer fires us, our 
 flrength fails us, our courage is extinguim'd, or at 
 leaft weaken'd ; Love, Love alone fupplies the 
 place of every virtue ; it averts all thoughts of thofe 
 evils that furround us, and the fear of thofe that 
 threaten us. It turns ailde the image of death, 
 which otherwife wou'd continually prefent it felf to 
 our eyes : it difTipates the terrours of the imagi- 
 nation, and the troubles of the foul, and makes us 
 the wifeft men in the world, in refpect of our 
 felves, when it makes us pafs for mad-men in the 
 common opinion of others. 
 
 A 
 
 FUNERAL ORATION, 
 
 O F T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIN.' 
 
 I Have undertaken to day a thing without prece- 
 dent ; I have undertaken to make the Funeral 
 ation of a perfon, who is in better health than 
 her Orator. This will furprize you, Gentlemen ; 
 but if we are permitted to take care of our Tombs, 
 
 to 
 
 J Stt the Life of M. de St. Eyremond, under the yeqr
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 
 
 to order Infcriptions for them, and to give a greater 
 extent to our vanity, than nature has been willing 
 to give to our lives : if thofe that are alive, may 
 appoint the place where they are to lie, when they 
 ihall be no longer in the number of the living: if 
 CHARLES the Fifth caufed his own Funerals to 
 be celebrated, and for two years afiifted at the Pray- 
 ers made on that occafion ; can you think it ftrange, 
 Gentlemen, that a Beauty more illuftrious by her 
 Charms, than that Emperor was by his Conquefts, 
 is willing to enjoy the happinefs of her memory, 
 and hear whilft foe is alive, what may be faid of 
 her after her death ? Let others endeavour to excite 
 your forrows for one that is dead, I will command 
 your tears for one that is living ; for a perfon who 
 is to die one day, by the neceflary misfortune of 
 human condition, and who ought to live for ever, 
 for the fake of her qualities. 
 
 Weep, Gentlemen , and not tarrying to bewail 
 a Beauty till me is loft, afford your tears to the 
 melancholy confideration that we muft one day 
 lofe her. Weep, weep. Whoever expects a cer- 
 tain and unavoidable misfortune, may already ftyle 
 himfelf unfortunate. HORTENSIA will die ; that 
 Miracle of the World will one day die ; the idea 
 of fo great a calamity, deferves your tears. 
 
 Tes> charming Goddefs, you muft leave us. 
 Death will remove the heavenly prize ; 
 >. And of thofe numerous Charms bereave us, 
 <Tbat now etnploy our hearts and eyes. 
 
 Let us turn our imaginations from her Death to 
 her Birth , that we may fteal one moment from our 
 grief. 
 
 \T 4 HOR-
 
 THE WOU KS OF 
 
 HORTENSIA MANCINI was born at Rome 
 of an illuftrious family ; her Anceftors were always 
 confiderable ; but tho they had all of then govern'd 
 Empires, as her Uncle 2 , neither they nor that 
 mafter of France, had brought her fo much glory 
 as (he reflects back upon them. Heaven form'd this 
 great mafter-piece by a mode] unknown to the age 
 we live in. To the fhame of our time, it beftow'd 
 upon HORTENSIA the beauty of antient Greece, 
 and the virtue of old Rome. Let us pafs over her 
 Infancy, you'll find an Account of it in her -Me- 
 moirs 3 . Her Infancy was attended x with a thoufand 
 pretty fimplicities, but had nothing of importance 
 enough for our fubjecl:. Gentlemen, I demand 
 your tears, I demand your admiration. To obtain 
 them, I have both Virtues and Misfortunes to re- 
 prefent to you, 
 
 It was not long before Cardinal M A z A R i N 
 was fenfible of the advantages of his beautiful Niece, 
 and therefore to do juftice to the gifts of nature, 
 he deftin'd HORTENSIA to carry his name, and 
 to poflefs his wealth after his death, She had 
 charms that might engage even Kings to court her 
 out of love , and a fortune capable to oblige them 
 to do it out of intereft, Thofe great inducements 
 happening to be attended with a favourable con- 
 juncture, the King of Great Britain fought her in 
 marriage * : but the Cardinal, who was fitter to 
 govern than to make Sovereigns, loft an oppor- 
 tunity, which he afterwards endeavoured to find in 
 vain. The Queen, mother to the King of England, 
 negotiated that affair her felf ; but a reftored King, 
 remembered the fmall refpect that was fhewn to a 
 
 banifhed 
 
 * Cardinal Mazarin 
 
 3 See the Memoirs of the Dutchefs of Mazarin, in the third 
 relume. 
 
 * See the Life of M. de St. Evremond, under the year 1*75.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 313 
 
 banifhed King-, and fo the propofitions which 
 could not be obtain' d at St. Jean de Luz, were 
 rejected at London. 
 
 But why did not you come your felf, Madam ? 
 For if you had, every thing would have yielded to 
 your charms ; and this day you would have made 
 a powerful nation as happy as you mould have been 
 your felf. However, heaven has in fome fort ob- 
 tain'd its end ; for it had ordained you to be the 
 delight of England, which accordingly you are. 
 
 This great affair having mifcarried ; the next 
 thing to be done, was to enquire into the merits 
 of our Courtiers, to the end you might be match'd 
 with a Husband that was worthy of you. The 
 Cardinal was tempted to make choice of the moft 
 accomplifhed -, but he foon overcame the temp- 
 tation: for, a falfe intereft prevailing over his 
 mind, he gave you to him who appeared to have 
 the greateft fortune. Let us therefore lay the firft 
 fault of this marriage at his Eminency's door : 
 for Monfieur M A z A R i N is not to blame for ha- 
 ving made his utmoft efforts in order to obtain 
 the moft beautiful Lady, and the greateft Heirefs 
 in Europe. 
 
 Madam M A z A R i N reckon'd that obedience 
 was her firft duty, and for that reafon furrender'd 
 her felf to the inclination of her Uncle, as well 
 from a principle of gratitude, as of fubmiflion. 
 The Cardinal, who ought to have been fenfible of 
 the natural averfion which heaven had infpired into 
 their hearts, and of the invincible contrariety that 
 was in the tempers of thofe two perfons ; the Car- 
 dinal, I fay, neither underftood nor forefaw any 
 thing of this ; or, if he did, preferred a little wealth, 
 a fmall intereft, and fome apparent advantage, to 
 the quiet of a Niece whom he was fo fond of. He 
 is the firft perfon to be blam'd for thefe ill-match'd 
 knots, thofe unfortunate chains, thofe bonds that 
 i were
 
 3 i4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 were fo unfutably contriv'd, and fo juflly broken. 
 Here all the Cardinal's reputation is blown up at 
 once. He governed Cardinal RICHELIEU, who 
 govern'd the Kingdom , but he married his Niece 
 to Monfieur MAZARIN: he loft his reputation. 
 He govern'd LEWIS XIII. after the death of his 
 great Minifter, and the Queen Regent, after that 
 of the King her hufband ; but he married his 
 Niece to Monfieur MAZARIN: all his reputation 
 is loft. If any allowance can be made to his Emi- 
 nency upon this fcore, we mould throw the fault 
 upon the weaknefs of a dying man : for to expeft 
 a man mould be wife and prudent at the point of 
 death, would be to expeft too much. 
 
 I remember the day after this unhappy Marriage, 
 the Phyficians aflfured the Marefchal of Clerembaut, 
 that the Cardinal was better. But the Marefchal 
 anfwer'd, He is a dead man: he has married his 
 Niece to Monfieur MAZARIN; his brain is dif- 
 order'd^ his head is affected \ he is a dead man. Let 
 us pardon this great Cardinal then, upon the account 
 of his illnefs , let us pardon him on the account of 
 the mifery of our ftate: there's no man alive, who 
 may not fome time or other ftand in need of fuch 
 an apology. Let us weep then, Gentlemen, both 
 out of compaflion, and out of intereft ; for we 
 have but too much reafon to fhed tears. 
 
 I find my compafiion reaches even to Monfieur 
 M A z A R i N , he who is the caufe of the misfor- 
 tune of others, is really to be pitied himfelf. Do 
 but confider what a condition he has brought him- 
 felf to, Gentlemen ; and then I'm fure you will be 
 as much difpos'd to bewail him as I am. Monfieur 
 MAZARIN groans under the load of riches and 
 honours, that have been heap'd upon him ; that 
 fortune which in appearance raifes him, does in 
 reality only deprefs and overwhelm him : grandeur 
 is a punifhment to him, and wealth is his mifery. 
 
 He
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 He has reafon to hate a Marriage, which has in- 
 gag'd him in the affairs of the world ; nor has he 
 lefs reafon to repent his having obtain'd that which 
 he defired with fo much ardour. He might have 
 led a happy life in the Monaftery of la Trape, or 
 in fome other holy and retired Society, but for this 
 marriage, which has been fo fatal to both par- 
 ties. The interefts of this world have made him 
 fall a prey to the Devotionaries of the age ; thofe 
 fpiritual cheats, who make their court with great 
 artifice; who lay fnares for the good-nature of 
 fimple and innocent fouls, thofe fouls who, from a 
 fpirit of holy ufury, ruin themfelves by lending to 
 people who promife Cent per Cent intereft in the 
 next world. 
 
 But the greateft evil does not lie in giving, even 
 fuppofmg one gives very unfeafonably ; but in fuf- 
 fering things to be taken away, or to be loft. A 
 prepofterous godlinefs makes him cover the nudi- 
 ties of Pictures: a fcruple of a like nature is the 
 occafion of maiming and disfiguring Statues. One 
 day the Pictures are carry 'd off; another day the 
 Hangings are taken away : Governments are fold, 
 Money is fquander'd away ; every thing is wafted, 
 and nothing left to be enjoyed. This, Gentlemen, 
 is the miferable condition of Monfieur MAZA- 
 R i N : and ought not he then to have a mare in 
 the tears which we fhed ? 
 
 But, Madam MAZARIN is to be a thoufand 
 times more lamented : 'tis to her griefs that we owe 
 the largeft (hare of our pity. That Husband be- 
 ing fenlible how unworthy he was of his Wife, de- 
 bars her the fight of every body: he drags her 
 from Paris, where me was brought up, in order 
 to carry her from Province to Province, from 
 Town to Town, from one Country place to ano- 
 ther , always fure of a journey, never certain of an 
 abode. He gives her all the difgufl that afiiduity 
 
 can
 
 ji6 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 can produce, and all the difcontent that conftraint 
 can create : he omits nothing that may render him- 
 felf hateful ; tho he might have fpar'd the pains 
 which Nature had already taken to make him fo. 
 As they who offend never forgive, fo Monfieur 
 MA z A R i N, the more his wife fuffer'd, the worfe 
 he ufed her ; and by degrees came to be a great 
 tyrant to that perfon, to whom all men of honour 
 and breeding would have chofen to become flaves. 
 One would have thought that Madam M A z A R i N 
 had no more hardmips to dread, after what me had 
 fuffer'd -, but this was a miftake, Gentlemen, for 
 the greateft of all was yet to come. Madam M A- 
 z A R i N, who was more jealous of her Reafon 
 than of her Beauty or her Fortune, finds her felf 
 fubjefted to a man who looks upon all the advan- 
 tages of reafon and good fenfe as crimes, and all 
 the vifions of fancy, as the extraordinary graces of 
 Heaven. He is full of Revelations and Prophe- 
 cies. He admonimes and fore-warns, as having a 
 commiflion from Angels ; he commands and threa- 
 tens, as being authorized by God. There is no 
 farther occafion for feeking the will of Heaven ei- 
 ther in Scripture or 'Tradition ; for that is framed in 
 the imagination, and explained by the mouth of 
 Monfieur MAZARIN. You have fuffer'd your 
 felf to be ruin'd by an Extravagant, to be treated 
 as a flave by a Tyrant : behold you are at the mer- 
 cy of a Prophet, HORTENSI A, who is on the 
 fearch for new inventions to torment you, in the 
 impofture of hypocrites, and the vifions of fana- 
 ticks. The artifices of knaves, and the fillinefs of 
 fools, every thing combines in order to perfecute 
 you. 
 
 Look out, Gentlemen, for the mod docible, 
 the moft fubmhTive woman in nature, and put her 
 to fuch-like trials : you'll find me will not bear with 
 her Husband eight days, what Madam MAZA-
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. $17 
 
 R i N has bore with hers five years. We have rea- 
 fon to be aftonifli'd that fhe would not /eparate 
 from her husband fooner , we have reafon to won- 
 der at her patience. If there is any thing to be 
 charged upon her, it is not that me left him, but 
 that fhe lived with him fo long as (he did. What 
 was your Glory a doing, Madam, in the time of 
 fo fhameful a flavery ? You made your felf unworthy 
 of the favours of the Cardinal; you betray'd his 
 pretenfions by a mean compliance, which fuffer'd 
 that Fortune to go to ruin, which was given to 
 maintain you. You render'd your felf unworthy 
 of the favours of Heaven, which had beftow'd fo 
 great perfection upon you, by venturing to lofe 
 your Reafon in the long and contagious commerce 
 you had with Monfieur M A z A R i N. Return 
 thanks to God for the good and wife refolution 
 which he put into your heart , your liberty is his 
 work ; if he had not infpired into you his inten- 
 tions, a natural timidity, a fcrupulous conduct, a 
 miftaken fhame would have ftill kept you with your 
 Husband, and you mould have yet remain'd fub- 
 jec~t to his extravagant Infpirations. Return thanks 
 to God, Madam, for he has deliver'd you. } Tis 
 true, this deliverance has coft you all your Riches, 
 but you have ftill preferv'd all your Reafon : your 
 condition is not unhappy. You are diverted of e- 
 very thing that you owed to fortune; but you 
 could never be robb'd of the advantages which na- 
 ture beftowed upon you. The greatnefs of your 
 Soul, the ftrength of your Reafon, and the charms 
 of your Face, continue with you : your condition 
 is not unhappy. When Monfieur M A z A R i N 
 fuffers the Cardinal's name to be forgotten in 
 France, you enlarge the glory of it among ft ran- 
 gers : your condition is not unhappy. There is no 
 nation that does not pay a voluntary homage to 
 the power of your Charms. There is no Queen, 
 
 who
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 who hath not a greater ambition for your Beauty, 
 than you can poflibly have for her Grandeur: your 
 condition is not unhappy. 
 
 All dimes and countries 'do adore her, 
 Frejh triumphs on her Beauties 'wait. 
 tte world unjuftly calls her Rover, 
 She only views the limits of her State. 
 
 What Country is there which Madam M A z A- 
 R i N has not feen ? what Nation has feen her that 
 has not admir'd her ? Rome beheld her with as 
 great admiration as Paris did. That City, in all 
 ages of the world fo glorious, boafts more of giving 
 her to the world, than producing fuch a number 
 of Heroes. She believes that fo extraordinary a 
 Beauty is preferable to the greateft Valour, and 
 that more conquefts were to be gained by her eyes, 
 than by the arms of her great men. Italy, Ma- 
 dam, will be everlaftingly obliged to you for abo- 
 lifhing thofe importunate rules, that bring a 
 greater conflraint than regularity with them : for 
 freeing her from a fcience of formalities, ceremo- 
 nies, and affected civilities ; from the tyranny of 
 premeditated refpects, that render men unfociable, 
 even in fociety it felf. 'Tis Madam M A z A R i M 
 who has banilh'd all Grimace, and all Affectation ; 
 who has deftroy'd that art of an outward behaviour, 
 which only regulates appearances ; that ftudy of 
 exterior things, that only compofes mens counte- 
 nances. 'Tis fhe who has render'd ridiculous a ftiff 
 aukward gravity, which fupply'd the place of pru- 
 dence, and politicks without affairs and without 
 intereft, bufied only to conceal one's unferviceable- 
 nefs. 'Tis fhe, who has introduced a fweet and in- 
 nocent Liberty ; who has rendered Converfation 
 
 more
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 3 i> 
 
 more agreeable, and Pleafures more pure and de- 
 licate. 
 
 A fatality caufed her to come to Rome, and a 
 fatality caufed her to leave it. My Lady, the Con- 
 ftable C o L o N N A, had a mind to leave her Huf- 
 band, and imparted this refolution to her fitter. 
 Her filter, as young as me was, reprefented to her, 
 upon this occafion, all that a mother could have 
 done to hinder it. But feeing her unalterably fix'd 
 to execute her defign, (he follow'd her out of love 
 and affection, who could not be diifuaded by 
 prudence ; and ihared with her all the dangers of 
 flight, the fears, the inquietudes, and the incon- 
 veniencies that always attend fuch refolutions. 
 Fortune, who has a great power in our enter- 
 prizes, but a greater in our adventures, made my 
 Lady, the Conftable, wander from nation to na- 
 tion, and threw her at laft into a Convent at Ma- 
 drid. Right reafon advifed Madam M A z A R i N 
 to feek her repofe ; and a defire of Retirement 
 obliged her to fettle her abode at Chambery. 
 There (he found in her felf, by her Reflections i 
 in the commerce with the learned Men, by their 
 Conventions , in Books, by reading , and in Na- 
 ture, by her obfervations -, all that folid (atisfaction 
 which a Court does not give to Courtiers, who are 
 either too much taken up with bufmefs, or too 
 much diflblved in pleafure. Three whole years 
 did Madam M A z A R i N live at Chambery, al- 
 ways in a ftate of tranquillity, but never obfcurc 
 Whatever inclinations me might have to conceal 
 her felf, her merit eftablifh'd for her a fmall Em- 
 pire in fpite of her; and, in effect, (he reign'd 
 over that City, and over the Nation. Every one 
 acknowledged with pleafure, that fuperiority which 
 nature had given her ; even he who enjoy 'd it over 
 all the reft by virtue of his birth, forgot it freely, 
 and entered into the fame fubjection witli hi* peo- 
 ple.
 
 3 2o THE WORKS OP 
 
 pie. Thofe of the greateft merit and quality quit- 
 ted the Court, and neglected the fervice of their" 
 Prince, to apply themfelves particularly to that of 
 Madam MA z A R i N : and confiderable perfons of 
 remote Countries pretended a voyage to Italy, to 
 furnim themfelves with an opportunity to fee her. 
 'Twas an extraordinary thing to be able to efta- 
 blifh a Court at Chambery : 'twas, as it were, a 
 prodigy, that a Beauty which had a mind to conceal 
 it felf in places almoft inaccefiible, mould make a 
 greater noife in Europe, than all the other Ladies 
 together. 
 
 The moft beautiful perfons of every nation had 
 the difpleafure to hear continual mention made of 
 an abfent Fair. The moft lovely Creatures had a 
 fecret enemy that ruin'd all the imprefiions they 
 could make. It was the idea of Madam M A z A- 
 R i N, which was precioufly preferved after me had 
 been feen , and was formed with pleafure where me 
 had never been. 
 
 Such was the conduct of Madam M A z A R i N, 
 fuch was her .condition, when the Dutchefs of 
 York, her relation, patted thro* Chambery, as me 
 was coming to the Duke her Hufband. The fm- 
 gular merit of the Dutchefs, her beauty, her wit, 
 and her virtue, infpir'd Madam M A z A R i N with 
 a defire to accompany her , but her Affairs did not 
 permit her : fo me was obliged to delay that voy- 
 age till a more favourable opportunity. The cu- 
 riofity to fee one of the greateft Courts in the 
 world, which me had never beheld, fortify'd her in 
 this refolution : and the death of the Duke of Sa- 
 voy determin'd it '. This Prince had the fame 
 fentiments of her, as all people that had the hap- 
 pinefs to behold her. He had admir'd her at Tu- 
 rin, 
 
 s Charles Emanuel t Duke of Stvoy, died on the ink of June,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 321 
 
 rin, and this admiration the Dutchefs of Savoy in- 
 terpreted to be Love. An imprelfion of jealoufy 
 produced a behaviour very little obliging towards 
 the perfon who had caufed it. There needed no 
 more than this to oblige Madam M A z A R i N to 
 depart out of a Country, where the new Regent 
 was in a manner ablblute. To feparate her felf 
 from the Dutchefs of Savoy, and approach the 
 Dutchefs of York, was but one and the fame re- 
 folution. HORTENSIA acquainted her friends 
 with this determination, who employed all their 
 arguments to difluade her from it, but 'twas in 
 vain. Never was feen fo great an effufion of 
 tears. As for her own part, fhe was not infenfible 
 of the general grief that was occafioned by the 
 thoughts of her departure ; perfons fo lively af- 
 fected as they were, did affect her : but this refo- 
 lution was taken up, and in fpite of all their re- 
 grets flie concludes to depart. 
 
 "What other courage but that of Madam MA- 
 z A R i N, would have undertaken fo long, fo diffi- 
 cult, and fo dangerous a Voyage ? Before fhe could 
 accomplifh it, fhe muft traverfe favage Nations, 
 and Nations that were up in arms ; fhe muft fweet- 
 en the one, and make her felf be refpected by 
 the other. She underflood not the Language of 
 any of thefe People, but they underflood her. Her 
 eyes fpeak an univerfal Language, which caufes 
 her to be underflood by all mankind. What 
 Mountains, what Forefls, what Rivers had fhe not 
 to pafs ? What did fhe not fuffer from the Wind, 
 the Snow, and the Rains ? What difficulties of the 
 ways, what rigour of the feafon, what mighty in- 
 conveniences had fhe not to flruggle with, which 
 yet did but little injury to her Beauty ? Never did 
 HELENA appear fo charming as HORTENSIA 
 was ! but H o R T E N s i A, that beautiful innocent 
 fugitive, did fly from an unjuil Hufband, and did 
 
 Vol. II. X not
 
 322 THE WORKS OF 
 
 not follow a Lover. With the face of H E L E^- 
 tt A, Madam M A z A R i N had the air, the habit, 
 Hnd the equipage of a Queen of the Amazons ! 
 She feem'd equally fit to charm, and to fight. 
 One might fay, me went to give Love to all 
 the Princes whom me was to meet in her paflage, 
 and to command all the Troops which they com- 
 manded. The firft me had in her power, but it 
 was not her defign : me made fome eflay of the 
 fecond ; for the Troops receiv'd her orders more 
 voluntarily than thofe of their Generals. After me 
 had travelTd more than three hundred leagues, 
 me arriv*d in Holland, and made no longer a flay 
 at Amfterdam, than was necefiary to view the Ra- 
 rities of fo remarkable and famous a City. After 
 me had fatisfy'd her curiofity, me came to the 
 Brill, where me embarqu*d for England. A ftorm 
 feemed to be wanting in this voyage ; and there 
 happened one, which lafted five days. The ftorm 
 was as furious as it was long ; and made the Sea- 
 men lofe all their conduct and refolution, and the 
 Pafiengers all their hopes. Madam M A z A R i N 
 alone was exempt from lamentation j lefs impor- 
 tunate with Heaven to preferve her, than fubmit* 
 ting and refigning her felf to its will. But it had 
 been decreed me mould vifit England. She land- 
 ed there, and in a fhort time came fafe to Lon- 
 don 6 . All people had a great curiofity to fee her : 
 but the Ladies had the greateft alarm at her arri- 
 val. The Englim, who were in poflefiion of the 
 Empire of Beauty, faw it loft, not without great 
 regret, to a ftranger ; and 'tis natural to be fenfi- 
 bly concerned for the lofs of the fweeteft of all 
 vanities. So confiderable an intereft, was the on- 
 ly thing in the world that could unite them. Old 
 
 enemies 
 3iw~ ov:; 
 
 6 Madam Mazarin came wt England in the Month ef 
 Dttember, 1675.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 323 
 
 enemies were then reconciled 5 thofe that Were in- 
 different, now began to vifit one another, and 
 friends link'd themfelves more ftridlly together than 
 before. Thefe confederates very Well forefaw their 
 misfortune ; but being willing to delay it, they 
 prepared to defend an intereft, which Was dearer 
 to them than their lives. Madam M A z A R l N 
 had nothing to defend her felf but her Charms 
 and her Virtues : this was enough to make her ap- 
 prehenfive of nothing. After me had kept her 
 chamber for fome time, lefs to recover the fatigues 
 of her Journey, than to prepare her Equipage, (he 
 appear'd at Whitehall; 
 
 Fair Beauties of Wlritehall give way> 
 HORTENSIA does her Charms dfylay. 
 She comes, Jhe comes / refign the day> 
 She muft reign^ and you obey. 
 
