This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this text, in whole or in part. Please contact project staff at [email protected] for further information or permissions.
HOW glad I am to see you, my dear Nephew (cried Do∣rante, in embracing Lisidor) and how farther joyful should I be, could I prove serviceable to you in this Town?
You know, Sir, the reason of my coming, was because you was here, and that had it not
been for this, those that have the care of me, would never have con∣sented to this journey.
After these words Dorante made Lisidor enter into an Apartment he had provided for him, and ha∣ving ordered the Collation to be brought in, he desired him to sit down, and thus continued the dis∣course.
I do not at all won∣der, you have so greatly desired to come into this Town. All young people desire the same; for one may say, that Paris is not on∣ly the Capital of a slourishing Mo∣narchy, but is even respected as the predominant City of all Eu∣rope. People come here from all parts, some to polish themselves, others to get Employments, others to see the finest Court in the World, and the greatest King on Earth. However, to be well acquainted with Paris requires time: Stran∣gers are surprised in not finding
immediately all the varieties they have been told of it; they seek them, and discover only the least part of them, as long as they see only the Streets and Buildings.
But how great is their admira∣tion afterwards, when they enter into the Houses, and view the mag∣nificence of the Furniture? If they be admitted into the Company of Persons of wit and merit which at certain hours meet together?
I profess, Sir, that I love Paris the more for that rea∣son, and above all things wish I were capable of making one in these Conversations; but I am sen∣sible how unfit I am for it. I want natural parts to second the care you will take of me.
You have no reason to complain against Nature, you have been better used by her than I ex∣pect you will tell me; and were
I as able, as she has been favou∣rable to you, my Counsels, and your Talents would make you go very fast and far in the way you desire to enter. However, I doubt not of the success, notwithstand∣ing the smallness of my assistance.
I know, Sir, how great a Master you are in the Art I would learn; and all the World knows that your Age, which has yielded you Experience, has taken no∣thing from you of that agreeable∣ness, which makes the Charms of Conversation.
As I am naturally com∣plaisant, and that I love compa∣ny, you may hear something in my commendation, and therefore I shall not by an unfeasonable modesty oppose my Friends opini∣on of me, seeing it may make you to receive the advice I am desired to give you with greater relish. It is at your Father's request, Sir, that I have undertaken this Pro∣vince,
who is the dearest of my Relations, and therefore you may easily imagine I shall use my ut∣most endeavours to satisfie both you and him. I much approve of your design; for nothing is more important in the commerce of life, than to please in Conversa∣tion; and if men are born for So∣ciety, one may say that it is Con∣versation which is the Bond of Friendship. But I know not if be∣fore we enter into matters which we should treat of, I should not ask you what you understand by the word Conversation?
I am not at all displea∣sed, Sir, you ask me this, seeing it will cost you an explication; for I confess, that although I compre∣hend what a Conversation is, yet I should be perplex'd, should you require a proper definition of it.
I am not at all surpri∣sed at what you say; I have seen in the same pain, persons more ex∣perienc'd
than you can be at your age. There are a great many distin∣ctions to make hereupon, and eve∣ry time several persons speak in these Assemblies, they form not what we call Conversation. Ob∣scure Sciences and great Affairs must have a less share in their dis∣courses, than agreeableness and di∣version. For in fine, let a man treat gravely of important mat∣ters, in a Council of State or War, in a Low-suit or Distemper; where a Physician shall banter you with hard words, and a Lawyer cramp you with Presidents; all this is no more a Conversation, than the Brawlings in publick di∣sputes, or the Scoldings of Fish Women.
What then, Sir, must there be no mention of Sciences, of the Court, of War, or Politicks, in the discourses you mean.
So far am I from ba∣nishing the subjects you speak of,
that I affirm they serve to uphold Conversation, and to render it more instructive. The Palace, or pleading places, have now and then such Causes as furnish the best Companies with entertainment. There are great Subornations, contested Marriages, and Divorces, which give occasion to some to Moralize, and to others to utter a thousand witty Reflections. How∣ever a man would prove very troublesom, if, to make himself admired, he should enter on par∣ticularising an important Subject, and discourse of nothing else all the day long. It is variety which makes any thing agreeable, an air easie and remote from affectation, which is never tiresom; whereas should a man discourse on a sub∣lime Subject with affected expres∣sions, you could not hearken long to him, without falling asleep. Yet great interests, and extraordinary events may find their place in most
Conversations; provided they en∣ter naturally, and be treated of with that capacity and modesty they require. Particularly one is assured to please, if there be News wanting, and you be the first that relates a considerable Marriage, the birth of a Prince, the gaining of a Battel, or the taking of a place. Men are generally pleased at the recital of Regulations which relate to the Peoples welfare, or the beautifying of Towns, and For∣tifying of places. Add that we hearken with pleasure to one who comes from Court, if she describes a magnificent Entertainment, or a Fashion that is not as yet known in Town. Yet those recitals must not be long, the particulars must only be toucht on, wherein the chief of the company may be con∣cern'd; and the most important advice I can give you, is to consi∣der always before whom you speak. Without this precaution
you'll be in danger of offending Persons whom you would please; and therefore if you will believe me, you will never act the Phi∣losopher before young People, who desire only to talk of Plays and fine Women; neither must you ap∣pear severe in a Ball before Ladies, who think of nothing but dan∣cing and diverting themselves. In fine, you must consult Reason, which being your guide, I see few matters, but may be Subjects of Conversation. It's true one ought to speak less of ones self than any thing else. For what can we say of ourselves? We shall make our selves ridiculous in displaying the good qualities we possess. And can we have the imprudence to publish our defects? or shall we deaden the Entertainment in speak∣ing indifferent and ordinary things of our selves? Extend this Rule, if you please, to Domesticks: An Hus∣band must speak little and modest∣ly
of his Wife; a Mother would little divert, should she give an account of the cryings of her Chil∣dren, and the care which the Nur∣ses take of them; we must be no less retentive in citing the saults of our Servants. What matter is it to the Company, if we have a lame Footman, or a slovenly Cook, or a Steward that makes us pay dear for that which he buys cheap? We should always observe what diverts, and what tires; and that it is easier to avoid a fault, than to acquire a perfection: Examine we presently what may render a man troublesom, and we shall soon perceive how to make a Spirit of gayety and politeness reign in Con∣versation. You have seen an a∣greeable representation of these importunate people in the Come∣dy of the Troublesoms, and I doubt not but you have read the Conver∣sations of a person who is general∣ly esteemed.
I have observ'd with pleasure, in that Comedy, after what sort one becomes troublesom in making long discourses, void of agreeableness, wherein the Com∣pany takes no part. I cannot en∣dure that Man who pretends that his Prince should recompence him with a Vessel which he has lost. He tells you, without any mans offer to ask him, the Reasons where∣on his pretentions are grounded, and what may be alledged against them, and the replies he can make thereto. He at length names those who built his Ship, and describes all the parts of a Vessel, to shew that his was very fine and cost∣ly.
However here is some∣thing to be learnt in this narrati∣on, but what profit can we draw from a dry and tedious genealogy, wherein we are not at all con∣cern'd. I am not much interess'd to know that in a Family which is
unknown to me, that Thiband was the Son of Enguerrand, and that Enguerrand had Guy for his Father. I find more diverting that Brave in the Comedy of George Andin, who tells us that one of his Pre∣decessors, named John Giles of So∣tenville, had heretofore leave to sell all his Goods to go beyond Sea.
I confess these Genealo∣gical recitals are very tiresom; yet methinks not altogether so vexa∣tious as those Relations of tragical Events heapt up one upon another, especially being recounted with a lamentable tone, as if design'd to make us bewail all the sad acci∣dents which have hapned since the beginning of the world.
I grant you that no∣thing is more troublesom than these doleful Relations; but when a man is about making them, you will not, I suppose, advise him to speak facetiously of them. Not
that I think it always necessary to accommodate ones Words and Countenance to the Mat∣ter treated of. On the contrary, a man cannot more easily raise a fit of laughter, than in relating some pleasant passage with a cold and serious air. There is likewise a certain turn of Language which requires one to speak highly big of mean things, and to give a plain and simple relation of great and noble Subjects. You may ea∣sily perceive the Reason, for these latter bear up themselves, and o∣thers have need of props. I sup∣pose this is enough for this bout, having given you these general Advices, whereunto I may add, that in all sorts of Entertainments, you must be sure to avoid what∣ever may savour of For mality and Affectation.
I protest, Sir, you have already given me such a clearness of understanding, that if you con∣tinue
to instruct me, perhaps you will perceive such success, as will hinder you from repenting it.
I can assure you my counsels will be of little use to you, unless you mix therewith the frequenting of Company, and ma∣king close and constant Observati∣ons thereupon. The Maxims of the greatest Masters are not of themselves able to make a com∣pleat Gentleman: A man becomes not a Painter, but by using the Pen∣cil, how great a Judge soever he may be of good Pieces; and there∣fore I will not give you any Max∣ims for the world, unless you in∣tend to see it. These instructions will be fruitless to a Solitary; he can never acquire the facility of using them. The best Precepts and choicest Morals will never take from him the perplext countenance which he brings from his Desart. They can never take off that dull and melancholly air of his Cell.
But on the contrary, we may say that advice gives great Assistance to persons that take care to practise it. An hours reading is more pro∣fitable to these, than a whole year can be to contemplative persons who keep always in their Studies. A man must practice immediately as soon as he is furnish'd with good Rules; and it is useful for a man e∣ver and anon to examine these Precepts, when he enters into Company. This Precaution makes known the faults wherein one may fall; and there are some of such a nature, as to make a man ridiculous for his whole life time, the first time he commits them. So that a man cannot be too much cauti∣oned against them.
had no sooner said these words, but he observed the Colla∣tion bringing in, which made him proceed no farther in that discourse. They went both of 'em into a Gar∣den which Dorante had taken care
of embellishing. Lisidor viewed the Flowers, a small Fountain, and some Statues; and being afterwards sat down with Dorante in a pleasant Arbor, this last reassumed his di∣scourse, and began this second En∣tertainment.
BEfore we reassume our discourse, you are desirous, I suppose, dear Nephew, that we should say something touching the being handsomly cloath'd before you appear in the Companies wherein I pretend to bring you. I do not think you have made you Cloaths before your departure, nor that you e∣steem your Taylors so, as to pre∣fer
them to ours. We will go to morrow morning, if you think fit∣ting, to find out what is most mo∣dish and proper for a person of your years and condition. You know we must not neglect the outside. We should always so or∣der it, that the first impressions turn to our advantage, and dispose peo∣ple the better to relish the Senti∣ments of our Mind, and the agree∣able products of our Fancies. That which does farther contribute to these favourable dispositions, is a certain manner of behaviour and speech that is soft and polisht, which gives the name of civil to those who commonly use them.
You know what are the Quali∣lities which that which we call Ci∣vility requires; and you have ob∣served without doubt, That that of our French, and the Urbanity of the Ancient Romans, draw their original from two words which
signifie City and Villa. And we almost ever see that the persons who have been brought up in Ci∣ties, have an handsom behaviour opposite to that which we call Ru∣sticity in Country People.
If you please, Sir, tell me in what manner one may pra∣ctice this civility, and wherein it consists?
The most important Rule which I would give in this matter, were I fit to be consulted, should be, that a man who would gain on affections, should carry tokens of modesty in his counte∣nance and behaviour. He cannot draw envy, unless he appears pos∣sess'd in a good opinion of himself; and on the contrary, he cannot but be pleasing to Company, if, in∣stead of appearing fierce and po∣sitive, he gives them marks of e∣steem and submission.
I would have one also to ob∣serve exactly a decent behaviour,
according to the Sex, Age, and Quality of the person you converse with, with regard likewise both to time and place. In effect, a Lady would be but little charm∣ing, should she appear with the blustering meen of a Souldier; nei∣ther would a Captain look well, if he affected to speak soft and sine, like a Sir Courtly Nice; and an old man would be ridiculous, should he look on his toes, and ever and anon throw back the locks of his Peruke, like a young Beau of eigh∣teen. Now to come to another kind of men; wou'd you speak to a great Prelate, or to a grave Ma∣gistrate, with as mimic an air as to a Chamber-fellow in the Acade∣my? We must allow that Decen∣cy requires that we not only be∣have our selves respectfully with persons of a distinct Rank, but e∣ven not so much as to speak of them in any manner which savours of equality. I do not believe that
a person who has been of the Re∣tinue of an Ambassador in his Travels, will be so ridiculous as to say in his ordinary discourse, When my Lord the Duke d'Estreé and I went to Rome together; Yet there are People, who speaking to a great Lord, observe so little di∣stance as to say; You remember, Sir, what befell us when we set out for Ly∣ons; whereas they should have men∣tioned only the Lord's name, and barely have said, When my Lord Duke d'Estreé went to Rome; and at to the second expression, When your Lordship parted.
I do not tell you that there are an infinite number of other Rules to be followed by a man that would appear like a Gentleman. You know that we must not only give the right hand and the wall to per∣sons of Quality, but likewise yield them generally whatever seems most commodious. Your own Reason will shew you what is fit∣ting
in these matters, without my advice. However it is good to use most of these little Maxims with an address so much the greater in that it must not be perceived.
All must appear natural in a Gentleman, and no••hing must sa∣vour of Art and Affectation.
I might moreover insert some one of these precepts in our Enter∣tainments: Should I collect them all at present, you would be perhaps disgusted at them. Let us first consider those which are to be ob∣served in entring into Company. When you go to see a person of a Rank above yours, you know, with∣out doubt, that it is to use too much familiarity, to enter with your Coach or Chair into the Court of his house. Civility requires we come out of them to enter on foot, unless the Porter, by his Master's order, opens the great Gate, and entreats you to enter more commo∣diously. If you be not known,
and your name be ask'd, you are only barely to mention it, without adding thereto your Title of Mar∣quess, or Sir John. You likewise are not to be taught, that when we find the Chamber door fast∣ned, it's not civil to knock loudly with your stick, but rather softly with your knuckles, or scratching the door. This fashion came from the doors of the Louvre, and is now gotten to those of the Mini∣sters and Grandees of the Court, and I doubt not but it will get by degrees to all houses where there is any Quality. But when a man first presents himself, com∣monly he whose office is to intro∣duce persons, takes care of level∣ing these little difficulties.
However there is one, for when we find persons already at the door, or there come any before it be opened, Civility re∣quires one to withdraw, to let them first enter who came before us,
and offer the door even unto those who came after, if they appear to be persons of any Consideration. However this does 〈◊〉〈◊〉 me from my perplexity; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I be not known to those 〈…〉〈…〉; how far am I obliged to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my Civility, or, to 〈◊〉〈◊〉, this kind of Coremony?
There is on the Coun∣tenance, and Behaviour, certain Characters which may make us guess at the Condition of persons; and which determines us to treat them with more or less Civility, according as our Conjectures shall direct us. But when a man that wants experience, and penetration, finds himself in the uncertainty you speak of, he must take the furest side, which is, to pay more respects than we think are due, seeing it is better that people who are not worthy of 'em, should be obliged to us for 'em, than to expose our selves to disoblige persons who me
rit more Civility than we have paid them. Yet we must not fall into those Ceremonies which were so incommodious in the former Court. They have been long since banisht, and we can hardly believe men should make it an Art to tor∣ture themselves and others.
I know, Sir, there was never any Comedy more pleasant than was one of those Contests whereon they fell every time two or three met at a Gate. I have heard say, that they added strange contentions to their complements; that they stept back, to advance again immediately, and to push forwards with violence towards the passage, those persons to whom they would give place.
The eloquent expressi∣ons which were studied, and spoke with great deliberation, were no less ridiculous than the postures they made; and methinks I see a Viscount and a Baron of those
times thus contesting it with one another.
No, no, Sir; say and do what you will, I'le pass no farther, and stir no more from hence, than London-Bridge does to White-Hall.
And for my part, Sir, let one word be as good as a thousand, I will not enter; I'le as soon lye here all night in this cor∣ner, where the knowledge of your merit has made me withdraw. In fine, Sir, I protest if it lay in the power of my wishes, I would chuse rather to dwell eternally here, than to suffer your civility to supplant my duty.
No mention of du∣ty, good Sir, for that belongs to me; and were there another judge than your modesty to decide our disserences, I should ••••on gain my cause. Fie on this modesty, it is not equitable enough to be our Arbitrator, she will take what is
due from you, and give me that which does not belong to me. I hope she will be sooner tired than your Reason; and you must yield to me, in permitting me to yield to you.
However I shall do nothing, unless you command me to do any thing.
Well then I com∣mand you; That I may obey you.
In this case, my o∣bedience will excuse my fault; and I may now say, that we shall go in procession; where the principals march the last.
The peace had no soorer ended this conflict, but at a new door new phra∣ses and new strivings.
I think the young peo∣ple happy in being born in a time wherein they are delivered from these tiresome fashions: But, Sir, ••••y whence came they, and how came they to be receiv'd in a Coun∣try,
where franchisement has gi∣ven the name to the Nation there∣in establish'd?
It's true, one would wonder how we could relish them, for the French are too mercurial to remain whole hours in a state of complementing. But the Italians on the contrary, more patient and more at leisure, and of more pli∣able spirits, perhaps have intro∣duced this manner among us. How∣ever the samous Monsieur de la Care tells us, that the Ceremonies past from Spain to Italy; but sup∣posing this were true; and that the Spaniards have taken them from the Moors of Grenad, as well as their gallantry, yet I must still believe, that they rather come from Italy than from any other Nation. I have ever imagined that the Italians have made a kind of Art of them, and heep as it were a Register of them, which one may term their Ceremonial.
I suppose the word Ce∣remony is not ancient; and that it may have come from that gi∣ven to respectful actions which Church men make use of to denote the honour they give to God, or to holy things.
I am of the same opini∣on as you: We have extended in pro∣cess of time the signification of this term. It has been thought fit to apply it to the Reverences which men make to one another, in bow∣ing down; in uncovering the head; and by accompanying these acti∣ons with an 100 other grimaces, the more to testifie our submissi∣on. This Custom is but the sha∣dow of what it was, and it is well for us it is so.
However it is not so much a∣based, but that it endeavours to raise up its head. But those per∣sons as know the world, retrench all these superfluities, and observe only what decency requires. Here∣by
they fall not into fruitless exces∣ses of words, and submissions, which are seldom taken for sincere. And therefore they be commonly used to flatter in appearance, such per∣sons as we do in effect despise.
To proceed farther; all these Ceremonies, and these Protestati∣ons of Amity, would not only be look'd upon as so many dissimula∣tions, but one might look upon them as Crimes and Treacheries; if those terms, which are at every turn used, had not lost their first validity through long custom. But we are wont no longer to take these words in a strict sense. We see every day people embrace one another, kiss, and make a thousand offers, as if they were the best Friends in the world; and who, a moment afterwards ac∣knowledge, without hesitation, that they scarce knew one another. However we must follow this Cu∣stom, instead of attempting to
change it. It is less our fault than the fault of our age; and all that wise people can do, is, to use it with moderation and diseretion. When all the world falls into a fault, no body can be blamed; and how extravagant soever a mode may be, a man would yet be still more extravagent, if he refused to comply with it. Should he a∣lone offer to withstand the gene∣ral consent of his Country. Let us grant therefore, that there are Ceremonies of duty from which we cannot fairly excuse our selves, but offend persons who will ima∣gine we pay 'em not their dues. So that the authority of Custom may do all things in point of Ce∣remony; and therefore it must be regarded as a kind of Law. Let not a man examine whether this Law be good or bad, it is sufficient it has obtain'd, whereby we are obliged to obey it; and therefore it's necessary to know after what
manner we should carry our selves, and what terms we should use in receiving visits, how to return them, and to salute according to the Custom of the Country. Great is the variety of expression in these rencounters: Among us Civility requires we should use the plural in speaking to a single person; per∣haps to signifie to him, that we esteem him as much as many o∣thers.
Addressing our selves to a per∣son of ordinary rank, yet we ac∣cost him with, I pray you, Sir; whereas the ancient Romans said, I pray thee. Which way of speak∣ing is still amongst some Nations. The Turks, who are so submissive to their Soveraigns, whose mean Slaves they term themselves, yet use these kind of expressions when they speak to him, If thy Highness commands it, &c. And heretofore in Spain, Amirante used the word thou in speaking to the King of Arra∣gon;
and we see that the Subjects of most Princes, speak in a quite different manner; Amirante fol∣lowed the Custom of his Country, and we ought to obey the Custom of ours.
I have observ'd in a Re∣lation of the Court of Spain, that there is still practis'd a thing very strange, which is, That a Lover who finds his Mistress in the Queen's prefence, may entertain her with the same liberty which he might elsewhere. Nay, he takes that of being covered, without of∣fence; his passion excuses all; it must be supposed to be too violent to permit him to think of good manners. The more faults it makes him commit, the more it appears obliging to the person he loves.
I know not whether you have observ'd in the same Book one thing which is no less surpri∣sing. Which is, That the young
Gentleman who make love to the Queen's Maids, send them openly dishes of meat, and without any scruple, at every meal. But we shall go too far, should we examine the difference there is betweenourman∣ner of carriage and those of other Nations. Let it content us in saying that among us we must salute per∣sons, accost them, or receive them in the manner in use. A French man who would scruple to say, I am your most humble Servant, because he felt in his Soul that there was no such thing, would pass for a ridiculous Misanthropes. Men do not take these words strictly; and we commonly use them without thinking on what they signifie; and whatever harshness there is in them, it is softned by long Cu∣stom. The exactest probity per∣mits us to use them, and when a man asks me how I do, I may answer, That I am in good health, and ready to do him service; with∣out
being obliged to attend him at that very moment; and fol∣low him to his house like his Ser∣vant.
That which Reason enjoyns us in these occasions, is, to use distin∣ctions in the Civilities which de∣cency obliges us to pay. We must have regard to the age and the con∣dition of persons, and the state wherein they are; and if we find them sick or busie, the more ce∣remonies we use, the more incom∣modious we make our selves. We must cut short, and shew our sen∣timents, rather by some respectful Action, than by tedious Compli∣ments. This proceeding shews that we know the world, and he that shall do otherwise, will pass for an imprudent person. Moreo∣ver our civilities ought to be diffe∣rent according to the difference of places and Persons. We see in the Palace Royal a politeness not to be met with in St. Dennis-street;
and in St. Dennis-street we hear not the quodlibers with which the Lawyers offend our ears. The Officers of an Army, nor M••••••¦strates do not love we should 〈◊〉〈◊〉 'em lose time in fruitless 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••••¦nies; and a great Lord would not much relish the compliments made him by a Tradesman, no more than a Master would be pleased with his Servants offers of service to him.
It seems that the instru∣ction I may draw hence, is, That in matter of Ceremonies, we must be neither sparing nor prodigal. If we make too few, we may pass for uncivil; and we become trou∣blesom, if we fall into the contrary extream.
In the difficulty there is of observing always a just Medi∣um, I think we should do 〈◊〉〈◊〉, if Ceremonies were entirely sup∣prest, our Fathers passed well e∣nough without them, and so should
we likewise; but it is a contagious Distemper which our Neighbours have introduced among us as well as others. We cannot, as I have already said, be dispens'd from being subject to them. It's true, we must never pass the bounds prescribed by Custom. This were to proceed to such a Su∣perfluity as Reason forbids, and which Persons will not endure that hate to be sed with smoke and appearances.
Although Men take pleasure to receive Respects, yet they would be without doubt disgusted at those paid them that savour'd of Design or Artisice. I suppose likewise that excessive praises cannot please. Those who give them us, have a strange opinion of us. They take us for vain or credulous Persons, and easie to be deceived.
I now told you, that Persons of great leisure made
more Ceremonies than People who are busied: So that you will not be surprised, when you shall see Ladies, knowing enough in this Art, to read Lessons to others. They make Reverences to certain Persons, Smiles to o∣thers, and make their Servants keep an exact Register of the different Seats they must offer, high and low Seats, Chairs with and without Arms.
Dorante had no sooner ended these words, but he was interrup∣ted by the noise of a Coach which entred into his Court. Here's E∣rastus, said he, with joy. You have heard he is the dearest of my Friends; for you know all my concerns, as well as I know yours. And therefore have I not asked you any Nows of your Family. As for Esastus, notwithstanding the in∣equality there is in our Age, yet we are, I say, the best Friends in the World. You'll see a man of
excellent humour, and I can assure you he will be no small help to you in the Companies whereinto you will go with him.
But how know you so precisely that it is Erastus?
Because he enters with∣out any notice given me, and it is only he that claims that privi∣ledge of me.
Immediately Erastus appear'd at the Garden-door, and, addressing himself to Dorante, said: Reckon not (said he to him) this visit made to you, it is wholly to Lisi∣dor; suffer me to embrace him, and to demand his Friendship. In end∣ing these words he addrest himself to the young Gentleman, who had advanc'd towards him; and having held him some small time in his Arms, they spake both of them in few words what Civility requires at a first enterview. I doubt not, said Erastus, but that you were on some agreeable matter of Conversation,
pray take it up again, I need it to cure me of the head-ach, which a very different Entertainment has giv'n me; I prepare my self to hearken to you.
How, to hearken? You shall speak more than we, if you please; and therein we shall find our advantage.
I know how I shall find mine; I come to sup with Lisidor, I shall leave him as little as possi∣ble; and if it be not fair that I should take him from you to night; I hope you'll not deny me that happiness to morrow; for he shall dine with me then.
Not so hasty, good Sir, when my Nephew knows that your House is a kind of po∣lish'd Court, he will not be in such haste to go thither: Judge a little, Lisidor, arriving from one end of the Kingdom to Paris, the first time, whether you find your self presently in a condition
to visit a Lady whose wit and beauty — At these words Era∣stus interrupting Dorante: Do not believe him (said he to Lisidor) he has perhaps his Reasons to hin∣der you from seeing my Wife; but she will be reveng'd on him, and will come and see you; let's talk no more of it; it's a thing agreed; think only of renewing the Conver∣sation which I have so unseasonably interrupted.
We were discoursing of the Ceremonies which Custom may approve, and of those which are incommodious, and of the ridiculous Compliments which heretofore attended them.
I would willingly hear how you have condemn'd these Ceremonies and these Compli∣ments: But instead of continu∣ing to make Remarks on these defects, I had rather you would tell me, how one may speak a∣greeably.
Another than my self would tell you that one must speak like you; but is it just you should expect this sweetness from a man you come from offend∣ing? I also see you pretend to edge me on; and engage me to make a discourse wherein I shall find more difficulty than you i∣magine. It's true, that I shall not be alone in the perplexity; if I be hard put to it in treat∣ing of this matter, you will have no less trouble in hearkning to me.
IT seems that the most important Maxim is, To take care of the Subject of Conversation, and to
chuse requisite thoughts and ex∣pressions. We must lay aside whatever may seem light or tri∣fling when we should be serious. Neither must we affect to ap∣pear Philosophers, where the com∣pany are all disposed to be free and chearful. A man that would prove any thing by undeniable arguments, would not much di∣vert young Ladies, whom the on∣ly word Argument is enough to scare out of their wits. Others moreover would please less, if to shew themselves unseasonable wits, they set upon retailing jokes before Persons in affliction. As to the choice of words, we must observe what is in use and approved of by able and refined Persons; as when we dress our selves, we cannot do better, than to apply our selves to the Modes which Gen∣tlemen of the best fancies do fol∣low.
I read yesterday that
it is no less ridiculous to make use of words that are obsolete, than to wear Steeple-crown'd Hats, although these words may be brought in pleasantly enough in Raillery.
You may have obser∣ved in the same Book, that if Pru∣dence requires we should omit words which are no longer in use; she forbids us likewise to hunt after terms which the Ear is not accustomed to. We must leave these Novelties to young Peo∣ple, seeing they affect them, and that Boldness is natural to them.
But must not a Lan∣guage, that loses words on one hand, not only recover them on the other, but also enrich it self?
I grant it; but it is not every bodies Province to enrich it; it belongs to learned and refined Persons to bring in
new words; as it belongs to Per∣sons of the Court, that are well made, Richest, and of the best Fancies, to invent Fashions for Cloaths.
However it is not enough to have chosen words which use approves. We must prefer those which are properest to give the Idea of things which we would express; we ought also to seek with care words which please the Ear, and which have Sweet∣ness, or Magnificence, according as the Matters require. As for Quibbles, Puns, and fulsom Jokes, we should leave them to the com∣mon People, as being suitable on∣ly to men of their Rank.
I would willingly know why figurative Expressions are more graceful than others, and how they make up the Ornament of a Discourse?
We may say they af∣fect more, because we are less ac∣customed
to them, but especially because they attribute more to things whereto they are joyned, than do the Proper and Natural Terms. They even enliven that which is inanimate. I could cite an infinite number of Examples: You hear Men say every day; What a sad Place is this old Ca∣stle; How I love this Meadow! How every thing smiles there!
For my part, I am for an Irony, and an Hyperbole; these are my two Favourites; and I have an hundred times observ'd the Conversation would be asleep, did not these two Fi∣gures ever anon keep it waking. Had Dorante ever so little wit, or learning, he would do me the greatest pleasure in the World in discoursing of them.
Methinks you cannot more pleasingly begin this dis∣course, but by this Example of an Irony.
Do not you see that Erastus imagines he can disen∣gage himself, by thus smoothing me up; but he is mistaken, for I shall not quit him thus. He must entertain us on this Subject. I am sure he is a perfect Ma∣ster of it, seeing these two Fi∣gures are so dear to him; and that he is a man not apt to fall in love where he is not well ac∣quainted.
As to an Irony I am willing to say all I can on that Subject, but I'le warrant you I shall take heed of speaking of the Hyperbole; for there port is a∣mong the Wits, that you marri∣ed her, when she was in mourn∣ing for Mounsieur de Balsac her first Husband. So that it be∣longs to you to inform us of her good Qualities: For I will not believe my Friend's Wife has any bad ones.
I confess, that to do
me honour, two or three of my Friends have said that I had a strict Union with the Widow of this Illustrious deceased; but you may have observed, that if my Conversation shews she pleases me; I appear'd less affected in what I wrote. However seeing you are pleased that I should en∣tertain you about her, I will do it, and instead of respecting her as my Wife, I shall only consi∣der her as a Figure, to the end you may love her without any scruple.
An Hyperbole has commonly only excessive expressions, she augments or distinguishes things in excess; but if it be permitted her to go beyond the bounds of Truth, yet she must never pass those of resemblance to truth. You know how I have treated of this elsewhere; and Lisider, not having seen the passage I speak of, I need only repeat what
the Idea which I still retain will furnish me with. I cannot forget a bold stroke I gave, which perhaps will never be par∣doned me.
I said that Virgil went too far, when he set forth the light∣ness of Camilla; and that I knew not whether in so great a Poem, one might make a Princess run over the tops of Corn without bending them, and over the waves of the Sea, without wetting the soles of her Feet. These are in truth glistering expressions, but I think 'em not so well placed in a serious stile, as they would be in a light Poem.
There are also Authors, who think they carry not their Exa∣geration far enough, if they do not heap Hyperbole upon Hy∣perbole. Now although there are infinite Hyperbolies in the Writings of witty men, who are pleased to sport ingeniously with
them, yet we must not think this Figure ought to be only used in raillery, and that it cannot well be seen in the most serious mat∣ters. One of our Authors praising Cardinal Richlieu, addresses himself to him in these Terms, in an Epi∣stile Dedicatory.
But my Lord, as there was here∣tofore a Valiant Man who could not receive any wounds, but on the scars of those he had already received, so you cannot be praised, but by Repeti∣tions; seeing that truth, which hath its bounds, has said for you, whatever falshood, which knows none, has invent∣ed for others.
I may add, that Hyperboles make a great impression in a Tra∣gical Subject. This Monster having not sufficiently glutted his Cruelty; and being not satisfied with the Ri∣vers of Blood, which he made run down this desolate City, put all to Fire and Sword before him. He foam'd with Rage, and his Eyes more
ardent and dismal than two Co∣mets, &c.
But before we end, methinks we should not forget Voiture, who is so full of agreeable Hyperboles. Have you not observed, How ma∣ny Towns he discovers, which are in no Maps? How many Mountains, which Geographers know nothing of? How many Terra's incognita's; and how many Rivers, and Seas, which the World never before heard of. He ingenuously confesses in another Letter, that he makes use of the Figure we speak of: He makes the description of a Feast, and says, if I be not mistaken, That the Skie appeared on Fire, that all the places round about shined like Stars, and that it seemed as if the whole Ʋniverse was turning in∣to a flame. He afterwards coldly adds, that these are 3 Hyperboles, which reduced to their just value, are just worth nothing.
I know not, Erastus, whether
what I now said satisfies you: You, I say, to whom the Hy∣perbole was so familiar before you had espoused Cleonice. Perhaps you have not as yet forgot how you set this Figure at work, when you came to find me, to impart to me your Joy, or re∣late to me your Griess. It is not above six Months since, That one minute without seeing Cleonice, was an Age of Trouble to you; and I am certain, that if you could entertain her an Age, you would look on this Age but as a Moment.
I confess in those days I made more often use of the Hy∣perbole, than the Irony; but seeing I find my self at present in a calmer condition, I should be more disposed to Gaiety than the Figure requires, which you would have me speak of. You know better than I, what a great relish she yields to Raillery, and I believe that Lisider is not to
be taught that an Irony consists in learning neatly to be understood, the contrary of what we say. I saw yesterday at a Lady of Qua∣lity's a Marquess who this day was to set out for his Province, where he goes to confine himself. He came to Paris on occasion of a Law-suit, and I believe he returns less out of humour for having parted with a great deal of mo∣ney to Solicitors, and Lawyers, than to have remain'd three or four Months from his Seat and his Farms. He took a great de∣light in recounting how he bu∣sied himself in the Country; and being my near Kinsman, I could no more suffer what he said, than his manner of living. A Lady of the Company took notice of the Pain I was in, and represent∣ed to the Marquess. That in France a Person of Quality thought it more becoming him to serve in the Wars, than to amuse him∣self
in feeding Ducks and Pigeons. Our Country Gentleman smiled, and shewed by his answer. That he pitied those Persons that serv'd in the Wars. I could not then forbear speaking, and directing my discourse to this Lady, My Lord has reason (said I to her a little roughly) and I assure you that the Corde's, the Turenn's, and the Crequi's, are to be blamed for not following his Example. Their lives would have been Glorious far from Armies; whereas they determined to spend them in beat∣ing their Enemies, gaining Bat∣tels, and taking Cities. I know not what they thought in embra∣cing a profession which so great∣ly lessens their Memory. It's true they had the mishap of not con∣sulting a Wit so solid as that of my Lord the Marquess. I utter∣ed these words with a serious Air, the Company smiled, and my Kinsman lost his Countenance, and
could not get it again all the Din∣ner time.
I do not doubt but Lisidor knows, That we comprehend the sense of an Irony, either by a tone of Pronunciation which disco∣vers that we are not in earnest, or by the apparent opposition there is between the words and the thing spoken of. It was by this last means that I was under∣stood; for they saw nothing but what was serious in my Discourse and on my Countenance. But seeing that you have cited Au∣thors, methinks it is lawful for me to say, That an Irony glisters throughout all the Works of Voi∣ture and Sarasin. You are not surprised at this, but I am, in see∣ing in Malherbe's Letters a Rail∣lery ingeniously turn'd, which I may take for a kind of rony. I was so content with several pas∣sages of this famous Author's Rhime, that I dared not read
his Prose, so greatly was I afraid of losing the Esteem I would preserve for him. Lisidor will not be displeased in hearing how in∣geniously Malherbe relates the News of the Siege of Veruë.
The Spaniards are always be∣fore Veruë, it's a place that is a little more worth than Chaliot; but is far from being so good as Lagny. However the Duke de Feria lies starving there with cold, notwith∣standing the Dog-days. The Mar∣shal de Crequi has lodg'd himself between the Besieged and the Be∣siegers, and does wonders, according as he is wont. If you ask me what I expect, I believe that the Spani∣ards will see the Steeples and Chim∣neys of this Town; but as for the Streets of it, they must get their notices of them in the Map. I would advise them, if they pretend still to the Ʋniversal Monarchy, either that they would proceed more quick in their work, or beg of Hea∣ven
to put a stop to the end of the World, that they may have time e∣nough to finish it, &c.
I shall not expatiate any longer on this matter; I find it large, and I like it; I am afraid lest it should carry me too far.
You ought not to have the same fear of the Anti∣thesis. I have ever heard you say, That you could not endure it. However, the opposition of words and thoughts, may give great lustre to a discourse. But I am of your mind, that he that uses this Figure, must be an Ene∣my to all Affectation, and not so much consult the sporting with Words, as the uttering good Sense.
Let us leave here these Matters; for they require too great Application, and I am for diverting the Conversa∣tion.
I demand Quarter for
the description. It is agreeable, it renders the Assembly attentive, and I see nothing more necessary than to know how to paint well the things we would represent. We may find our selves every mo∣ment oblig'd to make use of this Figure; sometimes in describing a pleasant Prospect, a fine House; otherwhiles a Ship wrack or a Battel. Especially if I came from seeing a Stranger of great Qua∣lity, or a beautiful Princess lately arriv'd, and I were ask'd what I thought of one, and the other, should not I be glad to make a Portraicture of them so like, as might place before their eyes the Persons I would speak of.
What you say makes without doubt the principal Beau∣ty of what one relates; but here is in what Terms Dorante has explained himself in one of his Books touching Portraictures, which every one undertakes to draw
after his Fancy. There are a great many People who set forth their Friends; There are others who set forth themselves, and who ratail out their Defects and their Virtues, without concerning themselves at what the publick will judge of them. In fine, every body takes the Pencil in hand; but I know not whether there be many Apelles's among this great number of Painters. Yet it is cer∣tain, that a Mediocrity is not excu∣sable in these sort of works, for la∣bouring therein less through necessity, than for Ornament, every thing should glister therein, and nothing should appear languishing. One may de∣scribe or make a Recital in two different manners; The first Na∣tural, Simple, and Succinct; The o∣ther more Extensive and Flourish∣ing. If the dispute be touching the waters of a River, as to the right which may be pretended for the watering of Meadows, or turning of Mills; a man need only relate
precisely the circumstances, which may serve to give light into the dispute. But if I speak not of this River, but to describe a de∣licate place, I may then expati∣ate, and say, That it's Crystal wa∣ters wind themselves about a de∣lightful Valley, either to water it in the more places, or to shew that they are pleased with it, and leave it with regret. It is in these oc∣casions that Poetry may triumph, provided she uses, with a lively Fan∣cy, and a solid Judgment, the pri∣viledge she has of shewing her self bolder, and less reserv'd than in Prose. And therefore, in this last manner of making a descrip∣tion, or a recital, I should forget none of the Circumstances which may give any relish to what I un∣dertook to recount. If it were an History, or some adventure of those great Fables which have diverted our Nation, under the name of Romance, I would en∣deavour
to point my Hero's in a most exact manner. Those who were to hear me representing them, should make, if I may so say, such a kind of acquaintance with them, as would engage them to hearken to me, and induce them at the same time to take part in whatever regards the Persons I should entertain them with.
I assure you, that in reading the works of Calprénéde, I have always interess'd my self in whatever hapned to his He∣ro's and Ladies; and when I saw in Faramond all those Kings.
Perhaps you saw too many of them. The Author, you speak of, has gathered together as many on the banks of the Rhine, as the Marquess d'Ʋrfé did Shepherds on the banks of Lignon: However you may easi∣ly judge there are something few∣er Kings than Shepherds, yet we may justifie Calprénéde in some
sort. The Romances he set forth were like Epic Poems in Prose. They had more of the Illiad and Aenead than the Theagenes and A∣strea. Moreover the Age of Fa∣ramond permitted him to menti∣on those great number of Sove∣raigns. It was after the death of the great Theodosius; and as his Children succeeded not in his Va∣lour, and that they weakned the Empire in sharing it, so an infi∣nite number of Barbarons Nati∣ons took that time to settle them∣selves in better Countries than their own. These Nations march'd under Leaders who were Kings, or to whom one might give this Title, which Homer has so pro∣digally bestowed on so many Greeks. As for the Characters, I confess they are a little too u∣niform in the writings of Calpré∣néde. We find none therein but brave and fierce Blades; whereas there should be variety, to give
rellish to a Recital, and to render it more probable.
I believe likewise we are oblig'd to observe a greater resemblance to truth in what we invent, than in the true Facts which we mix with some adven∣ture: for we commonly believe what is true; and when it should not be believ'd, by reason of it's little resemblance, we shall not be Vouchers, as in things which come from us.
It seems to me, that to make things probable; besides the truths which we ought dex∣trously to insert, it is good to set forth Persons such as they should be, to execute what we make them undertake. As for a bold Action, we should describe a strong man, brought up in the Wars, of an assured Countenance, and a grim Aspect. But if I may again speak of the Expressions which we should use, I would
say they must be Natural, with∣out Flatness, a kind of Nobleness and Elevation in them; according as the matters require, but no∣thing flatulent or forc'd. A man should banish Equivocal Terms and Transpositions, and use only Parentheses through Necessity and with Judgment; and retrench all those Circumstances which serve neither to instruct nor delight.
Speaking freely, as we do in these matters, we may add something as to the choice of words. It is not enough to use those which are properest to give the Idea of what we would re∣present, we must also know the Terms which belong to Arts, whe∣ther our Recital relates to matters concerning Painting or Sculpture, War or Navigation.
This Remark brings to my re∣membrance a brisk Answer which an Officer of our Fleet made to a young Gentleman of this Town, who
made one Campaign on his Ves∣sel. The Parisian walking one night on the Bridge to take the Air, Pray, Sir, says he, let's be gone, the wind is very high &c. Sir, says the Officer, know that for a Sea-man to say, The wind is very high, is a very great ab∣surdity, seeing the term is; It is foul, or hard weather.
Although we must use terms proper to Arts, yet it is not ne∣cessary to be so scrupulous as a Physician of my acquaintance was the other day. Having called to him a Chirurgion who was in the Sick man's Chamber: You must not fail, says he, to Phleboto∣mise the Gentleman to morrow morning. I will never suffer it, (cried out the Sick man in a fright) and I am not, continued he, in so bad a condition to have recourse to so dreadful an opera∣tion. The Chirurgion replying immediately thereupon (that he
might not lose his little profit,) Sir, said he to the sick Gentle∣man, be not troubled, the Doctor only orders a bleeding. Ah for bleeding, replied he, I matter it little, but for the rest, I will as soon dye as endure it.
Do you think it e∣nough to have spoken of words which signifie precisely what we have to say, or which are proper to Arts? Is it not also fitting to find Terms which may neatly en∣close the things which we would have understood, and which mo∣desty will not permit us to ex∣press openly? Should I not do better in saying, There is a secret Correspondence between the Mar∣quess of — and the Countess of — than to explain my∣self too grosly on the manner of their Commerce? It is also sitting in these occasions to heed the tone of the voice, and certain smiles, which may make us too
well understood, and transgress those polish'd manners which a well∣bred man should never forget.
I find likewise that there are expressions which Gentlemen should use when there happens some con∣test between them. If any one should make me repeat some cir∣cumstance of a Recital, and he should tell me he did not hear me. I would not answer him; That it is your fault, not mine; I speak clai•• enough, but I cannot make my self be heard when I am not hearkned to. Politeness requires softer terms, Perhaps, Sir, I am mistaken; let's see, if you please, whether I did not say that, &c. Civility likewise requires that we make not too vehement reproaches, nor too pre∣cise, whenever one has fail'd of his word given. So that instead of complaining against one, that has not perform'd his promise, I should chuse to say; That I hoped he would do it; but that I
supposed he either forgot his promise, or met with more difficulty in the thing than he foresaw.
Can you suffer a man who domineers in Conversation, who continually talks, or critici∣ses with the tone of a Master what∣ever others say?
I find this more into∣lerable than People who deign not to speak, and who seem to testifie, by a slighting silence, that it is not in such company as this, where they will utter what they know.
I know some who are for appearing too knowing: I saw one the other day who per∣plex'd himself in speaking with a Stranger the Language of his Country; and having not suffici∣ently studied it to use it freely, he fell into such confusion, as gave great trouble to one part of the Company, and set the other a laugh∣ing, according as they were diffe∣rently inclined.
This is commonly the fault of young people: but they commit a far greater, when they laugh at a Stranger who does not speak our Language well; or run down in his presence the Vices of his Nation.
Neither ought one to scoff at certain defects before per∣sons who have the like; and like∣wise a polish'd man does not di∣rectly praise the persons to whom he speaks. He does it delicately; whereas people, that know not the world, give praises with so little address, and with so great excess, that they perplex and put to the blush those they think to oblige. Whereunto we may add, That a man who excels in his profession, must not presently speak of it; and when he does, it must be with great modesty, and when the Conversation turns on that hinge.
In fine, There are several
things requisite to form this Po∣liteness, which makes the chief agreeableness of Conversation. And there needs no fewer to make a recital which may draw the atten∣tion, and please, and even (as it were) enchant those who hearken to it. Besides what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 have said touching the choice, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 placing of words, beauty of expressions, and lively descriptions to be in∣serted; it is necessary there should be novelty, or something marvel∣lous in what we recount; that we should have ready in our memo∣ries, not only the main of the sto∣ry, but also the names of persons and places lest we hesitate in search∣ing them.
There are Authors, who find it advantageous to make a relation of a Person known by the de∣fect we reprehend: as of a cove∣tous man known by his Covetous∣ness. I acknowledge, that those who hearken have more pleasure,
when we cite a person of their acquaintance, because they repre∣sent him such as he is; but I should always chuse to be less diverting, and more civil, and deny my self and others that pleasure, than to disoblige any one. So that it is better to invent names for the Persons who are to be concerned in a Recital, and even to lay the Scene of the adventure in another Town, than where we dwell.
Dorante could not continue his Discourse: One came to speak with Erastus, and told him that a young Sister of Cleonice was just arri∣ved.
Ah, Dorante, this haps very well, Lisidor and Lindamire arrive both of them the same day at Paris. There is without doubt an assignation or destiny in this affair: However we have reason to rejoyce at it; the world al∣ready praises the growing charms
of my Sister-in Law; and if Li∣sider and Lindamire come to be smitten with one another, the de∣sire of Pleasing will do more in their hearts, than all our Remon∣strances can make impressions on their minds: We shall soon see a change; they will have a better Air, more Sweetness and Com∣plaisance; and I profess I much wish it, for the advantage of Lin∣damire.
You know that which Lisidor will find.
Adieu; I expect him to morrow at Dinner, bring him to me; and seeing he must be new Rigg'd as well as Lindamire, Cleonice will take care of both. She has good Skill in chusing Stuffs, as you have in giving good advice.
Erastus departed in ending these words, and Dorante and Lisidor walked till they had notice Supper was serv'd in.
DOrante and Lisider had no sooner supt, but the first began the discourse in this man∣ner. We cannot be excused from going to morrow to Erastus; but although I use freedom with him, yet we will discourse to night of certain polish'd and respectful manners with which it is fit to appear before Ladies. You know, without doubt, that nothing makes a young Gentleman so much va∣lued, as the approbation of a La∣dy of merit; and that nothing more hinders Persons of your Age from falling into irregularities, than the visiting Persons whose senti∣ments
incline ordinarily to Vir∣tue. In the mean time, speak we of the precautions it is necessa∣ry you be furnish'd with for this visit; and let me begin by an ad∣vice which perhaps you little ex∣pect, which is on the manner of making an honour. You are per∣swaded, without doubt, That your dancing Master has omitted no∣thing he ought to tell you here∣upon: and I am likewise willing to believe you salute with a bet∣ter grace than he that taught you to salute. I know that most Masters are too formal in these matters; They bow down, and raise themselves up by rule only. Every thing is starch'd in them, all savours of Art, and searcely have they ended their Reverence, but they seem to promise the be∣ginning of a Courant or Minuet. Persons of Quality on the con∣trary, salute with a better Air, and in a more natural manner.
If you feel still any kind of con∣straint, you must get rid of it as soon as you can, and give to your countenance and action all requisite liberty. Remember then, if you please, That we must al∣ways endeavour to do with a good grace what may draw the first respects of Persons we ad∣dress our selves to. Nothing af∣terwards renders us more agree∣able than Complaisance: It is this which makes up the Charms of Society; without it we must nei∣ther expect friendship among men, nor a diverting Conversation in Company, nor any part at play, or in a walk, or any other diver∣sion. But when I say we must be complaisant, I do not mean, That base and servile Complai∣sance which Juvenal attributes to certain Greeks of his time, who made their Court at Rome. It must be acknowledg'd, says he, that this Nation is very comical.
Do you say it is hot, they wipe the Sweat off their Forehead. Do you complain it is cold; they call for their furr'd Gown. There are then several complaisances which one must not have. It is not lawful to betray our senti∣ments in essential things, nor to favour Vice in any occasion what∣ever. One may shew the respect we have for great persons and La∣dies, but we must never shew them a Complaisance which may be prejudicial to them. They will no sooner perceive it, but they will hate and despise us.
I conceive that Com∣plaisance is good in a thousand particulars, and that no Conver∣sation could be kept up long with∣out it. However I know not whether Conversation would not dye, if Complaisance reigned too absolutely in a Company, and e∣very body will'd the same thing; whereas it becomes lively and in∣structive,
as soon as an ingenious debate encourages us to maintain different opinions. So that I would willingly know in what bounds one may include a com∣mendable Complaisance, imagin∣ing that it consists in a Medrum, between two vitious extreams, like other Virtues.
We may without fear of being blam'd, prefer, through Complaisance, one pleasure to a∣nother, as play before walking, and of Plays the choice of that which shall best please the person for whom we have a deference. However our Complaisance must not turn to our notable preju∣dice, nor be prejudicial to per∣sons for whom we must not have so much Complaisance, as to play at a play which a Person of great Quality may like, without any Skill in it, seeing our Complai∣sance might be suspected of Inte∣rest. It will be generous, if we
know not so well the Game as the Person of Quality who enga∣ges us to play; however we must never expose our selves to the undergoing a loss, which may in∣commode us; for this last Com∣plaisance will be liable to be ridi∣culed.
The best effect of Complaisance is to make us endure the weak∣nesses of a Friend, and not to yield to anger when he is disor∣dered by it. Far from provoking him, by earnestly withstanding what he desires, we should im∣mediately seem to yield to him, and oppose only sentiments full of sweetness to the violence of his passion. But there are seve∣ral Complaisances which I can never approve of: We may ob∣serve one, which may be called Universal, which makes men say, Yes, to all sorts of things, with∣out distinction; and this appears to me to be such a sorry humour,
That I should like better to be sharply contested with.
I find no less incommodious that which the Citizens have one for another. It is ordinarily at∣tended with long Compliments, and never-ending Ceremonies.
The Complaisances you mention, may displease; but they deceive no body; whereas those of the Court serve com∣monly only to make one take salfe measures. A great Lord pro∣mises all, and a quarter of an hour after, he does not so much as re∣member that he made any pro∣mise. So that all we get by these fair words, is the vexation of re∣nouncing the hopes we were made to conceive.
The Complaisance which one has for back-biters is yet more pernicious; for this is a sacrificing those who are absent, and the upholding a vice which all generous Persons detest. I find
this Complaisance so mean, so criminal, that I think it needless to say any thing more against it; being perswaded you can never be capable of salling into it. Let us rather return to the Subject which has cast us on this matter, and let us say, That the Complaisance which we ought to have for La∣dies has bounds large enough. You know that men are weak, but with respect which we owe to women: we may say they are yet weaker, and more credulous than we. As they are ordinarily prepossest with a good opinion of themselves, so they like those who flatter this self-love, and cannot bear with any body that shall disabuse them. A solid Friend who should undertake to open their eyes, will soon be cast off for a Friend; and I have sound it more than once, That they put a sincere Person on very vexa∣tious Tryals. Not that I would
be so scrupulous to contradict them in matters of small moment. On the contrary, I would give to the defects which they might have, the Names of the Virtues which come nearest them: I would call Covetousness, Fruga∣lity: I would commend in a lean Lady the liberty of her Shape: and I would endeavour to com∣mend the ample Corpulency of Madam Bouv••lle (a great fat Wo∣man in Searron's Comical Romance) by saying she was in good plight. Sometimes one must declare him∣self smitten with the golden co∣lour of Red, otherwhiles with the Brown, and Black, all being to be commended, according to the Companies wherein a man shall find himself. If it be permit∣ted to have this flattering Com∣plaisance for Ladies, you judge you must not sail to practise, when with them, the precept of never speaking of a defect before
Persons who may have the like. To speak all in two words, let's say in general, That to be com∣plaisant, it is good to consult the countenance and humour of the Person whom we would please, and that we do in such a man∣ner conform our selves thereto, that she may not doubt of the part we take in what concerns her.
I think we have talk'd e∣nough of these matters for to day: it is late, and you have need of rest.
THE next morning, Doran∣te and Lisidor walk'd out together to pay their devoirs of Piety, which ought to be never omitted in the beginning of the
day. Scarce were they return'd from Church, but Dorante turn'd himself to Lisidor, saying, I know that Erastus keeps a very good Table, but you are young, and they always dine late where wo∣men are, and therefore let's ad∣vise you to take a Breakfast.
After that Lisidor had follow∣ed Dorante's Counsel; this last reassumed the discourse in these terms. Although I am certain that Cleonice will excuse your faults, if you commit any, how∣ever it will not be amiss to give you some little advices which respect the Table. This matter, perhaps, may not appear to you very important: yet is it not permitted a Gentleman to be ignorant. You know that a∣mongst civilis'd Nations, there were ever diverting or instructive Conversations at Festivals. The Banquet of the seven Wise-men, and the Table-Talk in Plutarch,
do sufficiently shew it. But per∣haps you will not believe me, when I shall tell you that our Fathers, maugre the ignorance of their time, respected the Ta∣bles of great Lords, as Assemblies wherein was much to be learnt. A Proverb of those times makes me judge as much: [Good Table, a good School.]
To ascend higher, and to come up to the Ancients; be∣sides what the works you have cited do discover to us; we may conjecture that at the Table of great Persons the Conversation made one part of the Regale. In effect, the Parasites, for to be there suffer'd, were not content∣ed in being complaisant even to the meanest flatteries, but they studied likewise to say something witty, to divert those who sur∣nish'd the Feast.
I agree with you in what you say; but must tell you
farther, that these Parasites were more contemptible than diverting. Their profession was to be plea∣sant; and you know what we have already said, That nothing can be pleasing where there ap∣pears affectation. But let us leave these Wretches, and re∣turn to the little advices which I am willing to give you.