 From that day they never difputed the Prize 
 with her in publick : but they carried on a fecret 
 war againft her within doors 4 , where all ended ei- 
 ther in private injuries, which never arrived to her 
 knowledge ; or in vain murmurs which me defpi- 
 fed. The World now beheld an extraordinary- 
 turn. Thofe that were the moft violently tranfc 
 ported againft her, were the firft that imitated her. 
 They would drefs themfelves like her : but this 
 was neither her Drefs nor Habit. For her Perfon 
 gave a new grace to every thing me wore^ and 
 thofe that endeavour'd to imitate her air and drefs; 
 wanted the principal thing, her perfon. One might 
 fay of her, what was faid, with lefs reafon, of the 
 late Dutchefs of Orleans ; all the world imitates ber^ 
 and no one refembles her. 
 
 X 2 Ai
 
 324 THE WORKS OF 
 
 As for the Men, fhe made all that pretended to 
 nicety and judgment, her fubj efts, that beheld her. 
 They are only men of a bad tafte, and worfe wit, 
 that can defend the remainder of their Liberty 
 againft her. Happy in the conqueft fhe makes ! 
 more happy in thofe fhe doth not make ! Madam 
 M A z A R i N no fooner arrives to any place, but 
 fhe eftablifhes a Houfe there, which caufes the reft 
 to be abandoned : the greateft freedom in the 
 world is to be feen there, and an equal difcretion : 
 every one is more commodioufly ufed there than 
 at home ; and more refpectfully than at Court. 
 'Tis true, there are frequent Difputes there, but 
 then it is with more knowledge than heat : 'tis not 
 done out of a fpirit of contradiction, but fully to 
 difcover the matters in agitation : rather to animate 
 Converfation than to inflame it. 
 
 The Play there is very inconfiderable ; 'tis the 
 diverfion only that makes the play. You can nei- 
 ther difcover in their faces the fear of lofing, nor 
 a concern for what is loft. Some of them are fo 
 far difmterefted, that they are reproach'd for rejoi- 
 cing at their own lofing, and afflicting themfelves 
 when they are winning. Play is followed by the 
 beft Repafts in the world. One may there fee eve- 
 ry thing that comes from France for the delicate ; 
 and all that comes from the Indies for the curious ; 
 even the common meats become rare by the exqui- 
 fite relifh which is beftowed upon them. 'Tis not 
 fuch a plenty as may make us fear a diffipation ; 
 'tis not a frugality that mews either avarice or pe- 
 nury. The management of her houfe is not fo 
 niggard and fullen, as to content it felf merely with 
 fatisfying the neceflities of life, and afford no- 
 thing to the pleafures of it. She loves a good or- 
 der that furnifhes every thing that can be delired, 
 and that wifely manages the ufe of it ; fo that no- 
 thing may be wanting. There is certainly nothing 
 
 fo
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 32 j 
 
 fo well regulated as this family : but Madam M A- 
 z A R i N diffufes thro'out the whole, I do not know 
 what fort of an eafy air ; fomething free and na- 
 tural that conceals the regulation of it. One would 
 conclude that things moved of themfelves, fo fe- 
 cret is the ordering of them, and fo difficult to be 
 perceived. 
 
 Let Madam M A z A R i N change her lodgings, 
 and the difference of places is infenfible : where- 
 ever fhe goes, we fee nothing but her j and if we 
 fee her we fee every thing. They never come foon 
 enough, and never depart late enough : they go to 
 bed with regret to have left her, and they rife with 
 defire to behold her afrefh. 
 
 But how great is the uncertainty of our human 
 condition ! at the time, when fhe innocently enjoy'd 
 all the pleafures which inclination defires, and rea- 
 fon does not prohibit ; that fhe had the fatisfadtion 
 to fee her felf beloved and efteemed by all the 
 world ; that thofe Ladies who had oppofed them- 
 felves to her at firft, were charmed by her conver- 
 fation ; that fhe had, as it were, extinguifhed felf- 
 love in the foul of her friends, every one exprefling 
 the fame kind fentiments for her, which it is natu- 
 ral to have for one's felf : at the time, when the 
 vaineft, and the greateft admirers of themfelves 
 forbore to contend with her beauty ; that envy had 
 concealed it felf in the bottom of their hearts ; that 
 all repining againft her was private, or appeared ri- 
 diculous as foon as it began to be perceived : at 
 this happy time, an extraordinary indifpofition fei- 
 zes her, in fpite of all her Charms, in fpite of all 
 our Admiration, and Love. You were juft a pe- 
 rifhing, HORTENSIA, and fo were we : you, by 
 the violence of your pain ; we, by that of our con- 
 cern for you. But it was more than being fimply 
 afflided : we felt all that you did, and were fick as 
 you were. Your unequal moments fometimes car- 
 X 3 ried
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 ried you to the brink of death , and fometimes re- 
 called you to life : we were fubject to all the acci- 
 dents of your ficknefs , and to know how it fared 
 with you, it was not at all necefiary to enquire after 
 your health j they needed- only obferve in what 
 ftate we found our felves. 
 
 Praifed be that univerfal difpenfer of good and, 
 evil ; praifed be Heaven that has reftored you to 
 our vows, and given us again to our felves. Be- 
 hold, you are living, and fo are we ; but we have 
 not as yet recover'd the cruel fright that this dan- 
 ger gave us : a melancholy idea ftill remains be- 
 hind, which makes us more lively conceive what 
 muft one day happen. Nature will deftroy this 
 beauteous fabrick, which it has taken fa much 
 pains to frame. Nothing can exempt it from that 
 lamentable Law to which we are all fubject She 
 who fo vifibly diftinguifhes her felf from others, 
 during her Life, will be confounded with the 
 meaneft at her Death. And wilt thou then com- 
 plain, thou who haft only an ordinary Genius, a 
 common Merit, or an indifferent Beauty ? doft 
 thou complain that thou muft die ? Don't mur- 
 mur, unjuft as ye are ; H o R T E N s i A will die like 
 you. A time will come (Oh that this unfortunate 
 time would never come !) when they will fay of 
 this miracle, 
 
 Shis now refolv'd to common clay. 
 
 She that did Bsaut-fs Empire fway< 
 
 Fate, cruel Fate, would have itfo. 
 
 Fate, that governs all below. 
 
 Now, vulgar fouls, learn to refign your breath, 
 
 And, without murmuring, fubmit to Death 7 . 
 
 A 
 
 * An imitation of a Sonnet ofMalherh, on tbt Death of the 
 Dukt of Orleans.
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O ND. 327 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 COUNT DE GRAMMONT. 
 
 1A M inform'd by the Marefchal D E C R E QJU y, 
 that you are become one of the richeft Noble- 
 men at Court x . If Riches, which ufe to foften the 
 courage, and lay induftry afleep, have done no 
 injury to the good qualities of my Hero, I rejoice 
 with all my heart at the alteration of your fortune : 
 but if they have ruin'd the Virtues of the Chevalier, 
 and the Merit of the Count^ I repent for not 
 having executed the d.efign I have had fo often of 
 killing you, to fecure the honour of your memory. 
 What a vexation will it be to me, to fee you re-> 
 nounce Play, and abandon the Ladies ! To fee 
 you heap up filthy Mammon for the marriage of 
 your Daughter, to defire dirty acres, and talk of 
 Lands and Tenements as necefiary things for the 
 eftablifhment of a family ! What a ftrange alteration 
 will it be in you to make fuch a buftle for land^ 
 vile paltry land, after you have fo often defpifed it 
 as unworthy of you, and abandon'd it to the Rooks, 
 the Crows, and the Magpies ! What a ftrange al- 
 X 4 teration, 
 
 1 The Efltte of the Count de Toulongeon, hit tldtr Brotker,who 
 ini679, had.ftlkn to him,
 
 328 THE W O R K S OF 
 
 teration, if nothing will ferve your turn but to be 
 made my Lord Baron of St. Meat, to have the No- 
 bility of Bigorre every morning at your levee, and 
 to entertain your neighbours with that pretty win- 
 ning way which gains all the hearts of Gafcony. 
 
 So much admired, and follow* d by Jo few, 
 Will you your former Glories then undo . ? ( 
 
 What will become of all thofe advantages which 
 I gave you, in preference even to SOLOMON? 
 
 That mighty Prince, who knew the hidden power 
 Of every verdant plant , and fmiling flower-, 
 While he had vigour left, Jhot pleafure flying, 
 is heavenly wifdom by enjoying. 
 
 A very fine commendation truly, my Lord, for 
 you to be effaced out of the memory of your old 
 friends ; while all the fatisfaclion you can expect, 
 will be to hear your trufty Gafcons and the good 
 people of Beam cry, Afy Lord the Count keeps a 
 moft noble hoitfe j they eat all in the plate of Monjieur 
 DE TOITLONGEON; evepy thing is manag'd in 
 excellent order: if things ^ on at this rate, Mademoi- 
 felle DE GR.AMMONT will be one of the great eft for- 
 tunes at Court. Let not, myLord, any wicked difcour- 
 fes of this nature tempt you. He that has promis'd 
 to take care of the Larks, will take care of your 
 Children. You have nothing to do, but confult 
 your reputation and pleafure. 
 
 Be rich, my Lord, and let both Indies meet 
 To lay their brighteft treafures at your feet. 
 Be rich ; but why Jhould wealth alone employ 
 Tour -precious hours, and rob your foul of joy ? 
 
 Tab
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 32$ 
 
 Take my advice, Love's better game purfue, 
 And Love willjind you fometbing ftill to do. 
 Still you have charms enough to pleafe the fair, 
 Vigour to win, and rhefrick to enfnare. 
 Nay, from the root tho all the fap were gone, 
 Be governed by your friend, and ft ill love on. 
 
 King SOLOMON, almoft as wife as you, 
 With conftant homage to Love's Altars flew. 
 His vows were anfwer'd, and his felting fun 
 Shin'd with a fiercer lujlre than his noon. 
 
 WA L L E R, in whom no figm of age appear, 
 Who rivals all our youth in wit and air ; 
 Derives new life from C E L i A, while be ftps 
 Eternal youth on her ambrojial lips. 
 Dull fots may call it weaknefs, if they pleafe ; 
 But i?t a weaknefs to confult one's eafe ? 
 Love all defefts with generous care fupplies, 
 And Beauty gives what envious Age denies. 
 
 Me too, who hourly with time's malice Jlrive, -^ 
 'The fair, the kind HORTENSIA keeps alive, C. 
 Her heavenly rays the drooping plant revive. 3 
 No fallen damps of heavinefs and care, -^ 
 
 No black reflections, fraught with wild defpair, Q 
 Approach my breaft while my HORTENSIA'S tbere^ 
 Her charming looks, while they voucbfafe afmile, 
 Into life's glimmering lamp pour vital oil ; 
 Her fove reign glances filently impart 
 Joy to my foul, and tranfports to my heart. 
 Devouring Time whets hisjharp teeth in vain, 
 While Jhe the tottering fabrick doesfuftain. 
 
 Funs
 
 330 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Thus I, preferv'd by a reflecting fire. 
 
 Live by the warmth HORTENSIA'S rays infpire. 
 
 Touthfrom her eyesjhoots down into my blood, 
 
 And with its beams unthaws the icy flood. 
 
 Like dock-work, by her winding up, I move, 
 
 And owe my motions to almighty Love. 
 
 Blame me not then, if I fuch helps employ 
 To fo&th my pains, and flatter me with joy. 
 In vain, alas ! from Books we feek relief, 
 Books, that can fcarce oppofe a common grief. 
 In vain Philofophers our ills engage : 
 Love is the- beft Elixir for old-age. 
 
 I wou'd wifli you the age of a Patriarch, did not 
 1 know that extraordinary perfons like you, have a 
 greater regard for their glory than length of life. 
 
 To the laft fcene your glorious courfe maintain^ 
 The Womens joy, and envy of the Men. 
 Jn you let all united talents Jhine, 
 The Courtier, Hero, and the Statefman join^ 
 Tour blooming youth did the great RICHELIEU 
 
 pleafe, 
 
 Ton knew his haughty flubborn heart to feize. 
 Thro 9 groves of Pikes, thro 1 Sieges and Alarms, 
 Tour manly vigour follow' d C o N D E*'S arms. 
 Happy, thrice happy now, near LEWIS placed, 
 You flouri/h, with your Prince's favours bleft. 
 While Europe trembling at his awful nod, 
 With fecret horror does confefs the God. 
 But I muft this infpiring theme give o'er, 
 And what I can*t defcribe, muft filently adore.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 33? 
 
 LETTER 
 
 %"o young D E a T '. 
 
 My Dear Boy, 
 
 1 Don't wonder at your having an invincible aver- 
 fion hitherto againft a thing, which of all others, 
 concerns you the moft nearly. You have been ad- 
 vifed by ruftical and clownifli people, to get your 
 felf gelt : an expreflion fo bafe and odious, that it 
 would have Ihock'd a far lefs delicate mind, than 
 yours. As for my own part, my dear Boy ; I mail 
 endeavour to promote your advantage, in a more 
 agreeable way -, and I will tell you with all the terms 
 of infmuation, that you muft be fweetned by a gen- 
 tle Operation, which will fecure to you the finenefs 
 of your complexion a long time, and preferve the 
 tunefulnefs of your voice all your life. 
 
 Thofe Guineas, thofe red Cloathes, thofe little 
 Horfes which you get, are not given to Mr. 
 P E R Y'J fon for his noble birth ; 'tis your face 
 aftd your voice, that procure you them. In three 
 or four years, alas! you will lofe the charms of 
 both, if you have not the wit to prevent that lofs ; 
 and the fource of all thofe allurements will be dried 
 
 up. 
 
 1 Tht DMckeft of MAWr'm's Page, who fung well.
 
 332 THE WORKS OF 
 
 up. Now you talk familiarly with Kings, you are 
 careffed by Dutchefies, and praifed by all the per- 
 ions of quality; but when the charms of your 
 Voice are gone, you will only be a fit companion 
 for P o M P E Y % and perhaps be defpifed by Mr. 
 STOURTON*. 
 
 But you are afraid, you fay, that you will be 
 lefs in the Ladies favour. Lay afide all fuch ap- 
 prehenfions ; the Age in which we live, is not an 
 age of fimpletons ; the merit which follows the 
 operation is well known ; and for one Miftrefs that 
 Mr. D E R Y, as he was made by nature^ might have 
 had, Mr. D E R Y foftned by art, (hall have a hun- 
 dred. You are fure then of having MiftrefTes enow, 
 which is a great happinefs ; you will have no Wife, 
 which is being free of a great evil : happy in having 
 no Wife, happier in being without children. Mr. 
 D E R Y 's Daughter would be got with child, his Son 
 would be hanged ; and what is yet more certain, his 
 Wife would make him a Cuckold. Secure your felf 
 againft thofe misfortunes, by a fpeedy Operation : 
 thus you will be devoted purely to your felf; proud 
 of fo fmall a merit, which will make your fortune, 
 and procure you the friendmip of all the World. 
 If I live long enough to fee you when your voice 
 becomes rough, and your beard grows, you will be 
 much blamed by every body. I defire you to pre- 
 vent this, and believe me to be your moft fincere 
 friend. 
 
 REFLEC- 
 
 * The Dutchefs of Afazarin's Negro. 
 
 * The Dut chefs of Mazarin's Pap*
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 
 
 333 
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 UPON 
 
 R E L I G I O N.<-] 
 
 IF we only confider the repofe of this life, 'twere 
 well if Religion had more orlefs influence upon 
 mankind. It conftrains, but doth not fubject e- 
 nough ; like fome Governments, that take away 
 the fweetnefs of liberty, and yet don't carry with 
 them the advantages of fubjeclion. The will makes 
 us afpire but weakly after thofe good things that 
 are promifed, becaufe it is not excited enough by 
 the underftanding, which is not enough convinced. 
 We fay, out of compliance, that we believe what- 
 ever authority enjoins us to believe : but without a 
 particular grace, we are rather perplext than per- 
 fwaded of a thing that doth not fall under the evi- 
 dence of our fenfes, and which affords no manner 
 of demonftration to our minds. 
 
 This, in fhort, is the effect of Religion, with 
 refpec~b to ordinary men ; let us now fee the ad- 
 vantages of it in the truly and perfectly religious 
 Man. The truly devout perfon breaks off with 
 nature, if we may be allowed fo to fpeak, to take 
 pleafure in abftaining from pleafures ; and while he 
 fubjects the body to the mind, he makes in fome 
 meafure, even mortification and pain delightful to 
 himfelf. Philofophy goes no farther, than to teach 
 us to endure misfortunes : the Chriftian Religion 
 makes us enjoy them as blefllngs ; and we may 
 
 2 fay
 
 334 f H E W O R K S O F 
 
 fay ferioufly of it, what has been gallantly faid of 
 Love, 
 
 All other pleafures are not worth its palm x . 
 
 A true Cnriftian knows how to make his advan- 
 tage of every thing. The evils which he fuffers, 
 are the good things which God fends him : the 
 good things which he wants, are evils, from which 
 Providence has fecured him. Every thing is a bene- 
 fit to him, every thing in this world is a mercy ; 
 and when, by the neceflity of his mortal condition, 
 he muft die, he looks upon the end of Life, as a 
 pafiage to one more happy, which is to laft for ever. 
 
 Such is the felicity of a true Chriftian, whilft un- 
 certainty makes the condition of all others unhappy. 
 To fay the truth, moft of us are unrefolved ; and 
 not fully determined either to good or evil. We 
 find in our felves a continual turn and return from 
 Nature to Religion, arid from Religion to Nature. 
 If we abandon the care of our Salvation to fatisfy 
 our Inclinations, thofe very inclinations foon rife 
 up againft our pleafures , and a difguft for thofe 
 objects, which flatter'd us moft of all, makes us 
 return to the care of our falvation. If on the other 
 hand, we renounce our Pleafures out of a principle 
 of confcience, the fame thing happens to us in our 
 fearch after falvation ; for either habitude or tedi- 
 oufnefs makes us return to the objects of our firft 
 inclinations. 
 
 I have mown how it fucceeds with us, as to Re- 
 ligion within our felves : let us now obferve what 
 judgment the Publick makes of it. If we forfake 
 God for the World, we are looked upon as im- 
 pious perfons. If we forfake the World for God, 
 we are thought to be weak, and decayed in our un- 
 
 derftanding ; 
 
 M. de Charleval.
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 335 
 
 derftanding , and we are as little pardoned for ia- 
 crificing fortune to Religion, as Religion to fortune. 
 The fmgle example of the Cardinal de R E T s % 
 will fuffice to juftify my aflertion. When he was 
 made Cardinal by intrigues, factions, and tumults, 
 the world exclaimed againft him as an ambitious 
 man, who facrificed, not only the publick, but his 
 confcience, and religion, to his fortune (as they 
 laid): when he left the cares of earth for thofe 
 of Heaven , when the perfuafion of another Life 
 made him confider the grandeur of this as a Chi- 
 mera, then they faid his head was turned, and 
 made that to pafs for a fcandalous weaknefs in him, 
 which is propofed to us in Chriftianity, as the 
 greateft Virtue. 
 
 Men of mean qualities, mow but little favour 
 to great Virtues ; a lofty Wifdoin offends an ordU 
 nary Reafon. Mine, as ordinary as it is, admires a 
 perfon who is thorowly perfuaded, and would ad- 
 mire him ftill more, could I find him infenfible to 
 all the temptations of fortune. I fomewhat queftion 
 the fmcerity of thofe Preachers, who offer us the 
 Kingdom of Heaven in publick, and yet follicit a 
 fmall Benefice in private, with all the vigour aad 
 application imaginable. 
 
 The fole idea of eternal happinefs renders the 
 poflefiion of every thing elfe contemptible to a man 
 of true belief: but becaufe few of us have Faith* 
 few of us are able to defend this idea againft real 
 objecb j the hope of what is promifed to usj na- 
 turally yielding to the enjoyment of what is before 
 us. With the greateft part of Chriftians, the defire 
 of believing ferves inftead of belief: the Will gives 
 them a fort of Faith by its defires, which the Un- 
 
 derftanding 
 
 Jobn-Fr amis-Paul dt Gondi, Cardinal dt Rets, 
 
 Parts. He died in the year 1679. His Memoirs havt 
 been lately publifrd in Ertnch, and tranjlattd into
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 derftanding. with all its light refufes. I have known 
 fome devout men, that in a ftrange fort of a contra- 
 riety between their affection and their reafon, loved 
 God truly without having any great belief in him. 
 When they abandoned themfelves to the affection 
 of their heart, there was nothing but zeal for Reli- 
 gion ; 'twas all fervency and love : when they ex- 
 amined their reafon, they were amazed to fee that 
 they could not comprehend what they lov'd ; and 
 were at a lofs how to anfwer themfelves upon the 
 Subject of their Love. Then, to deliver my felf 
 in fpiritual terms, they wanted Confolatiom ; and fell 
 into that fad ftate of Devotion, which is called 
 Aridity and Drynefs in the language of the Mona- 
 fteries. 
 
 God alone is able to give us a fteddy, firm and 
 real Faith. All that we can do of our felves, is to 
 humble our underftanding in oppofition to the 
 light of nature, and to execute with fubmiflion 
 what is prefcribed to us. Humanity eafily mingles 
 its errors in matters of Faith; but it feldom miftakes 
 in the practice of Virtues : for it is lefs in our power 
 to think juftly of the things of heaven, than to do 
 well. A man can never be miftaken in actions of 
 Juftice and Charity. Sometimes Heaven ordains, 
 and Nature makes an oppofition : fometimes Nature 
 demands what Reafon forbids. But in matters of 
 Charity all debates are filenced, and there is. as it 
 were, a general agreement between Heaven, Nature 
 and Reafon. 
 
 That
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 337 
 
 float DEVOTION is our lajt 
 LOVE. 
 
 DEvotion is our laft Love, in which the Soul, 
 that thinks it afpires only after the felicity of 
 another Life, endeavours, without thinking of it, 
 to procure fome new comfort in this. The habit 
 of finning is an old paflion or inclination, which 
 now affords nothing but difgufts , from whence it 
 commonly falls out, that we turn to God out of 
 a fondnefs for change, in order to form in our foul 
 new defires, and raife in it the motions of a grow- 
 ing paflion. Devotion will fometimes reftore to an 
 old Woman that delicacy of fentiment, and that 
 tendernefs of heart, which the moft youthful could 
 not find in marriage, or in an old intrigue. A new 
 Devotion is every way pleafing ; nay, we are even 
 pleafed with talking of the old fins which we repent 
 of; for there is a iecret fatisfa&ion in detefting that 
 which has been offenfive, and in calling to mind 
 what was formerly agreeable in them. 
 
 If we carefully examine a converted Debauchee, 
 we will often find that he left off finning only out 
 of wearinefs and vexation for his paft life. In 
 effect, whom do we fee quitting his vice at the 
 time that it fooths his imagination, at the time when 
 it appears with its allurements, and gives a tafte for 
 pleafures? We leave it off, when its charms are 
 worn out, and a tirefome habit has funk us infen- 
 fibly into languifhment. It is not therefore that 
 which pleas'd us that we quit, when we change our 
 
 Vol. H. Y courfe
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 courfe of life ; but 'tis that which we could not bear 
 any longer : and then, the facrifice which we offer, 
 up to God, is that of difgufts, which we endeavour 
 to get rid of at any rate. 
 