Being to dine at a Friend's, I make no mention to you of certain Ceremonies touching wash∣ing with Persons of great Rank. He must be very ignorant of the world, who shall draw near to the Basin at the same time a Prince or great man shall dine in the same company. You must stay till he entreats you to ad∣vance, or by taking you by the hand, or by some sign denoting he intends you this honour. Then you are to shew, by a re∣spectful bowing of the body, that it is only out of obedience to his
commands that you offer to wash with him; but if in washing at Erastus's, the Servants come not immediately to take the Towel, Civility requires you hold it till the Officer be present, or Erastus himself takes it out of your hands. It is his part not to suffer you in this posture. You may stay till Cleonice places you; but I believe it will be more neat for you to place your self at the low∣er end of the Table, to avoid Ceremonies. Have you never reflected on the different ways used in these occasions?
I have observ'd it an hundred times in my life, though I am not very old. I have seen people cast their eyes greedily on the meat, as it were to de∣vour it before they came to it; and scarce were they sat down, but they snatch'd up what they liked. They reach'd over their hands into the farthest dish∣es,
without minding whether they ought to stretch their arms over other meats, and before Per∣sons to whom they ow'd respect. I have also observ'd, that in the beginning of the repast, there are some who bend themselves over their Plates, as it were, to keep them in their sight, or to eat there with their eyes, what they cannot hand up quick enough to their mouths. These are a sort of people who bow continually, who excite o∣thers to eat and drink, and who endeavour to change the mirth of a Feast into fury. They put all into disorder; they imagine to bring greater honour to the treat, and the more trouble and confusion they cause, the more they think the Master of the house is obliged to them. I have known others, who disdain to make use of Spoons and Forks, as much as if they were not made for their use: Their knuc∣kles
are indifferently in every dish, and by this means they quickly make their Fingers and Napkins loathsom to the sight of the Company.
Seeing you have made these little Observations, and that it is chiefly the things which regard an Entertainment that we have chosen to examine: I will tell you, That at Treats men com∣monly fall into two contrary faults, which are equally to be a∣voided; which is to praise with excess the dishes before you, or to say nothing at all, but look coldly on the delicacies and abun∣dance of a Feast. By the first defect a man shews himself little accustomed to good Tables, or too greedy of the good chear; and by the other, he seems to despise whatever obligations the Master of the Feast intends to lay on him. Neither would I have a man to speak with great earnest∣ness
of the meats he loves best, or those which he cannot endure, there are certain affected relishes, which are only tolerable in women.
I imagine likewise that it is a great indiscretion, not to appear content with the manner of seasoning certain dishes. One cannot find fault, without provo∣king the Master of the house a∣gainst his Servants, and making him threaten the turning them away, and putting him all the time out of humour; and the whole Company into a mournful silence.
I am very glad you have made this remark, it will hinder you from appearing unea∣sie, and passionate against your people, whenever you make an Entertainment. I hope too you will not fall into a fault which I think an intollerable one in Gentlemen; which is to drink hard your self, or make others do it. Do you judge whether
these excesses are agreeable to the politeness we discourse of, and whether a man whose reason is drowned in Wine, can have an agreeable Conversation? Is it not a shame to make it a point of Honour, to empty more Bottles than the rest of the Company, without considering that in this ridiculous contest, the gallantest man of the Court, cannot exce•• a Porter or Carman? You know the Lacedemonians took a parti∣cular care to inspire an aversion to Drunkenness. They exposed their Slaves full of Wine to the sight of their Children, and found nothing more likely to make this intemperance odious, than the sidelong steps, the extravagancies, and nauseous belches whereto Drunkenness subjects us. Let not any one tell me, that a man is willing to shew that he has a strong head: It is in other sort of occasions we should give Proof
of that; and not weaken our heads when all that is required of us is only to be chearful, and ob∣serve moderation. Let's draw a consequence which relates to our subject, and affirm that a Con∣versation cannot be agreeable du∣ring a repast, nor immediately af∣ter, if we introduce excessive drinking, and a tumultuous noise.
Derante could say no more, E∣rastus came and carried him to∣gether with Lisidor to his house; where they found a lovely woman called Belise, a near Kinswoman of Cleonice: Lisidor was received by these Ladies with all the marks of Friendship, and it was obser∣vable that he saluted young Lin∣damire with some emotion on his countenance: however gay this Company was, yet no jocose re∣marks was made thereupon, lest he should be put out of Coun∣tenance as well as Lindamire: On the contrary, Erastus turned
the discourse on another Subject, and spake to Dorante with his wonted facetiousness.
You see what care I have taken to content you. We are six, which is just what needs: you told me the other day; That at Table the number should never exceed that of the Muses, nor be under the number of the Graces, and now here we are equally distant from one and the o∣ther.
We shall come nearer the number of the Muses than you are aware of, Belise expects Philemon who is to come from Versailles; and word is left at his house to send him as soon as he comes home.
I am very glad of it; it is near eight days since I saw him.
I question whether he will come this morning, seeing he is not already arrived: but
let's talk of the two numbers about which Erastus seems to be so precise.
I said it was the fancy of an Ancient; not to be well pleased at a Banquet, where there was more than nine persons, nor in another where there was less than three. Let Erastus now joke if he will, provided the rest of the Company 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he has reason; for my part I cannot see it easie to avoid consusion, where so ma∣ny persons eat together; and we observe on the other hand, that when there is but two at Ta∣ble the Conversation often flags, for want of Variety. I refer my self to Cleonice if you —
Pray, Sir, excuse me; I'le not part with my right so.
It is certain, that a Gentleman of your age, that dis∣putes against me that am very young, should not expect the
Ladies to be very favourable to him.
No mention of Ages, I entreat you: I confess I am younger than you, but you know I am married.
He has reason.
Whilst they were smiling at these passages; Philemon entred; and Belise, affecting to appear a little astonish'd, made him this kind of reproach
How happens it that you come when I did not expect you; I flattered my self with the thoughts of being without an hus∣band at this Regale?
Before I answer you, I must salute an amiable Per∣son, who pleases me as much; as a young Gentleman, whom I shall afterwards embrace, can be agreeable to you.
After these words, he offered to Lind••mire and Lisidor all the c••••dities usual in these occasions:
and Cleonice in a low voice bid∣ding Dinner to be brought in, the Company sate down, and Philemon reassumed the discourse.
I had been here an hour sooner, had not my mis∣fortune brought to me the great∣est Babler that ever was. He fell upon the news of Hungary, and the Morea; and not content∣ed to retail out the Progress of the Imperialists and Venetians, he has extended their Conquests accord∣ing to his humour. He has made two or three Treaties of Peace, which he has broken. He has elevated to the Throne five or six B••ssa's, in their Govern∣ments; and in fine, regulated the affairs of the two Empires, with∣out my so much as once open∣ing my mouth; being willing to let the discourse fall, and be gone.
I Find nothing more trou∣blesom than a man that always talks, who hears no body but himself, and interrupts those who begin to speak, as if they usurp'd a priviledge which belong∣ed only to him. It is very dif∣ficult for such a one to speak things weighty enough to draw the attention of the auditory, and to express them in a pleasing ex∣actness.
Some men indeed can∣not bear with these great praters. However, as for my part, I shift well enough with them; for with∣out troubling my self with hear∣kening to them, or speaking in my turn, I think on my own affairs, and leave the field open to 'em.
You can then excuse these Troublesomes, who hinder able People from entertaining the company to better purpose.
I am very glad, Ma∣dam, That for the interest of your Sex, you undertake to im∣pose silence on ours; and indeed it is not to be expected that men should speak much, seeing there are women in the world.
I am perhaps less a woman in this matter, than you think I am; and I profess sincere∣ly, that a prating Gossip is the more intollerable. Women have commonly their minds less cul∣tivated than men. They speak fewer things with more words, and leave a greater Vacuum in a discourse. To prove this, I need only tell you what a Cha∣grin I had at a visit I receiv'd yesterday; it was Arpalice that gave it me. She entred into my Chamber, with a languishing Air,
and complain'd immediately of an oppression at her Stomack, which she said filled her with boding apprehensions; so that, continued she, you'll pardon a poor infirm Creature, who is forbid to speak, if she endeavours to testifie to you the joy she has to see young Lindamire is truly worthy to be your Sister. I protest, adds she again, that it is only in this occasion that I am glad to dispence with a silence, which I take pleasure in obser∣ving in every other Rencoun∣ter.
I am far from the humour of those women who will talk on continually; when there's one that begins a discourse, the rest of the company must be silent till night; but, in sine, what can she 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of all this while▪ would it not be better to take breath a little, and let others have their turns? When she has
shew'd her Petticoat, and made the colour be approved of, what matter is it to the Company that she bought the Stuff at the Crown or Blackamore's head, That this Stuff has cost 4 Guineys more, or 4 less than the just Price. Must this prating Gossip shew her Commode, and make the Company guess what it cost, and where she bought it? How hap∣py am I who have been never tempted to prejudice my health by much speaking and to deafen the Assembly. I had rather go into a Cloister than to be trou∣blesom as these everlasting Pra∣ters are, Dorince, Arcinoe, Bella∣mire, Armasia, and Cleonne: You know they gave the head-ach from morning till night to those who have the mishap to meet with them in Company. Where do they gather up all this trash? For among us, they are no more knowing than an infinite of wo∣men
who talk less. Should one forbid them to speak of their Ac∣coutrements; you reduce them to a profound silence. As to my self, were I minded to entertain you of these things, I would de∣sire you to take notice of the Gown I have now on, which I may say, without vanity, is the finest in Paris. Pray observe it, view it well; The more you ob∣serve it, the better you'll like it. It was gazed at with admiration yesterday at the Princess's; the Dutchess of Mazarine took Coach immediately to buy the rest of the Piece, and the Marchioness of Carnarvan was greatly afflict∣ed 'twas all gone. I'le not tell you it cost me a Farthing more or less than it really did; I leave these Foolcries to Parthenissa, and Melinta. Is it not strange wo∣men should be so vain in these occasions; for my part I will not say this Stuff cost me so dear as
Berenice would say it cost her; This woman is straught extra∣vagant in these matters. Does she think to draw more esteem, by having it imagined, that her Petticoat cost more than ano∣thers? Has she not reason to ap∣prehend on the contrary, that she will pass for a Fool, in gi∣ving more for things than their value? Neither would I have you, Madam, to imagine that I am about to tell you my Gown stood me in less than it was worth; No, no, I pretend not to set up for a great housewife, thereby to get an husband. I have one already that I would be loth to part with. You cannot imagine how complaisant he is to me, he brings me home e∣ver and anon a thousand knick-knacks; There can be no Ope∣ra, but I must be at it; and the same it is for walks; and I do not remember that for two years
we have been together, that he once spake of my Conduct, but to approve it. It is true, I give him no cause; I never bring home any of those Gallants, or Vagabond Sparks, that walk from Street to Street, casting up their Foppish Countenances at every Window, and now and then step and strut, like a Crow in a gut∣ter, who never want fine sayings for all Complexions. Perhaps it may be judg'd I am not hand∣some enough to attract them; but I see on the contrary eve∣ry day a thousand homely Pugs who have no more charms than I, and yet are continually sur∣rounded with crouds of Idoli∣zers. I dare scarce add, what I was told yesterday at the Prin∣cess Demarata's, whom I lately mentioned to you. However I was almost as much out of or∣der then as I am now, and you know with what disadventage
a woman is look'd upon then. Yet a certain Spark would needs perswade me I was the finest wo∣man.
I thought I had now a good opportunity of speaking, imagi∣ning Arpalise would not refuse to hear me in the occasion she offered me of praising her. Yet she interrupted me at the first word I began to speak, and con∣tinued on talking till night, with that rapidity, that I had not so much as time to thank her for her visit. At length I had a de∣liverance, but I heard her tongue run all the way she went down Stairs, asking my Servants que∣stions, and answering them her self, and I cannot tell but she she may be yet talking whilst I am relating this to you.
Here's the most plea∣sant Satyr that can be made of a prating Gossip; I have heard it with no small satisfaction, al∣though
it hinders me from com∣plaining of the vexatious hours I have had from these everlasting talkers; for what can one say after Cleonice?
I fancy she puts up∣on us, and makes Arpalise speak thus, only that she might have occasion to speak much her self.
To speak the truth freely, you deserve no less than that I should become as talka∣tive as you accuse me to be. However I'le refer my revenge to Arpalice, whereby you shall know what it is to affront a wo∣man.
O ho, You would fright me would you; know that I am not so easily scared; let this Torrent of words wherewith you have threatned come, I have prepared a Dike, wherein Arpa∣lice will not find her Reckoning. If she entertain me about her
Coiffings, I'le talk to her about my Hat, and with that quick∣ness of speech, and will suffer my self to be so little interrupted, that I shall not fear her attacks the se∣cond time.
But what can you—
I'le tell her I bought my Hat on London-Bridge. I'le tell her how this Bridge is built on wool∣sacks, in what King's Reign it was built. I'le tell her how many Ar∣ches it stands upon—
But—
Do you think, Madam, I'le stop here on this Bridge, no I'le be hang'd first; I'le travel out of sight immediately; I'le pass over into America, Dialogue with the wild Indian who truckt the Skin of the Castor whose hair was mixt with the wool of which my Hat was made; I'le recount what trinckets were given in ex∣change for the Castor's Skin; and afterwards fall on the several
Commodities which go off well at America.
This is something—
I'le insist on the two parts of this new World Northern and Southern; I'le forget none of the great Rivers, nor golden Mines, nor Rocks, nor Mountains; where∣unto I will add a Philosophical de∣scription of the Fruits, Trees, Flow∣ers, Plants, and Animals of the se∣veral Islands.
Proceed.
I'le embark my Castor Skin on a Vessel, I'le raise a storm against this poor Ship; I'le make a large and most Poetical descrip∣tion of this Tempest; I'le repre∣sent the Vessel as the Tennis-Ball of the Northern blasts and Sou∣thern too as most irreconciliable Enemies▪ But do you think I can forget our old friend Christopher Columbus the first discoverer, and Americ Vespuce who gave his name to this great Country. I will
make the first come to the Court of France, where he shall be re∣ceived as a Dreamer; I'le carry him afterwards over into Spain, where Ferdinand and Isabella give him a favourable hearing; I will recount the famous Marriage which united so many King∣doms in joyning Aragon to Ca∣stile; and if I must accompany these Recitals with considerable revolutions, Mariana whom I have lately read, will supply me with matter.
Pray be not so confi∣dent with your Mariana; these Historical Events will sooner end than the prattles of these Gossips.
Pray, Madam, you do not observe I have a Feather in my Hat; Cannot I coast Affrick whence we have our Plumes, and passing by Tunis, can I forget Carthage? Let a whole douzen of Gossips come after this, I'le
in serious tones set forth to 'em the famous War of the ••wo state∣ly sRepublicks who contended for the Empire of the Universe; I'le cite the Scipio's, Fabius's, Flami∣nius's, Marcellus's, Emilius's, Var∣ro's. Hamilcar's, Hannibal's, the Syphax, and Massinisses. If my Companions dare open their mouths. I'le ascend to the foun∣dation of Carthage; recount the amours of Dido; and if this will not do, I'le have a Virgil ready which I will read in a sad Tone before my Arpalises, to the last Verse of his Aene∣ads.
That which I approve of best in your Rhapsody, is, that you mix a great deal of true Hi∣story among your Banterings.
A man must deal in this manner with this sort of People, to make 'em more ridi∣culous.
These kind of Folks
in their relations heap up a thou∣sand circumstances which relate no more to their subject, than the foundation of Carthage to Erastus's Hat and Feather.
It is strange to me peo∣ple should take so great delight in prating: for without doubt these Persons are not senseless, and it is the vivacity of spirit which transports them beyond the matter they treat of: Whence is it then, that this same viva∣city does not shew them that they trouble those who hear them, and disturb even those who do not hearken to 'em?
They are like those Horses who see nothing during the swiftness of their course; who pass the bounds of their carreer, and who stop not till they are beyond it, in running their heads against a wall which beats them backwards.
I believe there are
few of these Animals that are so fierce; whereas one half of the World consists of great talk∣ers.
If this were so, the other half would find it self ve∣ry unhappy, and I know not what you would have it do.
It need only hold it's peace.
This is like recei∣ving several blows in a Combate, and returning none: However, Madam, I dare believe that there are great talkers, who in several occasions imagine they have a real kindness for us, and are many times punctual in their promi∣ses.
For my part. I love a woman better that should speak a little too much, than a man that should not speak enough. But I had like to have forgot to tell you, that we have left our young Folks a great while in si∣lence,
they have not opened their mouths, for fear of falling into the fault we now reprehended; I would fain therefore hear what Lisidor will say on this Subject.
That in a Company as this is, he ought to hear much and speak little.
I know not whether this answer be as wise as it seems to be: For young people must speak to acquire the facility of speaking; and they can no where better make cryal, than before their Friends, who will make it a matter of duty to correct them: But seeing I have spoken senten∣tiously, I must proceed and in∣terrogate Lindamire. How comes it, that being witty, young, and gay, you have said nothing? were there but three Persons of your humour in this Chamber, the discourse would quickly be at an end.
I can assure you,
Sir, it is not I that would keep it up; though to speak again it should cost you a second Voyage to America.
Very well hit, for a Girl of fourteen; we come to see Lindamire, and we find another Cleonice.
No sooner was this said, but the person Dorante named saw the Dishes bringing up, and be∣ing moreover very glad to break off a discourse which might tend to her praise; she reassumed the discourse in these terms.
Methinks for people who blame great talkers, we have enlarg'd enough in this Conver∣sation.
Before we end it, I would declare the instruction which a certain Lady not far, has made me draw hence, which is, that to be never accused of speaking much, one should speak as she does; and one had need
only to see her often, to accu∣stom one's self to speak little, through the pleasure a body may have in hearkening to her.
It is your self, Ma∣dam, who now spake too much, and you are now about being re∣compensed for your flattery. The Lady perhaps whom you would have us to understand, will be far from applying it to her self; and to punish you again in another sort, I believe she will make you but very ill chear.
At these words the company arose, Dorante gave his hand to Belise, Philemon to Cleonice, and Lisidor his to the young Linda∣mire. They withdrew into a little Parlor, where they washt without Ceremony, and after the same manner sat down at Table. Although this was only a treat for Friends, yet every thing was proper and neat: Scarce had they dined, when they returned into
Cleonice's Chamber, where they sat down, and talk'd only of indiffe∣rent things, till Erastus began to speak to enliven the Conversa∣tion.
Lindamire will perhaps be astonish'd if she hears me speak again without setting forth for America, where she would a∣gain send me. So long a Voyage does not seem to me absolutely ne∣cessary, for the reassuming of the discourse we left off. I need only tell you, that among the defects of great talkers, we have not, I think, made any mention of Lying, which yet is the Vice wherewith such persons are com∣monly repreached.
ERastus has thought of a thing, which we ought very willingly to ex∣amine, seeing it regards no less the main businesses of life, as all manner of Conversation.
Before we enter on so considerable a matter, I would entreat you to tell me punctu∣ally what it is to lye. It appears to me at first to be very easie to comprehend; however I be∣lieve the matter will admit of many distinctions, and I would very gladly learn them.
Seeing you would have me undertake this task, I
will tell you, Madam, that we lye as oft as we betray our sen∣timents, and that our words do not agree with our thoughts. Thus I may add slandering to lying; should I say that Timocra∣tes basely ran away in a Fight, wherein yet I saw him behave himself most valiantly. But I know not whether you will not be surprised, when I shall shew you, that one may lye in telling the truth. Chance sometimes makes a thing to happen which at first seems strange. Let us, if you please, suppose I give you a visit in a time when your affairs oblige you to go out, and that as soon as I have left you, you go forth in effect, without my knowing it. I meet immediate∣ly after with Theagenes; he asks me if you are at home, and through a humour, which you shall call what you please, I answer, you are just gone out. Thus in speak∣ing
the truth, I speak against my own thoughts, which tell me you are still in the room where I left you.
I believe I do not find all my reckoning in this example, and that you may well give ano∣ther.
Neither was it for you that it was given, no more in∣terruptions, and do not enter where you are not call'd. Con∣tinue, if you please, Dorante, and tell me whether I am to blame, when I imagine that the whole world is full of Ly∣ars.
You are not at all mistaken, one part of men use all their industry to deceive the o∣ther, and to disguise the truth; in War, Craft, Ambuscades, false Marches, false Allarums, and false Attacks, are Proofs of it; and if these Artifices are em∣ployed in a profession wherein
is seen so much generosity; what is there not practised in others?
I am perswaded there is ever something that is mean and low in lying and dis∣simulation. There have been great Captains who would never have recourse to Stratagems, they would win a Victory, not steal one.
I confess this is a ge∣nerous Sentiment, and it is ob∣servable, that only weak Animals endeavour to supply by craft, the defects of strength, which Nature has not giv'n them.
If Cleonice will give me leave to speak when Dorante has done, I would say, that if there be any sincerity in the world, it is to be found among Embas∣sadors.
But Embassadors may, without scruple, disguise the truth. Having received their instructi∣ons,
it is not permitted them not to follow 'em; th•••• would be to be∣tray their Master, and to fall into an unpardonable Crime.
What may we not say of Lovers? They lye conti∣nually in the protestations they make; and their Mistresses are no less dextrous at dissimulations: In fine, they torment themselves, they groan, they dye; and yet are scarcely got out of their Mi∣stresses sight, but they make a party in the divertisement with the first friend they meet.
These light words you speak of are so common, that they cannot be condemned as lyes, when there is no design mixt with them of deceiving: A Lady who hears her eyes praised, or her mouth, looks on this piece of Gallantry, only as a gaiety of Fancy which Custom has autho∣rised. But what Lyars should we not find, should we run through
the different professions of men, from the highest to the low∣est?
We should have too much to speak of, should we en∣ter on each particular; and if on the other hand we should ex∣amine the falsities wherewith the Arts deceive our Senses, either a∣greeably, or with horror.
We are not now to moralise on the Vices of men, nor on the Marvels of the Op∣tic: We treat only of Con∣versation, and it is sufficient to shew, that a Lyar cannot please in a serious Entertainment.
We are agreed that we would have such a one be silent, for we are soon weary of hearing what we do not believe. We so greatly love truth, that those who never speak it, are ve∣ry willing that others should not disguise it from them; and I be∣lieve there are only Romances
and Poetry, wherein fiction can divert. And here a resemblance to truth is required; and a rela∣tion that wants it, would not draw much attention. So when a man has a design to pl•••••••• by his discourse he should mix, me∣thinks, a Character of sincerity to the agreeableness of his expres∣sions and behaviour. It is here∣by that a discourse pleases and insinuates it self; on the contra∣ry, we hear with uneasiness (as I said before) what we do not believe.
But how will you distinguish an effective sincerity, from that which is only so in appearances? You know that they are ordinarily only persons of wit who dissemble; and you cannot doubt but they use all their Art to disguise the truth.
I confess they are more capable of dissembling than
your gross dull people; and there∣fore it is we see less sincerity at Court than in the Country; and we see a subtiliz'd sort of People in a Neighbouring State whose words are not greatly relyed on. However, it is not impossible to make the distinction you speak of, provided a man has a pier∣cing and discerning judgment. A man that would appear sin∣cere, without being so in effect, does oftentimes discover himself, even by the care he takes to conceal himself. He forgets nothing to at∣tain his ends, but it is not so hard as you imagine to perceive certain efforts he makes to perswade. The earnestness which he shews, and the turn which he gives to his expressions are observable. Frankness guides it self in a di∣rect contrary manner, it tends plainly where it would go: It has a more open Air, appears in the eyes, in the gesture, and all
the countenance. In stead of having recourse to Ornaments of Language, it rejects them as fruitless, it is an enemy of osten∣tation, and neglects the appear∣ing wholly and fully what it is. It speaks without Art, and with Confidence, and yet never fails of making a soft impression. Whereas scarce have we percei∣ved the artifices of a dissem∣bling Person; but so far are we from being pleased in hearing him, that we are at defiance with him, as imagining he is al∣ways ready to deceive us. An ingenious carriage produces diffe∣rent essects, it agreeably insinuates it self and according to the intenti∣ons it may have, it sets our hearts at rest, or moves our affections.
However it is to be considered how far sincerity should proceed; for I find no∣thing so ridiculous in Conversa∣tion, nor nothing more incommo∣dious
in the occasions of life, than for a man to speak whate∣ver comes into his head.
You know, Madam, that sincerity has its bounds, as well as all other Virtues, and I do not think we are oblig'd to imitate the simplicity of a Coun∣try Lover, who declared his pas∣sion in a manner which I think was very pleasant. He swore to his Mistress that he was de∣sperately in love with her, and yet he could not consent to marry her. How, said she in a rage, can you pretend you find me such a one as you like, and yet not willing we should spend our days together. To speak ingenuously, replied he, I can love you as my Friend, but I am of the humour of my Father, who would never marry.
Though he declared himself very ingenuously a Ba∣stard, yet he hurt thereby no
body but himself, whereas there are simplicities which perplex a whole company. And of this I have an instance in the begin∣ning of the last month, when the Court was at Fontain-Bleau. We were together in the Country, Timante and I, and we visited in our journey honest Merigenes, to whose politeness and capacity I suppose you are no stranger. Cle∣onice seemed shy of travelling with two men, and therefore took one of her Friends along with her, called Melicerte. I cannot tell whether you know her, but I can truly say, that if she be not handsom, she is young and wit∣ty. She was of so an agreeable humour the first night we supt at Merigenes's, that the good man shew'd himself really smit∣ten with her, and addressing himself on a suddain to Timante, I wonder, said he to him, you should reckon Melicerte homely,
I find you but a bad judge of Beauty, and I'le never trust you in these matters again.
Consider, I pray you, into what confusion this simplicity cast us. Timante did what he could to repair the fault he had committed in speaking, without doubt, too freely to a person of Merigenes's humour. Remember more punctually my words, an∣swered he, I told you that Me∣licerte was a very amiable per∣son, and yet the charms of her face were not wholly comparable to the excellency of her humour. Acknowledge, Timante, (replied Melicerte endeavouring to smile) That you are less sincere now, than you was when you spake of me before, and yield that Merigenes is incomparably more than you. It is true, Madam, (replied imme∣diately the honest man) you do me justice; I protest I always speak what I think is the truth.
I perceive it, said she with a cold Air, and being not able to dis∣semble her resentment. I began to talk, to turn the discourse on another subject. My endeavours were vain, a solid peace could not be made, and the end of the Feast answered not the begin∣ning.
I saw Merigenes some days after, and found him as knowing, as he appeared to you dissimulative. He is as excellent a Geographer as he who look'd for Democracy in the Map, be∣cause we therein find Dalmatia. In entertaining our selves on the conquests of the Imperialists, and those of the Venetians, we plea∣sed our selves in enlarging on the commendations of the Mo∣rea, that ancient Peloponése where was the famous Lacedemonia, which the Modern Misistra does but imperfectly represent. Meri∣genes was ravish'd at the great
success we mention'd; and in the transports, which made him lift up his eyes to Heaven, he interrupted us to tell us, he could not believe the Country of the Moors was so good as we made it. He began again to speak very pertinently when we entred into the particular rela∣tion of what was done in Hun∣gary, he much wondred the Turks should build the most fa∣mous Bridges in the world. That of Essek, said he, must needs be a very great and strong one, seeing two great Armies have long since fought to get and keep possession of it. Yet I cannot imagine it is compa∣rable to Pont-Euxin, for it is not above four or five years that I hear talk of that of Es∣sek, but I have heard all my life time, admirable relations of the other. We could not for∣bear smiling at the exact Geo∣graphy
of Merigenes, and we better inform'd him in the se∣quel, lest the resemblance of names should make him con∣found again such different things.
I am very glad this Conversation is ended, for you know that Belise and I are to go and chuse Stuffs for Lisidor and Lindamire.
I think it were fit your Servants should eat their Dinners before they put their Horses in the Coach; you have time enough.
Chuse then another subject of discourse, in speaking against Lyars we are insensibly brought to detraction.
There is no body has more aversion to detraction than I have; however I believe there's no harm in making little Reci∣tals for Diversion, provided we wrong not the reputation of peo∣ple: Do you think you wrong
Arpalise, in saying she talks much? Why may you not call a woman a great talker? Do you not eve∣ry day say, that the Crow is Black, and that a Swan is White?
If what Belise now said satisfies you not, we are ready to speak against detracti∣on.
You cannot do me a greater pleasure.
I Wonder there are so many Detra∣ctors. All the world hates them, they are respected as sierce Beasts; they are fear'd, and yet
we do not avoid them, as we shun Tygers and Panthers. It is they on the contrary who shine most in Companies, they are hearkned to, and even ap∣plauded, whether out of fear of provoking them, or that men are naturally pleas'd with De∣traction.
I should be sooner sur∣prised, at their being driv'n out of Sicieties, Let's not flatter our selves, most men had rather hear four Satyrs than one Panegy∣rick.
You have a strange opinion of Mankind; if what you say were true, there would be a great many Misanthropos's in the world.
And indeed there are more than you think, but they better disguise their sentiments, than Timon of Athens did here∣tofore, and the Alcestus of Moli∣ere at Paris now.
But whence can pro∣ceed so malicious an inclinati∣on?
From self love. If we have defects, and we are sensible of them; we are pleased in hear∣ing there are greater than ours: If on the contrary, we can suf∣ficiently flatter our selves, to believe we have great Virtues, we have the satisfaction of see∣ing that we are lifted up above the people whose faults are rela∣ted to us.
Do not you find that the most dangerous Detractor is, he that begins by praises; see∣ing by this Artifice he may per∣swade he speaks sincerely, and without aversion.
What you say brings to my remembrance an adven∣ture, which diverted the other day a great company at the Prince's Demarata's; they seem'd to be a¦stonish'd there should be such a
strict tye of friendship between Celanire, to whom one may give thirty years, without being too liberal; and Dorinice, who has never yet seen eighteen. How∣ever, there was no doubt made but each might find his reckon∣ing in this Society; it was said that Celanire, being less virtuous than she appeared to be, found no disrellish in sharing in the voluptuousness of a young person, whom Lovers and pleasures every where attended. That Dorinice on her side might receive good ad∣vice from an experienc'd friend; and even that she might vail her wanton Air under the pretended modesty of Celanire. Scarce were these words ended when Celanire entred, and a while after was told, that they had been just taking of the friendship she had for Dorinice. I am not the only person that loves her, replied she; it must be allow'd she ap∣pears
very amiable, when one does not throughly examine her. It may be truly said she has a delicate Complexion, and fire in her eyes; but I think she seems too affected in her carriage, and too greedy of applause. I love her sincerely, I wish she would lay aside those little humours, and endeavour as much to get reputation as new admi∣rers; I would not be thought to admire her defects; for we had like to have broke off for the Gown she has worn for these four days. The Stuff is so rich, and so remarkable, that every one will judge that Timocrates bought it. I was not wanting in adver∣tising Dorinice of it; I told her what was whispered abroad of it, and that this report might become more publick, and pro∣bably it might be added, that a woman who accepts of presents, will grant favours. Dorinice ap∣peared
to me surprised; and an∣swer'd me, that Timocrates was not so well at ease as was ima∣gin'd, and that instead of making presents, he was scarce able to satisfie his Creditors; that she had much ado to get an hundred Guineys of him which she had won at Basset, even before this play was forbid; that, in short, she was forc'd to make him take up this Stuff on credit to pay her. That, as to the rest, she never made it her study to shut peoples mouths. That she knew very well Calumny spa∣red no body; and that to have ones mind at rest, it was suffi∣cient that one had nothing to reproach one's self withal. I made shew as if I believed what she said, and I replied coldly to her; Th•••• I wish'd the world was convinc'd of the truth of what she now told me. And thus did Celanire testifie the sin∣cere
respects she had for Dorinice; and as if it had been a decree of Fate that we should see the end of the Comedy; Celanire was no sooner gone from Dema∣rata's, but Dorinice entred, set forth in the magnificent Gown so much discours'd of. Every body set forth the richness of the Stuff, some praised it sincere∣ly, others added roguishly, that what they liked it best for, was, that Dorinice had not put her hand in her Purse for it. At least, pursued Dorilas, if we may be∣lieve what Celanire now told us. I know not (replied Dorinice co∣louring) what she may be pleas'd to say, but I suppose she has said no harm of me. But if any spark of Envy has induced her to pour venom in her relations, I could utter such truths as would not be very advantageous to her. Dorilas, whose humour you know would not let pass this occasion
of diverting us, and pretending to be in the interests of Dori∣nice, whom he thought fit to edge on; I know not (said he with a feigned ingenuity) whether Celanire has a good way of set∣ting off her Friends; howe∣ver, I must say, she has no good way of covering their defects. Why should she come with her circumstances, the relations of which we never call'd for; what are we concern'd with her Timo∣crates, that she should bring him into a relation, when the dis∣course was only about a Gown or Petticoat. I would willingly know (replied Dorinice all in an heat) what she could say of Ti∣mocrates, and whether she has had the malice to empoyson—You are to blame in complain∣ing (said Dorilas, interrupting her coldly) she has only fairly related the opinions which the world has, when a man buys a
rich piece of Stuff, which is af∣terwards observ'd to be carried to a fair Lady; and after all, who can say, that Celanire will speak of it any where else? What she has said here signifies nothing; here was not in this room above four or five men, and seven or eight women. We could not for∣bear laughing at this pleasant pas∣sage, which Dorinice observing, she appear'd moved with it, and was ready to fly upon Dorilas. However she bethough her self not to disoblige any body, in a company which she was glad to make savourable to her; and, dis∣sembling her resentment, she dis∣covered only her passion against Celanire. I cannot comprehend, said she, how this woman could have the imprudence to speak against me. Certainly she must be Mistress of a great stock of Calumny, and very fer∣tile in invention. Besides, she
should never have used these to offend a person who has long since learn'd to hold her tongue, but who can now break silence in a terrible manner for her. How∣ever, Madam, replied Do••••lus, whatever she said, she spake with an assured tone, and I am much mistaken if you can dismay her. Is it that she is perswaded, re∣plied Dorinice, that her Knight is redoubtable enough to stop the mouths of the world? I would advise her to have less presumption, if it be only this which renders her so bold. I am no more a∣fraid of Timante than Celanire, and I have an hundred times told them both, that I was a∣sham'd of their conduct. It's well known that Timante has not a∣bove two hundred pound a year to live on, and yet keeps his fine Coach, and three Lacqueys. It's true he is young, and well shaped, and is never from Cela∣nire,
whose old husband has im∣mense riches. I suppose one may draw from these particularities, such consequences as will not be much to Celanire's advantage: but instead of stopping at con∣jectures, I can find effects which will not tend to the justifying of her conduct. It's not three months since she gave money to a person of Quality who went into Flanders, and entreated him to buy her some of that Coun∣tries Horses. The Commission was executed, the Horses came, but not into Celanire's Stable. They draw every day Timante in his visits to Court and other Walks. The Coach they draw is a very fine one, and the Ma∣ster of it knows no more than I, what it cost. After this, shall a woman so liberal as she find fault with Timocrates's paying me what he ows me?
This Comedy is plea∣sant
enough, although the matter of it be neither new nor rare; these are Farces we see every day acted; but I would willingly know whether the divertisement you had, hindred you from feel∣ing some indignation. Can you like that the desire of detracting should break off a real friend∣ship, or make one renounce Ci∣vility, and the consideration one should have for the appearances of Friendship?
Observe all the par∣ticularities which concur in this detraction. It is indignation which makes Celanire declaim first, she disgorges her self a∣gainst a person younger and handsomer, to whom she sees Lovers run as soon as they are together, to the neglect of her self.
Is not the itch of talking to be at all regard∣ed?
The ease which a wo∣man may expect when she reveals a secret that lies like a weight on her heart, occasions these dis∣orders.
As well as the plea∣sure of shewing that she sees to the end of the intrigue.
Let us not forget the honour which Celanire does her self, when she says she al∣ways gives good advice to Do∣rinice.
Pass on farther, and confess we, that when detraction has no real causes, she forms i∣maginary ones; she disguises e∣very thing, and imposes what names she pleases; she calls the Prudence of a General of an Ar∣my that retreats, Cowardise; she terms Valour, Stupidity; and speaks of an Heroic Constancy, as bruitish Obstinacy. She spares least of all women, because they are less in a condition to revenge
themselves, however great their desire may be to it. Detraction will speak the gallant Air of Arsinoe, to be the meer affecta∣tion of a Wanton: the easie tem∣per of Amasie, to proceed from cold temper and want of Spirits; and if Partenice, who is natural∣ly very handsom, should wear a fine Gown, Detraction will not fail to accuse her of a Pride ca∣pable of ruining her Family. You shall hear praises given on∣ly to authorise Detraction. It's said that Timocrates has wit, when it is only to perswade that he is crafty and designing: and Dori∣nice is painted young and hand∣som, only to render her more probable light and wanton.
It is true, that we see every day Detraction spares no∣thing; but leave we to others what concerns manners; and let's see, whether we cannot draw some strokes of Satyr which
may serve to exhilerate Con∣versation, without offending Per∣sons.
One may observe from the Air and Behaviour of those who speak, whether the exagerations they make tend only to divert the Company. Then their discourse is only to be regarded as a meer jolity, which I would not condemn: but I would not like they should fall into an effective Detraction. So far ought we to be from mixing malice, and citing Crimes, that we should never touch se∣riously on the faults we would describe. If this be observed, I can freely share in the diver∣sion.
A famons Author speaking of a Pleader, made use of such ex∣pressions as seem to me more pleasant than injurious. I am tormented, said he, by the most famous Pettifogger of our Province,
and I believe Normandy never bore a more dreadful one; his only name makes Widows tremble, and makes Orphans run away: There is not a piece of Glebe or Meadow, within three Leagues of him, that is safe from him. He shews great favour to children, when he is con∣tent to share with them in their Pa∣ternal inheritance.
I have an Aunt who has so great an aversion to wo∣men who seek only to draw praises, that she was pleased here∣tofore to set forth her self in such a manner, as furnishes us with those strokes of Satyr we men∣tion'd, and here's part of the Terms she used. I my self will give you my Picture to the life; and first represent you with a low wrinckled Forehead, great Cheeks, and a picked Chin, which put to∣gether makes none of the most a∣greeable Figure. My eyes are small, round, and melanchollick, they speak
nothing, and my mouth says as little. It has made a perpetual divorce with smiles and pleasan∣ties. There is seen such a colour on my Skin, as will not displease those who love variety. My shape is like Madam Bouvillon's in the Comical Romance, and I may say I am as well qualified for Conver∣sation. I never dispute, being no ways concern'd in what is said, and they would be to blame who should complain that I interrupt People, seeing I always keep silence. Curiosity which is natural to my Sex, has no power over my Spirit: I know nothing, I have learn'd no∣thing, and I have no mind to learn any thing.
I must represent to you a Cavalier, whom the Lady you speak of was not willing to make your Uncle. His Size is low, and there is seen I know not what of ill boding on his Countenance; his Eyes are so small, and so sunk
in his Forehead, that no body to this hour can tell whether they be black or gray; the hair of his Eye-lids cover them, and were the Hair of his Head as long, he would not need to wear a Peruke; he has a strait and pointed Forehead, great Lips, hollow Cheeks, and a tawny Com∣plexion; I say nothing of his Teeth, he has so few that they are not worth mentioning. The qualities of his Soul answer th••se of his Body, he is of a chagrin humour, restless and contrarying, nothing pleases him but what displeases others, and he finds nothing agreeable but what the world disapproves: Envy and Ha∣tred are his predominant passions, he is never were out of humour than when he can do no mischief, and when he finds an occasion to do it, he embraces it with joy. He has learn'd all sorts of Languages, the better to deceive all sorts of Peo∣ple; he imagines the cheats which are made, denote a superiority of
spirit with which he is charmed. Judge whether his Conversation be profitable and agreeable; He stut∣ters, and cannot utter four words distinctly; the difficulty which he has in speaking would make him avoid Company, did he not frequent it to provoke and disturb it. Yet it's said he is in love, but if we believe him capable of being so, 'tis only to disappoint a Rival, and give perpetual trouble to a Mi∣stress.
As Erastus ended these words, Cleonice was told that the Hor∣ses were in the Coach, the Com∣pany arose, and Belise began in these words.
We have no reason to complain for our being interrup∣ted; for we have said enough of Detraction. We know it di∣verts but too much, and is but too much in use. But I could wish we would treat of ano∣ther Subject of Conversation ve∣ry
different and which I have a mind to propose. I would willingly hear how a Person might be handsomly praised in Company without putting him to the blush, or disob∣liging others whom we do not praise.
This is a nice point, and we may examine it to night. Lisidor makes signs to me that he will treat us at Supper, and carry you to his House, and therefore you may take your measures according∣ly.
You being the chief of our little Society, we must be ruled by you. I ought indeed to be gladder than the rest of the Company, because the good Supper we shall have, will make amends for the course Dinner I gave you.
Good, Madam, do
not thus impose on a man of my years, you think to engage me by this address to give you a Regale? Do you not see on the contrary that I intreat you to sup with me, because two Feasts are not to be expected on the same day.
After these words, the La∣dies were led to Cleonice's Cha∣riot to prosecute their affairs. At night the Company came to Dorante's, and Belise, whilst Supper was making ready, claim∣ed the promise had been made her.
IT will be easier for us to speak of the Muxims which are ordi∣narily observ'd in praising, than to say with what tenderness we we may season praises, to make them agreeable. What a turn ought we to give, and what No∣velties must we not speak to please in these occasions? If our commendations be but mean, the person to whom we direct them, owes us less thanks than spite; and the rest of the Com∣pany will scarce vouchsafe to hear us. If on the contrary, we praise with excess, we cast into confu∣sion, those whom we endeavour to exalt to a pitch they do not
deserve, and we are despised by others, as pitiful flatterers.
I am perswaded that it is less difficult to use the pre∣cepts which serve to make a Pa∣negyrick, than to find the address of agreeably insinuating praises in an Entertainment. And there∣fore the Ladies shall permit, if they please, that I relate what my memory furnishes me with∣al, in respect of great praises, and I will leave to Dorante, and E∣rastus the improving of this sub∣ject, with a better and more de∣licate Air.
Beginning commonly, as we do by birth, I'le tell you first what I have read heretofore on that of a great Monarch.
He was born in Purple, the Throne was his Cradle, and if it were possible to find an Infancy in so glorious and rational a life, we should find that he could only play with Scepters and Crowns.
Expect not I should enter on the particulars of what we may find praise-worthy in a person whom we would commend.
You know better than I, that one may respect the Gifts which he may have receiv'd from Na∣ture; as an elevated Soul, an up∣right heart, constant and gene∣rous, a sublime Spirit, vast and penetrant; an happy Memory, a solid judgment and delicate di∣scernment.
As for the gifts of the body, all the world immediately declares it self for the beauty of women, and the good Meen of men, and for my particular, I prefer health and a noble and free Air in all manner of behaviour.
We forget not the favours which we hold of Fortune. It is she which gives Riches and Honours. And I dare even af∣firm she often contributes to our Glory, in conducting us as it
were by the hand, into conjun∣ctures, which become happy to us. But say we, in few words, that true merit consists chiefly in the good use we make of the different advantages we now men∣tioned.
I will follow the Custom we have to refer this discussion to Morality, without charging our Conversation with it.
However I cannot but say something of Valour and Liber∣ty, which are my two favourite Virtues.
It is certain, that to be charm'd with 'em, I would have them be in all their purity, without mixture. That Valour lead us to brave Actions, without pro∣ceeding to Rashness; that it be accompanied with a prudence which may make us fear the ill Success which may be attri∣buted to us; in a word, that it marches to glory through pe∣rils,
without Ostentation. I like∣wise require that it have no need of any assistance to render it self worthy our admiration. That it be not sustained either either by Ambition, nor Anger, nor Revenge. That in a Battel Emulation, Shouts, and Cries, make it go neither farther nor with more earnestness, than if it saw it self alone and disarmed. Neither do I know whether I should give it the name of Virtue, how blazing soever it were, if it appear'd to me unjust.
There are then few Con∣querours whom you esteem, and I believe you spare neither the re∣putation of Caesar, nor the glory of Alexander.
I confess I would have Equity reign every where. So that I would not condemn those who reproach Caesar for having opprest the Liberty of his Country; and who cannot
bear with Alexander's carrying Fire and Sword into Countries where they never so much as heard of him. Let's instance, for Example, a great Monarch who makes only lawful Conquests.
Here's what I read this Morn∣ing of it: Has he ever attack'd any place without winning it? Has he ever giv'n Battel without van∣quishing? Were ever better disci∣plin'd Troops seen, Troops more zealous, more ready to fight and signalize themselves? What Conque∣rour, surrounded with warlike Nati∣ons, has stretch'd the limits of his Conquests so far, in so short a time? What Warriour has triumph'd over such puissant Confedarates, and ever rendred his Dominions more redou∣table and flourishing?
Here's what was said here∣tofore of an Illustrious Warri∣our, whose Valour rais'd him to the Empire.
He practises himself alone all
the Military Virtues, and it is an admirable thing, that being above all Corrivals, he contends for glo∣ry with himself; he endeavours to ravish it from his first actions by others still more glorious.
As to what concerns Liberali∣ty, I would have it no less ex∣empt from Ostentation than Va∣lour. I would have it readily shew'd, in a grateful manner, and the most seemly as is possi∣ble, when it is to relieve persons who want necessaries for their Subsistance. But I require, on the contrary, that one give in the sight of as many people as is pos∣sible, when the gift is the recom∣pence of merit.
In a word I would have a libe∣ral person to do as one of my friends did, whose liberality is thus mention'd.
His Liberality equals that of a magnificent Prince in the great∣ness of Presents, and surpasses it in
the choice of Persons. Those who receive his benefits, are the only Persons that can speak of 'em. In fine, his generosity would be more u∣niversally admired, if it were not so great, because more persons would comprehend it, in an Age wherein this Virtue is so rarely practis'd in it's perfection.
Loving as I do extreamly this beneficent humour, you would have me speak more of it, and enlarge my self a little on the bounty of a great King.
One cannot speak more advan∣tageously of a private person, than to say that he has the spi∣rit of a Prince; and one cannot better praise a great Potentate, than in saying he has the good∣ness of a private person: That in a condition which permits him every thing, he endeavours only to satisfie others. Was ever seen in a mean fortune so much goodness as he shews in the midst
of his greatness? Whilst all Europe lies prostrate at his feet, implo∣ring his protection or redoubting his prowess; it seems as if he had need of the least of his Sub∣jects; so sensible is he of their afflictions, so earnest is he to offer 'em remedies, so favourable an ear does he lend to their sup∣plications.
This incomparable goodness ex∣tends it self to all conditions; the great receive every day Te∣stimonies of it, the people every minute bless it, the domesticks are charmed with it, and strangers admire it. Of the two parts of justice, he leaves to the Parliament that which disposes of the punish∣ment of Crimes, reserving only that which distributes recompen∣ces. He uses his Authority only to restore, to repeal, to pardon. In fine, his power appears with∣out bounds, when he is to do
good; and it seems, as if it were without Authority, when it is to punish. The Refusal of a favour is a Language unknown to him, and his Closet as well as his Heart, is always open to the re∣monstrances which is made him in behalf of the miserable.
I take notice in the praises you now made, you have spoken only to the advantage of men, and not one word of Com∣mendation to those of my Sex. I believe it is I that hinder you, but if I shut your mouth herein, methinks Cleonice should open it.
Well then, for the love of her I will open it. I'le praise a celebrated Beauty whom all the Court admires; and Cleo∣nice will have the pleasure to see one part of her Charms, in the piece which I shall set forth.
Yet Dorante could better than I acquit himself in this affair,
he knows the Author that drew the Picture; and the Lady for whom he wrought. But what ought I not to undertake to reco∣ver your favours, I will satisfie you then, Madam, and recite word for word the little work I pro∣mis'd, provided my Memory will give me leave. Here's in what terms the Painter addresses him∣self to the Beautiful Lady whose Picture he drew.
You know, Madam, that ordina∣ry Beauties go only to the Painters to seek some new Charms, or to get rid of some Defects. You only, Ma∣dam, are above Arts which flatter and embellish. They have never wrought on you but unfortunately, and in making you lose as many advantages, as they are wont to be∣stow on Persons less accomplish'd than you. But if you are little ob∣liged to Painting, you are less to dresses. You owe nothing to the Sci∣ence of others, nor to your own In∣dustry,
and you may securely remit your self to Nature, she having ta∣ken such excessive Care of you. Most Women are handsom only from the Dresses they use. What they put on serves to hide their Defects, whereas on the contrary, whatever you put off discovers some new Charm.
I shall not give you any general and common praise. The Sun will no more furnish me with a Comparison for your Eyes, than the Flowers for your Complexion. I might speak of the regularity of your Face, and symmetry of every part of your Body. But I perceive, beyond the observati∣ons I have made, there are a thousand things to think, which cannot be exprest, and a thousand things which are better felt than thought on.
You have collected in your self the divers Charms of different Beau∣ties. That which surprises, which pleases, which flatters, which touches, which sharpens. Such a one has resisted a disdainful Beauty, which
has yielded to a delicate one; and delicacy may give disgust to Lovers who like only to submit to disdain∣fulness. You only, Madam, know how to charm all the world: The passionate find in you the subject of their transports. Different spirits, divers humours, contrary tempers, all are subject to your Empire.
The charms of your Conversation are not a whit inferiour to those of your Face. One is no less affected with hearing you than seeing you. You can create a passion for you, though vail'd. Never was so much Politeness seen as in your discourses, nothing so lively, nothing so just, nothing so happily thought. In fine, Madam, what one may say, after one has examined you, is, That there is nothing so unfortunate as to love you, nor nothing so difficult as not to love you.
Having ended this Recital, Phi∣lemon continued to speak in this manner.
I see that Erastus is ready to dye with impatience to insult o∣ver me. His Eyes tell me, that what I now gave out for a Pi∣cture, represents nothing in parti∣cular, the whole being but a ge∣neral description, an heap of ex∣pressions which an Author would have pass for exquisite ones.
Fear not that I shall com∣plain for not having seen in this description, a certain resemblance which you made me hope for: It belongs less to me, than the Lady who expected it to make you reproaches. Had you been as good as your word, Cleonice would have had the pleasure of believing her self handsomer than she is, and I the vexation of finding her more disdainful. This is a business that is between you and her.
It is plainly seen you would set us at odds; but Cleo∣nice may easily distinguish in my
recital; The regularity of her Face, and symmetry of every part of her Body.
Moreover I would fain know to whom may be better appli∣ed, what I said of Conversation, and Politeness? Must I declare openly that it was of Cleonice that I spake?
I would advise you not to do it, because no body will be∣lieve you.
You understood him well enough, he need not explain himself, and I wonder my Hus∣band should tell you such fine things in my presence. Let him protest if he will, that this is on∣ly to practise the maxim we speak of, and that he inserted these indirect Commendations, only to praise in an ingenious manner. It belongs to Erastus to see whe∣ther he will agree in it.
I'le agree to nothing to day. I have a controuling hu∣mour
in my head, and it is Ti∣mag••nes who gave it me by his obstinacy.
You have been in a dispute then; let's know whence arose your difference, and what has caus'd the heat you seem s••••ll to be in.
It is observ'd, that of late, Timagenes has a particular love for Berenice. He was notably set upon for it at Celysire's, even to the putting him almost out of countenance. But in fine, being ashamed of his confusion, he took courage, and with an assured tone thus spake. Is it any marvel, says he, that I should love a most amiable Lady? Shew me any Snow whiter, or any Rose of a more lovely colour than her com∣plexion? Berenice's Eyes are Black, great, well set, and temper'd with such sweetness, and yet so spark∣ling, that the room she sits in seems to be on fire with 'em. Her
mouth is small, well shaped, her lips Scarlet, which as soon as a smile opens them, you see the finest Teeth in the world.
I added immediately, that no∣thing could be truer than what Ti∣magenes had said of Belise. Of Be∣lise, said he briskly, the resem∣blance of the names deceive you, it is of Berenice that I speak. So much the worse for your Eyes, replied I, with a tone of assurance, it is not the conformity of names, it is the praises you give to Bere∣nice which have made me believe you rendred justice to Belise.
I would not interrupt you as soon as I ought. The Company it seems must remark after what manner you give prai∣ses, whether true or false; besides I have not the strength to make you silent immediately, for I am a woman, and you give me fine words.
I shall never hear any
discourse of praising, but I shall remember an Elogium which a friend of Dorante's made for the King. Two Shepherds spake therein, one an Italian, whom I shall call Thirsis, the other a German, to whom I shall give the name of Menalca. Their Chara∣cter was as different as the Ge∣nius of their Nation. Thirsis lo∣ved ingenious Arts and Rest. Menalca's inclinations lay only for War; and his greatest delight was in a tumultuous Life. They came to France only to see a King who fill'd all the Earth with his Name. After they had considered him with great admiration, they look∣ed on one another, and immedi∣ately knowing one another to be strangers, they accosted, and en∣quired the occasion of their Tra∣vels. They had no sooner un∣derstood it, but this conformity of design made 'em continue their Conversation: But I know not
whether I should make them to relate in wretched Prose, what they most ingenuously express'd in verse.
Your Prose is well worth my Friend's Poetry; only go on.
I will tell you then in few words; that Thirsis was asto∣nish'd how the King could so ea∣sily govern a great Kingdom, as a Father of a Family rules his House. He admired the King∣dom should be so flourishing, and in so good order, even as Menal∣ca admired the Discipline observ'd in the Armies. When the Ita∣lian acknowledg'd that Paris ex∣ceeded Rome for fine Arts and Painting, Buildings and Musick; the German was charm'd to see with what exactness all that re∣spected the Military Art was ob∣served. He said there were ne∣ver any braver Troops, never a∣ny better pickt men, better clad,
better arm'd, and more willing to serve. If Thirsis mused at Court on a King extraordinary well shaped, Equitable, Magnificent, Wise, Merciful; Menalca could not be tired in praising the Ar∣mies of a Vigilant Prince, Inde∣fatigable and Intrepid. In fine, not to engage my self farther into a discourse, whence I cannot, perhaps, easily extricate my self, I shall content my self in telling you, that the two Shepherds ob∣stinately disputed; that they could not agree, and that in their con∣test, they publish'd all the King's Virtues both Civil and Military.
I do not doubt but you expect that I should praise in my turn, and instead of excusing my self through modesty. I am wil∣ling to do it, provided my memo∣ry furnishes me with the Subject and Expressions.
It is then the Elogium of a Victorious Prince which I under∣take,
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
with the assistance of a de∣licate wit, whose Works to my great misfortune you too well know, to thank me for what I recite out of 'em.
This Author writes to the Prince after the winning of a considerable Battel, and makes him certain re∣proaches, and forms a kind of Quarrel, in a manner, infinitely more agreeable than the most re∣gular Congratulation. You may judge by several passages which I remember.