 There are two very different impreffions of vice 
 upon us. That which is irkfome and languifhing 
 in the end, makes us deteft the offence againft God ; 
 that which in its beginning was delightful, makes 
 us regret the pleafure without perceiving it; and 
 this is the reafon why there are but few converfions 
 wherein is not felt a fecret mixture of the pleafure 
 of remembrance, and the forrow of repentance. 
 'Tis true, we weep for an odious crime, with full 
 bitternefs -, but our repentance for the vices, which 
 were dear to us, always leaves fome fmall tender- 
 nefs for them, which is mingled with our tears. 
 There is fomething of the amorous kind in our re- 
 penting of an amorous pafiion ; and this paffion is 
 fo natural in us, that we never repent having loved, 
 without love. In effeci, if a converted foul re- 
 members its having fighed for Love , it either comes 
 to love God, and thereof makes to it felf a new 
 fubjecl: of fighs and pantings ; or it fixes its re- 
 membrance very agreeably upon the object of its 
 paft pleafures. The fear of Damnation, the image 
 of Hell with all its fires, will never be able to re- 
 move out of that mind the idea of a lover ; for it 
 is. not in the power of fear, but of love only, 
 thorowly to efface love. I will fay more : a per- 
 fon ferioufly touch'd, has no thoughts of Hiving 
 himfelf, but of loving, when he unites himfelf to 
 God. Salvation, which was the firft of his cares, 
 is fwallow'd up in Love, which fuffers no other cares 
 in his mind, nor no other defires in his Soul, but 
 purely its own. If in this ftate we have our thoughts 
 fixed on eternity, this is not in order to apprehend 
 the evils with which we are threatned, or hope for 
 
 tf the
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 the glory that is promifed us ; but 'tis folely in order 
 to love eternally, that we are pleafed with con- 
 templating an eternal duration. Where Love has 
 once got the upper hand, there is no other pafiion 
 that can fubfift of it felf : 'tis by it that we both 
 hope and fear ; 'tis by it that both our joys and 
 our griefs are formed ; fufpicion, jealoufy, and 
 even hatred do infenflbly take their rife from it 5 
 and all thofe pafiions, which before were tiiftinft 
 and particular, are now only its movements, if 
 we take the thing right. I hate an old Libertine 
 as a wicked wretch > and defpife him as a fenfelefs 
 creature, who understands not wherein his happi- 
 nefs confifts. So long as he fets up to give every 
 thing to Nature, he refifts his laft propenfiori to- 
 wards God, and denies Nature the only comfort 
 which it requires of him. He abandon'd himfelf to 
 its motions, fo long as they were vicious ; he bp- 
 pofes its pleafure fo foon as it becomes a Virtue. 
 All the Virtues, fay they, are loft in Heaven, except 
 Charity, that is to fay, Love. So that God, who 
 preferves it in us after death, would never have ua 
 to diveft our felves of it as long as we live. 
 
 Y 2
 
 34 
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 A 
 
 L E T T E R 
 
 TO A LADY 
 
 Who dejigtfd to turn *Devout. 
 
 IAm inform'd, Madam, that you defign to turn 
 Devout, and I heartily return God thanks for 
 having more occafion, in our converfations, for it ; 
 the purity of thofe thoughts you are going to enter- 
 tain, than for thofe that might be fuggefted to you 
 by the Commerce of the World. I therefore con- 
 jure you, as one who is concern'd with Heaven, to 
 take up a true Devotion ; and in order to render 
 your Converfion fuch as I would have it, it will not 
 be improper to defcribe to you that of our Ladies, 
 fuch as it is, that you may avoid the faults that at- 
 tend it. 
 
 Their ordinary Repentance, as far as I have ob- 
 ierv'd, is not fo much a forrow for their fins, as 
 a regret for their pleafures : wherein they are them- 
 felves deceiv'd, amoroufly lamenting what they have 
 loft, while they, believe that they devoutly bewail 
 what they have done. 
 
 Thofe decay'd beauties that give up themfelvesto 
 God, fancy that they have extinguifh'd old flames, 
 which, however, fecretly endeavour to kindle 
 a-frefh; an_d their Love having only cbang'd its 
 
 objecl,
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 
 
 object, they preferve for their laft fufferings, the 
 fame fighs, and the fame tears, which exprefs'd 
 their old torments. They have loft nothing of the 
 firft troubles of an amorous heart, fuch as fears, 
 fwoonings, and raptures : they retain its moft en- 
 dearing motions ; tender defires, foft forrows, and 
 precious languifhments. When they were young, 
 they facrinVd Lovers : now they have none, they 
 facrifice themfelves -, and the new Convert offers up 
 to God the old Voluptuary. 
 
 I have known thofe whofe Converfion was, in 
 fome meafure, owing to the pleafure of change: 
 others, who devoting themfelves to God, felt a 
 malicious joy from their fancied infidelity to the 
 Men. 
 
 There are thofe who renounce the World, out 
 of a fpirit of revenge againft the World who has 
 left them : others again, who mix their natural 
 vanity with fuch a renunciation ; and the fame 
 Pride that made them leave the Courtiers for the 
 Prince, fecretly flatters them that they can delpife 
 the Prince for God. 
 
 To fome of them, God is a new Lover, that 
 comforts them for him they have loft : in others, 
 Devotion is a profpect of private intereft, and the 
 myfterious cloak of a new conduct. 
 
 There are fome melancholy and referv'd, who 
 relifh beft an obfcure pleafure, and prefer an awk- 
 ward pretender to fanctity, before a handfome gen- 
 teel lover : fometimes they defign to raife them- 
 felves up to Heaven in good earneft; and their 
 weaknefs makes them reft by the way, with the 
 Directors who conduct them. Devotion has fome 
 tendernefs for God, which may eafily return to a 
 paflion for Men. 
 
 I forgot to mention fome women in retirement, 
 
 who, in appearance, give up themfelves to God, 
 
 that they may, in fome meafure, fhake off their 
 
 Y 3 dependancc
 
 34* THE WORKS OF 
 
 dependance on a Mother, or a Husband. There 
 are others of a hundred different kinds : but very 
 few wherein the character of a Woman does not ap- 
 pear, either in their humour, or their love. 
 
 To judge a-right of the merit of Devout women, 
 We muil rather confider what God requires of them, 
 than what they defign to do for God. For, in 
 truth, all the mortifications they undergo, of their 
 own motion, are as many agreeable effects of their 
 fancy ; and a woman is pretty well rewarded in 
 this world, by being permitted to do what me 
 pleafes. We muft obferve how they behave them- 
 felves in thofe things which God exacts from their 
 fubmifflon ; and when they {hall be regular in their 
 manners , modeft in their converfation ; and patient 
 of injuries ; then mail I be fatisfy'd of their Devo- 
 tion by their conduct. 
 
 There are many paffionate and Devout women, 
 who think themfelves acted by the ardour of a 
 pure zeal ; but there are few that wifely contain 
 themfelves within the limits of a found and folid 
 piety. There are a pretty good number of thofe 
 who could die for God, thro' a fenfe of Love : but 
 few who would live according to his precepts, with 
 regularity and reafon. You may expect any thing 
 from their fervour and zeal, when attended with 
 fome diforder -, but you can hardly hope for any 
 thing from a Devotion, wherein they have occafion 
 for evennefs of temper, wifdom, and moderation. 
 
 Take advantage, Madam, of the errors of o- 
 thers : and as you defign now to give up your felf 
 to God, let your Devotion confift lefs of what you 
 love, than of what pleafes him. If you don't be- 
 ware, your heart will offer up to him its own af- 
 fections, inftead of receiving his impreflions ; and 
 you will be wholly yours,, when you fhall fancy to 
 be wholly his, 
 
 Not
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 343 
 
 Not but that there may be a holy and happy 
 agreement between his will and yours. You may 
 love what he loves ; you may defire what he defires : 
 but thro' a pleafing and fecret impulfe, we generally 
 do what we defire our felves ; and this ought to 
 render us more cautious and attentive, that we may 
 always aft confonantly, and with regard to his will. 
 
 But in order to that, you need not, Madam, 
 fubjecl: your felf to the conduct of thofe Directors, 
 who lead you into certain niceties of fpirituality and 
 devotion, which neither you, nor, for the mod 
 part, they themfelves, underftand. The will of 
 God is not fo abftrufe, but that it eafily difcovers 
 it felf to thofe who defign to follow it : fo that, 
 on moft occafions, you mall have more need of 
 fubmifilon than knowledge. Thofe precepts that 
 have any relation to our defires, are clearly un- 
 derftood, and agreeably followed ; thofe that thwart 
 our inclinations, are likewife plain enough : but 
 nature drives againft them, and the untraclable foul 
 rejeds their impreflion. 
 
 I difcourfe with you more ferioufly then at firft I 
 intended , and to conclude ftill more profitably, I 
 would require two things of you, in the new courfe 
 of Devotion you are going to enter upon. The 
 firft, that you take care, not to offer up your love 
 to God, as an unprofitable pafiion, which you defign 
 to keep in ure : the fecond, that you never diJOfem- 
 ble your animofities, under the appearance of zeal ; 
 and never perfecute thofe you hate, under a falfe 
 mew of piety. 
 
 V 4
 
 r 3 44 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 OF THE 
 
 POEMS 
 
 O F T H E 
 
 A N T I E N T S. 
 
 NO man pays a greater veneration to the 
 Works of the Antients than my fclf. I ad- 
 mire the Defign, the CEconomy, the elevation of 
 Spirit, the extent of Knowledge which are fo vifi- 
 ble in their Compofitions : but the difference of 
 Religion, Government, Cuftoms, and Manners, 
 have introduced fo great a change in the world, 
 that we muft go, as it were, upon a new Syftem, 
 to fuit with the inclination and genius of the pre- 
 fent age. 
 
 And certainly my opinion muft be accounted 
 reafonable, by all thofe who will examine it. For 
 if we give quite oppofite characters, when we fpeak 
 of the God of the IfraeJites, and of the God of 
 the Chriftians ; tho it be the fame Deity : if we 
 fpeak otherwife of the Lord of Hofts, of that ter- 
 rible God, who commanded to deftroy the enemy 
 to the very laft man ; than we do of that God pa- 
 tient, meek, merciful, who enjoins to love them : 
 if the Creation of the world is defcrib'd with one 
 
 fsnius, and the Redemption of men with another : 
 we want pne kjnd of clpquence to fet forth the 
 
 great-
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 34J 
 
 greatnefs of the Father, who hath made all things ; 
 and another kind to exprefs the love of the Son, 
 who was pleafed to fuffer all: why fhould there 
 not be a new Art, a new Genius to pafs from the 
 falfe Gods to the true one -, from J u P i T JE R, 
 CYBELE, MERCURY, MARS, APOLLO, to 
 JESUS CHRIST, the Virgin MARY, our 
 Angels, and our Saints ? 
 
 Take away the Gods from the Antients, and you 
 take from them all their Poems : the conftitution of 
 the Fable is in diforder ; and the defign of it turned 
 upfide down. Without the Prayer of THETIS 
 to JUPITER, and the Dream which JUPITER 
 fends to AGAMEMNON, there will be no Itias ; 
 without MINERVA, no OdyJ/ea ; without the 
 protection of J u P i T E R, and the afiiftance of V E- 
 N u s, no Mneis. The Gods afiembled in heaven, 
 and there debated what was to be done upon earth : 
 they formed refolutions, and were no lefs necefiary 
 to execute than to take them. Thefe immor- 
 tal Leaders of parties among men, contrived 
 all, gave life to all ; infpired force and courage ; 
 engaged themfelves in fight; and, if we except 
 AJAX, who afked nothing of them but light, 
 there was no confiderable warrior that had not his 
 God upon his chariot, as well as his Squire ; the 
 God to conduit his fpear ; the Squire to direct his 
 horfes. Men were pure machines, whom iecret 
 fprings put in motion ; and thofe fprings were no- 
 thing elle but the infpiration of their Gods and God- 
 defies. 
 
 The Divinity we ferve is more favourable to the 
 liberty of men. We are in his hands, like the 
 reft of the univerfe, by way of dependance ; but 
 in our own to deliberate and to a6t. I confels we 
 ought always to beg his protection. LUCRETIUS 
 Jiimfejf afks it, and in that very Book, where he 
 attacks Providence with all the force of his wit, he 
 
 tails
 
 34* THE WORKS OF 
 
 falls a praying, and implores that power which 
 governs us, to be fo gracious as to avert all mis- 
 fortunes from him, 
 
 Quod procul a nobis fleftat natura gubernans l . 
 
 However, we mould not introduce this formida- 
 ble Majefty upon every trifling occafion, whofe ve- 
 ry name ought never to be ufed in vain. If the 
 falfe Divinities are mixed in fictions, 'tis no great 
 matter ; thofe are downright Fables, and vain ef- 
 fects of the Poet's imagination. As for Chriftians, 
 they ought to give nothing but truth to him, who 
 is truth it felf , and they mould adapt all their 
 difcourfes to his wifdom, and to his goodnefs. 
 
 This great change is follow'd by that of Manners, 
 which by reafon of their being civilized, and fof- 
 ten'd at prefent, can't iuffer that wild and unbe- 
 coming freedom that was aflumed in former times. 
 'Tis this change that makes us naufeate the vile, and 
 brutal fcolding between ACHILLES and AGA- 
 MEMNON. Upon this fcore AGAMEM NON ap- 
 pears odious to us, when we fee him take away that 
 Trojan's life, whom MENELAUS, upon whofe 
 account the war was made, had generoufly pardon'd. 
 AGAMEMNON the King of Kings % who ought 
 to have mown an example of virtue to all the 
 Princes, and the People ; the bafe AGAMEM- 
 NON kills this miferable wretch with his own hand. 
 *Tis on the fame account that ACHILLES fills us 
 with horror, when he butchers young L Y c A o N, 
 who intreated him fo tenderly for his life. 'Tis 
 then we hate him even to his Virtues, when he 
 ties the body of H E c T o R to his chariot, and 
 
 drags 
 
 1 Lucret. Lib. I. See M. Bayle's Diftionary in the Article ef 
 Lucretius. 
 * So Homer calls him.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 347 
 
 drags him inhumanly to the Camp of the Greeks. 
 I loved him as a valiant man, and as the friend of 
 PATROCLUS: the cruelty of this action makes 
 me abhor his valour, and his friendlhip. J Tis 
 quite otherwife with HECTOR: his good quali- 
 ties return into our minds : we pity and lament 
 him the more for his fufferings ; his idea on the 
 fudden becomes very dear, and raifes all our thoughts 
 in his favour. 
 
 Let it not be faid in the behalf of ACHILLES, 
 that HECTOR had kill'd his dear PA T R o c L u s. 
 The refentment of his death doth not excufe him 
 to us. An affliction that could permit him to fuf- 
 pend his revenge, and to tarry till his arms were 
 made before he went to the combat , an affliction 
 fo patient ought not to have carried him to this 
 unufual barbarity, after the fight was over. But 
 let us acquit Friendmip of an imputation fo odious. 
 The fweeteft, the tendered of all Virtues, does not 
 ufe to produce effects fo contrary to its Nature. 
 ACHILLES had really this cruelty in the bottom 
 of his Nature. It is not to the friend of P A T R o- 
 c L u s, but to the inhumane and inexorable A- 
 c H i L L E s, that it belongs. 
 
 This all the world will eafily agree to. How- 
 ever, the vices of the Hero are no faults in the Poet. 
 H o M E R'S defign was to paint Nature fuch as he 
 faw it, and not to improve it in his Heroes. He 
 has defcribed them with more paflions, than vir- 
 tues : now Paflion has its foundation in Nature, and 
 Virtue is a thing acquired by the improvement of 
 our Reafon. 
 
 Politicks had not yet united men, by the bonds 
 of a radon al Society ; nor polifhed them enough 
 for others : Morality had not yet accomplifhecl them 
 for themfelves. Good qualities were not fufficiently 
 diftinguifhed from the bad. ULYSSES was pru- 
 dent, and fearful i provident again ft dangers ; in- 
 
 duftrious
 
 348 THE WORKS OF 
 
 duftrious to get out of them ; valiant fometimes, 
 when there was lefs danger to be fo, than otherwife. 
 ACHILLES was valiant and fierce -, and (what 
 HORACE would not fet down in his Character of 
 him) condefcending fometimes to puerile follies. 
 As his Nature was uncertain, and irregular ; hence 
 it came to pafs that his behaviour was fometimes 
 fierce, and fometimes childifh. One while he drags 
 the body of HECTOR in a barbarous manner -, 
 now he whines to the Goddefs his Mother, like a 
 child, to drive away the flies from that of P A T R o- 
 c L u s, his dear friend. 
 
 Their Cuftoms differ no lefs from ours, than their 
 morals. Two Heroes ready for the combat would 
 not amufe themfelves now a-days in fetting forth 
 their Genealogy : but it is eafy to obferve in the 
 Ilias, nay in the OdyJ/ea, and the ^Eneis too, that 
 fuch a method was then practifed. Men harangued 
 before they fought, juft as they make fpeeches in 
 England, before they are hanged. 
 
 As for Comparifons, difcretion will teach us to 
 ufe them more fparingly than the Antients : good 
 fenfe, will render them juft ; invention, new. The 
 Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Elements, will lend 
 us no more a worn-out magnificence. Wolves, 
 Shepherds, and Flocks, will not afford us a fimplici- 
 ty too much known and threadbare, 
 
 I am of opinion,' there is an infinite number of 
 Comparifons, that are more like one another than 
 the things they are compared to. AGof-hawk, 
 that ftrikes a Pidgeon ; a Spar-hawk that dares the 
 little Birds , a Falcon that makes a (loop ; are liker 
 one another in the fwiftnefs of their flight, than the 
 men to whom they are compared for their Impe- 
 tuofity. Take away the diftindion of the names of 
 Gof-hawk,, Spar-hawk and Falcon, you'll find the 
 very fame thing. The violence of a Whirl-wind^ 
 that roots up Trees, more refembles that of&Storm, 
 
 which
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 349 
 
 which raifes diforders of another kind, than the ob- 
 jects to which it is compared. A Lion, whom 
 hunger drives from his den ; a Lion purfued by hun- 
 ters i a Lionefs furious and jealous of her whelps ; a 
 Lion againft whom a whole village afiembles, and 
 who for all that retires with pride and indignation : 
 all this is a Lion differently reprefented, but ftill a 
 Lion, which doth not afford us ideas different enough. 
 
 Sometimes Comparifons take us from objects that 
 employ us moft, by fhowing us another object, 
 that makes an unfeafonable diverfion. I am ready 
 to confider two Armies, that are drawn out to en- 
 gage, and I employ all my thoughts to obferve the 
 behaviour, order and difpofition of the Troops : on 
 a fudden, I am tranfported to the Shores of a Sea, 
 which is fwell'd by the fury of the winds, and I am 
 in more danger to behold fhipwreck'd Veflels, 
 than broken Battalions. Thefe vaft thoughts which 
 the Sea affords me, efface the former. Another re- 
 prefents to me a Mountain or a Foreft all on fire. 
 Whither doth not the idea of fuch a burning carry 
 one ? If I were not a perfect mafter of my own 
 thoughts, I might infenfibly be led to the laft uni- 
 verfal conflagration. From this terrible burning, I 
 am hurried to an image of Lightning ; and thefe 
 diverfions fo much take me off from the firft image 
 that employed me, that I lofe entirely that of the 
 Battle. 
 
 We think to embellifli objects by comparing 
 them to eternal, immenfe, infinite Beings ; but in 
 truth we leffen inftead of advancing them. To fay 
 that a Woman is as handfome as Madam MA z A- 
 R i N ; is to praife her more, than if you compar'd 
 her to the Sun : for the fublime and wonderful create 
 efteem ; the irnpoflible and the fabulous deftroy that 
 very commendation, which they pretend to beilow. 
 
 Truth was not the inclination of the firft Ages,; 
 an ufeful lye, and a lucky falfhood gave reputation 
 
 to
 
 350 THE WORKS OF 
 
 to impoftors, and pleafure to the credulous. 'Twas 
 the fecret of the great and wife, to govern the 
 fimple ignorant herd. The vulgar, who paid a pro- 
 found refpeft to myfterious errors, wou'd have de- 
 fpifed naked truth, and 'twas thought a piece of 
 prudence to cheat them. All their difcourfes were 
 fitted to fo advantageous a defign j in which there 
 was nothing to be feen but fictions, allegories, and 
 fimilitudes ; nothing appeared as it was in it felf. 
 Specious and rhetorical out-fides hid the truth of 
 things ; and comparifons too frequently ufed, hin- 
 der'd the Reader from minding the true objects, 
 by amufing him with refemblances. 
 
 The genius of our Age is quite oppofite to this 
 fpirit of Fables and falfe myfteries. We love plain 
 truth ; good fenfe has gain'd ground upon the 
 illufions of fancy ; and nothing fatisfies us now-a- 
 days, but folid Reafon. To this alteration of hu- 
 mour, we may add that of knowledge ; we have 
 other notions of Nature, than the Antients had. 
 The Heavens, that eternal manfion of fo many Di- 
 vinities, are nothing elfe with us, but an immenfe 
 and fluid fpace. The fame Sun mines Hill upon us ; 
 but we affign it another courfe ; and inftead of 
 haftening to fet in the Sea, it goes to enlighten a- 
 nother World. The earth, which was immoveable 
 in the opinion of the Antients, now turns round in 
 ours, and is not to be equal'd for the fwiftnefs of its 
 rrfotion. In fhort, every thing is changed, Gods, 
 Nature, Politicks, Manners, Humours, and Cuftoms. 
 Now is it to be fuppofed, that fo many alterations 
 fhould not produce a mighty change in our Writings ? 
 
 If H o M E R were now alive, he would un- 
 doubtedly write admirable Poems ; but then he 
 would fit them to the prefect Age. Our Poets make 
 bad ones, becaufe they model them by thofe of the 
 Antients, and order them according to Rules, which 
 are changed with things that time hath alter'd.
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 35 < 
 
 I know there are certain eternal rules, grounded 
 upon good fenfe, built upon firm and folid Rea- 
 fon, that will always laft : yet there are but few that 
 bear this Character. Thofe that relate to the Man- 
 ners, Affairs and Cuftoms of the antient Greeks, 
 make but a weak impreflion upon us at prefent. 
 We may fay of them as HORACE has faid of 
 words, they have their certain period and duration. 
 Some die with old age ; it a verborum intent atas : 
 others perifh with their Nation, as well as their 
 maxims of Government, which fubfift not after the 
 Empire is diflblved. So 'tis plain, there are but very 
 few, that have a right to prevail at all times ; and 
 it would be ridiculous to regulate matters wholly 
 new by Laws that are extinct. Poetry would do ill 
 to exact from us, what Religion and Juftice do not 
 obtain. 
 
 To this fervile and too much affected imitation, 
 is owing the ill fuccefs of all our Poems. Our 
 Poets had not genius enough to pleafe without em- 
 ploying the Gods ; nor addrefs to make a good ufe 
 of what materials our Religion could afford them. 
 Tied to the humour of Antiquity, but confined to 
 the doclirines of this Age, they give the air of 
 Mercury to our Angels, and that of the fabulous 
 wonders of Paganifm to our Miracles. This mix- 
 ture of antient and modern, has made them fucceed 
 very ill. And we may fay, that they neither know 
 how to draw any advantage from their fictions, 
 nor make a right ufe of our truths. 
 
 To conclude, the Poems of HOMER will al- 
 ways be a m after-piece, but they are not a model 
 always to be followed. They will form our judg- 
 ment ; and our judgment will regulate the pre- 
 fent difpofition of things, 
 
 O F
 
 3*2 THE WORKS OF 
 
 OF THE 
 
 WONDERFUL, 
 
 That is found m the POEMS of the 
 ANTIENTS. 
 