How joyful I am, my Lord, to be at a distance from your High∣ness, that I may the better say what I have long since thought of you. I dared not declare it, lest I should fall into the inconveniencies, wherein I have beheld Persons who had taken the like Liberties. But, my Lord, you do too much to be past over in silence, and you will be unjust, if performing the Actions you do, it remained there, and no men∣tion
were made to you of 'em. If you knew in what manner all the world talks of you, you would be a∣stonish'd to see with how little fear of displeasing you they speak of what you have done. In truth, my Lord, I know not what you have thought of, for it was a great boldness in you to have at your Age topt two or three old Captains, whom you ought to respect, if it were only for their Age. To have taken sixteen pieces of Cannon which belonged to a Prince who is the King's Ʋncle, and the Queen's Brother, with whom too you never had any difference. To have put into disorder the best Spa∣nish Troops who so kindly let you pass. All this is contrary to good manners, and matter enough, I think, for your Confessor. I have heard in∣deed that you were obstinate, and that it was not good contending with you, but I did not think you would have been transported so far, and if you continue, you will render your
self insupportable to all Europe. Neither the Emperour nor King of Spain will have any thing to do with you.
You know the Letter is longer, but the Author speaking openly what he pleases in the rest of it, I confess I would not charge my memory with it.
I have the same rellish, and I had rather a thousand times know how to praise in this luso∣ry manner, than to be able to compose those long and serious Panegyricks, which are very labo∣rious to those that make them, and very troublesom to those who are oblig'd to hear them.
I wonder that Dorante has said nothing yet. Does he think to be quit for having given us a Supper? Let him not be mi∣staken; we have now praised a valient man; let him make an El•••••••• of a liberal one.
I shall recount to you
the tour of a gallant man, whose inclinations, you'll find, led him to liberality.
I doubt not but you have heard that Voiture was a great Gamester, and that he lost in one day 1400 Lewis's at the deceased Monsieurs, where he had the Office of intro∣ducer of Embassadors Being an honest man as well as a man of wit, he would send away the next morning the Sum he had lost; and finding at home only 1200 Lewis's, he sent to demand 200 of Costar his intimate friend. Send them to me speedily, wrote he to him, you know I play no less on your credit than mine own. If you have them not, borrow 'em: If you find no body that will lend 'em you, ••ell all that you have even to your good friend Monsieur Vauquet. For I must not fail of having 200 Pistols. You see with what imperiousness my friendship speaks, the reason
is because it is vehement. Yours would say, I entreat you to lend me 200 Lewis's, if you can with∣out putting your self to any incon∣venience; I beg your pardon that I should be so free with you.
Costar sent the 200 Pistols, and answered, he never believed he could have so much pleasure for so little money. Seeing you play on my credit, says he, I will al∣ways keep a stock to preserve it. I can moreover assure you that a near Kinsman of mine has always a 1000 Lewis's as much at my disposal as if they were in your Cosser. However I would not hereby expose you to any consi∣derable loss. One of my neigh∣bours told one yesterday, that his lost Pecunia would have prov∣ed the best friend in the world to him, could he have kept him by him, and I advise you to keep yours. I send you back your Note
but am surprised you should deal thus with me, having taken such a different course with Monsieur Balsac.
I will add then, that Balsac ha∣ving need of money, sent to en∣treat Voiture to lend him 1200 Li∣vers, and charged the Porter to give him a Note for the like Summ: Voiture told the Money, and took the Note, wherein were these words.
I underwritten confess to owe to Monsieur Voiture the Summ of 400 Crowns which he has lent me for, &c.
Voiture takes the Note, and subscribes these words.
I underwritten confess to owe to Monsieur de Balsac, the Summ of 800 Crowns, for the pleasure he has done me in borrowing of me 400.
After this, he gives the Note to Mr. Balsac's Valet de Chambre to carry to his Master.
The Company was very well satisfied with this Recital, and could not but entertain them∣selves with it all the Supper time.
Scarce were they risen from Table, but Cleonice reassumed the discourse; I am charmed, said she, with the contents of Voi∣ture's Obligation written under that which Balsac sent him.
I like very well too the manner after which he sent for 200 Pistols, grounding this sort of boldness on the firmness of this Friendship.
Nothing but a strict familiarity could authorise this liberty; without this there had been neither discretion nor civi∣lity in this proceeding; and you know what would become of So∣cieties without these two so neces∣sary qualities.
They are so necessary;
that we cannot better spend our time, than in treating of them.
HAve you not obser∣ved, that it is not young people who generally please in Conversation, whatever agreea∣bleness their youth may give them?
I do not wonder at it, for besides that they have not a sufficient stock of experiences for Conversation, they be commonly too hot in speaking, and shew in what they say more impetuosity than reservedness: But that which is most considerable, is, that they seldom consider what they are, and before whom they speak.
I beseech you to shew
'em no favour for my sake, for I acknowledge they are for the most part little discreet, and great∣ly conceited; they speak with a blustering Air, interrupt, and in∣terrogate after the same manner; they speak what they please, with∣out considering whether it may not displease others.
We shall not accuse you of these defects; for so far are you from interrupting, and questioning, that you have said little, but to the purpose: But let's hear what Lindamire will say in her turn.
That Girls of my Age are less obliged to speak than to hold their Tongues; and that it is easie for me to observe a modesty, which might be of dif∣ferent use to a Person of wit.
Men have less mode∣ration than those of your Sex, and the heat they have ordinari∣ly when they come into the
world, makes 'em to speak and act only in a blustering way.
That which I like worst in most of them is, that they never think of correcting themselves, and never reflect on what good manners require.
But wherein consists this Decorum you speak so much of?
I know not whether we have not already sufficiently explained it. However, seeing our conduct is so greatly concern'd in it, we will further deliver our o∣pinion about it. I think that to speak with a due Decorum, is to utter only things precisely which are suitable to times, places, and persons; such as are fit for him that speaks, and those who hear.
Do you think it easie to know what we are, and of what humour the Persons are before whom we speak; to know
what is proper for us, and what may please the rest of the Com∣pany?
I acknowledge it's hard to judge of the disposition wherein the Persons are that com∣pose an assembly. The greatest part of Mankind makes it a kind of merit to be always on its Guard, and to conceal its inten∣tions. Besides, mens humours change; health is not always the same; Ambition, Love, and diffe∣rent Interests inspire different In∣clinations. But, Madam, it is not necessary that our know∣ledge should reach to the hearts of Persons, and that we sound in∣to the depths of their Souls, whe∣ther they be such in effect as they appear to be. It is suffici∣ent we know what their rank is, that we may have the deference for 'em that is due; and that we consider what their capacity is; that we may not speak too bold∣ly
before abler Folks than our selves. It's true, that these refle∣ctions are not sufficient, we are obliged to remember our selves. What would you think, if a little young Gentleman, tho' born in Wales, should draw his Chair, and sit jig by joul with a Duke or Marquess; or interrogate in a fa∣miliar tone with a Marshal of France?
To pass over what re∣fers to persons of quality. I say there are things which are truly ingenious, and yet which lose their relish in the mouth of a man that is not of the profession. You have perhaps heard of a neighbouring Prince entertaining one day his chief Minister, on the most subtile parts of Natural Philosophy: His Favourite heard him with impatience, and being desirous his Master would rather apply himself to the Study of the art of reigning, than ••hysical
Questions. Sir, (said he to him, in interrupting him discontentedly) are you not ashamed to be so well verst in these matters?
If a man of a me∣derate capacity, not knowing him∣self, should take on him to speak great, would he not deserve to be told with an Ancient, My Friend, you seem to me to strive to speak beyond your Ability?
There are people whom another sort of Vanity blinds. You knew Clitandre, he was the Son of a mean Citizen, and an Office which he held under the King, was not more considerable than his Extraction. Yet he was well enough received by per∣sons of the greatest Quality, and it was his Conversation that pro∣cur'd him this admittance. I may likewise say, that he would have extreamly pleas'd, had he but re∣membred what he was; But he shew'd more Vanity than Wit in
his discourses and behaviour. One day being at a Princesses, where there were none but Persons of great Rank, he addrest himself to some old Lords, who were Go∣vernours of Provinces, or the King's Lieutenants of Countries, and talk'd to them of Versailes, as one would speak of Japan to persons that had never seen the Map. You cannot believe, said he to them, how great the Charms are which fix us to the Court, maugre the fatigues and perils we may meet there. I pro∣fess our Life is a real Navigation, that we are tost about, behold e∣very day wracks, and are uncer∣tain whether the Waves will drive us into Port, or run us on a Rock. Judge in what astonishment was the Company. They look'd on one another, they smiled, and fail'd not to demand of Clitandre news from Versailes, with as much ear∣nestness, as when our Ambassador
arriv'd from Siam. In fine, his presumption so blinded him, That the Company grew weary of hear∣ing him and bearing with him a∣ny longer.
I have a Neighbour that is no ways inferiour to your Clitandre? She is wife to an Of∣ficer under the King, whose place is too mean to be known: This Neighbour comes often to work with some Work-women whom I have employed to work me a Bed. Some four Months past I found her more melancholy than ordinary, and I ask'd her the reason. How, Madam, said she, with the greatest surprise imagi∣nable, do not you know that the King sets out to Morrow for Lux∣embourg, and that my Husband is oblig'd to follow him. To speak freely, added she sighing, the women of the Court are very unhappy, they pay dear in certain occasions, for the honour
they have in others. I saw yester∣day enter into your Apartment a Judge's Lady, whose Countenance seem'd very Serene. I protest sin∣cerely, that in my affliction I wish'd to have a Husband of the same profession, that I might spend my days with less hurry.
There are an infinite number of Clitandre's in the world, and we may see every day, that a man who thus forgets himself, is the common laughingstock of Companies.
But is it so difficult a matter for one to know one's self? Do we not feel our selves? Can we believe that we should con∣ceal our Sentiments from our selves, as we dissemble 'em to o∣thers?
Yes, Madam we take pleasure to deceive our selves. It so seldom happens that our opi∣nions be as just as they ought to be; that our hearts are therewith
irritated, and makes us secret re∣proaches of it. And therefore it is that we dare not make too sin∣cere reflections on the things which put us out of humour; and if on the contrary, we be so sa∣tisfied with our selves to set chear∣fully on this examination, we fall into a Vanity which is more in∣tollerable than the Ignorance of our selves can be.
But why so much sub∣tilizing to know exactly what we are, and the persons before whom we are oblig'd to speak; when the matter concerns only the due Decorum we ought to observe to one another. If we meet with Persons of a considerable Rank, or extraordinaty Merit, do we not naturally fear to displease them? And does not this fear lead us to testifie to 'em the deference we owe them? Do we feel any repugnance in yielding them the most Honourable, or Commodi∣ous
place? In stopping to let them go in or out, in directing our words to them before the rest of the Company, in shewing Complaisance for their Sentiments, or at leastwise in not directly opposing them, if they prove con∣trary to ours?
I imagine that it is more easie to keep this Deco∣rum and Character of Discretion with Persons that are our Inferi∣ours, than with those to whom we are oblig'd to submit. Our hearts are imperious, they suffer not over patiently that any Law should be imposed on them; but perhaps they are generous e∣nough to lay only easie ones.
Do you believe all peoples hearts have the genere∣sity of yours? You are very fa∣vourable to 'em, if you have this opinion of 'em. Many Servants who are continually ill used, will not consent to what you say, That
they have only a light Yoak laid on them.
It is true, most Ma∣sters are very unjust, and far from that discretion we speak of. Those who find themselves constrain'd to serve, are they not unfortunate enough, wthout encreasing the misery of their condition, by In∣juries and a Tyranny which comes near in humanity?
That which I cannot comprehend, is, That in the Ar∣my most young Gentlemen flie upon their Servants and misuse them, without considering the need they may chance to have of them. You know how many occasions there are wherein the life of a Master may depend on the fidelity of a Servant.
Shall we fay nothing of our equals? And whatever fami∣liarity we may have with them, shall we not observe a Character of Respect in our dealings with
them? That which contributes most to preserve Friendship, to speak properly, is only the effect of Discretion and the Civility we speak of. These two Qualities are so necessary, that a man can∣not well pass through the world without them; and it is impos∣sible that Pleasure and Politeness should reign in a Conversation where these are omitted to be practised.
And this Discretion and Decorum, which you so much commend; do they hinder us from mixing some Railleries in our dis∣courses?
No, Madam, but they hinder our joking in such a manner as may give offence.
It would not be amiss to examine within what bounds our Raillers should be included; but it is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and it is better to de∣fer 〈◊〉〈◊〉 discourse till to Mor∣r••••, when the Company comes
to dine at Philemon's, who en∣treats it.
This entreaty savours of Ceremony. Have you any Lin∣damire come, whose arrival you would celebrate, as Dorante and Erastus have done for that of a Nephew, and Sister in Law?
I find you little equita∣ble, in that you would not let me have my part in this joy; and profiting so much by this Conversation, it is no marvel if I endeavour to renew it.
The Company consented to Be∣lise's desire, and met at her House next Morning, where they dined after the same manner as they did at Erastus's and Dorante's: They afterwards past into Belise's Cham∣ber, and began the discourse after this manner.
RAillery has been al∣ways respected, as Salt which scasons Conversation, and renders it agreable, by a little sharp rellish that it gives it. A Discourse that is not enliv'nd with it, will appear no less flat and insipid than Meat without Salt. It's true, we cannot suffer Meat that is too salt, and a Raillery too picquant is more intollerable.
Nothing is more certain, than that Ragouts are so far from preserving of health, that they ru∣ine it. Yet the ravage they make in our Bodies, is less hurtful, than the disorder that Raillery causes in a Society. It introduces divi∣sion, and breaks those Friendships
which appear to be the most solid∣ly establish'd.
Why, would you have a little Mirth to destroy a Socie∣ty, unless it be composed of ill-natured People? Supposing an as∣sembly of ingenious Persons do meet, their minds being agreeable, and well turn'd, they will under∣stand Raillery, and divert one a∣nother, instead of falling foul on each other, and quarrelling.
Believe me, Erastus, the Persons you speak of, who seem to take all in good part, and un∣derstand Raillery, yet keep a se∣cret grudge against these Rail∣ers. They revenge themselves as oft as they meet with an oc∣casion, and it is well if they can disguise the Subject of their Revenge.
I acknowledge my humour leads towards Raillery, but I resist the inclination, when I consider the consequences. I
find we ordinarily transgress there∣in the Rules of Civility and Dis∣cretion, and expose our selves to the danger of offending persons whom we should not disoblige. In a word, if there be less pleasure in refraining from Raillery, yet without doubt there is more safe∣ty; as I find more in walking in a broad Path, than in dancing on Flowers on the brink of a Precipice.
For my part, I am perswaded that there are Rail∣leries which do more offend, than effectual injuries. When we utter injuries, it's anger which tran∣sports us against Persons that we hate; but it oft happens, that we despise so much those whom we jear, that we disdain to put our selves into a Passion against them.
The more I search what Persons one may innocently ral∣ly, the fewer I find. Let's exa∣mine particulars, and Dorante will
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
afterwards tell us, whether there be persons that we may lawfully Rally. I will begin by Friends; I would have them spared, and Friendship respected as a Sacred thing. Moreover are we not ob∣liged for our Interest, to conceal their defects, that we may not give occasion to be reproached for having made an ill choice.
For my part, I shall think less of rallying my Enemies, and if I loved Revenge, Raillery would appear to me too weak a means to satisfie me.
Persons of Merit should be still more remote from our Raillery, when even we can distinguish some defect among their Virtues. Do we not con∣sider, that there is nothing per∣fect, and that we are bound to take every thing in the most fa∣vourable sense we can?
I find moreover, that Persons without Merit are too
contemptible to be rallyed, and I would not so much as spend one breath about them.
It must be granted too, that Raillery is too weak to use to an ill man.
But what will Lisidor and Lindamire tell us? They must speak their opinions, and intermix in our Conversations.
I would not have young People rallied, lest they be discouraged to enter into Com∣pany; the small experience they have, requires they should be in∣dulg'd, and their first faults par∣doned.
And it being not fit I should speak only for my interest, I could wish likewise that instead of rallying Old People, they should have all Respect shewed them. I have heard say, that Nations who had the power of chusing Magistrates, took them always from among Ancient Per∣sons.
But why should we jear Old Men? Is it because they have lived long, is this their fault? If it be, it is a Crime which every one is desirous to be guilty of.
It's your turn now, Lindamire, to speak.
I would not have women rallied, but that men should have a Complaisance for them, mixt with Respect, as is observable in the behaviour of polite Gentlemen. However, to be no less equitable than Lisidor, I would not be more partial to∣wards my Sex; than he has shew∣ed himself for the interests of his Age. And I acknowledge I like worse that women should under∣take to rally men, for they ex∣pose themselves thereby to blunt Repartees, and bring men out of the bands of Respect and Civi∣lity wherein they should always keep.
And I for my part
add, that we must not let Linda∣mire nor Lisidor speak, or resolve to hold our tongues. I doubt not but Cleonice and Dorante are very glad to see the manner af∣ter which they enter into our Conversations; but Belise and I who have not the same interest, cannot be expected to like that young persons should shew them∣selves more able than we.
I'le make no answer to a person who will regale after 〈◊〉〈◊〉 manners; it were better 〈…〉〈…〉 our discourse, that I 〈…〉〈…〉 whom 〈…〉〈…〉 It is not 〈…〉〈…〉 the unfortu∣nate 〈…〉〈…〉 number, and that we ought to shew our compassion to their misfortune, far from ma∣king it a Subject of Raillery.
There is also a kind of inhumanity at laughing at defor∣med persons, whether lame or crookt-back'd. This man not ha∣ving
made himself, why should I reproach him with his defects, as one might do a Carver for an ill proportion'd Statue?
I find no less injustice in mocking of a Stranger, in that he speaks not well our Language, or that his Bonnet pleases us less than a Hat.
For my part I pardon one who rallies the first on some slight fault, but I cannot suffer he should make a jeast of a consi∣derable failing.
Lupo d'Ʋberti, according to the report of a modern Author, en∣creast his shame instead of excu∣sing his Cowardise, when he him∣self made a jeast grounded on the allusion of his Name. Having surrendred a Castle which he might defend, he contented him∣self with saying, That Wolfs did not like to be shut up. But let's see whether Dorante can cite ma∣ny persons whom it is permitted to rally.
Pray then tell me, if you please, whether I may not rally people who are full of them∣selves, who are conceited of their own merit; in a word, who are ridiculous, or intollerable through the extravagancy of their pre∣sumption. Can you greatly blame me, if I enquire seriously of an hectoring Bully, whether he has killed no body to day; and en∣treat him to tell me what Cap∣tain is to be esteem'd most after himself, Caesar, or Alexander? Shall I spare an infinite number of People who carry the Fortune of the World in their hands, who promise employs, dispose of places at Court, help Maids to Husbands, and Batchellors to rich Wives: who can tell what passes in all places; know what the King whisper'd the other morn∣ing in the Queen's Ear; who talk only of Lords, Dukes, and Earls, and look upon it as a great
condescention to so much as cite the name of a Knight or ordina∣ry Gentleman? Will you spare those who step first into all Fa∣shions, and distinguish themselves by the magnificent Gaudiness of their Cloaths, being but of ordi∣nary Birth, and as mean Fortune? May I not seem to admire the Points and Ribbands of one of these Gallants, and to make ex∣clamations on every thing that I see? May I not affirm that his Cloath is too good to have been made in Europe? That his Peruke is longer by a Fingers breadth, than that of such a Lord's, and of a better colour, and sits better on him than that of the Count de— does on him? Will you forbid me to tell him in his ear, that there is a most rich Stuff made in such a place, and that only the King and his Royal Brother have any of it yet? and that I esteem my self happy in
having so luckily met with him before this wear becomes com∣mon? Shall I not laugh at those Persons who think they are sull of Science, who approve of no∣thing, who condemn every thing, who speak all Sentences, and ex∣plain sometimes English into Greek to make it better understood; as he that pronounc'd gravely these words; It is with reason that we call man a little World; that is to say, a Microcosm?
Will you not suffer me to de∣ride a Covetous Miser, whom an insatiable greediness makes starve with Cold and Hunger in the midst of abundance? May I not tell him, that his money is no more his than mine, seeing he makes no more use of it? Would you have me love an odious Per∣son, who contributes to the pub∣lick misery; who keeps lockt up a Treasure which would be useful in Trades, and who takes a secret
pleasure in seeing the poor suffer, that he may make the better Market of what he keeps in his Barns?
I confess the gentlest treatment which Covetous men can expect, is to be rallied; and I think it is with these sort of People that one diverts ones self most.
You have, perhaps, heard a story of a man of this stamp, who was more covetous than Plautus's Euclio. It is said that he had a prodigious heap of Corn, whence he pretended to draw a most considerable profit; when of a sudden the Rain which was much wanted came and destroyed his hopes. He would needs live no longer after this misfortune; he fitted a Rope to his Neck, and fastned it to a Beam of his Chamber, and throwing himself in a fury off the Chair he stood on, by mishap he threw that
down, which made such a noise that the people underneath came running up and beheld this Spe∣ctacle, and a Neighbour cut the Rope to save, if possible, this Wretches life. In sine, he was so carefully plied with proper reme∣dies, that his life was recovered against his will. Endeavours were also used to compose his mind, and a certain Almanack was pro∣duced that promised such storms of Hail as would destroy all the Corn in the Fields. But he fell again into disquiet, when he was told in what manner he was pre∣serv'd. Nothing would serve his turn but that his Rope should be paid for, and knowing that his Neighbour laught at his folly, he got a warrant for him to bring him before a Justice to satisfie for the damage he did him in cutting his Rope.
I have a Kinsman who has not hang'd himself yet, al∣though
his Covetousness is no wise inferiour to your Usurer's My Kinsman is young, he has Birth, and Courage; and yet a base humour blemishes whatever otherwise is praise-worthy in him: I perswaded him to serve in the wars, and the better to prevail with him. I set before him, that if he lived, he would be recom∣pensed; and that if he hapned to dye, he would find—You be∣lieve, perhaps, I told him that he would find honour; not at all, but that he would find an end of his expences, which a man is obliged to make during the course of his life. Our Miser resolved upon it, but when he was to buy Horses, and provide the rest of his E∣quipage, he soon renounc'd War; he told me he had rather retire to an Estate he had near Paris, and that he could subsist on an hundred things, whence Farmers drew a profit, which he pretend∣ed
not to let them have. To turn him from this design, I of∣fered to make a Campaign with him at Sea, if he were willing to go; And he needed no Horses nor Tents for this; and the Cap∣tains Table being at his Service, he consented thereto, and we set out. It's not necessary to relate to you what our Naval Army did, I shall only tell you, that at our return, we found our selves at Provence in the beginning of Winter. We would needs enjoy the fine time of that Country, and therefore made a match of walking out with Ladies. One day as we walk'd in a Path sepa∣rated from a Meadow by a Ditch; we thought that this separation was not great enough to hinder us from leaping to the other side, and enjoying a nearer Conversa∣tion with the Ladies. Our Mi∣ser, being accustomed to sparing, was so sparing of his strength, that
he leap'd into the Ditch. The Ladies burst out into a fit of loud Laughter, and I made what haste I could to assist my Kins∣man. I stoop'd as low as I could to draw him out thence, bidding him only give me his hand; this word affrighted him more than his fall; and looking earnestly upon me, what would you, an∣swered he me immediately, have me to give you? At these words I observ'd the fault I had com∣mitted, and explaining my self in a manner more conformable to his inclination; Cousin, replied I, shall I give you my hand? With all my heart, answered he, dear Cousin; and having offered his, I drew him out of the Ditch, where I believe he would have still lain had I not chang'd the expression.
The Company having laugh'd at Erastus his Relation, they pro∣secuted their discourse.
You acknowledge then that one may deride a covetous man, and I suppose you will as ea∣sily grant, that we may jear those persons who imagine they are al∣ways sick, who are continually taking Medicins, and who yet sleep well, and eat better.
I know a woman who has a great deal of wit, and talks well when there is no mention of Sickness or Remedies. But she gives very good diversion, as soon as the Conversation turns on mat∣ters relating to health. I was say∣ing something to her yesterday a bout her Husband, who is a very honest Gentleman, and after she had allowed his good qualities, she added, that he had one bad one, which she could not cure him of; which is, says she, that he is so obstinate that he will take no Remedies? But why should he take any, replied I, if he be well? How, said she, do you think it
enough to be in health, without taking Remedies for preventing distempers which you may fear?
In fine, when this imaginary sick body takes Medicins, she tastes it then, and says there is too much Sena in one, too much Rhubarb in another, just as we find fault with Broths being too hot or too cold. Her Physician in ordinary dyed not long ago, and her friends fixt another on her of a humour so frank and brisk, that instead of prescribing Remedies to her, he did her the displeasure to tell her, that she was in good health. She fell in∣to a passion, and answered smart∣ly to this honest Doctor, that if he would order her nothing, she knew where to find out others that would. The next morning she chose one, who regales her e∣very morning with different Me∣dicines to her content. It's not above three or four days ago
that I was at her House, and di∣verted my self with hearing her talk of the several sort of diseases she fear'd, and their particular Remedies. Her friends do never fail to send to know of her health, and a Lacquey of Amasia's being come on the same Errand; you may tell your Lady, answered she, with a languishing Air, that I thank her for her mindfulness of me, but that my health is lost, there falling a cold humour on my left shoulder which puts me to grievous pain. This Lacquey was no sooner gone, but we saw the Princess Demarata's Gentleman enter; he made such another sort of Compliment, but he had a different answer made him. I pray you, Sir, said our fanciful Lady, to let the Princess know how sensibly I find my self ob∣liged to her, tell her that a grievous pain in my head has hin∣dred me ever since yesterday
from taking any rest. As soon as ever this Gentleman was gone, I look'd on the pretended sick body with amazement. Is your distemper gotten up into your head within this minute, said I to her briskly, or have you forgot that it is not a moment past that your illness was in the left Shoulder? Did I say it was in my Shoulder, answered she? Nothing more true, replied I; it's no matter, added our fancyful Lady, provided I said I was troubled with some great illness, it's enough, I need say no more.
When I should leave to the Stage the representing the humours of these imaginary sick Persons, yet I may at least ral∣ly Lovers, and affirm that they have Capricio's that reach to ex∣travagancy; but I shall make me too many Enemies, should I de∣clare my self against so universal a Passion. Of six persons who
near me there would be four who would murmur against me. But as for Gray-headed Lovers, I doubt not but you will deliver them up to me, and allow 'em to be ridiculous, when they creep to a young Wench who laughs at them and their superannuated sweetnesses.
What will you say of those young hearts who feel the first stroaks of Love, with so much the more pleasure, as not knowing it yet, they think themselves not oblig'd to oppose it.
Instead of rallying them for their Innocency, I would recount to them little Stories which might open their Eyes.
You make me remem∣ber how you droll'd with Cleo∣nice, when her heart inclined to prefer Erastus before all his Ri∣vals, when she did not then know
the Sentiments she had for him.
To pass by this dis∣course, Is there any thing more pleasant, than to see the pains your Coquettes take to bring in new Gallants, and to pile hearts one upon another, just as Era∣stus's Kinsman would please him∣self in heaping up money? Have you not a thousand times obser∣ved the continual perplexity of one of these Wantons, how to dress her self, and to keep all she thinks she has acquired? She speaks to one, looks on the se∣cond, and smiles on the third. This Theam is so large, that it is sufficient to deter a man that has talk'd enough already. I dare no more insist on the Rail∣leries which one might make of jealous Persons. I shall content my self in telling you, that these last Fools are yet more ridiculous than others. They never fail to
form imaginary Subject of their frenzy, when they cannot find any real. They see nothing in the Objects which they behold through their jealousie, but what may relate to this passion, as we see all things yellow when we have the Jaundise. An Husband that takes notice his Wife is careless of her self, thinks he is not lo∣ved by her; and if she dresses, then 'tis to please others. I should never have done, should I de∣scribe all these follies.
It's sufficient to say, that a jea∣lous Person poisons every thing, and that instead of favourably in∣terpreting things, for to set his heart at ease, he gives every thing such a construction as may en∣crease his disquiet. Among his misfortunes, I observe one which is peculiar to him; which is, that a jealous person is derided instead of being pitied; although all other wretched people are usually com∣miserated.
What stories might one not tell of a jealous Per∣son?
And what may one not say of a Coquette?
Madam, be rul'd by me; let's not enter too far on such a nice Subject; how do we know but we shall make the world laugh at us? Perhaps we flatter our selves, and the world may know us better than we do our selves.
I'le not oppose my self against the common custom of the world; people may laugh as long as they will with all my heart, provided you continue al∣ways as jealous as you have been hitherto; and I continue to be as great a Coquette as you have found me since you knew me.
Methinks we have spoken enough of Persons that one may rally, but I know not whether we may not add some∣thing
on the manner, after which civiliz'd persons may rally one a∣nother.
We have already said, that if they do it, it must be finely and delicately, and to make the Conversation more a∣greeable. If you will, we will say likewise, that indirect Raille∣ries do please no less in an En∣tertainment, than praises which are given indirectly, have a grace in a Panegyrick.
Here's a tour which will not displease you, it alone makes an indirect Raillery so much the more delicate, as it appears sim∣ple, natural, without affectation, and without malignity.
A certain Person of Paris whom I shall call Lisicrates, had nothing but what was obscure in his birth and his life. However, a Son he had being gone into Italy very young, had got a great Estate at Rome, and sent wherewithall
make plenty reign in his Family. The Father died, and a Nephew to whom he had left a good Por∣tion, set up immediately for a Spark. It came into one of my Friends head to abase his pride, and to shew him that his Fami∣ly was still obscure enough not to be known in its own Country. He found him in a company where the Conversation turn'd upon News. My friend was ask'd what he knew, because he was a person of good intelligence; he told them what was talk'd of at Versailles, and passing afterwards to Foreign Countreys, he report∣ed with an Artificial Tone, That the Letters from Rome inform us that Lisicrates is dead in this Town.
Ah! Dorante, how this Satyrical stroak pleases me! how smart is it and ingenious! how it gives to understand, what your Friend would not explain!
That which I like best, is, that the Nephew of Li∣sicrates could find no just cause to be angry. One might say that Dorante's friend gave only a bare acount of what he had read in a Letter.
I confess I should sooner give the name of a witty word, than that of a Raillery, to what Dorante has now related to us.
This expression is short enough to be called a witty word, if it had I know not what of sharpness in it; for a witty word should more touch to the quick, and surprise, than Raille∣ry.
It's true, that Raille∣ry is more extensive, and that according to the opinion of an Italian, its sharpness should rather resemble the bitings of a Lamb, than those of a Dog.
There are Raillers which we may effectually com∣pare
to Dogs, they make as great a noise as if they barked, they set upon people and bite them.
The Cynical Philoso∣phers were too biting in their Railleries, and in their pretended witty words; but seeing we are on witty words, shall we do a∣miss in examining wherein they differ from Raillery? I am jealous too that I am mistaken in citing a pretended witty word, of Lupo d'Ʋberti for a Raillery. In ef∣fect, the allusion he made to a Wolf, and the few words which comprehend his thought, would make one take what he utters for a witty Saying, if any but himself had spoke this Witti∣cism.
Before we come to witty Sayings, shall we say nothing of gross Raillery, having spoken enough of that which is delicate?
I am very glad you censure those Balderdash Fellows,
who imagine they are fine wits, when they retail out some sorry equivocation, or trifling allusi∣on.
Besides this Raillery you speak of, is there not still a gross kind of Raillery among the mean people, such as Porters and Car∣men?
We must let them have their jokes too, and if they be sui∣table to men of their breeding and Conversation, no more can be ex∣pected from them.
These people have a very diverting way with them, which is, to give one another blows with their hands on their shoulders, and these with them are diverting stroaks.
They feel 'em so, I sup∣pose.
I think Raillery should appear natural and without con∣straint, and the air of the Coun∣tenance, the tone of the voice,
and all the countenance of him who rallies should be accommoda∣ted to the Subject of the Rail∣lery.
Except, if you please, when one pretneds to raise laugh∣ter, for then we should appear cold and serious, the better to surprise by the joke, which must not be expected or foreseen. Sa∣rasin was admirable at this, and Voiture too. The Works of both shew what an happy Genius they had in rallying in an agreeable and ingenious manner.
But let's pass to witty Sayings, seeing you desire it, and the mat∣ter leads us thereto.
RAillery does not al∣ways include witty words; we may utter 'em (if we can) in all occasions, and on all sorts of Subjects; but they being more commonly used in Satyrs than in Panegyricks, let's begin with those which we may regard as Railleries. They should be close, sharp, and lively, and in some sort like Epigrams. So that all those pretended witty Sayings which are long, and include a great Morality, are rather Max∣ims and Sentences, than witty words; I am sure they relish not well with Cleonice.
You may answer for me. You know the aversion I have to hear cited with a grave
tone, a Sentence or a Proverb. I leave these Expressions to old grave Citizens, or to some Doctors who are over-run with an excess of Greek and Latin. I have over observ'd, that Courtiers and fine Wits, who understand the World, speak with less swelling, and in a more easie manner.
You will not then be over fond of a Moral Saying of Charles the 5th. which the Spani∣ards take for very Witty. This Emperor said, That the Counsellors of State were the Princes Spectacles, but that those Princes were very un∣happy that needed them.
I not only prefer an Answer of Lewis XII. before this Sentence, but I acknowledge I am charm'd with it, I find a more exact Sense in it than in Charles the 5th's Maxim, and I admire the genero∣sity of its Morality. These La∣dies without doubt know, that
Lewis XII. was a Branch of the House of Orleans, which had had bloody Bickerings with that of Burgundy; and perhaps they know already what I am going to say. When Lewis XII. was on the Throne, one of his Courtiers joy∣fully told him, Sir, you have now the Power to be revenged of your Enemies. No, no, answered this generous Prince, it is not for a King of France to remember the Injuries offered to a Duke of Or∣leans.
I like better these No∣ble Sayings, than those of the An∣cients, which I have heard so great∣ly commended. And truly many of 'em do not over-please me, I cannot tell whether it be my fault or not.
However, we must do justice to the great Men among the Ancients. If their fine Sayings appear to us slat, it is because we enter not into those Interests
which made them speak them. They are no more enliven'd by the persons who utter'd them. They may have lost some of their beauty by the Translation which has made you understand them, and they are found void either of the allusions or of favourable conjunctures which upheld them.
However, Madam, the Circum∣stances which I now remark'd, hinder not, but that there remains from the Ancients, an infinite num∣ber of great Sayings, with which you may be satisfied. But very likely you have not been much delighted with the Language of Amiot, when you have read the Tracts of Plutarch, call'd, The No∣table Sayings of Princes, Captains, &c.
I fancy this famous Author chose rather to relate the notable Sayings of the Lacedemo∣nians than other Greeks, because they spake at Sparta in a more
concise manner, and that these kind of expressions do more pro∣perly belong to what we call wit∣ty Sayings.
And therefore the learned give too strict and short ways of speaking the name of La∣conic stile. These Ladies will par∣don me, I hope, for using this word Laconic, altho' it only means Lacedemonian.
My ignorance reaches farther, and I confess I know not what means the word Stile, altho' I use it every day, and hear o∣ther people talk of it too. De∣rante should tell me what this word does strictly signifie.
You know perhaps, That Ink and Paper are of mo∣dern Invention. The Ancients made use only of Tables of Wax, or the Bark of Trees, and thereon engrav'd with a Pencil, which they call'd Stile, as we write with a Pen on Paper. So that by a figu∣rative
way of speaking, they said a Fine Style, as we say a Fine Pen, when we speak of the Wri∣tings of a good Author.
I am very glad to be in∣form'd of a word which is of so common use. Cleonice may now talk of her Lacedemonians as long as she pleases.
I declare to you, that as to what regards this Conversa∣tion, the Lacedemonians are not so much mine as you think for. I am not so much pleas'd with their notable Sayings as their no∣table Actions. However, I acknow∣ledge I have remark'd an Answer which is of good relish to me, though I cannot tell how you will like it.
A man of Sparta, being at Ta∣ble at the same time with a Per∣sian, fell upon a discourse of war, which was likely to be between the two Nations. The Persian, proud of being under the Govern∣ment
of a Monarch who was cal∣led the Great King, and who held a vast Empire, would fright the Greek by giving him to under∣stand the Power of his Master. We shall have an Army so nume∣rous, said he, that the Arrows which we shall draw will darken the Sun. The Lacedemonian ta∣king nimbly his turn to speak, without any Commotion; So much the better, said he, for then we shall fight in the Shade.
That which a Captain of this warlike Nation, answer'd, appears to me worth relating; The Lacedemonians, says he, ne∣ver ask whether the Enemy be nu∣merous, but in what place they be.
I would willingly know wherein consists the beauty of no∣table Sayings?
There needs only an Equivocation to make a jocose saying.
And oftner to make a pitiful quibble.
About two Months past I was extreamly surprised with one of these Quodlibets. I was in the Country, where some of the wo∣men of the Neighbourhood came to see me. There was a young one who bore away the Bell for wit, she spake much, and laught yet more, and was mightily sto∣red with Quibbles.
It's usual with these Quiblers to say, that a Scrivener is an obliging man, by reason of the many Obligations he makes.
There was heretofore at Court a man who past for a pleasant Companion, but I questi∣on whether his fancy would be so much approv'd of by the Court as it was by the City. You may judge of him by his Quibbles. An Abbot, who had perhaps more Ambition than Me∣rit,
would needs pretend to be made a Cardinal. He went to Rome for this purpose, but having taken wrong measures, he return∣ed little satisfied with his Voyage. At his Arrival he went to make his Court, and appearing indispo∣sed with a great Rhume, he was ask'd whence proceeded this in∣disposition? Do not you know, an∣swered our witty Gentleman, that he came from Rome without an Hat?
I have heard you tell another story of the same Cour∣tier. He came from the Camp, which held a Town besieg'd, and which we did not take: This rare Wit was then sent to the King to give him an account of the condition of the Place and Army; so that all the Court was very earnest in demanding News of him. What say you of the Siege? say they. That she is very well, and begins to rise, answered he.
I know that Erastus has an Aversion to Quibbles, and that the other day having quietly heard Timocrates utter many of them, he seem'd at last to be angry at him for them. Now for my part, I am for let∣ting them pass, and think my self obliged in some sort, to those persons who endeavour to divert me, although they prove not al∣ways fortunate in their underta∣king. But I could never endure in History, that great men should make use of an Equivocation to break their word. Can we ex∣cuse that Captain, who by a Truce grants that no acts of Hostility shall be exercis'd for eight days, and immediately af∣ter shall send out Parties every night to ravage the Enemies Country?
He may take this for a Warlike Stratagem, yet all the world will condemn his breach
of Faith. We may call things how we will, but that will not hinder us from being infamous, if we under pretence of a Treaty, sur∣prise our Enemies. I much blame your Captain, but do more de∣test the cruel perfidiousness of a Turk towards a Venetian. The latter of these surrendred himself, and the Capitulation bore, That his Head should be safe from all mischief. His Enemy had him no sooner in his power, but he made him be sawed asunder in the midst of his body. In the excess of his pain, the Christian invoked Heav'ns Vengeance a∣gainst so cruel a treachery. And the Infidel answered him, with a malicious smile, that he had no reason to complain, seeing his head was not touched.
Have you ob∣serv'd one thing which I now re∣mark? which is, That designing only to examine what may please
in Conversation: We are gotten insensibly to Examples, wherein there are more Moral stroaks than Maxims which respect an Entertainment. May we not be told that we vary from our Sub∣ject, and that we should retrench these digressions?
I confess that a me∣lancholly University Logick chop∣per might form a Quarrel here∣upon, and charge us home with our digressions, requiring a Con∣versation dry, servile, and tire∣som. But as to us who have a different rellish, we will allow our selves this liberty; and when any History or Tale may serve to recreate the austerity of Pre∣cepts, or make us more exact and cautious, we will gladly en∣tertain it. Thus being instructed, if we are to make a Truce for eight days, we will take such measures as not to be deceived, we will express that it shall be
for eight natural days of twenty four hours, wherein the nights shall be comprehended. But instead of troubling our selves with ju∣stifying our citations, it's enough to alledge that they please us; and if Philemon has any scruple hereupon, let him send it to some musty Pedant, and let him be pleased with us, as heretofore. I am so sure that he will be so, that I will reassume the dis∣course where it was broke off.
Here's an equivocal word which heretofore surprised the whole world; or rather, here's a subtle∣ty of extraordinary consequence. You know, that of the Scipio's there were two that bore the name of Affrican; that the first vanquish'd Hannibal, and that the other destroyed Carthage. This last, the better to subdue Ene∣mies who were so terrible to the Romans, made use of an Equivo∣cation,
or rather of a distincti∣on which you will not find wor∣thy of so great a man. The Carthaginians, finding themselves too weak to hold out long, offered to capitulate and surrender their Town; and Scipio promis'd them there should be no hurt done to their City. But scarce was he Master of it, but he caused the Fortifications of it to be destroy∣ed. The Carthaginians cried out, that the Faith of the Treaty was violated; but for all that, Scipio failed not to level their Walls and Towers.
He endeavoured afterwards to justifie himself, and shew that he had not broke his word. He re∣presented to the Carthaginians, that the Romans did not confound the names of Town, and City. That the Body of the Citizens formed the City, and that the Walls and other Edifices composed the Town. That he should have been dis∣pleased
had the Inhabitants been ill treated; but more dis∣pleased, had he left the Walls and Fortifications entire, which could be of no use, but only to raise a Jealousie in the Roman People.
I like not these Arti∣fices to deceive People, and can yet less allow it in great People. But as for the distinction you now spoke of, I think it has been always used, and will be still so.
The Athenians, fearing to be besieged, and subjected by the Persians, consulted the Oracle on the Resolution they were to take; it was answered, That the City must depart the Town, and save it self by wooden Walls. So that it was interpreted, that the Citizens should abandon a Town, which was not strong enough to secure them; and that they should get on board their Ships, to flie from the danger wherewith they were threatned.
There is no body in this Room, but has heard talk of Paris in this double Sense. When we mean the Town, we say that Paris is every day embellished; and when we speak of the Inhabitants, the Body of which makes what the Ancients called City; we say, That all Paris is walking in the Park; That all Paris is gone in∣to the Country in the beginning of Autumn.
A man may speak a witty thing in making an allu∣sion; as when we sport with words which refer to one another, when they are repeat∣ed, or the Sense of them va∣ried.
When the Marshal de la Meil∣leraie was Grand Master of the Ordnance, there were several Latin words engraven on the Cannon which we may explain in these terms.
Here's the Key, when the Door is refused.
I like this allusion, and I find it grounded on a double refusal which may be made.
And I take a Can∣non to be a terrible Key.
It's true, according to Rablais, that there is nothing more ape∣ritive.
Here's a sporting with words of another nature. It's said that a Souldier having not been orderly paid, had the inso∣lence to complain, in this man∣ner to one of our Kings: Sir, three words; Money, or discharge. The Prince, who was merciful, contented himself in returning this answer: Souldier, four; Nei∣ther one nor other.
Shall we say nothing of Repartees, when Anacharsis furnishes us with so good an Example? This famous Philo∣sopher was a Scythian; and a Greek, who had no other merit but that of being born in Greece,
looking on him with envy, I acknowledge, said he to him, that the world has some esteem for thee; but it must be granted, that there is nothing more bar∣barous than thy Nation. Very well, said he; Then I am the Ho∣nour of my Countrey, and thou art the Shame of thine.
A Marquess who has ruin'd his Family, had the other day a bickering with one of his Neghbours, who is a thriving Per∣son, and has lately bought a con∣siderable Office. Is it for you, said the Marquess, to contend with me, who begin your Family? I be∣gin mine, said he, but you end yours.
This brings to my mind two Answers which you'll find are very ingenious; the first is of Phyrrus King of the Epirots, who being demanded which was the best Player on the Flute, Python or Cephisus? Polipercon is
the greatest Captain, answered he; giving to understand that he was to judge of men of War.
The other answer is of Count Maurice of Nassau. A Lady en∣treated him to tell her who was the first Captain of the Age? Count Maurice was unwilling to speak his mind on so nice a point; his Modesty did not permit him to name himself, and his Merit would not permit him to part with an Honour, of which he was worthy; so that seeing him∣self straitned, Madam, answered he at length, The Marquess of Spinola is the Second.
I like this turn, and I think this second Answer is more ingenious than that of Phyrrus; the words of this Prince are one of these notable Sayings, which has more Morality than Sharp∣ness of Wit, as well as that we have related of Charles the 5th. and Lewis the 12th.
I believe our discourse would last a great while on this Sub∣ject, if we wou'd relate whatever comes into our minds hereupon. It's better to take Coach, and go to the new Opera, for I have taken places.
Scarcely were orders given to make ready the Horses, when Erastus reassumed the discourse in these terms.
It must be acknow∣ledg'd that Philemon has thought of a very agreeable thing. E∣very thing is new in the death of Achilles, and I do not questi∣on but there will be great croud∣ings to see it the first time of acting. But whilst things are getting in a readiness, would it not be better to take up our dis∣course again on witty Sayings and remarkable Answers? And besides, do we not see that therein is to be found a continual variety, which cannot but please?
I am so much of your mind, that I'le tell you of an an∣swer worthy of Alexander. Da∣rius ask'd a Peace of him, and of∣fered him half of Asia, together with Ten Thousand Talents. Parmenio charmed with such an advantageous offer, Sir, said he to his Master, I protest, were I Alexander, I would gladly accept of these offers: And I too, if I were Parmenio, answered he.
How sparkish are these words, and how worthy of A∣lexander, of a Conqueror that will not terminate his ambition, but by the compass of the whole earth?
I shall admire as long as I live the ingenious answer which the Queen of Siracuse, Ge∣lon's Wife, made. This Prince had a Breath strong enough to incommode those that came near him, his Favourite thought him∣self
oblig'd to give him notice of it; and this Prince, angry that the Queen had never spoke to him of it, complained very much to her about it. How, (answered she, with a surprise, with which I am extreamly ta∣ken) is it not the same with all other men?
This simplicity gives a great opinion of the Virtue of this Princess.
But before we end this discourse, should we not have some Modern Instances? I pro∣fess I prefer 'em before the An∣cients; and it is certain every body is more concern'd in them. Here's one then with which our Ladies perhaps will not be too much satisfied.
'Tis not above two or three years past, since a gallant man, whom we all know, and whom I shall call Themistus, became—
Ah! Philemon, I shall
never forgive you this beginning of your Recital.
I have committed a great fault then in few words, seeing there is no hopes of par∣don for me. But may I be so bold to ask wherein I am so culpable?
Did not you say that you preferr'd the Modern Exam∣ples before the Ancient?
I say so still.
And have you not ad∣ded the reason, which is, that we are nearer concern'd in what touches the Persons of our acquain∣tance, than in things which respect only Persons who have been dead several Ages?
Most certainly.
Why then do you give a santastical name to a man whom we know? Are you a∣fraid we should hearken too at∣tentively; or that we should take too great a part in the adventure which you are minded to relate?
You say well, that I should not have this fear, when I should have nam'd the man whom you know. My discourse would not be so touching, as to produce so good an effect; but to speak freely to you, I was apprehensive lest I should raise raise up two Enemies against my friend. I believ'd that Cleonice and you would not fail to insult over him, in respect of an o∣pinion he is prejudic'd with, and which I am assur'd you'll both of you condemn before the world.
How! before the World! what will you encrease our faults, by accusing us of dissimulation? What opinion then is this of your Friend's, let's know it?
You shall know it, if you'll let me go on without interruption.
Say what you please, I shall not so greatly heed you,
as to raise any more questi∣ons.
Am I no body? Am not I a woman? May I not have a little curiosity, though Philemon blame me for it?
To repair the fault I have committed, I'le lay aside the story I was going to tell you.
Not so, if you please, for that will be worse; go on with it, pray.
I'le tell you then, to satisfie you, that Themistus was carried into the company of a young Lady, whose sight struck him with great admiration. Ce∣limene, let me so call her if you please, had but a very mean Fortune, with an extraordinary beauty, so that Themistus, who had immense Riches, made seri∣ous reflections on this sudden and violent engagement. He could take no rest, He found himself in a perpetual agitation,
and fear'd above all, lest his pas∣sion, which he felt so violent in its beginning, would lead him, in fine, to the satisfying his de∣sires, to the prejudice of his For∣tune.
He resolved to banish from his Soul so dangerous a tenderness, he opposed it all he could; and finding he could not immediately overcome it, he called in a senti∣ment of Glory to the assistance of his Reason. He had the strength to part far from what he loved, and to go a Volunteer into the Army; but he returned thence more amorous than he went. He visited his Mistress with great∣er joy, and a stronger desire; then blaming himself for his weak∣ness, he made a second effort, and undertook a second Voyage, which was into Italy. He would try whether the divertisements would appease those inquietudes which the perils and fatigues
could not allay, but the Carna∣val of Venice was as little con∣ducive to that purpose, as the Siege of Buda. Our Themistus appear'd to me at his return more ardent and passionate than ever. My dear Philemon, said he, I lead a wretched life, I cannot forget Celimene, I have her al∣ways in my thoughts, and I see her continually before my eyes with all her Charms. In fine, added he, and this was his saying, In short I must marry her, that I may cease thus to love her. He married her in effect, and fifteen days of Marriage changed his violent and tumultuous Love, in∣to a sweet and delightful Friend∣ship.
I profess I like the saying well, and let the Ladies take it how they please.
We cannot do better than follow a Maxim which you approve.
Your Friend was not so easily drawn into Marriage as my Uncle, who is married again lately. His Children made great complaints to him on the resolu∣tion he had taken of giving them a Mother-in-Law: They besought him to tell them wherein they had been so unhappy as to dis∣please him, and entreated him to let them know what it was that offended him? I am so pleased with you, answered he, that I only marry again to have other Children like you.
I am much mistaken if your Cousins took this for a good saying.
You know that the illustrious Person who has given such fine Conversations to the Publick, yet was more pleased in doing a good Office, than in ma∣king a fine Book; so that you will not be surprised, if she used her most carnest endeavours in
begging an employ for a young Gentleman who had been recom∣mended to her. The thing de∣pended on a great Lord who was one of her friends, and to whom she said a thousand good things of the person whose interests she prosecuted. The great Lord ex∣amined the person, he found him very fit, and that he wanted not sense; but he answered, he seemed too young for the business he was recommended. How, Sir, answered our generous Friend, will you repreach him with a fault, which we every day correct but too much against our wills?
At the same instant as Dorante had said this word was brought that all was ready; the Company immediately arose, and set out to go to the new Opera. They law it with a great deal of sa∣tisfaction; but the application which Dorante had to it, hindred him not from examining more
than once Lisidor's Counte∣nance.
He was desirous to observe the effect which a splendid sight might produce in the mind of a young man who had never seen the like. Cleonice consulted Lin∣damire's eyes for the same reason, and took notice that she and Li∣sidor concealed one part of their surprise. That they sometimes spake, that they look'd on the People of Quality which were in the Boxes; in a word, that they did not like those great wonde∣rers, whose ignorance is the only cause of their astonishment.
As soon as ever the Curtain was let down before the Theatre, Cleonice and Belise turn'd them∣selves towards Dorante, and ask'd him how he liked what he had heard and seen?
I dare not give you my opinion of an Opera which I have but once seen. It's true
I shall soon have an opportunity to satisfie your curiosity. Phile∣mon has given the first sight of this Opera to Cleonice, Lisidor shall give the second to Linda∣mire; and perhaps he will admit us to bear him company.
Having said enough about this Opera, I would wil∣lingly have Dorante tell us in ge∣neral, whether one may repre∣hend any one before people; and after what manner we may speak of a work that is criticis'd in a Company?
I am of opinion that we ought to be very reserved in these occasions, but seeing you will have the Conversation turn on this Subject, instead of excu∣sing my self, I will be the first to tell you my opinion of it.
THere are every day to be seen in Companies so many persons who commit faults, in respect of lan∣guage, or good manners, that it will be an endless work for any man to set about correcting them. Were it not better for men to be easie in Conversation, to speak, and to let others do so too, than to be perpetual dicta∣tors, to quarrel with people about words, to top every body, and strive only to run all others down? I should be greatly trou∣bled, should Lisidor (he will let me cite him) fail in any essential point in Conversation; and my Remedy would be to take up
the discourse, to enter on the opi∣nion which he should be of, or to mention the expression which he should have used; yet I would not direct my discourse to him, lest I put him in confusion, and make a Fault observable, which perhaps one part of the Compa∣ny took no notice of.
If one of your Friends, talking in Company, should use a manner of speaking little exact, or contrary to Custom, would you rather chuse to leave him in his error, than make him know it?
For my part I believe it were fit to reprehend him.
You might do it, yet with great caution, and modera∣tion. If the Friend, you suppose, had a mind to buy Horses, and that he said, I desired Erastus who knows Horses—I would not interrupt him, and demand pert∣ly of him, what Horses does he
know, Coach Horses? On the con∣trary, I would make him note his fault, in saying thus; You cannot do better than to address your self to Erastus, no body understands Hor∣ses better than he does.
Should any one interrupt me unseasonably, and with little Ci∣vility, in these terms; What is that you say there, I do not know what you mean, and yet I may say I un∣derstand English well enough?
I do not speak as I should do then, would I answer him, with∣out shewing any discomposure; or I would repeat again the same thing more at large, and in a clear∣er manner. I do not doubt but this moderation would produce two good effects. It would gain me esteem, and might soften the sharp humour of the person who controul'd me.
But should you have a work given you to examine, would not you freely speak your opinion of it?
You will not be a∣gainst my making a distinction on what you demand. Should I be thought able to give good ad∣vice, and a Manuscript were put into my hand before it went to the Press, I would speak ingenu∣ously what I thought of it; and should think my self unworthy the confidence put in me, did I deal in another manner.
Thus you see, I am not al∣ways so complaisant as you have taken me to be. I will tell you too moreover, that it is not long since that an Author found me as untractable in matter of Sonnets, as Moliere's Misanthropos. He shewed me one full of Antitheses, wherein a Lover complained of the death of his Mistress; I could not bear with all his juglings, and impatiently interrupting the Read∣er; how, Sir, said I to him, will you have this man amuse him∣self in sporting with words, in∣stead
of bewailing his misfor∣tune? This is so beside the subject, that I doubt I shall not have pa∣tience enough to hear it out to the.