 IF we confider the Wonderful in the Poems of 
 Antiquity, diverted of the fine thoughts, the 
 Itrong paflions, and the noble expreflions with which 
 the Works of the Poets are adorn'd ; if we con- 
 fider it, I fay, deftitute of all ornament, and come 
 to examine it purely by it felf, I am perfuaded that 
 to a man of good fenfe, it will appear no lefs ridi- 
 culous, than that of Knight-Errantry. Nay, the 
 latter is in this regard the difcreeter of the two, 
 becaufe it fuppofes all pernicious, difhoneft, and 
 bale things done by the miniftry of Devils and 
 Magicians ; whereas the Poets have left the moft 
 infamous exploits to the management of their Gods 
 and Goddefles. Yet this hinders not but that Poems 
 have been always admired, and Books of Chivalry 
 ridiculed. The firft are admired for the wit and 
 knowledge we find in them ; and the other defpifed 
 for the abfurdities they are fill'd with. The Wonder- 
 ful in the Poems fupports its fabulous extravagance 
 by the Beauty of the difcourfe, and by an infinite 
 number of ufeful difcoveries that accompany it. 
 That of Chivalry difcredits even the foolifh in- 
 vention of its fable, by the ridiculoufnefs of the 
 Style in which it is written. 
 
 2 Be
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 353 
 
 Be it how it will, the Wonderful in the Poems 
 has begotten that of Knight-Errantry ; and certain it 
 is, that the Devils and Conjurers caufe much lefs harm 
 in this way of writing, than the Gods and their 
 Minifters did in the former. The Goddefs of Arts, 
 of Knowledge, and Wifdom, infpires the braveft 
 of all the Greeks ' with an ungovernable fury, and 
 fuffers him not to recover his fenfes fhe had taken 
 from him, but only to make him capable of per- 
 ceiving his folly, and by this means to kill himfelf 
 out of meer fhame and defpair. The greateft and 
 moft prudent of the Goddefles 2 favours fcandalous 
 PafTions, and lends her , afllftance to carry on a 
 criminal Amour. The fame Goddefs employs all 
 forts of Artifices to deftroy a handful of innocent 
 people, who by no means deferved her indignation. 
 She thought it not enough to exhauft her own 
 power, and that of the other Gods, whom flic 
 foil icited to ruin /ENEAS, but even corrupts the 
 God of deep to caft PALINURUS into a (lumber, 
 and fo to order matters that he might drop into the 
 Sea; this piece of treachery fucceeded, and the 
 poor Pilot perifh'd in the waves. 
 
 There is not one of the Gods in thefe Pdems, 
 that does not bring the greateft misforturies upon 
 men, or hurry them on to the blacked actions. 
 Nothing is fo villainous here below, which is not 
 executed by their order, or authoriz'd by their 
 example: and this it was, that principally contri- 
 buted to give birth to the Sect of the Epicureans, 
 and afterwards to fupport it. EPICURUS, LU- 
 CRE T i u s , and PETRO^IUS, would rather 
 make their Gods idle, and enjoy their immortal 
 Nature in an uninterrupted tranquillity, than fee 
 them active, and cruelly employ'd in ruining ours 
 
 Vol. II. Z 
 
 the Son of TeltMoa; 
 * Juno in tbi /Bneis.
 
 354 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Nay, EPICURUS by doing fo, pretended he fhewM 
 his great refpect to the Gods ; and from hence pro- 
 ceeded that faying which my Lord B A c o N fo much 
 admires : Non Deos vulgi negare profanum, fed vulgi 
 opiniones Diis applicare profanum 3 . 
 
 Now I don't mean by this, that we are oblig*d to 
 difcard the Gods out of our Works, and much lefs 
 from thofe of Poetry, where they feem to enter 
 more naturally than any where elfe : 
 
 Ab Jove principium Mufte. 
 
 1 am for introducing them as much as any man : 
 but then I would have them bring their wifdom, 
 juftice and clemency along with them, and not ap- 
 pear, as we generally make them, like a pack of 
 impoftors and affafiins. I would have them come 
 with a conduct to regulate, and not with a diforder 
 to confound every thing. 
 
 Perhaps it may be reply'd, that thefe extrava- 
 gancies ought only to pafs for fables and fictions, 
 which belong to the jurifdiction of Poetry. But I 
 wou'd fain know, what Art and Science in the 
 world has the power to exclude good Senfe? If 
 we need only write in verfe to be privileged in all 
 extravagancies ; for my part* I would never advife 
 any man to meddle with profe, where he muft 
 immediately be pointed at for a coxcomb, if he 
 leaves good fenfe and reafon never fo little behind 
 him. 
 
 I wonder extremely, that the Antient Poets, 
 were fo fcrupulous to preferve probability in the 
 
 actions 
 
 3 Diogenes Laertius hat tranfmitttd to us that faying of Epicu* 
 rtts. Af. de St. Evremond quotes it according to the Tranjlation 
 of my Lord Bacon, Serm. Fidel, cap.xvi. but this is more literal: 
 Impius eft, non is qui multitudinis Deos tollit j fed qui multi- 
 tudmis opiniones Diis adhibet. Laert. Lib. x. , u$.
 
 M. ft E ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 aftions of men ; and violated it after fo abominable 
 a manner, when they come to recount the actions 
 of the Gods. Even thofe who have fpoken of 
 their Nature more foberly than the reft, could not 
 forbear to fpeak extravagantly of their conduct. 
 When they eftablifti their Being, and their Attri- 
 butes, they make them immortal, infinite, al- 
 mighty, perfectly wife, and perfectly good. But 
 at the very moment they fet them a working, there 
 is no weaknefs to which they don't make them 
 ftoop ; there is no folly or wickednefs which they 
 don't make them commit. 
 
 We have two common Sayings, which appear to 
 be directly oppofite to one another, and yet I look 
 upon both to be very probable. The one is, 
 that Poetry is the Language of the Gods ; the other, 
 that there is not fucb a fool in nature as a Poet. Poe- 
 try, that exprefles with force and vigour, thofe 
 impetuous Pafiions that diflurb mankind ; that 
 paints the wonders of the univerfe in lively ex- 
 preflions, does elevate things purely natural, as it 
 were above nature, by the fublimity of its thoughts, 
 and the magnificence of its difcourfe, which may 
 juftly enough be called the Language of the Gods. 
 But when Poets come once to quit this noble field 
 of pafiions and wonders, to fpeak of the Gods, 
 they abandon themfelves to the caprice of their 
 own imagination, in matters which they do not 
 underftand *, and their heat having no juft idea's 
 to govern it, inftead of making themfelves, as 
 they vainly believe, wholly divine, they are in 
 truth the moft extravagant fools in the World. It will 
 be no difficult matter to be convinced of this truth, 
 if we confider that this abfurd and fabulous Theo- 
 logy, is equally contrary to all notions of Religion, 
 and all principles of good Senfe. There have been 
 fome Philofophers that have founded Religion upon 
 that knowledge which men may have of the Deity 
 Z 2 by
 
 THE WORKSOF 
 
 by their natural Reafon. There have been Law- 
 givers too that have ftiled themfelves the interpre- 
 ters of the will of Heaven, to eftablifh a religious 
 worfhip, which has not had reafon to fupport it. 
 But to make, as the Poets have done, a perpetual 
 Commerce, a familiar Society, and if I may ufe 
 the exprefiion, a mixture of Men and Gods, 
 againft Religion and Reafon, is certainly the 
 boldeftj and perhaps the mod fenfelefs thing that 
 ever was* 
 
 It remains now to confider, whether the cha- 
 racter of a Poem has virtue to rectify that of im- 
 piety and folly. Now, as I take it, we don't afcribe 
 fo much power to the fecret force of any charm. 
 That which is bad, is bad for good and all ; that 
 which is extravagant, can be made good fcnfe in 
 no refpect. As for the reputation of the Poet, it 
 rectifies nothing any more than the character of the 
 Poem does. Difcernment is a flave to no body. 
 That which is effectually bad, is not at all the better 
 for being found in the moft celebrated Author: 
 and that which is juft and folid, is never the worfe 
 for coming from an indifferent hand. Amongft a 
 hundred fine and lofty thoughts, a good judge will 
 foon difcover an extravagant one, which one's genius 
 threw out when it was warm, and which too Itrong 
 an imagination was able to maintain againft unfixt 
 reflections. On the other hand, in the courfe of 
 an infinite number of extravagant things, this 
 fame judge will admire certain beauties, where the 
 mind, in fpite of its impetuofity, was juft and 
 regular. 
 
 The elevation of H o M E R, and his other noble 
 qualities, don't hinder me from taking notice of 
 the falfe character of his Gods : and that agreeable 
 and judicious equality of V i R c i L, that pleafes all 
 true judges, does not conceal from me the little 
 merit of his ^E N E A s. If among fo many noble 
 3 things
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 357 
 
 things which affect me in H o M E R and VIRGIL, 
 I cannot forbear to remark what is defective in them ; 
 fo amongft thofe pafifages that difpleafe me in L u- 
 c A N, either for being too flat, or weary me for 
 being too far carried on ; I cannot forbear to pleafe 
 my fejf in confidering the juft and true grandeur 
 of his Heroes. I endeavour to relifh every word 
 in him, when he expreffes the fecret movements of 
 CESAR at the fight of P o M p E Y'S Head ; and 
 nothing efcapes me in that inimitable Difcourfe of 
 L A B i E N u s and C A T o, where they debate whe- 
 ther they mail confult the Oracle of JUPITER 
 A M M o N, to know the deftiny of the Common- 
 wealth *. 
 
 If all the antient Poets had fpoken as worthily of 
 the Oracles of their Gods, I mould make no fcruple 
 to prefer them to the Divines and Philofophers of 
 our time ; and 'tis a paffage that may ferve for an 
 example in this matter, to all fucceeding Poets. 
 One may fee in the concourfe of fo many people 
 that came to confult the Oracle of A M M o N, what 
 effects a publick opinion can produce, where zeal 
 and fuperftition mingle together. One may fee 
 inLABiENUs, a pious fenfible man, who to his 
 refpect for the Gods, joins r.hat confederation and 
 efteem we ought to preferve for true Virtue in good 
 men, C A T o is a religious, fevere Philofopher, 
 weaned from all vulgar opinions, who entertains 
 thofe lofty thoughts of the Gods, which pure ur\- 
 debauched Reafon, and a truly elevated wifdom can 
 give us of them. Every thing here is Poetical, 
 every thing here is confbnant to ienfe and truth , ic 
 is not Poetical upon the fcore of any ridiculous 
 fiction, or for fome extravagant hyperbole, but for 
 the daring greatnefs and majefly of the Language, 
 and for the noble elevation of the difcourfe. 'Tis 
 Z 3 thus, 
 
 4 See Lf4'f Pharfalia, Lib. ix.
 
 358 THE WORKS OF 
 
 thus, that Poetry is the language of the Gods, and 
 that Poets are wife : and 'tis fo much the greater 
 wonder to find it in Lu c A N, becaufe it is neither 
 to be met with in HOMER or VIRGIL! 
 
 A N 
 
 ELUCIDATION 
 
 Of what I faid of the 
 
 Italian Mujick*. 
 
 JHave met with fo bad treatment as to what con- 
 cerns the Italians, that I am under a neceffity 
 vindicating my felf to perfons whofe approba- 
 tion I might defire, and whofe cenfure I might 
 fear. I declare then, that after having heard S Y- 
 PHACE, BALLARINI, andBuzzoLiNi with 
 attention, and examin'd their finging with the fmall 
 genius and fkill that I am mafter of, I found they 
 fung divinely well ; and if I could hit upon terms 
 that were beyond this expreflion, I would make ufe 
 of them to add a greater value to their capacity. 
 I can make no certain judgment of the French. 
 They put the Paflions in too great a commotion ; 
 they diforder our affections fo mightily, that we 
 lofe the liberty of judging, which others have left 
 us, to find out the certainty of their merit in the 
 exa&nefs of our approbations. 
 
 The
 
 M. D E ST. EVREMONb. 
 
 The firft inftitution of Mufick was made to keep 
 
 our Soul in a foft repofe ; or to reftore it to its 
 
 due fituation, in cafe it was out of it. They, who 
 
 from an equal knowledge of M anners and Singing, 
 
 follow orders fo ufefully eftablifh'd, deferve praife. 
 
 The French have no manner of regard to thofe 
 
 Principles : they infpire fear, pity, forrow ; they 
 
 difquiet, agitate, and difturb when they pleafe ; 
 
 they excite the Pafiions which others allay ; they 
 
 win the heart by a Charm which we might call a 
 
 kind of feduction. Is your foul tender and fenfible? 
 
 Do you love to be touch'd ? Hear ROCHOUAS, 
 
 B A u M A v i E L, DUMENIL, thofe fecret matters 
 
 of the heart, who likewife ftudy the grace and 
 
 beauty of action, in order to make our eyes declare 
 
 in their favour. But would you admire capacity, 
 
 flcill, and profound nefs in difficult things ; a facility 
 
 of fmging every thing without ftudy, the art bf 
 
 adjufting the compofition to one's voice, inftead of 
 
 accomodating one's voice to the intention of the 
 
 compofer ? Would you admire an incredible length 
 
 of breath for quavering, a furprizing glibnefs of 
 
 the throat in running divifions ? Hear S Y p H A c E, 
 
 BELLARINI, and Bu z z OL i N i, who difdaining 
 
 the falfe movements of the heart, addrefs them- 
 
 felves to. your nobleft part, and conquer your moil 
 
 folid Reafon.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIH 
 
 M A D A M, 
 
 I Am not fo vain as to ask your approbation, 
 and you have too much judgment to give it 
 me ; but fmce ill-humour accompanies exactnefs of 
 judging, I intreat you, Madam, do not cenfure me 
 generally upon every thing I fay, nor condemn me 
 for every thing I do. If I fpeak, I exprefs my 
 meaning ill ; if I hold my tongue, I harbour a ma- 
 licious thought ; if I refufe to difpute, 'tis igno- 
 rance i if I do difpute, 'tis obftinacy or unfairnefs ; 
 if I agree to what is faid, no body cares for my 
 complaifance ; if I am of a contrary opinion, never 
 was fuch a contradictious man feen. When I pro- 
 duce good reafons, Madam hates arguers of the 
 cafe : when I ajledge examples, that is her averfion : 
 with relation to, what is paft, I am a teller of old 
 ftories ; as to the prefent, (he ranks me among old 
 dotards j and as to the future, an Irijh Prophet l 
 would be fooner credited than I. 
 
 As 
 ' S*< Vol. I. pat. 183,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 3 6i 
 
 As all things have their feafons, Converfation 
 ends, and Play begins, where, if I lofe, I am the 
 bubble , if I win I am the (harper ; and if I leave 
 off, a clown. If I have a mind to walk, I have 
 the reftlefnefs of youth , and reft, to be fure, is 
 the heavinefs and drowfmefs of my old Age. If I 
 am yet animated with paflion, I am call'd an old 
 fool ; if Reafon governs the inclinations of my 
 mind, I am told that I am in love with nothing, 
 and that no man's indifference was ever equal to 
 mine. Contraries are equally difadvantageous to 
 me 5 when I intend to amend one thing which you 
 were difpleafed withal, I do another thing quite 
 contrary, and thereby difpleafe you as much as be- 
 fore. In the condition I am now in, I dread, left 
 I mould commit a miftake ; and am afraid, left 
 I mould do right. You never forgive any of my 
 errors ; you hate me when I am in the right -, and 
 I am fo unhappy as to be often the object of your 
 hatred. 
 
 This, Madam, is the ordinary treatment I re- 
 ceive at your hands ; this is it, that makes me de- 
 fire your abfence. But by thinking of your peevifh 
 humours too much, I have not fufficiently reflected 
 on your Charms, nor confidered that the greateft 
 of all misfortunes muft be that of not feeing you. 
 I have been able to tell you the pains I fuffer when 
 I am with you, but thole which I feel when I am 
 abfent from you, are paft exprefiion. 'Tis not in 
 the power of words to exprefs my grief. / cannot 
 fpeak. Madam, but I die a . 
 
 I have ended my Letter, Dying -, but the Vir- 
 tue of your Charms is able to revive thofe whom 
 your rigour has ftruck dead. The firft thing I 
 have to beg of you, Madam, is, that you would 
 abate your leverity and cruelty towards rne, in the 
 
 nevy 
 
 ' A vtrft of Ctrnnllt.
 
 $62 THE WORKS OF 
 
 new Life that I am going to lead with you. Divide 
 the feverity 6f your juftice ; let part of it fall on 
 M. V i L L i E R s ; let not your Chaplain be without 
 his ihare of it ; nor let honeft LOT efcape for all 
 her care about your Domeftick affairs , let the Prin- 
 Ces and the Nobility fometimes take part of the 
 burthen upon them, that the Gentry may have fome 
 eafe ; and, in fine, Madam, let not me be the only 
 perfon pitch'd upon to bear your anger and 
 paffion, to make way for your kindnefies and ci- 
 vilities to others. 
 
 o N
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 3 
 
 O N T H E 
 
 ^ MORALS 
 
 O F 
 
 EPICURUS: 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 MODERN LEONTfUM'. 
 
 YO U defire to be informed, whether I compo- 
 fed thofe Reflections upon the Dottrine of Epi- 
 curus, which are attributed to me : I might honour 
 my felf with them * ; but I don't love to give my 
 felf a merit which I have no right to ; for to deal 
 ingenuoufly with you, they are not mine. I have a 
 great difadvantage in thefe little Treatifes, that are 
 printed under my name. There are fome good 
 performances which I do not own, becaufe they 
 don't belong to me ; and amongft my Writings, 
 they have inferted abundance of impertinent things, 
 
 which 
 
 1 Leontium, was an Athenian Lady, who hath bten celebra- 
 hated for her intrigues^ and her knowledge of Philofophy, which 
 flte learn* d from Epicurus. By the MODERN LEON- 
 TIUM, M . de St. Evremond here meant Madam V Enclos. 
 See the Life of M. de St. Evremond, in the year 1685. 
 
 * Thofe Reflections are inferted in the third Volume^ among 
 the beft Pieces attributed to M, de St. Evremond,
 
 3*4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 which I don't take the trouble to difown. At 
 my Age, one hour of Life well managed is more 
 confiderable with me, than the concern of an in- 
 different Reputation. With what difficulty a mail 
 parts with Self-love ? I quit it as an Author ; I re- 
 fume it as a Philofopher, finding a fecret pleafure 
 jn negleding what others fo earneftly purfue. 
 
 The word Pleajure recalls EPICURUS into my 
 
 I mind , and makes me confefs, that of all the Opini- 
 
 I ons of Philofophers concerning the foveraign Good, 
 
 none appears to me fo rational as his. It would be 
 
 to no purpofe to alledge here the reafons, that have 
 
 been given a hundred times by the Epicureans , that 
 
 the Love of Pleafure, and the avoiding of Grief, 
 are the firft and moft natural motions, that are ob- 
 ferved in men , that riches, .power, honour, and 
 virtue majr contribute to our happinefs : but that 
 the fole enjoyment of Pleafure, is, to fpeak all, 
 the fingle end to which our actions tend. *Tis a 
 thing clear enough of it felf, and I am fully per- 
 fuaded^ofjt^l At the fame time I don't well know 
 
 ! 'wKat this Pleafure of EPICURUS was ; for I ne- 
 ver faw learned Men fo divided about any point, 
 V as they have been about the Morals of tnis Philofo- 
 pher. Philofophers, and even fome of his own 
 Difciples, have exclaimed againft him, as a fenfual 
 and lazy perfon, that never quitted his idlenefs but 
 
 1 to make a debauch* All Sects have oppofed his. 
 Magiftrates"riave looked upon his Doctrine to be 
 prejudicial to the publick. CICERO, fo. juft and 
 fo wife in his opinions ; and PLUTARCH, fo much 
 efteemed for his judgment, have not been favou- 
 rable to him. And as for the Chriftians, the an- 
 tient Fathers have made him pafs for the greateft 
 and moft dangerous of impious perfons. Thus I 
 have mown you his enemies j now let us fee who 
 his Friends were. 
 
 METRO-
 
 M. DE ST, EVREMOND. 
 
 METRODORUS, HERMACHUS, MENECE- 
 us, and many others that uied to difpute with him, 
 had as much veneration as friendlhip for his perfon. 
 DIOGENES LAERTIUS could not write his 
 Life with more advantage to his reputation than he 
 has done : LUCRETIUS was his adorer , S E N E- 
 c A, as much an enemy as he was to his feel:, hath 
 mentioned him with praife. If fome Cities have eJp- 
 prefs'd an averfion for him, others have erected 
 ftatues in his honour ; and among the Chriliians, 
 if the Fathers have cried him down, GASSENDUS 
 and M. B E R N i E R do vindicate him. 
 
 In the midft of all thefe authorities, fo oppo- 
 fite one to the other, what way is there to decide 
 the controverfy ? Shall I fay that EPICURUS is 
 a corrupter of good Manners, upon the credit of a 
 jealous Philofopher, or a difcontented Difciple, who 
 perhaps fuffer'd himfelf to be blindly led by his 
 own refentments, for fome imagin'd injury? Be- 
 fides, fince 'tis evident that EPICURUS aimed to 
 ruin the common received opinion about Provi- 
 dence, and the Immortality of the Soul, cannot I 
 eafily perfuade my felf that the world appear'd 
 againft a doftrine that gave fo much fcandol j and 
 that they defamed the life of the Philofopher, on 
 purpofe to difcredit his opinions with more autho=. 
 rity ? But if I am unwilling to receive all that his ; 
 enemies and his rivals have publimed of him, fo I. 
 do not eafily believe what his defenders dare fay. I 
 don*t think that he had a defign to introduce a 
 Pteajure more fevcre than the Virtue of the Stoicks. 
 This jealoufy of aufterity feems to me extravagant 
 in a voluptuous Phiiofopher, take his Pleafure in 
 what fenfe you pleafe. A pretty myftery this, to i 
 declaim againft a Virtue that divefts a wife man of 
 his fenfes, to eftablifli a Pleafure that affords him 
 no motion ! The wile Man of the Stoicks is a vir- 
 tuous Inlenfible j that of the Epicureans a volup- 
 tuous
 
 555 THE WORKS OF 
 
 tuous Immoveable : the firft is in pain without pain ; 
 the fecond taftes pleafure without pleafure. What 
 reafon had a Philofopher, who did not believe the 
 immortality of the foul, to mortify the fenfes ? 
 why mould he put a divorce between two parts, 
 compofed of the fame matter, that ought to find 
 their advantage in the mutual concord and union 
 of their pleafures ? I pardon in our Religious men 
 the fad fingularity of eating nothing but Herbs, 
 (ince they think to obtain eternal happinefs by thefe 
 aufterities : but that a Philofopher, who knows no 
 other good things than thofe of this world , that 
 the Doctor of Pleafure fliould regale himfelf with 
 bread and 'water to arrive at the fovereign hap- 
 pinefs of life, is what my little underftanding 
 cannot comprehend. If EPICURUS was fuch a 
 man, I admire that they don't make his pleafure 
 center in Death ; for if we confider the mifery of 
 life, his chiefeft good mould have been to get rid 
 of it. Believe me, if HORACE and P E T R d- 
 N i u s had imagin'd him to have been fuch a one 
 as he is defcribed, they would not have chofen him 
 to be their matter in the fcience of Pleafures. 
 
 As for what fome people pretend of his great 
 piety towards the Gods, 'tis no lefs ridiculous than 
 the mortification of his fenfes. Thofe idle Gods 
 from whom he had nothing to hope or fear ; thofe 
 impotent beings did not merit the trouble of his 
 worfhip : and let not people fay, that he went to 
 the Temples, for fear of drawing the Magiftrates 
 upon him, and fcandalizing his Citizens; for he 
 had much lefs fcandaliz'd them by not afiifting at 
 their Sacrifices, than he offended them by his Wri- 
 tings, which deftroyed the Gods eftablim*d in the 
 world, or at leaft ruined that confidence the people 
 had in their protection* 
 
 3 But
 
 M. DB ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 But now, fome one will fay to me, What think 
 you of EPICURUS? you believe neither his 
 friends nor his enemies ; his adverfaries nor his de- 
 fenders ; what then is your judgment of him ? I'm 
 of opinion, that EPICURUS was a very wife Phi- 
 loibpher, who, according to different times and 
 occafions, loved pleafure in repofe, or pleafure in 
 motion ; and that this different Pleafure has occa- 
 fion'd the different reputation he has found in the 
 world. TIMOCRATES and his other enemies, 
 have charg'd him with fenfual pleafures , thofe that 
 have defended him, talk of nothing but of fpiritual 
 pleafures. The former accufe him of expenfive 
 banquets, and I am perfuaded that the accufation 
 is well grounded : when the latter value him for 
 his eating fome little morfels of cheefe, in order to 
 make better chear than ufual, I believe they don't 
 want reafon. When one fide fays, that he argued 
 with LEONTIUM, they fay true : when the other 
 affirms, that he diverted himfelf with her, they 
 don't mifreprefent him. 'There is a time to laugh, 
 and a time to weep, according to SOLOMON; a 
 time to be fober, and a time to be fenfual, accord- 
 ing to EPICURUS. Befides a voluptuous man 
 is not equally fo all his life. In Religion, the great- 
 eft Libertine becomes fometimes the moft devout : 
 in the ftudy of Wifdom, the moft indulgent to 
 pleafure, is fometimes the moft fevere. As for me, 
 I look other wife upon EPICURUS in youth and 
 health, than in old age and ficknefs. 
 