Let me tell you a sto∣ry of a young Author, who came from a 〈…〉〈…〉 of Guiea••e to Paris, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 printing a Plice for which he thought to gain the ad∣miration of the Universe One of his Friends advised him to ad∣dress himself to some ingenious man, and consult 〈◊〉〈◊〉 before he exposed his Book to be conticis'd by the publick. This Country Author would by no means yield to this at first, thinking this ad∣vice fruitless for a Poem which had been approved in his Coun∣try, but at length he permitted himself to be led to Chapelain, ap∣parently to acquire esteem for it, rather than to admit of correcti∣ons. He told him he came to shew him an Epic Poem he had made
at home, and that he would glad∣ly hear so great a Master's opini∣on on his Work. To speak free∣ly, answered Chapelain, you are to be commended for having un∣dertaken so difficult a work at your Age, and in a Country so far from all assistance, which one might have at Paris. Sir, repli∣ed the Author, I will dedicate this Poem to the Mareschal d'Al∣bret. You cannot make a better choice, replied the complaisant Chapelain, the Mareschal is a man of wit, and he is Governour of your Province. You will be near a Mecenas, who will rellish your Writings, and give you his pro∣tection. After these words the Manuscript was opened, and the young Wit read about 50 or 60 Verses. This beginning was wide, and had no coherence with the Subject, so that Chapelain telling him, I see, Sir, you have thought fit to treat of things at first in
general, to descend afterwards in∣to particulars which more close∣ly relates to your Subject. Ah! Sir, cried the young man, what satisfaction there is in consulting a person like you, you know al∣ready the scope of my Poem, as well as if I had read it all to you.
No sooner was this said, but people came in, the lecture broke off, and our Author went out. He was so well pleased with the Visit he made, that turning him∣self towards him that had introdu∣ced him, you must acknowledge, said he to him briskly, that no first Book had so great success; I do not see how, answered his Friend, you can say that a Poem has succeeded before it comes a∣broad into the world, unless you do as the Marquess Moliere speaks of, who lik'd the Play before the Candles were lighted. To speak sincerely, Monsieur Chapelain has too great indulgence, and if you
will be ruled by me, we will con∣sult some one that has less.
They then went to the Abbot d'Aubignac, and after the accu∣stomed Civilities were past, the young man told him that he had made an Epic Poem. So much the worse, replied the Ab∣bot briskly, for I am sure you know not what an Epic Poem is, seeing that at your age you set about a thing which the most consummate Learned Men dare not undertake. This boldness shews me better than your ac∣cent from what Country you come. But, Sir, replied the Au∣thor, with astonishment sufficient, I composed this Work only to de∣dicate it to the Marshal d'Albret You could not worse address your self, replied the Abbot. Do not you know that the Marshal d' Albret is one of the finest Wits we have? That he loves to rally, and that he will laugh at you and your Poem? He be∣ing
Governour of our Province— For this very reason, replied im∣patiently the Abbot, you ought not to lay your self open to him, and expose your self to be the laughtngstock of your Coun∣try, but, Sir, replied again the young man, you speak of faults, without having seen any, hear∣ken, if you please, and you may better judge afterwards; he took then immediately a Sheet, and read it, without allowing the Ab∣bot so much time as to interrupt him. But before he came to the sixth Verse the Abbot d'Aubignac being tyred with hearing it, said with some sharpness to him, I would gladly know, Sir, says he, whether this be the beginning of a work of Piety or of a prophane piece, of an History or Fable? But, Sir, a little more patience, till I—Pray tell me not of patience, answer∣ed the Abbot, Virgil, who per∣haps knew as well as you the
Rules of an Epic Poem, says im∣mediately, that he sings the great actions of that Hero who came first from the Trojan Shores into Italy.
The young Author, being as it were Thunder-struck, goes to Chapelain to comfort himself. Sir, said he to him, I am lately come from the most intollerable Critick in the world, who is the Abbot d'Aubignac, who would not so much as suffer me to read seven or eight Verses of my Work. He told me my beginning was not worth a straw, and that it had no relation to the Subject. I be∣lieve, answered Chapelain, that Monsieur the Abbot d'Aubinac is not wholly in the wrong; but however, the business is not past remedy, you can make another beginning, and keep that of your Po∣em for the first Work you shall make.
I like this management of beginnings, and I find no less agreeable this opposition of an ex∣cessive
complaisance, and a seve∣rity that proceeds to extremity.
I did not believe Chapelain of this humour, and I have had a very different account of it, from that which Erastus gives us. I was told that the deceased Count de Fiesque, coming from the Play, met Chapelain, and told him he had been greatly diverted with the sight of a Play he na∣med him. Is it possible, Sir, an∣swered him Chapelain, that so great a man as you, and who has so great wit, can behold with pleasure a Comedy wherein the Characters are not upheld, wherein the Actors come and speak, with∣out knowing why, nor how; and, in fine, wherein there's not the observation of the least Rule? The Count was for re∣viewing the same piece with a greater application. He consider∣ed better of it, and went afterwards to Chapelain, pray, says he to him,
restore me my ignorance, I was greatly diverted with the Play be∣fore, but now I take no delight in it.
It is certain, that for our satisfaction, it is necessary we should behold sometimes the Plays on the Theatre with indulgence. Can a man divert himself with Harlequius's Emperor of the Moon, if in entring he leaves not his sound sense and Rules at the Door?
Hereunto we may add, as I have already said, that it is dangerous being too complai∣sant, or too severe in the advices one gives. The Abbot d'Aubignac was perhaps the occasion of the young man's leaving Paris and his Studies; and on the other hand Chapelain might induce him to ap∣ply himself thereto with too great negligence, and without success.
They enlarg'd themselves no farther on this subject, and the company judg'd it late enough to depart. Erastus, Philemon, Cleo∣nice,
Belise, and Lindamire went out, and return'd home.
A small time after Dorante and Lisidor supt, and still entertain'd themselves on the care which was to be observ'd in reprehending and criticising in Company.
I believe a man should be less hasty to answer, when his advice is askt in relation to man∣ners, and the ordering of ones life. Besides the presumption we shew, when we give over hastily these kind of advices, it seems as if we were sure of the Event, and that we may be justly responsible, when the success answers not ex∣pectation. So that we must let others speak, especially if they have more experience than we, and let us not give in our opi∣nions before we are askt more than once. If we be oblig'd to answer, let it not be too affirma∣tively, let us modestly utter the reasons which uphold our opini∣on,
and shew we not in our Coun∣tenances, nor Discourses, an air of Considence, which may make us appear full of our selves. I know you are not of an age to be con∣sulted, and there is little likelyhood that Old Men will need your ad∣vice, but young Persons may re∣quire it, and others too hereafter. Moreover I do not keep strictly to the giving you precisely the Precepts suitable to you; it will do you no hurt to know others, to the end that minding the persons who observe them, you will come the better to know the World. I doubt not but you are satisfied with the Company you have seen, they are extraordinarily well hu∣mour'd and ingenious. You have taken notice how free they are, and remote from all constraint and affectation; you have seen nothing but what's easie, na∣tural, and ingenious in what they say; it is this Air you must imi∣tate,
if you will please in Con∣versation.
I would willingly know wherein it consists; methinks it is very apparent, yet is hard to say precisely what it is.
You have reason, and I know not whether I can satisfie your Curiosity.
BUt instead of entring on a precise defini∣tion of a word, let's rather exa∣mine what may ragard Conversa∣tion in general. Your principal de∣sign is to please in the Conver∣sation of the World, let's therefore see what may contribute to this Design.
It is a great advantage to have
a gallant Air, but it is an advan∣tage which a Man can acquire but imperfectly by his endeavours. Nature must begin it in us, and we must afterwards cultivate these favourable dispositions. We may pollish them, and perfect them by frequenting persons who have already this Air, if we imitate them in their Conversation, and manner of behaviour.
Is it not sufficient to please in Conversation, that we are able by our good Meen to give weight and relish to our words?
A good Meen alone does not always produce this good effect; we see every day Country People, who are well shaped and of a good aspect, and yet are in no wise agreeable company. The Air I speak of, is the Soul of a good Meen; without this Air, it is very difficult to please; it is this gallant and polite Air, which ren∣ders
every thing pleasing. It's seen on the Countenance, in Discourse, Cloaths, at Table, House-hold-stuff, Equipage, and even in Buildings. Most young People strive to out∣do one another in Gallantry, but they are less gallant than they think for. They do not mode∣rate themselves enough, and their heat makes 'em carry things too far. The air of Politeness we speak of requires sweetness, and young people have I know not what that is brisk, which does not agree with the Character of a gallant man. You have observ'd that they are commonly too hasty in taking up what is newest in Modes, and that they seldom fail of going be∣yond the bounds which a gallant man should prescribe. Instead of a well contriv'd suit, they are for laying on the heavyest Lace or Embroidery they can get. If they give a Treat, they proceed to ex∣cess, and for their Equipage they
are not contented with what's neat and fit, they add more Splendour than their Quality or Estate re∣quires. They think of nothing but distinguishing themselves here∣by, far from regulating their ex∣pence by their Revenue.
Neither must a man, to render himself agreeable in Conversation, utter only subtle things, or out of the common Road. It is not ne∣cessary to shew a great stock of Learning, and a vast deal of Wit. It is sufficient to speak with an easie air, and that nothing savours of affectation and constraint, as I have already recommended to you more than once. I was very glad that you saw so soon Cleonice, Be∣lise and Lindamire. The two first have a very ingenious manner, which may contribute to make you get the same air and the same tour. you will never part from them without profitting either in your Understanding or Will.
You will meet with few wo∣men whose Conversation is more agreeable, you may get by them such an air, as the reading of the best Authors; nor the most learn∣ed Conferences will never afford you. I likewise confess that I am not displeased at your seeing of Lindamire; it is natural for you to wish to please her, and it can∣not be, having this design, but that you must endeavour to pollish your mind, to make your humour sweet and insinuating, in a word, to ac∣quire the qualities which may gain the esteem of Ladies. Moreover, the desire which one may have to touch the heart of a fine woman who has Quality and Merit, may serve as a preservative against a disorder wherein Persons of your age do too often fall. Not that I pretend you should bound your visits to Cleonice, and that being so young you should begin to sigh in form for Lindamire. When
you have made two or three Cam∣paigns, I will ask your sentiments hereupon, and I will tell you mine. However, I must needs acknow∣ledge to you, that I should rather see you fixt on Lindamire, than any other person I know; but how∣ever I would not have this respect for her proceed so far as to hin∣der you from seeing other compa∣nies, and to make thence your ob∣servations of different humours. However I do not mean you should go from House to House, to flatter and make courtship to Ladies who will not be displeased with it. A man that makes this his business, will be so far from being respected as a gallant Person, that he will be accounted no bet∣ter than an idle Fop.
Now as to such directions as concern young men in general. Have you not observ'd they fall of∣ten into defects contrary to the manners of polite men? They
laugh every moment so loudly that their laughter is in no sort like the subtle smiles observable in the Conversation of polite per∣sons. They disengage Friends to draw them into other Companies, and instead of living respectfully with Women, they imagine it the best breeding to use 'em fa∣miliarly. That which I find stran∣gest, is, that they sometimes pro∣ceed to swearing, like the rascal∣ly mean people.
And yet it is not difficult to a∣void these faults, and I wish you at no greater trouble in attain∣ing the fine Air we spoke of. You have all the dispositions which can be desired, and I hope you will cultivate them with success.
I have been an hundred times surpriz'd to hear say, that Melicrates, whom you know, is a polite Person, yet we all agree in our Country, that he is far from what we call politeness.
There is much diffe∣rence between a Man of great Air, and a man that has the Air great; and I add, that we must no more confound a gallant Man, with a Man gallant. The first has this Air gallant, so much talk'd of in France, and which answers in some sort to the urbanity of the Ancient Romans; the other may without politeness be a Wo∣mans Gallant, or have an inclina∣tion to Gallantry in general. An old Man may please by the qua∣lity of Gallant Man, but he would be ridiculous if he made Gallan∣tries in his old days.
I suppose that when we say that such a Man has a good Air, we praise him less, than if we attribute to him the Air great, or the Air Gallant.
You need not doubt of it, and it is likewise certain, that the good Air agrees differently to the two Sexes, to all ages, and all
professions. A Sword Man, has com∣monly an open and fierce Air, a Magistrate is grave; a Woman should have sweetness and mode∣sty, but the Air great is the most rare; and sometimes among seve∣ral Princes, we see few of 'em, whose Meen does denote the Ele∣vation of his Rank. This is an advantage which we admire in the person of the great Monarch, to whom you shall be presented, when I shall find you used to Coversation, and the Manners of the Men of the World. I will car∣ry you first to several Persons of the Court, to the end that going afterwards to Versailles, you ap∣pear there the less surpris'd, and that you may find persons to whom you may speak: It is there, more than in any place of the World, that you will meet with persons of all Airs which we have discoursed of. It is here that you will find more politeness and less
Affectation, than in any Court in the World. Most here have the Air gallant, and there's scarcely any one but has a certain easie Air, which makes all the agreeable∣ness in Conversation.
I profess I should have confounded this agreeableness you speak of with the Air Gallant.
It's true, they are like enough to one another, and they both please almost in the same manner. Yet what we call agree∣ableness is more general, it suits with more things, it insinuates it self more sweetly, it reaches to the Heart and touches it. The Air gallant takes another course, it seizes on the Fancy, and gains e∣steem; but to speak in general, nothing can please in persons who have not a good Air. It's true, that one may in some sort obtain it, in being careful that ones acti∣on be free, and in acquiring a facility of speaking.
I knew a man who spake with great facility, and yet who did not at all please. It was thought that he studied what he spake, and I observed that this O∣pinion which the World had of him, did not contribute to the pro∣curing him a Reputation. I would know whether you will condemn this kind of care?
THe Reading every day of Books, and the People whom we every moment converse with, may serve as an insensible and continual preparation for the Conversations wherein chance may engage us. It is by these two ways that our Memory enriches it self with infinite notices, which she
imparts to us afterwards in oc∣casions wherein we may need them.
I know that the me∣mory has been ever considered, as a Treasurer to whom we must give a Fond, if we will draw thence the assistances we need.
This is the justest com∣parison we can make of it; when we learn things agreeable or in∣structive, we only intrust them to our Memories, this is a pledge which she keeps only to restore it. She does as the Steward of an House, who receives the Revenue of his Master, only to pay away what is demanded. But both one and the other must be faithful, and there would happen a trouble∣some disorder, if the Memory re∣tained not enough, and the Stew∣ard retains a little too much.
I know not how it comes to pass that I am fall'n on sporting with words. It's not my custom
to do it, and tho' it has come in naturally enough, yet many will condemn it as a point of affectati∣on.
The niceness of these people would be troublesome, your conception is grounded on the truth, and the term, whose repeti∣tion makes the sport, suits equally with the Steward, and the Me∣mory. But to return to the questi∣on, Do you believe it is sufficient to prepare ones self in general, as you now said; or do you not think it good, that I should prepare my self on certain Subjects, which are likely to be the entertainment of the Company where I may chance to be?
If you desire to have matters ready for all sorts of Con∣versations, you will without doubt set upon Collecting all the remark∣able things you read or hear rela∣ted. You will reduce these obser∣vations to a certain Order. On
one side you will set down Tra∣gical Events. Thrones overturn'd, strange Deaths, Misfortunes unfore∣seen, and, in general, whatever you find most Tragical. On the other hand you will collect the happy Successes, as surprizing Marriages, unexpected Promotions, in a word, whatever has happen'd that is pleasing in the Revolutions where∣in Fortune has been pleased to fa∣vour those she loves. If being well provided, you go and recount your lamentable stories in an affli∣cted House; will your long Nar∣rations be suffer'd in a Chamber wherein silence reigns, wherein is nothing seen but pale Countenan∣ces, and nothing heard but sighs and Groans? I believe they will be filled with indignation, to see you so little sensible of the mis∣fortune which has happen'd to them; and if their grief will per∣mit them to see you want no me∣mory, will they not likewise see
too that you want judgment? Without doubt you'll administer great consolation to a Woman whose Husband is lately assassina∣ted; if you represent to her, that the first Empress of Rome suffer'd heretofore a more considerable loss. That it was when Caesar was stabb'd in the Senate, and that this great Man knew among his Murtherers, persons whom he tenderly loved. Should not I have made a very diverting recital in dining at Phi∣lemons, had I set to talking of the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, and the Festival of Cleopatra? If we would affect persons agita∣ted with any Passion, we must en∣tertain them only with adventures wherein they may take part, and reserve Historical Events for cer∣tain Conversations, which we may term sedate ones, or those which may be called Conferences.
To reurn to the distinction which I am oblig'd to make, I
must say, that in certain occasions you may prepare your self for common Discourse, tho' it were perceiv'd that you have studied what you shall say. In effect, if there comes Embassadors from far distant Countries, and little known, you will easily imagine that this will be discoursed of in Companies where you may chance to be, and that you will not do amiss to instruct your self in a matter which will be the entertainment of an infinite number of People. So that you will be pleased to see in a Map, the extent and situa∣tion of the Country whence these Embassadors come. You will read in some Relation of Travels, the strength and Government of the Nation, you will indeavour to find out the Interest she has to seek our Alliance, or to have our Assi∣stance or our Commerce.
May not one likewise discourse of the different Formali∣ties
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
to be observed in the Recep∣tion of Embassadors, according to the different States who send them, or according to the higher or low∣er Rank of the Embassadors? I have heard say, that the Chief of the last Embassie of Muscovy, call'd himself Prince, and even a Kinsman of the Czars. But I confess to you, I know not what this Word Czar signifies, which yet I pronounce very boldly.
You must know then that the great Duke of Muscovy is not content with the Title of Emperor, but takes even that of Caesar, which the Muscovites pro∣nounce Czar, this suppression of a Letter is common enough in all sorts of Languages, whether to sosten the pronunciation, or ren∣der it less languid, by straitning the words.
Methinks the Name of Caesar, which gives a great Idea, is not so long that it needs to be
abridg'd, and I did not observe that we take in our French Words the liberty you speak of.
You have not then examined them, but you will change your sentiments, when you will hear say, Sevrin and Mer∣ri, for Severin and Mederic. But I cannot excuse our Tongue, when she changes or abridges fine Names to make them disagreeable, as Thi∣baud of Theobald, Thierri of Theodo∣ric, and Alix of Adelaide. I could cite you likewise the Names of several Houses and Towns which we pronounce otherwise than they are written, but our Business is not to enter on these particulars, it being better to return to the Advices which I began to give you.
I had already profitably used that relating to Embassadors. When the Algerins came to make their Submissions to the King; I sail'd not to instruct my self in
what might be said of these Pi∣rats, on their litle State, their Government, their Ships, and the Forces of their Militia, which they dare call invincible.
I had less pains in informing my self on the Riches and Commerce of Genoa, the Magnificence of those Palaces, which make her have the Title of Proud, and I especial∣ly enquired into the Authority of the Doge, seeing he was the Chief of the Republick, whom she was obliged to send into France. You may easily judge I had not the same facility in learning of the Kingdom of Siam what I would know of it. But the Embassie which came from so far a Coun∣try, being too extraordinary, not to be the subject of all Conversa∣tions, I read Relations enough, to find wherewith to make my self be hearken'd to in speaking of the Siamoises.
I am very glad you need not much of my advice in this matter; I shall only advise you to recal every Night the I∣deas of what you have heard say, that is most agreeable and most instructive, and to examine after what manner, or by what dis∣course, certain Persons have had the opportunity of pleasing, in the time when others could not be heard, tho' they were brim full of discourse.
But here's enough for to night, it is time to end this Discourse, and to leave one another. You shall have brought you to Morrow Morning wherewith to Cloath you handsomly, and it is fit that E∣rastus, who is to come to take us with him, should find you ready to go along with him. We will go and see persons of great distincti∣on, and to whom I would very gladly have you go sometimes. You must be presented to them
by Erastus, he can recommend you in such a manner, as is not proper for me to do, and I am sure he will have no less Address than Affection, when he is to do you good Offices.
After these words Dorante left Lisidor, and went into his Cham∣ber.
THe next Morning Dorante was with Erastus, and Lisi∣dor at the Prince Viridatus's, where was commonly the rendezvous of the most most ingenious and po∣lite young Gentlemen of the Court.
Viridatus offer'd Lisidor all the Civilities which Dorante could ex∣pect, and directed often to him
his discourse, altho' he had a great deal of Company that day with him. I know not, said he to him, with an obliging Air, whether you have not left in your Province some∣thing which your Heart may regret; but I am much mistaken, if this Country does not afford wherewith to comfort one, for whatever he may have left in others.
It's certain, there's no∣thing which can make Life easie, and even pleasant, but comes to Paris from all the Countries of the World, yet methinks we must ex∣cept a certain kind of Liberty which one has in little Towns for Conversation and Behaviour.
But what advantage can one make of a Liberty which leads to nothing? Is it worth the constraint which contributes to our Fortune?
At these words, a person of Qua∣lity, named Pharnacius, took up the Discourse, and answer'd Viri∣datus in these terms.
I know not how a Prince of your humour can ap∣prove a way of living, which is regarded as a continual torture. What, I shall never have the plea∣sure of speaking my real senti∣ments? Were I grosly Ignorant, should I be oblig'd to praise the Sciences before Viridatus; to de∣clare my self against them, how able soever I were, if I would please honest Timophanus? Is there any grandure, which a Man pays not too dear for, if it be bought at this price?
You will be more surpris'd, if I tell you, that this kind of constraint, which you represent to your self so dreadful, gives more satisfaction than vexation. And in effect, is it for the sake of Timophanus, and Viridatus, that you commend or discommend the Sciences? Is it not for your own sake, that you accommodate your self to the Humour of the persons
from whom you expect good Of∣fices? Do you take for dissimula∣tion a stroak of prudence which requires you to seem to enter in∣to the sentiments of a Man whom you would very willingly draw into yours; when your interests require it? For my part I think you have right to applaud your self, when you can insinuate your self into opposite humours; what pleasure is it, in discoursing with a Learned General, to cite the In∣structions which Aristotle gave to Alexander, the Elequence which made Caesar famous before his Con∣quests, and the Politeness of Sci∣pi••, to whom it's said Terence owes that which appears in his Works. When on the contrary, we en∣tertain our selves with a Warrier who has nothing but his courage; do we not take a fit course in mentioning only Captains, the single impetuosity of whose cou∣rage has made their Men victori∣ous?
We may call that Man happy that has this suppleness of humour, and when Nature refuses it, we should esteem the persons who endeavour to acquire it. Had I a Patron of a dumpish, restless, and suspicious humour, I would not accost him with an open smi∣ling air: And should I go to a young Prince who loved pleasures, I would not carry a Countenance whose Melancholly and Austerity would seem to condemn all joy.
I know not whether this be not an approving of ine∣quality and uneven tempers in maintaining such an opinion.
A Change which is grounded on reason, cannot be called inequality; we see every mo∣ment, that the commerce of Life requires that we speak differently in the same day. I should be want∣ing in civility, if I did not go and rejoyce with a Friend who had married advantagiously, and I
should yet commit a more con∣siderable fault, should I not ap∣pear sensible of the afflictions of one of my Relations who had just lost his only Son. A Man that will only live for himself alone, and take no part in what may happen to others, must renounce the World, and retire with his indolency into solitude. Shall I go into a Company to shew there a Passion contrary to that which reigns therein? Must I discover a meen which condemns the Senti∣ments with which the Company is prepossest?
Nothing is more op∣posite to the Maxims of the civil Society than this Conduct, and a person who shall obstinately fol∣low it, will be in danger of never getting Friends. All the Ancients have admir'd the easie humour of Alcibiades, and we still wonder that a Man could so well accom∣modate himself to the different man∣ners
of Countries where he lived. Nothing was so much talk'd of at Athens, as his Eloquence and Gal∣lantry. Among the Persians he was always feasting, and nothing was seen more splendid than his Dress and Equipage. But he past over to other opposite Manners, when he was oblig'd to go to Sparta. The most rigid Lacede∣monian led a Life less austere than his Pharnacius: It's certain, that Alcibiades was not content with following the diverse Customs of Nations, but he moreover distin∣guish'd himself by a more exact regularity in practising them.
We may regard the Conduct of this famous Greek, as a Complaisance of Manners, if one may speak thus. This is a quality which gains mightily on the Peo∣ple. It is necessary for Persons who travel, and are designed for Em∣bassies; yet we may justly say, that this Complaisance of action
is neither so necessary nor of so frequent use as the complaisance of words. We have every moment occasions of yielding to the Opi∣nions of Persons whom we have a design to please, and it seldom happens that we are obliged to quit our Modes and Customs, to take those of Strangers.
Methinks we should not regret the time spent, in learn∣ing how to enter delicately into the sentiments of others.
Herein appears the address of the men of the World. They never approve, without en∣deavouring to justifie the approba∣tion they have given; so that their Reasons cannot be disagreeable to those whose side they take; they testifie to the rest of the Company that there's neither affectation nor flattery in their discourse.
To return to our sub∣ject, we may say, that tho' we be Masters of our humour, yet we
must never abuse this power, in betraying our Sentiments, in main∣taining an error, or in giving prai∣ses to words or actions which do not deserve it.
But if you follow your own opinion, if you praise only things praise-worthy, and you take no party which you can∣not justifie by reasons, what vio∣lence do you offer your self, and wherein do you appear Master of your humour?
When I sacrifice it to that of others, when I renounce my own will to accommodate my self to others, to whom I am wil∣ling to give tokens of my submis∣sion. I will undertake a Journey which shall be proposed to me, in a time wherein I would rather chuse to lie still; and I shall suffer my self to be engaged in a splendid diver∣tisement, which will cast me into an expence and trouble which I should have been very glad to a∣void.
Thus my actions will shew the deference I have; my words, and even silence will give no small tokens of it. If a Prince, whom I would not willingly displease, commends an ill Man, that has disoblig'd me, and whom he does not well know, I will overcome my resentment, and add to a mo∣tion of generosity, a submission which will make me silent, when I cannot be of the same opinion of a person whom I will not offend.
It seems to me that it should be chiefly to Women that a Man should subject his humour, there being many Capricio's to be born from them. As the greatest part among them do not strive to be over Constant, so we do not make our Court right to them, if we do not change with them; yet see how far their lightness leads. It being to the handsomest among them to whom we chiefly endea∣vour to render our selves agreeable,
from them therefore we must ex∣pect to suffer most. Besides, that they have no less inconstancy, it is certain that the continual flatteries wherewith they are fed, make them generally more vain, and less equitable.
Yet I should think, that having the Charms you speak of, they should be so well satisfied as to have their spirits less envious, and more quiet.
Moreover we are natu∣rally led to use a deference to Per∣sons that please us.
I am much mistaken, Lisidor, if Nature alone has shew'd you that it is of her you have the inclination you speak of. Some fine Lady or other has opened your eyes on what you feel. How∣ever, I must not yet pretend to be your Consident; and I well know that in the first engagements we are pleased with making a mystery of every thing.
Your Conjectures perhaps are better grounded than you think. There is a very lovely young Woman come to Erastus, for whom already I am told Lisi∣dor sighs.
I know it, and will undertake that he will sigh no longer than Dorante and Erastus shall think fit. You speak of a Sister of Cleonice, that is very young and handsom. Erastus can tell us news of her, whilst we are making ready to go to his House, to see whether he gives us a faithful relation.
I will not tell you that Lindamire is Old, Cleonice who is her Eldest Sister will never forgive it. Yet I will acknowledge to you she will soon be fourteen, and I know not whether this Age can well suit with a Lover that has se∣venteen, and who is not to be Married before he be twenty.
This agedness will be intolerable both to the one and the other; but will you tell us whether Lindamire be as disagreea∣ble as she is Old?
It belongs not to me to answer this question. Lisidor can better satisfie your Curiosity.
Yet he has less seen Lindamire than you have.
He has seen her less, but he has better beheld her.