 Indolence and tranquillity, that happinefs of idle 
 people and fick perfons, cannot be better exprefs'd, 
 than they are in his writings : fenfual Pleafure is no 
 lefs explained in that formal paflage which C i c E- 
 R o exprefly alledges 3 . I know, indeed, that all 
 imaginable care has been taken to deftroy its cre- 
 dit, 
 
 3 Tufcul. Difput, Lit. III. J. 1 8.
 
 THEWORKSOF 
 
 die, and td invalidate it : but are mere conjectures 
 to be compared with the teftimony of C i c E R o, 
 who was fo well acquainted with the Philofophers 
 of Greece, and their opinions ? It were much bet- 
 ter to afcribe to the iriconftancy of human nature, 
 the inequality of our minds. Where is a man fo 
 uniform as to have nothing unequal, and contra- 
 dictory in his difcourfe and actions ? SOLOMON 
 deferves the name of Wife^ at leaft as much as E- 
 p i c u R u s, and was equally miftaken in his opi- 
 nions and conduct. MONTAIGNE, when he was 
 a young man, believed that our thoughts ought to 
 be eternally fixed upon Death, that we might be 
 prepared for it : when he came to be old, he re- 
 canted^ and would have us fuffer our felves to be 
 fweetly conducted by Nature, that will fufficiently 
 teach us to die. 
 
 M. B E R N i E R, that great favourer of EPI- 
 CURUS, doth now confefs, that after be has ftu- 
 died Pbilofopby fifty years, be doubts even of thofe 
 things tbat he had believed to be the moft certain *. 
 All objects have different faces, and our mind, 
 which is in a continual motion, looks upon them 
 differently as it does confider them ; fo that, if I 
 may be allow'd the expreffion, we have nothing 
 but new afpects, while we think we enjoy new 
 difcoveries. Befides, age brings great alterations 
 in our humour, and by the alteration of humour, 
 is very often introduced that of our opinions. To 
 this we may add, that the pleafures of the fenfes 
 fometimes make us difrelifh the fatisfaction of the 
 mind, as too jejune and naked ; and that the nice 
 and refined fatisfactions of the mind, defpife in 
 their turn the pleafures of the fenfes, as too grofs. 
 So we ought not to be furprized, that, in fo great a 
 
 diverfity 
 
 * Abregc de la Philofophie de GafTendi, Tom. II. f 
 the edition frinttd At Lyons in 1*84.
 
 M. D E S T. E VR E M O N D. 
 
 diverfity of profpects and motions, EPICURUS, 
 Who writ more than any Philofopher, mould fay 
 the fame thing in a different manner, according as 
 he might have different thoughts and notions of it. 
 
 What occafion is there for this general argument, 
 to mew that he had no averfion to all forts of Plea- 
 fures ? If you confider his commerce with the La- 
 dies, you'll fcarce believe that he fpent fo much 
 time withLzoNTiuM and THEM is TA, to 
 do nothing but talk of Philofophy with them. But 
 if he loved the enjoyment of them as a voluptuous 
 perfon, he manag'd himfelf prudently ; and, as he 
 was indulgent to the motions of nature, fo he dif- 
 liked that any violence mould be offered to it ; not 
 always reckoning Chaftity for a virtue, but always 
 accounting Luxury a vice. He would have fo- 
 briety regulate the appetite, and that the prefent 
 meal mould never hurt that which was to fucceed : 
 fie prafentibus voluptatibus utaris, lit futurls non nc- 
 ceas. He difengaged Pleafures from the uneafmefs 
 that precede, and the diftafte that follows them. 
 When he fell into infirmities and pains, he fixed the 
 fovereign Good in Indolence : wifely, in my opi- 
 nion, if we confider the condition he was then in ; 
 for the cefiation of pain is the happinefs of thofe 
 that languifh under it. As for the Tranquillity of 
 Mind, which compofed the other part of his happi- 
 nefs, 'tis nothing but an exemption from trouble : 
 but he who can no longer have agreeable motions, 
 is happy, if he can preferve himfelf from the vexa- 
 tions of pairi. 
 
 After all I have faid upon this article, I conclude, 
 that Indolence and Repofe ought to make the fove- 
 reign Good of EPICURUS, when he was infirm 
 and languifhing : but for a man who is in a condi- 
 tion to tafte Pleafure, Fm of opinion that health 
 mows it felf by fomething more lively than a bare 
 Indolence; as a good difpofition of the foul requires 
 
 Vol. II. A a fome-
 
 37 THE WORKS OF 
 
 fomething more animated than a peaceable ftate. 
 We live in the midft of an infinite number of 
 Goods and Evils, and with fenfes capable of being 
 affected with the one, and tormented with the other : 
 without very much Philofophy, a little reafon will 
 make us relifh good things as delicioufly as pof- 
 fible, and inflruct us to bear the bad with all the 
 patience we can. 
 
 O F 
 
 RETIREMENT. 
 
 T Here's nothing more common with old Men, 
 than to defire a Retirement, and nothing fo 
 rare with them as not to repent it, when they are 
 once retir'd. Their fouls, that are in too great a 
 fubjcction to their humours, are difgufted with the 
 world for their own tirefomnefs *, for fcarce have 
 they quitted this falfe object of their misfortune, 
 but they are as angry with folitude, as they were 
 with the world, being uneafy at themfelves, where 
 nothing but themfelves can give them any unea- 
 finefs. 
 
 An efiential reafon that obliges us to withdraw 
 our felves out of the World when we are old, is to 
 prevent that ridicule and contempt to which age 
 generally expoles us. If we quit the World in good 
 time, they will ftill preferve the idea of that merit, 
 which we had there. If we tarry too long in it, 
 our defects will lie open ; and what we are then, 
 will efface the memory of what we were. Befides, 
 'tis a fhame for a perfon of honour to drag about 
 
 him
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 37! 
 
 him the infirmities of age at the Court, where the 
 end of his fervices occalions that of his intereft. 
 
 Nature teaches us to reaffiime our liberty, when 
 we have nothing more to hope from fortune. 
 'Tis what a fenfe of decency, what the care of our 
 reputation, what good manners, and nature it felf 
 require from us. Nor is this all, for the world has 
 Kkewife a right to demand the fame thing of us. 
 Its commerce furnifh'd us with pleafures while we 
 were capable of relifliing 'em : and it would be in- 
 gratitude to be a burden to it, when we can give 
 it nothing but difguft. 
 
 As for my felf, I am fully refolved to live irt 
 a Convent, or a Defart, rather than to give my 
 friends an occafion to pity me, or to ftrrnifh thofe 
 that are not fo, with a fubje& for their malicious 
 mirth and raillery. But the mifchief is, that a 
 man is not fenfible when he becomes either weak 
 or ridiculous. It is not enough to know that we 
 are gone for good and all ; but we ought to be 
 the firft that perceive our felves to be upon the de- 
 cline, and like prudent men, to prevent the publick 
 knowledge of this change. 
 
 Not that every alteration that age brings along 
 with it, ought to infpire us with the refolution of 
 retiring. I own, we lofe a great deal by growing 
 old -, but amongft the loffes we fuftain, fome of 
 them are recompens'd by confidefable advantages, 
 If after I have loft my Pafilons, the Affections con- 
 tinue with me ftill ; I mall find lefs inquietude in 
 my pleafures, and more cjifcretion in the conduct of 
 my life in relation to the world. If my Imagina- 
 tion decays, I mall not pleafe fo much fometrmes i 
 but then I mall be infinitely lefs troublefom for the 
 general part. If I quit the cfbwd for a feleft com- 
 pany, my thoughts will be more compos'd. If I 
 eome from a large acquaintance to' the converfation. 
 Aa 2 *f
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 of a few ; 'tis becaufe I know how to make a bet- 
 ter choice. 
 
 Befides, 'tis to be confider'd, that if we change, 
 we do it amongft people that change as well as our 
 felves : men of equal infirmities, or at leaft fubject 
 to the very fame. Therefore I mall not be at all 
 afliam'd to fearch in their prefence fome relief 
 againft the weaknefs of Age ; nor mall I be afraid 
 to fupply by art, what begins to fail me by nature. 
 A nicer precaution againft the injury of time, a 
 more careful management of a health that daily be- 
 comes more feeble, cannot fcandalize any man of 
 fenfe, and we ought not to trouble our felves with 
 thofe that are not fo. 
 
 To fay the truth, that which difpleafes in old 
 people, is not too affected a care of their own pre- 
 fervation. We mould eafily forgive them every 
 thing that relates to themfelves, if they had but 
 the fame confideration for others. But the Autho- 
 rity they affume, is full of injuftice and indifcretion ; 
 for they prepofteroufly thwart the inclinations even 
 of thofe that bear the moft with their infirmities. 
 Their long courfe of life, it feems, has untaught 
 them how to converfe with mankind; for they 
 mew nothing but a fpirit of Morofenefs, Aufterity, 
 and Contradiction, to thofe very perfons from 
 whom they exact affability, docility, and obedience. 
 All that they themfelves do, they imagine to be 
 virtuous , and place among vices every thing that 
 lies out of their power. And as they are conftrain'd 
 to follow Nature where fhe is tirefom and offen- 
 five, they would have others oppofe what is fweet 
 and agreeable in her. 
 
 There is no part of our life wherein we ought 
 to ftudy our own Humour with more application 
 than in old age ; for it is never fo difficult to be 
 difcoverM as then. An impetuous young fellow 
 has a hundred returns, when he is diffatisfied with 
 
 his
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 373 
 
 his Extravagancies : but old people devote them- 
 felves to their Humour as if it was a virtue ; and 
 take pleafure in their own defects, becaufe they 
 carry a falfe refemblance of the moft commendable 
 qualities. In effect, as they grow more difficult, 
 they vainly imagine that they become more delicate. 
 They take up an averfion to Pleafure, believing 
 that they are juftly oppofing the current of Vice. 
 A ferious air pafles with them for judgment ; 
 phlegm for wifdom : and hence proceeds that fu- 
 percilious authority they allow themfelves to cenfurc 
 every thing : Spleen fupplying the place of indig- 
 nation againft fin ; and Gravity of fufficiency. 
 
 The only fure remedy when we are come to 
 this pafs, is to confult our Reafon in the inter- 
 vals, when me is difengag*d from our humour; 
 and to take a refolution to conceal our defects from 
 the fight of the world. 'Tis all that our wifdom 
 can do at this juncture to hide them, and it would 
 be a fuperfluous labour to endeavour wholly to get 
 clear of them. 'Tis at this point of our Life that 
 we ought to aflign fome time between it and 
 Death, and to chufe a convenient place to pafs it in 
 Devotion if pofiible, at lead with Prudence ; ei- 
 ther with a devotion that gives us confidence, or 
 with reafon that promifes us repofe. Wheji our 
 Reafon, which qualified us for the world, is, if I 
 may ufe the exprefllon, worn out with long ufing, 
 a wife man forms another out of it to ferve him 
 in his Retreat, which of ridiculous fools, as we were 
 growing in converfation, makes us truly wife in 
 refpect of our felves. 
 
 Of all the Retreats that a man can chufe when he 
 is Old, I mould infinitely prefer that of a Convent 
 to all the reft, if their Rules were lefs fevere. 'Tis 
 certain that old age fhuns a crowd, out of a nice 
 and retired humour, that cannot endure to be either 
 importun'd or tired ; and yet it avoids folitude 
 A a 3 with
 
 574 THE WORKS OF 
 
 with greater diligence, where it becomes a prey to 
 its own black difquietudes, or to fallen vexatious 
 imaginations. The only remaining relief againft 
 all this, is the Converfation of a virtuous Society : 
 jiow, what Society can better agree with it than a 
 religious one, where one would think, all manner 
 of human helps fhould be afforded, with more 
 charity than elfewhere, and where their vows mould 
 be united to demand thofe fuccours from heaven, 
 which cannot reafonably be expected from men. 
 
 It is as natural for old people to take up with De- 
 votion, as it is ordinary with young men to aban- 
 don diemftives to Pleafures. In the latter, Na- 
 ture full charged, throws out of her felf her fuper- 
 fluity of vigour, hunting after voluptuoufneis in 
 external Objeds : in the others, languifhing Na- 
 ture feeks in God what me has loft, and adheres 
 more clofely to him, to provide for her felf a kind 
 pf refource in her decay. Thus the fame fpirit that 
 leads to Society in our wants, conducts us to God 
 in Our languifhings ; and if Convents were inflituted 
 as they ought to be, we mould find in the fame 
 place both the fupport of Heaven, and the afilf- 
 tance of Men : but after the manner they are fet- 
 tled, inftead of an alleviation of our miferies, we 
 find there the hardmip of a blind obedience, either 
 in the performance of unprofitable things, or in 
 the forbearance of innocent ones. We find there 
 an ordinary facrifice of Reafon ; Laws more diffi- 
 cult to be obferv'd than the divine and political ; 
 Ordinances fcandaloufly broke by Libertines, and 
 impatiently borne by the moft fubmiflive. 
 
 I confefs, we meet fometimes with fome religious 
 perfons of an ineftimable merit ; fuch as knew the 
 Vanities of the world which they have quitted ; and 
 the grimace of that kind of life which they have 
 embrac'd. Thefe are truly virtuous and devout 
 men, who refine the dictates of Morality by thofe 
 
 of
 
 M. DE ST. EVREM ON D. 375 
 
 of Piety. They Jive not only exempt from the 
 perturbation of pafiions, but enjoy a moft admi- 
 rable ferenity of mind ; and are more happy in de- 
 firing nothing, than the greateft Monarchs in pof- 
 fefling all. Such examples are indeed very rare : 
 and the virtue of thofe religious perfons is more 
 to be admir'd, than their condition to be embraced. 
 For my part, I would never advife a Gentle- 
 man to engage in fiich obligations, wherein all the 
 rights of one's will are generally loft and fwallow'd 
 up. The pains which a man would willingly under- 
 go, is made necefiary -, the fin he defigns to avoid, 
 muft be Ihun'd by injunction, and the good which 
 he would do, is to be purfu'd by conftraint. Com- 
 mon flavery goes no farther than to force us to 
 what we are unwilling to do : that of Convents lays 
 a neceflity upon us, even in things that we are 
 willing to perform. 
 
 The late Queen of Portugal *, who was as capa- 
 ble to manage her own conduct in tranquillity, as 
 to govern a ftate in a florm, had the fancy to turn 
 Nun, upon her refigning the Government to her 
 Son * : but after having examined the rules of all 
 the religious orders, with as much care as judgment, 
 Ihe found none that allow'd either the Body the 
 neceflary conveniences of Life, or the Mind a rea- 
 fonable fatisfaction. 'Tis certain, that the idea of a 
 Convent is agreeable to one who feeks innocence 
 andrepofe -, but *tis a hard matter to find there the 
 contentment one fancied. If he does, which hap- 
 pens very rarely, he does not enjoy it long ; and 
 the beft caution one can ufe againft entering into a 
 Monaftery, is to confider that the generality of 
 A a 4 thofe 
 
 * Luifa-Franclfca dt Gufman, Daughter to the Duke of Mt~ 
 dina Sidonia t and Wife to Don Juan Duke tf Braganfa, who 
 afterwards became King tf Portugal, Sht dud the i8th of ft* 
 truary 1666. 
 
 ' Dondlfonfo.
 
 37* THE WORKS OF 
 
 thofe religious perfons continue there with regret, 
 and get out from thence, when they can, with joy. 
 
 I could wifh we had eftablifh'd Societies, where 
 Gentlemen might commodioufly retire, after they 
 have done the publick all the fervice they were 
 able. When they were once enter'd here, whether 
 out of a confideration of their future ftate, a diflike 
 of the World, or a defire of Tranquillity, after fo 
 many different agitations of fortune, they might 
 tafte the delight of a pious Retreat, and the inno- 
 cent pleafure of virtuous and agreeable converfa- 
 tion : but in this place of repofe, I would have no 
 other Rules than thofe of Christianity, which are 
 generally receiv'd every where. And indeed, we 
 have ills enough to fuffer, and fins to commit, 
 without creating new torments, and new crimes, 
 by new Inflitutions. *Tis a piece of folly, to feek 
 far from Court, a Retreat where a man will live 
 with more hardfhip, and damn himfelf with more 
 cafe, than in the converfation of men. 
 
 I hate the aufterity of thofe, who, to enlarge 
 duty, leave no room for good-will : they make all 
 center in the necefTity of obeying, without any 
 other realbn, than conftantly to exercife our obe- 
 dience -, and, becaufe they ftill delight in enjoying 
 their power. Now, I don't like fubjedion to their 
 fancy ; and am only for docility to a wife and dif- 
 creet conduct. It is not reafonable, that the fmall 
 remainder of liberty, which Nature preferves from 
 the laws of Politicks and Religion, mould be 
 wholly loft in the Inftitudons of thefe new Legif- 
 lators ; and that perfons who enter a Monaftery, 
 thro* the notion of eafe and repofe, mould find 
 nothing there but flavery and pain. 
 
 As for my felf, were I in fuch a place, I would 
 freely make ihift without delights, at an age when 
 a man's relim of pleafures is, as it were, extin- 
 guifli'dj but then I would have all conveniences,
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 377 
 
 at a time when we more fenfibly feel whatever 
 offends us, as in proportion we become lefs nice 
 in the puriuit of what pleafes us, or are lefs tender 
 in relation to what affects us. Thefe conveniences, 
 defirable in old Age, ought to be as far remov'd 
 from plenty, that caufes perplexity, as from want, 
 which creates anxiety. To explain my thoughts 
 more clearly, I would have in a Convent, a cleanly 
 and well-manag'd frugality ; where God mould not 
 be look'd upon as a morofe Mafter, who forbids 
 agreeable things, becaufe they are pleafmg ; but 
 where nothing mould pleafe found minds, but 
 what's juft, or entirely innocent. 
 
 When Monfieur F o u QJJ E T was in prifon, the 
 Marefchal DE CLEREMBAUT had his head full 
 of thefe thoughts about Retirement. " How 
 " happy might a Man live, /aid be, in a Society, 
 " where he could diveft fortune of that jurifdidion 
 te me pretends to have over him ! We facrifice to 
 " this fortune, our eftates, our repofe, our years, 
 " perhaps unprofitably ; and if we arrive to poflfels 
 " its favours, we purchafe the fhort-liv'd enjoy- 
 " ment, fometimes at the expence of our liberty, 
 " and fometimes of our lives. . But, fuppofe all 
 " our grcatnefs mould continue as long as we liv*d, 
 " yet it would at lead expire with our felves. And 
 " what ufe of their Grandeur have thofe great 
 " Favourites made, who never beheld the courfe 
 " of their fortune interrupted? Don't they feem 
 " to have acquirM this mighty ftock of glory, and 
 ** to have heap'd thefe prodigious riches for no 
 " other end, than to make themfelves more fen- 
 " fible of the torment of being neither able to quit 
 " nor keep them ?" This was his ufual difcourfe 
 for a whole month we were together ; and that 
 agreeable Courtier, whofe converfation was the 
 mceft delight his friends enjoy'd, fuffer'd himfelf to 
 
 be
 
 378 THE WORKS OF 
 
 be entirely polTefs'd with this train of thoughts, 
 fometimes judicious, but always melancholy. 
 
 I confefs there is a certain time when the wifeft 
 a6tion we can do, is to quit the World : but as 
 fully perfuaded as I am of -this truth, I fliould in- 
 finitely fooner be directed by Nature to retirement, 
 than by my Reafon. 'Tis by the impulfe of the 
 former, that in the midft of the World, I live 
 ROW after fuch a fafhion, as if I were retir'd out of 
 it. I ftill continue in it, as far as I feek what 
 pleafes me ; and am ftili out of it, as far as I 
 avoid whatever incommodes me there. Every day 
 I fteal away from acquaintances that weary, and 
 converfations that tire me. Every day I entertain 
 my felf in a fweet Commerce with my Friends, 
 and find the moft fenfible pleafure in their com- 
 pany. 
 
 After my way of living, I neither enjoy a full 
 Society, nor a perfect Retirement. 'Tis only an 
 innocent confining of my felf to thofe delights, 
 which beft agree with my inclinations. Difgufted 
 with grofs Vice, and offended by the practice of too 
 rigid Virtue, I pofTefs all thofe harmlefs pleafures 
 that are moft fuitable to the repofe of old Age, 
 and affect me in proportion to what I am capable 
 of relifhing with Satisfaction. 
 
 When we approach our fatal Urn, 
 And Life's decreafing lamp does feebly burn, 
 Nature to innocence inclin'd, 
 Purfues the pleafures of the mind : 
 And me, whofe fierce impetuous heat 
 Fir'd ev'ry vein, now feeks a bleft Retreat. 
 'Tis true, when Love*s no more, 
 Our brighteft Days are o'er ; 
 
 But
 
 M. DE ST, EVREMOND. 379 
 
 But when our fcorching Noon is paft, 
 Soft Ev'ning's gentler light fucceeds at laft ; 
 Then gladly we forget th' intemperate blaze, 
 Reafon prevails o'er rage, and folid judgment fways. 
 
 A 
 
 V L E T T E R 
 
 O F 
 
 M. DE LA FONTAINE 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF BOUILLON', 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 WE begin here to murmur againft the En- 
 glim, for detaining you fo long among 
 them. 'Tis my propofal, that they mail furrender 
 you to France, before the end of Autumn ; and 
 that we give them, by way of exchange, two or 
 three Ifles in the Ocean. If nothing but my own 
 
 Frivate fatisfaction were concern' d in this matter, 
 mould not grudge to give up the Ocean it felf to 
 them : but after all, perhaps we have more reafon 
 to complain of your Sifter, than of England. 'Tis 
 
 not 
 
 1 The Dutcheft of bouillon was Sifter to the Dutchefs of Ma> 
 %,arin This Letter was written in September 1687.
 
 380 THE WORKS OF 
 
 not in our power to part with Madam M A z A R i N, 
 whenever we pleafe. You are both of you en- 
 compas'd with every thing that makes the reil of 
 the World be eafily forgotten ; I mean with en- 
 chantments and graces of all kinds : 
 
 Love's Goddefs look'd not half fo gay, ^ 
 
 On that important lucky day, > 
 
 When Beauty's prize me bore away : 3 
 
 Tho (he appear'd in all her pride, 
 With Cupid's dancing by her fide= 
 Now mould the fame difpute arife, -p 
 
 The univerfal language of all eyes S. 
 
 To you wou'd foon adjudge the prize. 3 
 
 The Paphian Shepherds boaft in vain, ^ 
 
 Of VENUS, and her gaudy train, J> 
 
 But who cou'd not in Paphos reign ? 3 
 
 Where e'er you pleafe your courfe to bend, 
 Pleafure, Mirth, and Love attend. 
 To fome Sarmatian quarter go, O 
 
 Cover'd with everlafting Snow , > 
 
 Where balmy Zephires never yet did blow ; j 
 The face of Nature ftrait will fmile, 
 Unbidden grafs will cloath the wandring foil : 
 And where your fteps the naked furface greet, 
 Rofes fpring up to kifs your feet. 
 
 I am inform'd that your Highnefs is admired by 
 all England for your wit, your behaviour, and a 
 thoufand other qualities that charm diem. This 
 is fo much the more glorious for you, becaufe the 
 Englifti are not the readied people in the world 
 to admire Foreigners. I have only obferved that 
 they know true merit, and are pleas'd with it. 
 
 * Your
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 38J 
 
 Your Philofopher was exceedingly furpriz'd, 
 when he was told that DESCARTES was not 
 the inventor of this Syftem, which we call the Ma- 
 chine of Animals ; but that a Spaniard had difco- 
 ver'd it before him *. Tho he had not receivM 
 the leaft proof of this matter of fact, yet for all 
 that I mould eafily believe it , for I know of none 
 but a Spaniard, that is able to build fuch a Caftle 
 in the air as this. So I difcover every day fome 
 opinion or other of DESCARTES fcatter'd up and 
 down in the Writings of the Antients i and parti- 
 cularly this, that there are no real Colours in the 
 univerfe : they are only fo many different effects 
 of light upon a different fuperficies. Adieu now to 
 the lilies and rofes of our A M Y N T A s. There 
 is no fuch thing as a white (kin, or black hair : 
 our paflion has nothing for its foundation but a 
 body without Colours: and after all this, mall I 
 make Verfes upon the principal Beauty of Women ? 
 
 Thofe Gentleman that don't fufficiently know- 
 how far your Highnefs's knowledge reaches, and 
 the defire you have to be capable of underlianding 
 every thing, without any other trouble, than only 
 hearing it difcours'd of at your table ; will per- 
 haps call my judgment in queftion, for entertaining 
 you thus with matters of Philofophy : but I muft 
 inform them that every fubject fuits with your ca- 
 pacity, as doth every Book, provided it be a good 
 one. 
 
 No Writers are to you unknown, 
 
 Nor fubjects that they write upon. 
 
 You hear each fyllable they fay, 
 
 While with your Birds and Dogs you play. 
 
 Than 
 See M, Bayle's Dictionary in the Article of Fereira.
 
 82 ? H E WORKS OF 
 
 Than the fam'd Roman you do more, 
 Who dictated at once to four. 
 
 This fame worthy perfon, as I take it, was 
 JULIUS CESAR, who, as we read, made four 
 feveral difpatches all at once, upon four different 
 fubjecls. You are nothing inferior to him in this 
 refpect ; and I remember, that as I was a reading 
 to you fome Verfes one morning, I found you very 
 attentive at the fame time, to what I read, and to 
 three quarrels of your Dogs. 'Tis true, they were 
 ready to ftrangle one another : JUPITER/^ 
 Reconciler^ could not fo happily have accommodated 
 this affair. Let people judge by this, Madam, 
 what a comprehenfive genius you have, and how 
 far your penetration may reach, when it is only 
 employ'd upon one fubjec~t. You pafs your judg- 
 ment upon a thoufand forts of Works, and your 
 judgment is never in the wrong. 
 
 To you the ferious and the gay, 
 
 To you the tender and fublime, 
 
 Their humble adorations pay, 
 
 The fov'reign judge of Profe arid Rhimc. 
 
 Fable and Hift'ry to you fue ; 
 
 But what can Fable do for you ? 
 
 The Rev'rend Bards of Antient Rome, 
 
 With joy to your Tribunal come : 
 
 And all that France has feen of late, 
 
 From your decifive Vote receives its fate. 
 
 You nothing want t j increafe your {lore, 
 
 And Phcebus cannot give you more. 
 
 Thus
 
 M. DE ST. fi V R JE M O N B. 38$ 
 
 Thus 'mong the numerous crowds that fue, 
 And prefs to make their Court to you ; 
 ANACREON (hall in perfon come, 
 From your fair lips to take his doom. 
 WALLER, ST. EVREMOND, and I, 
 Will join to keep you company. 
 Who wou'd ANACREON turn away, 
 Always youthful, always gay ? 
 Or who wou'd e'er refufe to fee 
 WALLER, ST. EVREMOND, and Me ? 
 
 Tho his refiftlefs power to mow, 
 Time on their heads has fliowr'd down fnCJw : 
 What Bards, in great A P o L L o's quire 
 Can boaft a more enlivening fire ? 
 What Mufe with eafier plenty flows 
 Than ours, or fewer wrinkles fhews ? 
 
 Let Janfenifts, long ufed to preach, 
 Their dull and ufelefs Maxims teach ; 
 You'll ftill A N AC R E ON'S Lyre efteem, 
 And fuch as ftrive to write like him : 
 You, to whofe penetrating Wit 
 All Authors chearfully fubmit. 
 
 Now I have mentioned ANACREON, I am al- 
 moft in mind to invoke his Ghoft ; but upon 
 fecond thoughts, I think it will be better to raife 
 him up for good and all. To effect this, I will 
 find out fome Gymnofophift, I mean one of thofe 
 Gentlemen whom APOLLONIUS TYANEUS 
 went to fee. He learnt fo many fine things of them, 
 that he rais'd a young Woman from the dead. I 
 
 Ihall
 
 384 TrtE WORKS OF 
 
 fhall raife an old Poet. You, and Madam M A z A- 
 RIN, fhall call us together. We will meet in 
 England, Mr. WALLER, Monfieur DE ST. 
 EVREMOND, the merry old Greek, and my 
 felf. Do you think, Madam, 'tis poffible to find 
 four Poets better match'd together ? What a merry 
 fight will it be to fee us four Bards, who make up 
 at leaft three hundred Years between us, 
 
 Our heads with rofy Chaplets crown'd, 
 Dance and trip it on the ground* 
 In grateful Hymns and praifes join, 
 To celebrate the God of Wine. 
 
 After fuch a meeting, and when I have fent 
 ANACREON back to the Elyfian Fields, I will de- 
 mand of you my audience of leave. 'Tis conve- 
 nient, that before this, I fee five or fix Englifh 
 Gentlemen, and as many Englifh Ladies : ( if re- 
 port fpeaks true, the latter are richly worth the 
 feeing,). I will put our AmbafTadour 3 in mind of 
 the new Street Des Petits-Champs, and of the de- 
 votion I have always had for him. I will defire him, 
 as alfo Monfieur DE BoNREPAux 4 , to honour 
 me with a Difpatch. Thus Madam, I have told 
 you almoft all the bufmefs that will take me up in 
 England. I had alfo framed a defign to convert 
 Madam HE RVART, Madam DE GOUVERNET, 
 and my Lady ELAND; becaufe they are perfons I 
 exceedingly honour : but I am inform'd, that they 
 are not yet in a difpofition to be wrought upon ; 
 
 and 
 
 3 Monfieur de Barillon, who VHU the French King's Arnlajfn- 
 dour in England. 
 
 * He had been fent to King Barnes to negotiate fome Affairs 
 with him.
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. $8$ 
 
 and I, Madam, like PERRIN DANDIN*, am 
 juil good for nothing, till both parties are weary of 
 contefting longer. There's one thing indeed, I 
 fhould defire above all things in the world, which 
 is, that you would procure me the honour to pay 
 my devoirs to the King 6 , but I dare not flatter my 
 felf of that happinefs. He's fo deferving a Mo- 
 narch, that it's worth any man's while to crpfs the 
 Sea oh purpofe to fee him ; fo great a pafiion he 
 exprefies for glory, and fo many royal qualities is 
 he mafter of, which recommend a Prince. There 
 are but few that poflefs the former of thefe talents, 
 tho thofe who are placed in fo eminent a poft, 
 ought never to be without it. 
 
 True grandeur, and the art to reigri, 
 Are no wild phantoms of the brain. 
 This Britain's active Monarch mows, -\ 
 
 Whofe life no lazy moments knows, 
 
 And fcorns inglorious repofe. 3 
 
 His bufy genius, like the foul, 
 Infpires and animates the whole. 
 While happy Albion, by his care, 
 Does wealth, and peace, and plenty (hare. 
 Not Lovers run with haftier feet, 
 Their charming Miftreffes to meet, 
 Than condefcending JAMES does drive 
 Safety to all, and eafe to give. 
 Thus his reno'wn he does advance, 
 But the fair model took from France. 
 He traces LEWIS, whofe vaft foul 
 Has made him fam'd from pole to pole : 
 Vol. II. Bb Whofc 
 
 * See Rabelais, Book uL Cbaf. j*. 
 *
 
 386 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Whofe Conquefts and exploits divine, 
 Will in all future Annals mine. 
 Let not my Mufe this Theme profane, 
 But to her fheep return again. 
 
 Thefe Sbeep, Madam, under favour, are your 
 Highnefs and Madam M A z A R i N. And here I 
 have a proper opportunity to make her Panegyrick 
 in order to join it with yours ; but as thefe forts of 
 parallels are dangerous things, I am of opinion, 
 'twill be much better to let it alone. 
 
 Like Sifters you love, and the fovereign fway 
 Between you divide, while your fubjects obey : 
 But I'll no difpute about preference raife, 
 Since nothing's fo nice to be parted as praife. 
 Were T u L L Y now living, whofe eloquent vein 
 Did the hearts of the people and Senators gain, 
 His Rhet'rick would fail in fuch matters as thefe, 
 Two Heroes, two Wits, and two Beauties to pleafe. 
 
 I am with a profound Refpect, 
 
 A N
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 387 
 
 A N 
 
 ANSWER 
 
 B Y 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND, 
 
 T O THE 
 
 LETTER 
 
 Of Monfieur DE LA FONTAINE 
 Tothe*Dutchefsof BOUILLON. 
 
 JF you had been as fenfibly touched with the 
 merits of Madam DE BOUILLON, as we arc 
 arm*d by them, you had certainly accompanied 
 her into England, where you would have found 
 feveral Ladies that know you as well by your Works, 
 as Madam DE LA SABLIERE knows you by 
 your Converfation. They have not had the pleafure 
 of feeing you, which they fo earneftly defired ; but 
 then they have had the fatisfaction of reading your 
 Letter, that has Gallantry and Wit enough to make 
 even VOITURE himfelf jealous, were he now 
 alive. Madam DE BOUILLON, Madam M A- 
 z A R i N, and the AmbafTador, were refolvcd that 
 Bb 2 I
 
 3 88 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 I fhould make fome fort of an Anfwer to it. The 
 attempt is difficult, however I will do my beft to 
 obey them. 
 
 Kings in religious filence I'll adore, 
 
 How can the Mufe increafe their (lore ? 
 
 And in thofe living images of Jove, 
 
 What can me elfe but laughter move ? 
 
 To think that we a Monarch raife 
 
 By ftale hyperbole's, and borrow'd praife ; 
 
 'Tis to deprefs the facred Theme, 
 
 'Tis not to praife, but to blafpheme. 
 
 Their laws I'll chearfully obey, "* 
 
 And to their wills fubmiflion pay ; S> 
 
 But more than this, what need I fay ? j 
 
 Their early fame, without my toil, 
 
 Has pafs'd the Ganges, and the Nile : 
 
 And vifited dull barb'rous climes, 
 
 Unknown to Poetry and rhimes: 
 
 Deaf to the trifles we rehearfe, 
 
 They fcdrn the tribute of our Veffe, 
 
 Madam DE BOVILLON may be very well 
 without my profe, after me has read the handfome 
 Panegyrick which you fent her. However, I can- 
 not forbear to fay, that there are inimitable graces 
 in every thing fhe does, and in every thing me 
 fays; that (he Is no lefs happy in her acquired, 
 than natural endowments ; and that her knowledge 
 is equal to her other charms. In her ordinary Con- 
 verfation, me always difputes with wit , and often 
 (to my Ihame I own it) with reafon ; but a reafon 
 fo lively, that indifferent judges take it for paflion, 
 and even the niceft would be hardly able to di- 
 r*v, ftinguifh 

 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 389 
 
 ftinguifh it from anger in any perfon lefs amiable 
 than her felf. 
 
 I will pafs over in filence the chapter of Madam 
 MAZARIN, like that of the Kings, and content 
 my felf to adore her in fecret. Endeavour, Sir, 
 for all you are fo great a Poet, to form the brighteft 
 idea of Beauty to your felf, and in fpite of the ut- 
 moft efforts of your wit, you will be amamed of 
 the dulnefs of your imagination, when you behold 
 a perfon fo admirable. 
 
 Give o'er ye Sons of art give o'er, 
 The radiant fubject profecute no more, 
 The mod exalted things you teach, 
 Cannot her Jeaft perfections reach. 
 Tall metaphors in vain you chufe, 
 In vain the gaudieft figures ufe : 
 You only flatter Titan's ray, 
 When you compare it to her brighter day. 
 
 Oh ! beauteous HELEN, Sparta's pride ! 
 Quit not old Lethe's peaceful fide, 
 Where your majeftick made does reign : 
 'Twou'd but, alas ! increafe your pain, 
 If you the bright Ho R T E N s i A faw, 
 To all mankind prefcribing law. 
 
 Should Heaven your former Charms reftore, 
 And fend you to the world once more, 
 You'd curfe the Sun, and hate the light, 
 That brought HORTENSIAW your fight. 
 
 In antient night's dark Realms below, 
 Where the dull ftreams forget to flow, 
 
 Bb 3 You
 
 T H E W O R K S O F 
 
 You may beguile the lazy hours, 
 With Fights, Adventures, and Amours ; 
 And how great HECTOR fought may tell, 
 And how the dire ACHILLES fell. 
 Thofe old Romantick Tales of Troy 
 May give diverfion, tho they give no joy. 
 
 But what ftrange tempefts in your foul muft 
 
 rife, 
 
 To fee H o R T E N s i A bear the prize ! 
 To fee her glitt'ring on the plain, 
 Command the heart of every fwain ! 
 While you pofiefs'd by black defpair, 
 To rev'rend HOMER mull repair, 
 And fome Dutch Author's works turn o'er, 
 To find thofe Graces that are now no more. 
 
 Oh beauteous HELEN! Sparta's pride ! 
 Quit not old Lethe's peaceful fide. 
 Content near peaceful Lethe dwell. 
 Content with Empire, tho in Hell. 
 
 And ye fam'd Beauties of the Seine, 
 Who in H o R T E N s i A'S abfence reign, 
 Join to prevent her coming home : 
 Whene'er Ihe touches Gallia's fhore ? 
 Your fwains will vifit you no more. 
 But to her fairer Altar come. 
 
 *' What means this rambling (luff, you cry, 
 f c HEL EN and Lethe, Greece, and Troy. 
 " This frequent fliifting of the fcene, 
 .?,* Of Earth and Hell, what does it mean ?
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 39! 
 
 Oh FONTAINE! if H o R T E N s i A'S praife 
 
 you'll fing, 
 
 The boldeft fable with you bring : 
 Low common truths her charms impair ; 
 From vulgar incenfe me will fly : 
 For godlike Heroes, and the godlike Fair, 
 Fiction it felf can't foar too high. 
 
 The folidity of my Lord Ambafiador, has made 
 him very indifferent to all praifes : but whatever 
 rigour he mews to his own merit ; however fevcre 
 he is to himfelf, he cannot but be fecretly pleafed 
 with what you have writ in his favour. I could 
 wifli my Letter would be fo happy as to have the 
 fame fucceis with you. 
 
 All the true wifdom you poflefs, 
 That helps to make life's burden lefs : 
 Join'd with the folid force of age, 
 The fire of youth, but not its rage. 
 
 Having mention'd your Wit, I am obliged to 
 fay fomething of your Morals. 
 
 With chearful fteps to follow fate, 
 
 And fcorn the tinfel fplendour of the great j 
 
 That painted meteor to defpife, 
 
 Which only fots call Wit, and coxcombs prize ; 
 
 In Verfe and Mufick, Wine and Play, 
 
 To pafs an inoffenfive life away ; 
 
 Makes you Death's bitter draught defy ; 
 
 J5y living thus, you learn with eafe to die. 
 
 B b 4 Mr
 
 392 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Mr. WA L L E R, whofe lofs we fo much regret, 
 preferv'd the flame and vigour of his wit to the 
 eighty fecond year of his age *. 
 
 "While gloomy damps my foul opprefs'd, 
 With fcarce a glimpfe of comfort blefs'd, 
 Thus to my felf I fighing cry'd : 
 "With WA L L E R every Mufe had dy'd, 
 Had not FONTAINE his room fupply'd. 
 
 S. 
 3 
 
 Oh fecond ORPHEUS! whofe prevailing art 
 Can foften P LU T o's iron heart, 
 Now all the charms of harmony employ, 
 Now all your lyrick forces try, 
 And from thofe dreary manfions WA L L E R call 
 Whither refiitleis fate will fend us all. 
 
 But we are allowed to afk thefe forts of confola- 
 tions no where but in Poetry : we know to our 
 grief, that no merit whatever can exempt men 
 from the fatal neceflity of dying; and that no 
 charm, no prayer, no forrow, has efficacy enough 
 to reftore them to the world, when once they are 
 gone out of it. 
 
 Cou'd Virtue its poflefibrs fave, 
 
 Or Wit exempt us from the grave, 
 
 WAL LE R wou'd ftill enjoy the light, 
 
 And blefs Britannia with his fight : 
 
 WA L L E R, in whom PETRONIUS liv*d again, 
 
 The niceft judge of Pleafure and of Men. 
 
 1 Mr. Waller died the Zifl of Oflt&er 1^87. He was torn 
 ike )d of March 1*05.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 I pafs now from my regrets for Mr. WA LL E R'S 
 Mufe, to my good wifhes for yours. 
 
 Long may your Mufe, enjoying happy eafe, 
 The wond'ring world inftruft and pleafe : 
 May me fee many rolling years, 
 Frefh as the laurel wreath (he wears. 
 
 But 'tis not reafonable that I fhould make fb 
 many vows for others, without putting up a fhort 
 petition for my fel 
 
 Since Beauty's Queen does not difdain 
 The fervice of my (lender vein, 
 Let my fubmiflion to her will, 
 The place of other merits fill. 
 Let her bright eyes that have fo long 
 Prefer v*d my life, infpire my fong. 
 If (he'll vouchfafe on me to mine, 
 Good night APOLLO and the Nine. 
 
 M.
 
 394 THE WORKS OF 
 
 M. DE LA FONTAINE'S 
 
 ia i.A N S W E R 
 
 T O 
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 TH O all the Mufes fhou'd combine, 
 And EVREMOND thofe fillers join ; 
 They cou'd not with their fofteft drains 
 Or eafe my grief, or charm my pains. 
 A Rheumatiiin, the Devil's invention, 
 Nurft up in hell with dire intention, 
 Does jade my Body, cramp my Soul, 
 And all its faculties controul. 
 No intervals of pain I know, 
 No flattering thoughts deceive my woe. 
 Sleep I invoke with mournful cries, 
 But fleep my wearied eye-lids flies. 
 
 Two Nymphs of different charms pofieft, 
 With gay ideas fill your breaft. 
 HORTENSIA chiefly does infufe, 
 New life and vigour in your Mufe. 
 Had Nature nothing for you done, 
 HORTENSIA wou'd fuffice alone, 
 !*/f 
 
 While
 
 M. DK ST. EVREMOND. 395 
 
 While you the pleafmg game purfue, 
 To Verfes I muft bid adieu, 
 Till the kind Spring, with cowflips crown'd, 
 Unthaws my fancy and the ground. 
 
 This ic is, Sir, that has hinder'd me from return- 
 ing you my thanks fo foon as I ought to have 
 done, for the honour you did me in writing to 
 me. The lefs I deferv'd fo obliging a Letter, the 
 more fenfible I ought to be of the favour. You 
 commend me for my Poetry and my Morals, and 
 that with fo good a grace, that Morals greatly 
 fuffer by it, that is to fay, Modefty. 
 
 Not India with its rich perfumes, 
 Its fpicy (lores, and boafted gums 
 That Priefts in facred temples ufe, 
 Equals the incenfe of your Mufe. 
 Who, without pride and pleafure too, 
 Can hear the praife that comes from you, 
 To whom the ready world fubmit, 
 Standard of Authors, judge of Wit ! 
 If any tafte my genius mews, 
 To your nice rule that tafte it owes. 
 I mean in part ; for Vo i TU R E'S eafe, 
 Did next inftrudt me how to pleafe : 
 M A R o T too, juftly claims a (hare : 
 You three my honoured Matters are. 
 
 I forgot my Mafter FRANCIS, whofe Difciple 
 I dill profefs my felf, as likewife Mafter VIN- 
 CENT'S and Mafter C L E M E N T'S f . I think here 
 are Matters enough in all confcience for a Scholar of 
 
 my 
 
 * f ranch toibtlais t Vincent Vo\twt> and Clanent Marot.
 
 395 THE WORKS OF 
 
 my age. As I have no extraordinary talent at 
 Raillery, wherein you excel, I'll come and learn 
 leflbns of you on the banks of Hippocrene, (provi- 
 ded, Sir, we have plenty of bottles there a cooling). 
 We wiM be furrounded with Nymphs, and the 
 young Jons of Parnaffus, who mall fet down in 
 their Table-books the lead things you fay. I fee 
 them from hence, learning in your fchooi to judge 
 of every thing with nicenels and penetration. 
 
 The men of niceft tafte, and jufteft wit, 
 
 To your tribunal readily fubmit ; 
 
 But I'll your merits filently admire, 
 
 As you HORTENSIA'S happy charms and fire. 
 
 At the very fame place, where you tell me that 
 you will pay a fecret adoration to thefe three Pow- 
 ers, Madam M A z A R i N, and the two Kings ; 
 you make me her Portra'fcture, by telling me 'tis 
 impofllble to do it, and by giving me leave to re- 
 prefent to my imagination all the Beauties and Gra- 
 ces I can think of. If I were fo ram as to attempt 
 it, you defy, in her name, both Truth and Fable, 
 and all the moft agreeable ideas we can form in our 
 minds, I mould make my court but ill to you, 
 mould I fuflfer my felf to be beaten back and awed 
 by fuch difficulties. We ought to reprefent your He- 
 roine to you as well as we are able. This enterprize 
 is fomewhat too large for one of my narrow genius 
 to undertake, and wou'd be much fitter for you than 
 my felf, whom the world has hitherto believed to 
 be able to draw nothing but Animals -. However, 
 in order to pleafe you, and to make this Portraic- 
 ture come up to the life as near as I can, I have run 
 
 over 
 
 * Monftewr de la Fontaine hath admirably well tranjlated Efop'* 
 Fables into Frtnch Verfe*
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 397 
 
 over the Country of the Mufes, but cou'd find no- 
 thing in effect, but old expreflions among them, 
 which you fay the world defpifes. From thence I 
 travell'd to the Land of the Graces, where I fell 
 into the fame inconvenience. Jefts and fmiles are 
 a fort of Gallantry more threadbare than the other, 
 and you are much better acquainted with them 
 than I. Thus, the beft I can do, is only to lay, 
 that in your Heroine nothing is wanting of that 
 which pleafes, and of that which pleafes too much. 
 
 To bright HORTENSIA, Fate's indulgent care 
 
 Has given a free, but winning Air : 
 
 The force of Wit, and blooming Beauty's pride, 
 
 With thoufand namelefs Charms befide : 
 
 Where'er the bufy fun enlightens day, 
 
 H o R T E N s i A'S eyes have fov'reign fway. 
 
 Oh EVREMOND! chief leader of the train, 
 That fair H o R T E N s i A'S crown maintain, 
 In lading Numbers, and harmonious Lays 
 Begin to celebrate her praife. 
 Why mould I P H OE B u s, or the Mufe*s name ? 
 You'll do more juftice to her fame. 
 
 What will you fay now to a defign that is juft 
 come into my head ? Since you wifh that the Glo- 
 ry of Madam M A z A R i N fill'd all the univerfe, 
 and I for my part defire that the Fame of Madam 
 DE BOUILLON might yet go farther, let neither 
 of us deep till we have put fo fine an enterprize in 
 execution. Let us make our felves Knights of the 
 round 'Table ; and it happens well enough that this 
 fort of Chivalry began firft in England. We will 
 have two magnificent Tents ereded at our own char- 
 ges
 
 39 8 THE WORKS OF 
 
 ges, and above thefe two tents, the Portraitures of 
 the two Divinities whom we adore. 
 
 At the foot of fome bridge, or the fide of a wood, 
 The Heralds mall publifh this Challenge aloud: 
 
 Great MARIANA and HORTENSIA fee, 
 She without equal, without fecondjhe. 
 Born high above their fex, unrivall'd ftand. 
 And all the hearts of all the world demand. 
 
 If your opinion finds belief, 
 
 HORTENSIA will be reckon'd chief: 
 
 But MARIAN A*ll turn the fcale, 
 
 If my fmall intereft can prevail. 
 
 This is agreed on either hand, 
 
 One of the two muft every heart command. 
 
 But what, if to prevent all jars, 
 And ill effects of civil wars, 
 We choofe a mediator ftraight, 
 To reconcile this grand debate ? 
 He that between two Kings did matters clear 
 Will fure be thought a proper umpire here *. 
 
 We will ftay till the return of the Spring, and that 
 of my Health , otherwife I mail be forcM to feek 
 out ftrange Adventures in a litter. People will call 
 me the Knight of tke Rheumatifm ; a name, which, 
 as I take it, doth not fo well fuit with a Knight Er- 
 rant. Heretofore, when ail feafbns of the year 
 were alike to me, I wou'd have embarqu'd without 
 any more ado. But now the cafe is aher'd : 
 
 CUP ID 
 
 3 The Trenc-h Amba$Ador
 
 M. BE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 Cu P i D, who as the ftory goes, 
 Once prick'd his fingers with a rofe, 
 In a fad tone, and doleful ftrain, 
 Did of the puny fmart complain. 
 How wou'd his little Godlhip fwear, 
 Did he my murd'ring torments bear ? 
 Ev'n Love, with all its boafted pain, 
 Is nothing to what I fuftain. 
 
 We have fuffer'd a mighty lofs in the Death of 
 Mr. WA L L E R : he fhould have made one of our 
 company, had he been living. Perhaps I ought 
 not to have introduced him into a Letter, fo little 
 ferious as this is : however, I think my felf obliged 
 to give you an account of what has happen'd to 
 him on the other fide of the Lake of Oblivion. 
 You will look upon this as a Dream, and perhaps 
 'tis no better : however, the whim is got into my 
 head, and fuch as it is, I leave it with you. 
 
 Between the Wits, the Lovers, and the Wife, 
 A warm dilpute did in Elyfium rife. 
 Each fide to WA L L E R did pretend, 
 Each fide wou'd WA L L E R have their friertti. 
 
 Tou well-bred Shades, great PLUTO faid, 
 
 / have your fever al reafons weigh* d : 
 Four talents did in WA L L E R Jhine, 
 Wifdom^ and Eloquence divine^ 
 And charming Verfe^ and Love's foft flame : 
 Which of you then does WA L L E R claim ? 
 
 Oh fovereign PLUTO, Miniftcr of Fate, 
 This cafe admits of no debate.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 If thefe four gifts did WA L L E R grace, 
 Love ought to challenge the firft place. 
 For Love, when once it has infpir*d the breaft, 
 Is the great art that teaches all the reft. 
 
 To return now to what you tell me of my Mo- 
 rals, I am very glad that you have fo good an opi- 
 nion of 'em. I am no lefs an enemy than you to 
 that falfe Wit upon which our Libertines value thenv 
 felves. Whoever affects it, I mail make no fcruplc 
 to yield him the better in ridicule. 
 
 Since my day's fpent fo near the night, 
 Why mould I beat my brains to write ? 
 "* 'Tis better far with bufy look 
 To view the world's amazing book : 
 And Nature's myflick fprings to know, 
 And the vaft mind that all controuls below. 
 
 When this is done, what mou'd deny 
 To take our fill of harmlefs joy ? 
 Joy we may tafte a thoufand ways, 
 And ftill find fomething new to pleafe. 
 Whether by fome cool river's fide 
 We fee the wanton waters glide, 
 The fifties fport, and fun-beams gay 
 On the fmooth liquid furface play. 
 Or feek fome lonely Sylvan made, 
 Or glimm'ring bower, or ruffet glade, 
 Where the dark horrors of the wood 
 Solemn thoughts infpire, and good. 
 Sometimes at table when we dine, 
 We may diflblve our cares in Wine, 
 
 And
 
 M. D E St. E V R E M O N D. 401; 
 
 And o'er the generous Nectar fporc, 
 And laugh at City and at Court. 
 And fometimes too a new Amour, 
 May ferve to pafs an idle hour : 
 Long with the Fair we mud not flay* 
 But from the charmer part away. 
 Love does unfeen the flame impart, 
 And finds an eafy pafTage to the hearts 
 
 But is't not, worthy friend, high time 
 To chafe the C E L i A'S from my rhime, 
 When the grave City is preparing, 
 To give our Damfels Indian airing 4 ? 
 Oh that that my perfecuting pain, 
 Wou'd with thefe Laffes crofs the main. 
 
 Cruel difeafe ! old Saturn's fon, 
 Quit this abode, and get thee gone 1 
 Some lazy Prelate's limbs invade, 
 Or Lawyer batt'ning on his trade. 
 Or with thy dire attendants wait, 
 On fome dull Minifter of State. 
 But why, thy vifits never timing, 
 Should'ft thou intrude to fpoil my rhiming ? 
 The devil a Verfe can from me creep, 
 But fhews what company I keep. 
 
 If this be thy felonious aim, 
 To chill my Mufe, and damp her flame, 
 Vol. II. C c Prithee 
 
 * At the time when Monfeur de la Fontaine -writ this Letttr t 
 they took up, at Paris, as many Women of pleafure as they could 
 find out, in order to fend them to tht French Colonies in the Wtjl* 
 Indies.
 
 4 o2 THE WORKS OF 
 
 Prithee to fome new hoft repair, 
 And all this needlefs trouble fpare. 
 In few months more, without thy aid, 
 Old age will fpoil me for that trade. 
 
 Madam DE LA SABLIERE thinks her felf ex- 
 tremely honoured, that you have been pleas'd to 
 remember her, and defires me to thank you for it. 
 I hope that this will fupply the place of a recom- 
 mendation with you, and more readily obtain me 
 the honour of your friendlhip. I requeft and beg 
 you, Sir, to believe that no man in the world is 
 more fincerely yours, than I, who am, Your, fcfc. 
 
 Partt, December 
 18. i<8?. 
 
 1
 
 M. D E ST. E V R E M O N D. 403 
 
 A 
 
 JUDGMENT 
 
 ON THE THREE 
 
 ACCOUNTS OF S I A M, 
 
 A N D O N 
 
 CONFUCIUS'S BOOK. 
 
 TO ; 
 
 M. L E F E V R E, M.D. 
 
 IHave carefully read the three Accounts of Siam 9 
 which you fent me ; and my opinion of the 
 Authors is as follows. 
 
 The Chevalier DE CHAUMONT' gives us but 
 a lame account of the Nations he faw : for, being 
 fo taken up with his own Character, he could nei- 
 ther fatisfy his own curiofity in travelling, nor an- 
 fwer our expectations at his return. But whoever 
 afpires at the honour of an Etribafiy, cannot have 
 a better mafter than him, for learning the ftate and 
 C c 2 nicety 
 
 1 Relation de I'Ambaffade de M.de Chaumont a la Cour da 
 Roi de SittD, or. fnnttd in the year 1686.
 
 404 THE WORKS OF 
 
 nicety that are to be obferv'd in the minyteft cir- 
 cumftances. 
 
 Father TACHARD* has the accomplifliments 
 of a Mifllonary for all forts of Religions j is as ca- 
 pable of planting the faith 'of the Eaftern people 
 in Europe, as that of the Europeans in the Eaft ; 
 as fit to make Talapoins at Paris, as Jefuits at 
 Siam. 
 
 The Abbe D E C H o i s i ? tires me much with 
 his Journal of Winds and Courfes ; but the Letters 
 wherein he fpeaks of himfelf divert me. I am 
 overjoy'd to find him take Orders, that fo he might 
 be employ'd in faying of Mais ; he being other- 
 wife unferviceable on fhipboard. He writes natu- 
 rally ; and to do him juftice, no traveller is lefs 
 fond of the faux merveilleux^ or of pretended won- 
 ders, than he. He is not difpleas'd to Ihew himfelf 
 upon a great Elephant, or to appear before the 
 King with the EmbafTador and the Biihop, nor to 
 confer with Mr. CONSTANCE in private : but 
 yet for all that, he does not think the Symphony of 
 that Country the lefe deteftable ; nor is he a whit 
 better pleas'd with the Chinefe Comedy, or the Sia- 
 mefe Opera ; nor does he like their Painting better 
 than their Mufick. As to their refrefhments and 
 entertainments, they confift of Hens, Ducks, Hogs, 
 and Rice without end; a very afflicting thing to 
 Monfieur the Abbe's Gout, notwithftanding the 
 mortification to which his new ftate of life ties him 
 down. 
 
 Tonquin and Cochinchina are but very inconfide- 
 rable : thofe Kingdoms fland in need to be embel- 
 lilh'd by imaginations that are in love with foreign 
 wonders. I pafs'd from thofe Accounts to C o N F u- 
 
 * Voyage de Siam des Peres Jefuites envoyez par le Roi awx 
 Indes & a la Chine, err. fublifh'd in i6$6. 
 
 * Journal du Voyage de Siam j printed in
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 405 
 
 c i u s's Book *, who is the mod tirefome Mora- 
 lift I ever read. His fentences are below PI- 
 BRA c's Quatrains, where he is intelligible ; and 
 above the Apocalypfe, where he is obfcure. 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 MONSIEUR JUSTEL. 
 
 ALtho you have made a refolution never to 
 buy any Books, yet I advife you to purchafe 
 that of O R o B i o a famous Jew, and Mr. L i M- 
 B o R c H a learned Chriftian *. Nothing ever ap- 
 pear'd on that fubjeft ftronger, more ingenious, or 
 more profound. M. GAUM IN * woulcj have 
 faid of LIMBO RCH, 
 
 Si Pergama dextra 
 Defendi fojffent^ etiam hoc defenfa fuiffent^ 
 
 and I will fay of O R o B i a, 
 
 C c 3 Si 
 
 4 Confucius Sinarum Philofophus, five fcientia Sinica expofita, 
 &c. pHbliflfd by father Couplet in 1^87. 
 
 1 The title of this Book is, De Veritate Chriftianz ReligionU 
 arnica collatio cum erudito Judxo. See the Bibliothequc Univec- 
 fclle, Tom.Vll.pag.i89. 
 
 ' Sft my Remarks tn thf Colomefiana*
 
 4 o$ THE WORKS OF 
 
 Si Pergama dextrd 
 Everti foffent^ etiam hac everfa fuiffent. 
 
 You will quickly fee the Relation of Father M A- 
 c A i L L A N s, which is impatiently expected by 
 the lovers of foreign wonders. Thofe Gentlemen 
 who did not find their account in the plain and ra- 
 tional truths of Father COUPLET, will have 
 amends made 'em in the exaggerations of this Por- 
 tugueze, who is fonder of itrange things, than ri- 
 goroufly ty'd down to real truth. They will find 
 in this curious Book the Twelve Excellencies of 
 China, in imitation of the Twelve Excellencies of 
 Portugal, which the Author thought fit to prefenc 
 the Chinefe with J . 
 
 What fort of Country is that China, according to 
 the account I have had from the fincere and judici- 
 ous Father COUPLET 4 ! No Corn at Pekin, no 
 Wine in the whole Empire, no Oil of Olives, no 
 Butter, no Oifters ! There you fee Painting with- 
 out (hade, Mufick without parts, wooden Palaces 
 without architecture ; many Sciences loft, as they 
 pretend ; ignorance of almoft every thing, as we 
 perceive ; an Alphabet of fixty thoufand letters, 
 and a Language confiding of nothing but monofyl- 
 lables. There would have been no Geometry, no 
 Aftronomy there, if zeal for converfions had not 
 prompted the Jefuits to go thither ; who owe the 
 toleration of our Religion, next to the grace of God, 
 to the Calendar and Almanacks. You fee there 
 are a great many things wanting to that renowned 
 
 Coun- 
 
 3 Father Magaillans, 4 Portuguese Jefuit t who died in China 
 in 1677, left A Manufcript t entituled y The Twelve Excelleti- 
 ties of China, whith has be^n translated out of Portuguez* 
 into French, and publiflj'd at Paris in i88, with this ti- 
 tle : Nouvelle Relation de la Chine, contenant ]a Defcriptipn 
 des particularitez les pips confiderables de ce grand Empire. 
 
 * M. 4f $t. Evremond htdfeen Father Couplet in Engltnd,
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O N D. 407 
 
 Country ; but as a recompence for this, their Mo- 
 rals are good, their Policy excellent, the People in- 
 numerable, the Subjects obedient, and the greateft 
 of Emperors moderate. 
 
 A 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 M. DE LA BASTIDE. 
 
 Nequicquam *Deus abfiidit 
 'Prudens Oceano dijjociabili 
 
 Terras \ Ji tamen tmfitf 
 Non tangenda rates tranjiliunt vada r . 
 
 IT is not poflible, Sir, to (late the Queftion bet- 
 ter than you have done , but I am of opinion 
 that you decide it rather with an eye to the genius 
 of HORACE, than according to the true notions 
 which may be form'd of the matter in hand. Do 
 you believe that ifMALHERBE had wifh'd any 
 of his friends a happy paflage from Caen to Lon- 
 don, he would have had any other object in view 
 than the fea which divides France from England ? 
 He might have enlarg'd poetically upon ftorms, 
 mallows, and fand-banks ; and efpecially upon 
 C c 4 (helves 
 
 8 Herat. Odar. IJb. I. Od. 3.
 
 408 THE WORKS OF 
 
 fhelves and rocks ; but ftill with a view to the paf- 
 fage which his friend had to make. 
 
 The modern Genius, which a nature lefs exalted 
 hath left in a dependance upon order and reafon ; 
 this Genius, I fay, would never have had the bold- 
 nefs to raife it felf at one dam, to the Creation of 
 the world, and the feparation of the Land from the 
 water. And indeed, there is no necefiity of going 
 to the Indies to be drowned , and fixty leagues of 
 fea would have been fufficient to awaken M AL- 
 II E R B E againft the inventor of Navigation. 
 
 I talk to you, like a man who has only low and 
 common views : but as for you, Sir, who are per- 
 fectly well acquainted with HORACE*; you may 
 believe that his enthufiafms gave him a right to 
 quit the half of his foul * fo fuddenly, and to pafs 
 from the tendernefs of his Love to the miracle of 
 a fecond Genefis. But to fpeak ferioufly, if any 
 thing makes me allow of your opinion, it is, that 
 he who afcends to the ivar of the Giants, has but a 
 ftep farther to go, before he arrives at the Creation 
 of the World. 
 
 All things confidered, I am miftaken if both 
 opinions may not be defended : that of Monfieur 
 B A R i L L o N, which is the more natural of the 
 two, flows from good fenfe, which judges of things, 
 as they are in themfelves , and yours perhaps agrees 
 well enough to H o R A c E'S tafte, who is apt 
 enough to go from his fubject. The beauty of his 
 genius gives him a privilege of advancing happy 
 boldnefies, and noble extravagancies, which our 
 imagination, ftraitened by a fcruple of juftnefs, 
 will not allow. But whatever meaning we are 
 pleafed to put upon HORACE'S words, his Ode 
 
 is 
 
 8 Monfieur de la. Baflide had- translated into "French form Odes 
 f Horace, and among the reft, that which is here mentioned, 
 3 Horase calls Virgil^ anioaae dimidium meae.
 
 M. DEST. EVREMOND. 409 
 
 is equally beautiful and extraordinay : I am of opi- 
 nion, that no Poet ever had fo tender a heart, and 
 fo free a mind at the fame time. 
 
 A 
 
 " LETTER 
 
 TO MONSIEUR *** 
 
 In the name of the Dutchefe oj 
 MAZARIN. 
 
 IAm not confiderable enough in the world, to 
 think I am obliged to give it an account of 
 my Affairs ; but I am grateful enough for the part 
 you take in my concerns, to fatisfy your curiofity 
 as to my prefent Circumftances. All that I fear, 
 is, left the length of my Letter may give you too 
 much trouble ; for I cannot pretend to give you 
 an account of my prefent, without reminding you 
 of my paft condition in many inftances. I mail, 
 out of modefty, forbear to fay any thing of the 
 advantages which I had ; and (hall, out of difcre- 
 tion, abftain from mentioning the qualities of Mon- 
 fieur MAZARIN : but leaving the publick to 
 make a judgment of our perfons, I mail be bold to 
 fay, that I did not in the lead contribute towards the 
 fquandering away of the Eftate I brought him-, and 
 that the lowed of his domefticks enrich'd them- 
 
 felves
 
 4 io THE WORKS OF 
 
 felves out of it, at the fame time that he denied me 
 the mere necefTaries of life. 
 
 I liv'd more than I ought to have done, and as 
 long as I could, with a Hufband that was fo con- 
 trary to my temper: at lad I difengag'd my felf 
 out of Reafon, from a man with whom I fuffer'd 
 my felf to be joined out of Obedience. So juft a 
 difengagement coil me thofe riches which have made 
 fo much noife in the world : but liberty can never 
 be too dear bought, by one who delivers himfelf 
 from tyranny. However that be, I found my felf 
 divefted qf every thing : I found my felf without 
 any means of fubfifting, till fuch time as the King, 
 out of a principle of juftice, was pleas'd to give 
 me a Penfion, without Monfieur M A z A R i N'S 
 confent, which Monfieur M A z A R i N took from 
 me ten years ago, with his Majefty's confent. This 
 change of the King's favour, muft not be imputed 
 to the change of my conduct ; for I never was 
 guilty of any thing that could- difpleafe him. But 
 it is hard for the greateft of Kings to diftinguifh 
 well betwixt the impofture of bad offices, and thofe 
 truths which they have need to be informed of. 
 Reafon would do too much violence to our inclina- 
 tion and humour, if we were always to diftruft 
 thofe whom we love, or who pleafe us ; and natu- 
 rally we don't lay our felves under the reftraint of 
 thofe precautions againft agreeable perfons, for the 
 fake of indifferent perfons, whom we don't con- 
 verfe withal. For this reafon, I am not furprized 
 that I have been believed to be fuch an one as I 
 have been painted : the King would have done 
 me the juftice to augment the Penfion that has 
 been taken from me, if I had been fo happy as to 
 have been known to him fuch as I really am. 
 
 In the mean while, notwithftanding this retrench- 
 ment, and the Debts which have followed upon it, 
 I have continu'd to live honourably by the favours 
 
 and
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 4 n 
 
 and benefits of the Kings of England : but on this 
 extraordinary Revolution, which will be the won- 
 der of all ages, I found my felf forfaken ; reduc'd 
 to the neceflity of feeking help only from my felf, 
 where I found none ; expos'd to the fury of the 
 mob ; having no correfpondence but with people 
 who were as much amazed as my felf, and endea- 
 vour'd to hearten one another ; or with unfortunate 
 people, who were fitter to mourn together, than to 
 comfort one another. After fo many troubles, 
 Tranquillity was again reftor'd , but the ceafmg of 
 the troubles fet my mind more at cafe, only the 
 better to mew me the fad ftate of my Affairs. I 
 have now nothing of my own, no afllftance where 
 I am, no hopes of any elfewhere ; receiving no- 
 thing but Compliments inftead of Afllftance from 
 the few friends I have with you, and reproaches 
 from all others, for having liv*d in a place, from 
 whence I do not know how to depart, and finding 
 my felf yet more at a lofs where I can go. 
 
 Till now, faults have been condemned, and mif- 
 fortunes lamented : but I make all things change 
 their nature, mifery, that melancholy work of my 
 fortune brings me enemies, excites the bitternefs 
 and wrath of thofe who ought to be moft favoura- 
 ble to me. I don't exaggerate the unhappinefs of 
 my condition, which I am the more fenfible of, be- 
 caufe I meet with Reproaches, when I expected 
 Confolations. You have more reafon, Sir, than to 
 approve fo unjuft a behaviour ; and you have con- 
 ftancy enough in friendfhip, Hill to continue 
 yours towards me. If it cannot fuccour me as 
 much as you could wifh, yet it is as fincere as I 
 could defire it to be. My ftars beget good-will to- 
 wards me, where there is no power, and oppofi- 
 tion where there is : but, in fine, the malignity of 
 the influence is not compleat, fmce amidft all the 
 
 mister-
 
 4 i2 THE WORKS OF 
 
 misfortunes it caufes, it ftill leaves me fome Friends, 
 who ufe their utmoft endeavours to give me con- 
 folation. 
 
 A 
 
 i ; LETTER 
 
 TO MONSIEUR ***. 
 
 In the name of the %)utchefs of 
 MAZ ARIN. 
 
 1 Don't wonder that Monfieur M A z A R i N gives 
 out that I only was to blame for my not re- 
 turning to France -, but I mould wonder very 
 much if people of fenfe mould fuffer themfelves 
 to be cheated with his artifices, and could be won 
 over by his lyes. As we never agreed in any one 
 thing, fo I mail take a courfe quite contrary to his, 
 by telling nothing but truth. 'Tis ten years fince 
 Monfieur M A z A R i N took from me a Penfion 
 of twenty four thoufand Livres, which were given 
 me for my fubfiftence : this retrenchment brought 
 on me confiderable debts, which hinder'd my de- 
 parture out of England, where I was teaz'd by my 
 Creditors, but not perfecuted to that degree I have 
 been fince. 
 
 All things are changed. The Revolution has hap- 
 pened i I found my felf without relief, without any 
 means of paying my old debts, aijtd very happy to 
 
 be
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 413 
 
 be able to contract new ones for my fubfiftence. 
 Not a day went over my head, but I was threatned 
 to be thrown in prifon : I was not fafe even in 
 privileg'd places ; and when I went from my Lodg- 
 ings, I was not fure of returning to them. Being 
 reduc'd to this hard neceffity, fome of my Friends, 
 and even fome Merchants, oblig'd themfelves for 
 part of my debts to thofe tyrants, and were foon 
 forc'd to pay them. But by this means I only 
 chang'd my Creditors ; for thefe new ones take as 
 great precaution how to be paid, as others would 
 have done. However, I am oblig'd to them for the 
 fmall liberty I enjoy ; and for the fubfiftence which 
 1 have hitherto found, which I find every day more 
 hard to get. 
 
 This is the true ftate of my paft Circumftances, 
 and the real condition of my prefent ; certainly it 
 cannot be worfe. I deferve to be afiifted by my 
 friends, and pitied by indifferent perfons. A fuller 
 detail of my Affairs, would be troublefome to 
 others, and ufelefs to my felf ; and therefore I (hall 
 fay no more.
 
 4 i4 THE WORKS OF 
 
 A 
 
 LETTER 
 
 TO MONSIEUR ***. 
 In the name of the jDutchefs of 
 
 M A Z A R I N. 
 
 'VTO body can have a deeper fenfe than I have 
 J.\| of the declaration of your Friendfhip to me -, 
 but allow me, Sir, to complain of the injuftice of 
 thofe conjectures which are made of my intention. 
 If I had been in a condition to depart, and yet had 
 ftaid after this, fomething might have been objec- 
 ted ; but People will needs have me to return to 
 France, and yet leave me at an impoflibility of go- 
 ing out of England. There is not a greater truth 
 in the whole world than what I tell you. I have 
 wrote a Letter to the Dutchefs of N E v E R s, 
 which is fomewhat longer than this, wherein I de- 
 clar'd my mind more at large. I beg of you, Sir, 
 to believe me truly lincere, particularly when I. 
 proteft that I mail maintain my friendfliip for you 
 all the days of my life.
 
 M. DE ST. E V R E M O N D. 415 
 
 A 
 
 LETTER 
 
 TO THE 
 
 DUTCHESS OF NEVERS. 
 In the name of the 2)utchefs of 
 
 M A Z A R I N. 
 
 I Never doubted, Madam, of your having all 
 che concern that any one could have for my 
 interefts : I expected from your friendfhip all that 
 you could expect from mine. It is not neceflary 
 to give one another new afiurances thereof in our 
 Letters, fince we can firmly depend upon one ano- 
 ther in every thing that regards us. I thought that 
 nothing in Monfieur M A z A R i N'S conduct ought 
 to furprize me ; and yet I cannot help wondering, 
 that after having taken my Penfion from me, for 
 thefe ten or twelve years ; reduc'd me to the necefllty 
 of begging my fubfiftence, as I do ; endeavoured 
 to deprive me of my Rights, not fatisfied to fee me 
 in want during his life, unlefs he could be fure I 
 fhould be miferable after his death : after fo hand- 
 fbm a proceeding, fo obliging a conduct, and fo 
 generous actions, I cannot but wonder, I fay, that 
 he mould be fo kind as to defire I mould come 
 and live with him. But firft of all, my Debts 
 muft be paid, my fubfiftence fecured, and I fet at 
 liberty to go out of England. This I expect from 
 * the
 
 T H E W O R K S OF 
 
 the juftice of the Gentlemen of the Great Coun- 
 cil ; and from yours, Madam, that you will be- 
 lieve me to be, as I really am, &c. 
 
 A 
 
 .? LETTER 
 
 TO MONSIEUR .***.. 
 
 . .$- $ fc U 
 In the name of the 2)utchefs of 
 
 M A Z A R I N. 
 
 I Always believed that which you were fo kind 
 as to write to me about my Affairs, and am 
 overjoy'd that my fentiments agree with yours. 
 Monfieur M A z A R i N did never fincerely intend 
 to fee me again. He had a mind, as you fay very 
 well, to deprive me of my Rights, and after hav- 
 ing made me unhappy during his life, like a good 
 Chriftian, to put it out of all doubt, that I mould 
 be miferable after his death. This, Sir, is the ho- 
 ly joy which he intended to give me. I conjure 
 you to continue your cares and afllftance towards 
 me, in the courfe of an Affair, which, in all likeli- 
 hood, will not have a fpeedy hTue. In fpite of 
 Monfieur M A z A R i N'S application, who expects 
 the fuccefs of his perfections not fo much from 
 Providence as from his own.induftry, I don't be- 
 lieve the Gentlemen of the Great Council will de- 
 prive me of my Rights ; but if Monfieur MA z A- 
 
 RIN
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 417 
 
 R i N is not obliged to pay my Debts, ho Wy (hall I 
 come off with my Creditors, and whence can I ex- 
 pecT: the means of fubfifting, till fuch time as they 
 are fatisfied ? The Merchants have given me cre- 
 dit, and people of Condition have obliged me with 
 money , but they will not lofe their money. What 
 lhall I do ? I do what Monfieur M A z A R i N 
 fays, but practifes not ; and that is, commit my 
 felf entirely to Providence. To this I mail add the 
 care and concern of my Relations and Friends, and 
 particularly yours, Sir, which lay an obligation up- 
 on me which I mall never forget. 
 
 JUDGMENT 
 
 UPON SOME 
 
 FRENCH AUTHORS, 
 
 To the <Dutcbefs of MAZARIN* 
 
 ACcording to your defire, Madam, I here of- 
 fer you my thoughts on fome of our Au- 
 thors. 
 
 MALHERBE has always been reckoned the 
 rrioft excellent of our Poets ; but more for his turn 
 and expreflion, than for his invention and thoughts. 
 
 We cannot deny Vo i T u R E the firft rank iri 
 every thing relating to Ingenuity and Gallantry : 
 'tis enough for SARRASIN to have the fecond 
 
 Vol. II. D d place*
 
 4 i8 THE WORKS OF 
 
 place, to be on a level with the moft efteemed of 
 the Antients in that kind. 
 
 BENSERADE hasfo particular a character, and 
 fo agreeable a manner of faying things, that the 
 niceft Criticks can bear with .his Points and Allu- 
 fions. 
 
 In Tragedy, CORNEILLE admits of no equal, 
 RACINE of no fuperior j the diverfity of Charac- 
 ters allowing a concurrence, if it cannot eftablifh 
 an equality. CORNEILLE is admired for the ex- 
 preflion of an heroick Grandeur of Soul, for the force 
 of the Paflions, and fublimity of Difcourfe : RA- 
 c i N E'S merit confifts in Sentiments which are more 
 natural, in Thoughts that are more clear, and in a 
 Diction that is more pure, and more eafy. The 
 former ravimes the foul, the latter makes a con- 
 queft of the mind : the latter gives no room for 
 the reader to cenfure, the former does not leave 
 the fpectator in a condition to examine. In the 
 conduct of the Work, RACINE more circumfpect, 
 or diflrufting himfelf, flicks clofe to the Greeks, 
 whom he is a perfect matter of , CORNEILLE, 
 improving the advantages which time affords, finds 
 out beauties which ARISTOTLE knew nothing 
 of. 
 
 M o L i E R E has taken the Antients for his mo- 
 del ; and would be inimitable to thofe whom he imi- 
 tates, if they were yet alive. 
 
 There is no Author who has done greater honour 
 to our age than DESPRE.AUX; to make a larger 
 panegyrick upon him, would be to aflume the pro- 
 vince of his Works, which make it themfelves. 
 
 LA FONTAINE embellimes the Fables of the 
 Antients : the Antients would have fpoiled L A 
 F o N T A i N E'S Tales. 
 
 PER RAUL T has found out the defects of the 
 Antients, .better than he has made out the advan- 
 tage of the Moderns. To take it altogether, his 
 
 Book
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMON& 41* 
 
 Book r feems to me to be very good, curious, ufe- 
 ful, and capable of curing us of abundance of er- 
 rors. I could wifh the Chevalier had told fewer 
 (lories, that the Prefident had enlarg'd his reafons a 
 little more, and the Abbs confin'd his within a nar- 
 rower compafs. 
 
 You would have me fpeak of my felf, Madam ; 
 but I mall fpeak to you of your felf. If any of 
 thofe Gentlemen had been in my place, had the be- 
 nefit of feeing you every day, and receiving the 
 bright hints which you infpire, he had furpafs'd 
 both the Antients and Moderns. But I have im- 
 prov'd this advantage fo little, that I don't deferve 
 a place amongft thofe illuftrious perfons. 
 
 A 
 
 ; LETTER 
 
 T O TH E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARlN, 
 
 IHope you will be fo good as to excufe me* 
 Madam, if I do not perfectly give into the ge- 
 nerous franknefs of your fentiments, which is op- 
 pofite to the natural circumfpeftion of my Country- 
 men, who are enemies to truths that are clear, and 
 boldly declar'd. My Reafons againft a full declara- 
 tion of your intentions, are thefe : 
 Dd 2 
 
 * Parallele de* Anciens & des Modernes*
 
 4*6 THE WORKS OF 
 
 I am perfuaded that all your Acquaintance (for 
 your Friends have not yet (hewn themfelves) defire 
 nothing more than to have a pretence to cry out 
 againft your humour and your conduct, tho the one 
 be very agreeable, and the other very blamelefs. 
 Never give them any handle to wreak themfelves 
 upon you : tie them down, whether they will or 
 no, at leaft to a decent mew of Friendfhip which 
 they ought to have for you, with more warmth 
 than they have; Always afk money j and if none 
 comes, 'tis you who will have caufe to complain : 
 if you can get it, I engage to furnifli you with ten 
 or twelve Reafons for not leaving England, each of 
 which will be better than another. In fine, give 
 no body any caufe or pretext of abandoning you, 
 and be convinced that a too open declaration of 
 your intentions would be very prejudicial to you 
 there, and would not be of any ufe to you here. I 
 have heard you fay, Madam, that the Countefs of 
 SOISSONS never gave people any opportunity of 
 finding out her fecrets : don't difcover your fentiments 
 your felf. If yOu are refolved to proceed with lefs 
 precaution, the Normand quits his, and is ready to 
 enter into your fentiments.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 421 
 
 A 
 
 'LETTER 
 
 FROM 
 
 MADAM DE L'E N C L O S, 
 
 T O 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 MOnfieur DE CHARLEVAL is juft dead T ; 
 at which I am fo much afflicted, that I en- 
 deavour to comfort my felf by confidering the fhare 
 you will have in my grief. I vifited him every day. 
 His mind had all the charms of youth, and his 
 heart had all the goodnefs and tendernefs that could 
 be defired in a true Friend, We often fpoke of 
 you, and of all the original wits of our time. His 
 life, and that which I lead at prefent, had a great 
 deal of refemblance. In fine, fuch a lofs is worfe 
 than death it felf. Pray let me hear from you. 
 I am as much concerned about your welfare at 
 London, as if you were here : old friends have 
 charms, which are never fo well knpwn as when 
 we are depriv'd of them. 
 
 Dd 3 A 
 
 1 Monfuttr dt Charleval died on the eighth day of March 1(9 J, 
 in tbt frvwty third y tar of hit age.
 
 4** THE WORKS OF 
 
 L E T T E R 
 
 From the fame: 
 
 T o 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 "T Was all alone in my Chamber, and very weary 
 JL with reading, when one came and told me, 
 "there is a Gentleman who comes from Monfieur D E 
 ST. EVREMOND. Judge you if all my weari- 
 nefs was not fhaken off that moment. I had the 
 pleafure of talking of you, and was thereby in- 
 formed of particulars which Letters cannot exprefs, 
 viz. your perfect health, and your occupations. 
 The joy of the mind mews the force of it ; and 
 your Letters perfuade me, that England promifes 
 you forty years more of life : for I think that it is 
 in England only that they talk of People who have 
 livM beyond the age of man. I could have wim'd 
 to have pafs'd the remainder of my life with you ; 
 had you thought the fame way that I do, you would 
 be in this Country now. However, it is very 
 agreeable to remember thofe perfons whom we 
 have loved ; and perhaps this feparation of our 
 bodies, has been made on purpofe to embellifh 
 my Epitaph. I could have wifh'd the young 
 
 Divine
 
 M. D S T. E V R E M O N D. 423 
 
 Divine r had found me in the glory of Niquee *, 
 where people never fuffer any change -, for I believe 
 you think me one of the firft perfons enchanted 
 in it. Don't change your ideas in this matter, 
 which have always been favourable to me ; and let 
 this communication, which fome Philoibphers think 
 better than prefence, endure always. 
 
 I told Monfieur T u R R E T i N how glad I 
 mould be if I could do him any fervice : he has 
 met with fome of my friends here, who have 
 thought him worthy of the praifes you have given 
 him. If he has a mind to converfe with the ho- 
 neft Abbots, who remain here in the abfence f 
 the Court, he mall be treated as a man whom 
 you efteem. I read your Letter before him 
 with Spectacles ; but they do not ill become me 
 for I had always a grave mein. If he is in love 
 with that Merit, which is call'd here diftingui/hed, 
 perhaps your wirfi may be accompliflied -, for peo- 
 ple endeavour to comfort me every day for my 
 lofles, by this fine word. I underftood that you 
 wifh'd LA FONTAINE in England : we have 
 but little of his company at Paris ; his head is very 
 much weakened. This is the fate of Poets : TA s- 
 s o and LUCRETIUS felt it. I doubt no Love- 
 powder has been laid for L A FONTAINE; for 
 he did not much court Women who could be at the 
 expence of it. 
 
 Dd 4. M. 
 
 1 Monfteur Alphonfe Turntin, now Profe/or tf Divinity and 
 Ecclejiaftical Hiftory in the Academy of Geneva. 
 * Sec the Romance of Amadis de Gaulc.
 
 4*4 THE WORKS Q F 
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND'S 
 
 ANSWER 
 
 T O 
 
 MADAM DE L'ENCLOS. 
 
 MOnfieur TURRETINIS extremely obliged 
 to me for making him acquainted with you ; 
 and I am not a little obliged to him for giving oc- 
 cafion to the fine Letter which I have juft received. 
 I don't queftion b.ut he found you with the fame 
 eyes that I beheld you formerly: thofe eyes by 
 which I always new the Conqueft of a Lover, when 
 they fparkl'd a little more than ordinary, and which 
 made us fay, 
 
 CYTHEREA ne'er was fuck, &c *. 
 
 You are ftill the fame to me ; and tho nature, 
 which never fpar'd any body, mould have fpent its 
 utrno.fl power to produce fome alteration in the 
 features of your face, yet my imagination will ftill 
 be for you, that Glory of Niquee, in which you 
 know people underwent no change. I am very 
 fure, that as to your eyes and your teeth, you 
 have no occalion for it : what you ftand moft in 
 need of, is my judgment, to underftand thorowly 
 the advantages of your wit, which improves every 
 day. You are more witty than ever the young and 
 fprightly NINON* was. 
 
 4 
 
 * An Ode of Mother fa 
 43 1.
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMQND.425 
 
 A 
 
 BILLET 
 
 TO THE 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIN, 
 
 SBeg of you Madam, to tell the Dutchefs of 
 BOUILLON that no perfon can be more fenfi- 
 i than I am of the honour that me does me by 
 remembring me. I don't much pity LA F o N- 
 T A i N E'S condition, fearing left my own may ftand 
 in need of pity, At his and my age, no body 
 ought to wonder that we lofe our Reafon, but that 
 we keep it. The prefervation of it is no great ad- 
 vantage : 'tis an obftacle to the quiet of old 
 people ; and a bar to the pleafures of young per- 
 rons. LA FONTAINE feels \ not that dilbrder 
 which it gives, and perhaps he is the happier on 
 that fcore. It is not a misfortune to be a foolilh, 
 but to have fo little time to be fo r . 
 
 Mtnfuur dt LA Icntaine ditdtht 1 3th of March,
 
 425 THE WORKS OF 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF BOUILLON, 
 
 In the name of the tDutchefe of M A- 
 
 Z A R I N. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER, 
 
 I think I have explain'd my felf fo often and fo 
 clearly, on the demand that has been made me 
 to declare my Intentions, that there was no occafion 
 of requiring a new declaration. I proteft to you 
 then, my dear Sifter, that I have no defign to e- 
 ternize my felf in England ; all my aim and with 
 is, to return to France to my family : but I declare 
 to you, with the utmoft fincerity, that it were as 
 'impofiible for me to depart hence without paying 
 my Debts, as to fly. I am every day forced to 
 contract new debts, when I expected to receive 
 wherewithal to pay off my old ones. There are 
 perhaps one or two perfons of quality among my 
 Creditors, who would not hinder my departure; 
 but the reft would no more fuffer my Bankruptcy 
 than the Merchants. You may be fure that I 
 am more defirous of being at liberty, than others 
 can be grieved to fee me in a kind of captivity 
 in foreign Countries. Nothing but the want of 
 means hinders me from going to Ipend the reft 
 
 of
 
 M. DE ST. EVREMOND. 4*7 
 
 of my days with thofe perfons whom I love above 
 all the reft of the world. You are convinced, my 
 dear Sifter, that my Brother and your felf are the 
 chief of them. Thefe are my true and real Inten- 
 tentions : I don't difguife them in the leaft. 'Tis 
 very true, I would rather chufe Death, than return 
 to Monfieur M A z A R i N ; and would as foon pafs 
 the reft of my life in a Nunnery as with him : in 
 effect, thefe are two extremes which are both e- 
 qually to be avoided. You will make fuch ufe of 
 my Letter as you lhall think will be moft for my 
 advantage. Adieu, my dear Sifter; love me al- 
 ways, and continue your endeavours to ferve that 
 perfon in the world, who is moft yours. 
 
 A 
 
 BILLET. 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 DUTCHESS OF MAZARIN. 
 
 IF you have a mind to underftand how neceflary 
 you are to the World, you may fatisfy your 
 curiofity in your fhort abfence. There is a Spanifh 
 Concetto which I would apply to you, if I was not 
 too much an enemy to a figurative Style. When the 
 Siyi is under an eclipje, fays the Author of the Con- 
 cetto, 'tis to let the World know bow difficult it is to 
 be without its light. Your eclipfe makes my Lords 
 MONTAGUE, GOD"OLPHIN, ARRAN, and 
 others, feel how hard it is to live without your 
 light. I defy all the Spaniards and Italians together, 
 
 to
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 to carry a Figure farther. Every thing lowres at 
 London fmce your departure. It is not fo, at Chel- 
 fea, where your Philofophy makes you tafte a, very 
 delicious Retreat. Manage the grief of your 
 friends by intervals of prefence : 
 
 Upon the wings of time grief flies away. 
 
 Show your felf from time to time, or at lead let 
 your friends fee you at Chelfea. T u Y Q hajla la 
 muerte. 
 
 A 
 
 L E T T E R 
 
 To the fame. 
 
 NO Letter had ever given me more pteafure 
 than yours, Madam, provided it had been 
 written to any other but my felf. The thoughts in 
 it are lively, and the applications happy : to my 
 misfortune, all that wit is exercis'd at my expence. 
 My moft humble and moft obedient Servant, fhows an 
 ingenious difpleafure, which puts your moft humble 
 and moft obedient Servant in defpair. I could 
 have bore up under a fudden and impetuous an- 
 ger : my patience has often been tried with thofe 
 kind of movements ; but an ingenious and medi- 
 tated anger oolite confounds me, and puts me to 
 fruidefs pain to guefs the caufe of it. I examine my 
 felf, and the more I ftudy to difcover my fault, the 
 more reafons do I find to hope for your good 
 graces. IfPARMENio is guilty of a flip, who 
 can be trufled ? If he be innocent, what can we do, 
 
 what
 
 M. D E S T. E V R E M O ND. 429 
 
 what behaviour can flicker us ? I will anfwer for it, 
 Madam, P A R M E N i o is not faulty in the leaft. 
 
 From P A R M E N i o one eafily pafles to the Ge- 
 nerals : I do not blame thofe who are alive ; but I 
 have hitherto praifed none but the dead, and it al- 
 ready appears, that they were praife-worthy. The 
 taking of Namur l would have excited me to fome 
 fine production , but ever fince my Star has hid 
 her felf, and I have been without her influences^ 
 my Talents are buried. Here is abundance of idle 
 difcourfe. If I yet faw one of your Letters figned 
 D u L c i N E A, and I was allowed to fign mine as 
 formerly, El Cavallero de la trifle figur a -, what joy 
 mould I be in ! 
 
 Hafla la muerte cannot be forbid me ; for it de- 
 pends upon me to be always, as I (hall certainly 
 be, either the Knight with the difmal countenance, or 
 Tour moft humble and mofl obedient Servant. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 THE fine air of Chelfea^ and the repofe of foli- 
 tude y leave no room to doubt, either of your 
 health, or of the tranquillity of your mind. This is 
 the beginning of a Philofopher*s Letter, written 
 to a greater Philofopher than himfelf. He cannot 
 maintain his Philofophy any longer: the remem- 
 brance of your difpleafure againft him has con- 
 founded him. He hopes neverthelefs, that his in- 
 nocence and your equity, will allow him to end 
 
 With TuYO HASTA LA MUERTE, El Caval- 
 
 lero de la trifle figur a. 
 
 1 tJamur wot taken by King William, on the Jjd day of
 
 430 THE WORKS OF 
 
 I was told of a Sparrow, the King of all Spar- 
 rows : they fay it whittles, is tamer than any that 
 ever was feen, and that it plays a thoufand pretty 
 tricks, which Sparrows are not wont to do. This 
 great merit gave me a curiofity-to fee it. I found 
 in it all that had been faid of it, except that rare 
 quality of whittling, which was put off to another 
 time, when it would be in better humour. The 
 loweft farthing was eight millings : too little for a 
 Nightingale-Sparrow j too much for a common 
 Sparrow, let it be ever fo tame. 
 
 A 
 
 F R A G M E N T 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 Difcovery of a Con/piracy agalnjt the 
 King in 
 
 IN order to underftand well the importance of 
 the King's Life, we mutt confider, that Spain 
 founded on him the firft hopes of deliverance from 
 her misfortunes ; that the States gave him the power 
 he has in Holland for having fav'd them j that the 
 Confederates have fet him up as an Umpire in the 
 Confederacy from the need they had of his Forces* 
 and the confidence they placM in his Virtue. They 
 faw a Prince always difpofed to undertake, always 
 ready to execute ; capable of fucceeding in the great- 
 eft defigns by his conduct, of overcoming the great- 
 eft difficulties by his vigour; as moderate in pro- 
 fperity, as firm and conftant in difgraces ; lov'd 
 and efteem'd in his own Army, efteem'd and fear'd 
 
 in
 
 M. DE ST. E VREMOND. 431 
 
 in that of the enemy ; more affefted with Glory, 
 than with his own particular Intereft ; more touch'd 
 with the Intereft of the publick, than with Glory. 
 
 A 
 
 LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 MADAM DE L'ENCLOS. 
 
 IHave received the fecond Letter which you writ 
 me, which is obliging, agreeable, and witty, 
 and in which I find the humour of Ni N ON ' , and 
 the good fenfe of Madam D E L'E N c L o s. I 
 knew how the former lived, and I learn from you, 
 after what manner the other lives. Every thing 
 contributes to make me regret the happy time 
 which I have fpent in your company, and to defire 
 in vain to fee you once more. I have not ftrength 
 enough to tranfport my felf over to France, and 
 you have allurements there, which will hinder you 
 from coming to England. The Dutchefs of B o u- 
 i L L o N can tell you that England has its charms, 
 and I fhould be ungrateful my felf, if I did not own 
 that I have met with pleafures and comforts in it. 
 I am not a little pleafed to hear that the Count D E 
 GRAMMONT has recover'd his former health, 
 and acquired a new Devotion. Hitherto I have been 
 contented with being a good plain honeft man -, but 
 I muft do fomething more, and I only wait for 
 your example to become godly. You live in a 
 Country where people have wonderful advantages 
 
 of 
 
 1 Madam de VEncloft (hrifltn'd Namt, ly which /he VJHK 
 tvktn flit -was youttp
 
 432 T H E W OR K S, &e. 
 
 of faving their Souls. There vice is almoft as mucfi 
 againft the fafhion, as againft virtue : finning pafles 
 for ill-breeding, and (hocks decency and good man- 
 ners as much as Religion. Formerly it was enough 
 to be wicked, but now one muft be withal a 
 fcoundrel, to be damn'd in France. They who have 
 not regard enough for another life, are led to fal- 
 vation by the confiderations and duties of this. But 
 there is enough upon a fubjecl:, in which the Con- 
 verlion of the Count DE GRAMMONT has en- 
 gag'd me: I believe it to be fmcere and honeft. 
 It well becomes a man who is not young, to for- 
 get that he has been fo. This is what I could 
 never yet arrive to ; on the contrary, from the re- 
 membrance of my younger years, and the memory 
 of my paft vivacity, I endeavour to animate and 
 enliven the fluggimnefs of my old age. What I 
 find the moft troubleibme at this Age, is, that 
 hope is loft j hope, which is the fweeteft of all the 
 paffions, and that which contributes moft to make 
 us pafs our time agreeably. That which gives me 
 the greateft pain, is my defpairing ever to fee you : 
 I muft fit down fatisfied with writing to you fome- 
 times, in order to keep up a Friendfhip, which has 
 refifted the length of time, the diftance of place, 
 and the ufual coldnefs of old Age. This laft 
 word regards me ; nature will begin with you, 
 to mow, that it is pofiible not to grow old. Pray 
 let the Duke of LAUZUN know that I am his 
 moft humble Servant ; and enquire whether Ma- 
 dam the Marefchale D E C R E QJJ i has paid him 
 the five hundred Crowns that he lent me ; I have 
 been told by Letter a long time ago that me has, 
 but I am not very fure of it. 
 
 The End of the Second Volume*
 
 OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 Los Angeles 
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 i it was borrowed. 
 
 QLAPR 18 
 IJAN24' 
 
 JJN28U5 
 
 2 4 2<J(# 
 
 MAR 09
 
 mum mi ii 
 
 3 1158 00563 4950 
 
 A 000 006 354 5