After the War which has been made me, I dare not speak of Lindamire. The praises which I should give her will be suspected, and if I speak things as I feel them, I may make them be felt likewise by others, and that is what I shall avoid, if you please.
At these words Viridatus embra∣ced Lisidor, and spake to him in this manner.
Viridatus. If we judge of you by the dispositions you have, and by the continual Entertainments you will
have with Dorante and Erastus, a Man needs not be a great Divine to say you will be one of the finest Men of the Court.
I must needs say that Dorante and I find no less our reck∣oning in the conversation of Lisi∣dor, than Lisidor can draw advan∣tage in ours. At his arrival from a far Country, we hear him at Pa∣ris with as much attention and pleasure, as they would have in his Province, in speaking of a Polite man of this Town.
I believe Dorante is much troubled at it.
You may judge, and I can assure you I am so too, al∣though I be not Lisidor's Kins∣man.
You respect him as Dorante's Nephew, but it will not be long before you have other rea∣sons to espouse his interests.
Scarcely had they ended these words but other company came
in; Dorante, Erastus, and Lisidor dexterously got away, and were no sooner in their Coach, but E∣rastus demanded of Dorante, how he intended to spend the rest of the Morning?
In visiting the Prelate whom you know: But there are reasons for Philemon's being of the Company.
We need only go and take him up, we shall find him un∣doubtedly at home, for he expects I should send him word whether we shall go together to Versailles: For Lisidor we shall not consult him on the visits he would make, 'till he has acquaintances by himself, and separate from yours.
However the good dress I am in reproaches me, that I have not yet return'd thanks to Cleonice for the pains she has taken.
I know, answer'd Erastus smi∣ling, that you are very thankful, when you have Cloaths bought
you; and having a Complement in your head, which you would be gladly eased of, I need only bid my Coach-man drive home. He shall go afterwards for Philemon, and so every body will be pleased.
They were no sooner arived, but that they light at the door, sent the Coach to Philemon, and went up to Cleonice's Apartment. Madam, said immediately Erastus in present∣ing Lisidor, here's a Gentleman who tells me he is ready to dye with desire to see you. I bring him to you, and with the less constraint, in that I am sure he came not wholly to admire you.
Methinks you might have a better opinion of me.
I confess it, but it were well if Lisidor had not so good a one of Lindamire.
You see, Madam, that I am not so much as allow'd the time to thank you as I ought. I am continually set upon, to see
after what manner a Man of my age can disengage himself; how∣ever I have a better Office done me than is imagin'd. The senti∣ments which I have are made known, which I dare not declare my self.
You cannot have any that can be disapproved, and there∣fore the assistance which you say is given you, is not necessary to you.
In this moment Lisidore and Lin∣damire could not forbear looking on one another and blushing; Cleo∣nice observ'd it, and resumed the discourse, to turn the conversation on another subject.
It is not possible that you have made your visits. You have put them off till another day, or not met with those you went to see.
We come from Viri∣datus, and we expect Philemon to go together to a Prelates, where a business which we have calls us. I
am pleas'd to see the surprise where∣in Lisidor will be, in hearing Era∣stus discourse learnedly on the most serious and important matters, ha∣ving as yet only seen him in his merry humour. I wish you had heard him the other day on the new Conversations of France, you—
I read, on this subject, a Manuscript, which is going to the Press, and the opinion I had of it, made me say things which Dorante finds extraordinary in a Man of my humour.
That which you now say puts me on a reflexion whence I may draw some profit. You gave some days past Maxims for Conversation, and you said no∣thing of what is most important therein. Which is to know after what manner one should talk of what respects Religion.
You have reason, Ma∣dam, and we cannot better spend
the time we have, than in making some observations on so considera∣ble a matter.
I Know not any man that loves mirth bet∣ter than I do; I will have it reign in my House, and I endeavour to inspire it whithersoever I go, and I every where affirm it to be the best and most universal remedy that we can use in our misfortunes. Yet I may say there's no body has more aversion to libertinism I look on it as a Rock that we must avoid, and I shun a Libertine, as a man infected with the Plague. Not that I fear his pretended rea∣sons will make any great impressi∣on on my mind, but that I scorn
them, and am ashamed to be seen with them, as imagining them worse than Beasts.
I believe that those who speak little respectfully of Religion, and who scoff at the things they ought to reverence, are led to this extravagance only by a ridiculous vanity. I believe they would distinguish themselves, and that they intend only to shew their wit in maintaining particular opinions, contrary to such as are generally received. Yet perhaps this irregularity passes not over in∣to their Morals.
However this is true, that there is no better preserva∣tive against all sorts of irregulari∣ties than Religion.
That which hinders Women from being drawn as often into this disorder as Men, is, that they do not so soon lose the im∣pressions of Piety, which we all receive in our Education.
The ignorance where∣in we are kept, the modesty which is every moment recommended to us, and the continual submission wherein we spend our life, are ad∣vantagious to us, in that they con∣tribute to what we ought to be∣lieve, and therefore thank God it is not us that are charged with being the Authors of Heresie.
I have heard talk of a Sect lately discovered at Rome.
I have always had a desire to entreat Dorante to relate to me the chief particulars of it, but I forgat till now to mention it to him. This occasion of do∣ing it offers it self too naturally to neglect it. Will you refuse Do∣rante to let me know wherein this Heresie consisted?
You well judge, Ma∣dam, that I will do what you please, yet you must permit me not to enter on particularising the errors which the Quietists follow∣ed.
For thus were those call'd who embraced this Sect. They drew this name from the Rest they pre∣tended to enjoy when they had rais'd their Souls to contemplation by the means of a Prayer they reci∣ted. They held it was sufficient for them to make an Act of Faith, and set themselves in the presence of God, and to rely wholly on his Providence. This was me∣thinks a good way to draw a∣bundance of People; whether that being lazy they chuse rather to yield themselves up after this man∣ner that they may not act; or that they had the vanity to believe themselves capable of well contem∣plating. If Women, as you now say, are not the Authors of He∣resies, yet we see 'em ready enough to follow those they are taught, as either being desirous of new things, or suffering themselves to be taken with the fine appearances wherewith the Errors which are
proposed be generally disguised. However it be, several Persons of your Sex followed the opinions of Molinos the chief of the Quietists. It is true this Spaniard passed for a Saint before he was discovered to be an Heresiarch. You know, Madam, that he has abjured his Errors, and that he is shut up for the rest of his life.
One may in a Conversa∣tion relate the History of an He∣resie, recite the establishment of it, the progress and decay of it, for there is none but we have seen destroyed in the end.
However we should never mix with these relations, a∣ny thing which may make these Novelties relish. They are some∣times more dangerous than the o∣pinions of Libertines. To convince these latter, I need only entreat them to consider the course of the Sun, the motions of the Stars, and the productions of the Earth.
They will see that Man could not set that Order which we admire in the Universe, he that cannot regulate so much as a simple dige∣stion in himself, and who has been so long ignorant of the circulation of the blood in his own Veins. Must it not be acknowledged that he who so well governs so vast a Machin, must needs be a wise and infinitely powerful Being; and if he be such a one as we say, can we refuse him our adorations? I would willingly know after what manner we should regulate the worship which should serve to te∣stifie our acknowledgment and our submission? Must this be the fancy of some frantick Enthusiast, or by the Pious Maxims of great and holy Personages which have been always in the Universal Church? This matter is too fine and large to be included in our Entertainments. Instead of en∣gaging our selves therein, it is suf∣ficient
to make known to you in few words, that it is no hard mat∣ter to shut the mouths of the Li∣bertines, provided they prefer not their obstinacy to the reasons wherewith one may convince them.
However I would not have those who maintain the right side to ap∣pear puft up with their advantages; they must speak with good sense, with respect, and without sharp∣ness and ostentation.
Whilst Dorante ended thesewords, Erastas's Coach was heard to come before the Door, and presently Philemon and Belise entred into Cleonice's Chamber.
You expected me a∣lone, and I bring my Spouse with me. She comes to stay with Cleo∣nice, if we go to Versailles, where I know that Dorante and I shall meet with a Prelate whom we de∣sign to see this Morning.
We shall do better to eat what may be presently ready, and to go all together. I will leave you to do your business, and make your Court as long as you please, and I will take care to sa∣tisfie the curiosity of Lisidor, and Lindamire.
The Company having consented to what Erastus proposed, such or∣ders were given as were fit for so small a journey.
I must tell you, that Belise's coming has occasion'd me to make you stay so long, and I entreat you to pardon me, if I did not know that as long as you be together we shall never believe you in danger of being weary.
It's true that Dorante has entertain'd us in an elegant and easie manner, on a very nice and important subject. He has shewed us in what terms and after what manner we may speak of our Re∣ligion, and I am so satisfied with
it, that I wish Belise had had her share in the Entertainment.
Perhaps she would have had less pleasure than you i∣magine: For it is certain it is not for discourses of this kind that she has the greatest curiosity.
My ignorance is the cause. I am ever afraid that it would cast me into errors, howe∣ver good my intentions may be. But you know I am not so fearful in other matters. I speak with a tone of assurance of the Cu∣stoms of People, and the Govern∣ment of States, when I enter on the politick humour you so often twit me with.
Ah, Belise, you are then bolder than I am; for I con∣fess, that of the three sorts of distinct Governments, I dared never speak of any but the Monarchical. Neither would I hazard my self in pronouncing the names which relate to the different Republicks we know.
And I say audaciously Aristocracy and Democracy, and without Vanity I have not been four months a learning these two words.
For my part I should be three years on resolving whe∣ther I should speak them, and after so long a term, I believe I should remain still irresolute.
Let's leave these jests, if you please, and whilst Breakfast is getting ready, let's entertain our selves with a Science which Belise and all great Persons prefer before others.
Rally as much as you will; but if Dorante will take my part, I will consent that he shall talk alone, and you will see whe∣ther my opinions be ill maintain∣ed.
We like this expedient well, and Dorante, never refusing to comply with his friend's pro∣posals, he will accept your offers,
and we shall thereby be gain∣ers.
I Will speak then, see∣ing you enjoyn me, and will first say that I put a great difference between Foreign affairs and those which relate to us. We may speak our opinions touching the Government of other Nations with as much boldness as Belise does, supposing we understand the Interests and Maxims of them. But when we are pleased to dis∣course on the State under which we live, we should never extend our conjectures too far, nor affect to appear too penetrating. You know nothing does more contri∣bute to the happy success of an
enterprise, than the secrecy ob∣serv'd therein. The Captains themselves whom the King chuses to execute his designs, commonly know what they are going about, and learn it only by the Orders which they must not open, but at certain times, and in certain places. After such exact precautions, can our affairs be mention'd with an affirmative tone? Dare we reason on uncertain conjectures? Persons of good sense never talk of these matters but with great modesty, and for my part I can only for∣give this imprudence in Persons who are incapable of making any reflexion. How many do we hear every day censuring that Govern∣ment which they do not under∣stand, they make War and Peace according to their Fancy, and wholly busie themselves in hearing News, and modelling the affairs of State, when their Families at home are perhaps ready to starve for want of Bread.
It's true, that since the King has so considerably encreased his States, the Government is not so much spoke against.
I would willingly know whether there can be found any appearance of reason for the not admiring it. Foreigners are no less surprised than our selves at what passes every day in this King∣dom. We may cite, as a kind of Miracle, the Conjunction which we have seen made of the Canal of Languedoc with the Sea: The state∣ly Building in the Plain of Gre∣nelle deserves no less our admira∣tion, than the magnificence we see at Versailles, and the security which is now at Paris and all the rest of the Kingdom.
Whereunto we may add those incomprehensible Machines at Versailles which triumph over Nature, and force Rivers to take Beds where the imagination cannot conceive they can ascend.
I will tell you then, that if the King was not our Master by the right of his Birth, and that it was permitted us to chuse a Sove∣raign, his merit would immediate∣ly claim the Scepter which he holds from the Salique Law.
What a pleasure you have done me in citing this Law, which I have heard termed a fun∣damental one of the State. It is so often mention'd, that I would willingly know what may be said particularly of it.
I believ'd, Madam, that having read the History of our Nation, you are sufficiently instruct∣ed in this matter.
I know that this Law takes its name from the Saliens, a considerable People among the An∣cient French; or that it is called Salic, because it was publish'd near the Banks of the River Sala. I have also observ'd, that this Law has three parts relating to the
Government: The first requires the State to be Monarchical. The Second, that it be successive. And the Third, at which I am not a little griev'd, deprives the Persons of our Sex of the succession to the Crown. It's said 'twas Pharamond who instituted this Law, but I wish any one would tell me the reasons he had thus to regulate the Sove∣raignty of our Nation; to the end that if I should speak of it before Belise, she might not laugh at my ignorance.
I am to tell you, Ma∣dam, that Belise, and the rest of the Politicians of our time, are per∣swaded that the Salic or Ripary Laws respect only the Justice and Policy which is to be observ'd a∣mong the French, and that they speak in no sort of the Soveraign administration of affairs. They affirm, that the Law, which requires the State to be Monarchical, and to be ordered in the manner we
now related, was never written but in the hearts of the People. They pass farther, and believe there never was any Pharamond. They ground themselves on that Gregory of Tours, who wrote the History of the French, speaks not a word of Pharamond, and it is certain that he would never have failed to mention a Prince, who was the first King of the Nation, of which he had undertaken to leave us the most considerable ad∣ventures. Belise will inform you of several other particulars.
What can I not say? How∣ever I am willing you should treat me as if I were not knowing, and you should tell me the reasons which Cleonice requires of you, that I may see whether you can justifie what so famous a Law enjoyns.
Have you not appre∣hension that your Policy will make us exceed the bounds which our Entertainments prescribe?
Why fear it? Do we not grant the liberty of talking on all sorts of subjects? And would you have the principles of a Sci∣ence omitted, which places a man above multitudes of others? I hope the Company will punish you, and oblige you to speak the first your opinion on the Monarchical State. Do you prefer it to other Govern∣ments?
I find you very for∣ward, in that you will not expect till the Assembly authorises what you enjoyn; but I see 'tis time ill spent to correct you, and that it it is better submitting to you. I will tell you then, Madam, that one may soon determine ones self on this subject. We must be for Monarchy, and consider there is more ease and security in obeying one Master, than if we were con∣strained to acknowledge several.
It is certain, that Divisions do easily get among persons who
share the Soveraignity, and that it is very difficult keeping a se∣cret among them; judge then what we may fear from one and the other. Moreover, a King is too much accustomed to grandure, to appear giddy headed with it; where∣as it is but too often seen, that Ci∣tizens, who are immediately Ex∣alted to the Throne, become in∣tolerable through their pride.
Well, you have said e∣nough, pray now let's see whether Erastus will declare himself for the Regal succession, or for Elective Kingdoms. What say you, Sir, do you judge the People in a better condition who have a right to chuse their Soveraigns, than those who are obliged to receive them, for better for worse, from the hands of Nature?
You do not consult me on a Matter difficult enough to gain me any credit, and there is no body but may easily determine
himself herein. We see it seldom happen, but that the presumptive Heir of a Kingdom is Educated according to the Rank which he must one day possess. Such senti∣ments of Clemency and Equity are inspired into him, as may con∣tribute to the Peoples happiness; whereas the like Education is not bestowed on particular persons, who are too far distant from the Throne, to make it thought that they will one day possess it. Judge of the Factions which are form'd for an election of this importance; and into what wars these factions may draw the People. These troubles are not fear'd in successive King∣doms, therein happens no change. If a King dies, his Son takes his place, and several Reigns appear but one continued Reign.
It is not to be supposed, that only persons remarkable for their virtues are chosen, and in whom there can be found no fault,
seeing these persons use all their in∣dustry to dissemble and hide their Vices, and to adorn themselves with qualities becoming their am∣bition: But when they have got∣ten their aim, and have nothing more to desire or fear, they then throw off their masks, and aban∣don themselves to all manner of dissoluteness. I could give a great many Examples of this, but you will find enough in the Roman History, if you will take the pains to read it.
You see, Dorante, that I have reserv'd the difficultest partion you, according to my mind, seeing it now lies upon you to tell us by what reasons the Salic Law could exclude Women from succeeding their Fathers, and deprive them of what Nature allowed them.
It troubles me, Madam, that I am not so sensible of the honour you do me, and to tell you that the Salic Law had an
admirable foresight in this third part which you condemn. If this Kingdom should fall into the Fe∣minine Line, and we saw a pre∣sumptive Heiress of the Crown, to what misery should we not be reduced? In effect, should it hap∣pen that the Princess would chuse a Husband among her Subjects, those who expect this honour, would make strong Parties, and carry things to a greater extremity, than in Elective Countries, seeing the prize is no less than a Crown, which would pass to their Descen∣dants, and remain for ever in their Family. He that has the good for∣tune to be preferred, will be so unhappy as to be hated of his Rivals, the greatest Men at Court, and who will never faithfully serve him. If on the contrary, the Heiress of a Kingdom should cast her eyes on a neighbouring Prince, to bestow on him her Heart, and her Scepter; we should fall under
the domination of a stranger, our Monarchy would become a Pro∣vince of his States.
Thus, Madam, you see you have no reason to complain of the in∣justice done your Sex, you must rather think this was ordered for the best; seeing hereby is pre∣vented all those dismal Revolutions which I have now denoted to you.
I must needs acknowledge you have satisfied me with your Reasons, although they be not very favourable to Ladies. I be∣lieve that Cleonice is in the same sentiment, and that she is not troubled that I have been so cu∣rious.
You shall see that I will not be behind hand with you in another kind. You have de∣clared your self an able Politician, and I must declare to you, that I have particularly applied my self to the study of Morality. More∣over,
I will be no less complaisant, than you: I consent that Dorante, Philemon, and Erastus tell us after what manner we should speak of Passions, Vices, and Virtues; and I offer to shew you afterwards, whether their Opinions be con∣formable, or contrary to those I maintain.
The Company having laught at the pleasantry of Cleonice, it was granted that there was no matter which oftner fell into Conversation, than that she came from proposing, so that it was resolved on, that some time should be spent in discoursing on that subject.
BEfore we enter on the subject we are to treat of, I would willingly know what it is to speak justly?
I can boldly say I un∣derstand the justness which is found in an expression, but I acknow∣ledge I should be puzzled to say wherein it consists. Dorante can clear up this point.
I am perswaded that what does most contribute to the justness of a discourse is, when there happens a real relation, or a real opposition between the terms, and between the things which are put
together. Thus I should not speak justly, should I say that Lisi∣dor is of Provence, and Philemon an Officer of the Kings; seeing there is no relation, nor opposition be∣tween a Country and an Office. Neither should I any more speak justly, if being willing to testifie my acknowledgment to Cleonice, I should explain my self in these terms. I return Graces to a Per∣son who has 'em infinitely. This is properly what we may call a Galamathias, and it is very hard to understand two words which are tyed together without any relation. In effect, in the first place the word Graces signifies on∣ly thanks, and the other word which is understood, is only taken for some agreeableness of the Countenance, or of the Person. I might moreover give you infi∣nite Examples on this defect of justness, but I shall content my self with telling you, that it is
chiefly in comparisons, where it is to be chiefly avoided.
I should speak ill, should I say that the Barbe Isabella of Phile∣mon is as fine as the Diamond which Erastus wears, tho' it be permitted me to esteem one as much as the other, and to offer an hundred Lewis's for the Horse as well as for the Ring. But we should not compare the beauty of a Stone with that of an Animal, which is to say, two things which have neither any relation or oppo∣sition between them.
I found yesterday Juve∣nal lying on one of my Friend's Table, I opened it, and 'twas exact∣ly on a passage of his sixth Satyr, where he speaks of the manner after which the women of those times coifed themselves. He de∣scribes the bucklings and coiffings several Stories high which a wan∣ton Dame wore, and says that her Size was so tall with them, that
she might be taken for another Andromacha, in beholding her be∣before; but if you viewed her be∣hind, she appear'd only to be a lit∣tle Woman. Now let it not dis∣please Juvenal, if I say he did not speak justly, he had cited Andro∣macha, he should then have oppo∣sed a Woman famous for her lit∣tle Stature.
Whence should he have taken it? Perhaps History menti∣ons none. People do not usually take notice of a Quality so little recommendable.
Juvenal should then have chosen a tour which might furnish him with a just opposition, and have said that this Lady might have been taken for a Giant before, tho' she appear'd but a Dwarf be∣hind.
I now understand what is contrary to the justness of an expression, and you imagine well that the rest of the Company com∣prehends
it yet better. And there∣fore we may speak of the matter which Cleonice has giv'n us, and acknowledge in the beginning, that there is nothing so dangerous as the passions. For my part I am perswaded, that could our hearts free themselves from their Tyran∣ny, we should enjoy a serene and happy life.
It's true, that the greatest part of the World regards Ambition, Love and Hatred as the Springs of all Evils, and it is commonly their violence which leads to the committing of the injustices which we see in the World.
We grant you that the impetuosity of the passions hurries but too often to the committing of crimes, but can she not like∣wise be of great use in the leading us to Heroick Virtue? Without Ambition we should see no Con∣queror, hear nothing of Alexander
nor Caesar, and none of those glo∣rious Actions would be perform'd which procure an immortal Repu∣tation. So that instead of con∣demning the passions, I rather wish a good use were made of them, and that they were rendred profitable. We love the effects of Clemency and Compassion, we admire that which the love of Glory produces, and the sequel of Infamy. And however decry'd Fear is, yet in a thousand occa∣sions she makes up one part of Prudence. It is from her that we foresee evils, and avoid them. What may we not moreover ob∣serve, if we examine the other passions?
It seems to me that we have only the passion of Love to examine, there being scarcely any other but it. It takes diffe∣rent names according to the dif∣ference of its objects. Ambition is only the love of Greatness;
Covetousness the love of Riches; and Hatred, which appears so op∣posite to Love, is, to speak proper∣ly, only a disguised Love; seeing we have only aversion for that which is offensive to us, because we love our own preservation.
When we had only to explain what Love is, do you think we should be without perplexity? Although it be so natural and gene∣ral a passion among an infinite number of Persons which feel it, you will find few that can tell you what it is. You may be per∣swaded of what I say by this Phi∣losopher, who says that Love is I know not what, that comes from I know not where, and goes away I know not how.
We are so little accu∣stomed to enlarge our selves on the subjects we speak of, and to en∣gage our selves in subtilties which serve only to tire the mind, that I do not think we ought to dis∣cuss
the nature of Passions. Those who are minded to inform them∣selves farther, may read the works we have on this subject, and in the mean time content themselves with the distinctions which we have promised to bring. It must be acknowledg'd that we are to blame in condemning the passions, and in being afraid of them. They are indifferent in themselves, and if it happens they sometimes di∣sturb the tranquility of our life; there are other occasions where∣in they are of great help to us. Men without boldness, would they march to Glory through Fa∣tigues and Dangers? Let's make another distinction, shall we call a man valiant who has done a great Action by an impetuosity of boldness, and shall we accuse of Cowardise a Person that a pa∣nick terror has seiz'd in some oc∣casion? True Valour is when in
every rencounter our Courage disposes us to vanquish the obstacles which oppose our designs; as a man must not pass for a Coward, but when 'tis his custom to avoid Danger. Thus we may reason on the other Vices, and on the other Virtues. A Magistrate is not to be praised as just, for having done justice once. To merit this com∣mendation, he must be in a firm and constant disposition to render to every one what belongs to him.
I have for this quarter of an hour had a desire to ask you the reason for the calling pas∣sions, those emotions which agi∣tate the heart.
It is because they make the body suffer through their vio∣lence.
I return then to what I have ever said, that the passions are Monsters which are to be rooted out.
Are you willing to begin with shame? Women will be very much obliged to you. You will free them from a passion which keeps them in a strange sort of Bondage. Were they once without shame, they would have the pleasure of doing what they liked, without troubling themselves about what the World calls Repu∣tation.
It's true that shame serves as a Guard for our Women, and there are other passions which are necessary for the commerce of life. The compassion we have for the miserable, leads us commonly to succour one another in our mis∣fortunes.
Does not emulation excite to obtain the advantages we want, to raise us to the Persons we see above us?
But is there not a mix∣ture of envy in emulation?
Nothing is more diffe∣rent
than these two passions. E∣mulation is lively and generous, and Envy base and malicious. The first is a regret at our small desert, the other a vexation which arises from the Merit of others. Emu∣lation would raise us, and Envy would abase what is above us. In fine, nothing is more worthy of our contempt than Envy, nothing is more commendable than Emu∣lation. It made Caesar weep at the sight of Alexander's Picture, and hindred Themistocles from sleeping near the Trophies of Mil∣tiades. You know what Caesar and Themistocles afterwards exe∣cuted.
As to what regards Vices and Virtues, I would speak differently of them, according to the different circumstances there∣to joyned. There was seen here∣tofore in Greece a Republick where∣in Theft was pardoned, provided
it was committed dexterously; and you know well that Robbery found not the same impunity in any o∣ther Country.
We have at this day Neighbouring Nations where the Customs are very different. If Dorante would be praised for his temperance, probably he would not go to search applause on the banks of the Rhine, as you would not advise me to go towards the Ty∣ber, if you proposed excessive drink∣ing.
Are distinctions to be made when we speak of Virtue in general, is it not equally reve∣renc'd by all Nations?
Every body does not regard it in the same manner, and I know not whether it will not puzzle us to say precisely what it is. It's true there is a natural e∣quity which is generally appro∣ved; but it is not less certain that
it is diversly practised. There never was any obligation more indespensable, than that requiring Children to serve those who brought them into the world, especially when they are grown old, and find themselves afflicted with diseases. All the People of Europe observ'd so just a Maxim, and yet the Scythians, who possest more Country than Europe com∣prehended, accused those Children of inhumanity who let their Pa∣rents live under an incurable Malady. For their parts they gave the fatal blow as a stroke of Grace, and thought it just to terminate thus their Parents mi∣sery. They extended further their pretended Charity. They eat their bodies instead of burn∣ing or interring them, imagining nothing more Pious than to give this Sepulture to their Parents, for to change them into their
proper substance, and make them live again in themselves as far as it was in their power. Consider this well. The Scythians com∣mend a man who comes from committing a Parricide, and other Nations punish him as the greatest Criminal.
In speaking of the dif∣ferent manners of People, we may cite the Punick Faith, which is to say, the little fidelity the Carthaginians observ'd in their promises. It's certain the Romans had more probity, and I should have more relyed on the word of Regulus, than the Oaths of Hannibal and all his Army.
I think it more u∣sual to distinguish the Vices and Virtues according to the profes∣sions of Persons, than according to the Customs of their Country. A Virtue renders us recommen∣dable only according as it is sui∣table
to us. A Person consecrated to the Service of the Altar should prefer the knowledge of Religion to all other Sciences, and his Pi∣ety must be so great as to make his words and actions exemplary. A Souldier must glister after ano∣ther manner, Valour should be his Virtue; and what regards Mi∣litary Discipline, or the Art of Fortification, should be his chief study.
But can I not be told precisely what this Virtue is in general, so much talkt of?
It is not an easy mat∣ter wholly to satisfie you on this Subject, so diversly has the virtue you speak of been considered. I know not whether you will ap∣prove of an Opinion which I find the most plausible. I am perswa∣ded that this Virtue, of which we form so fine an Idea, and which is believ'd so proper to make us live
happily, is properly what we call Justice.
But is not Justice the particular virtue of Magistrates?
It should be the virtue of all People, and had we all that stock of Equity necessary for the commerce of life, we should need neither Law nor Magistrates. Men would render what-ever they are obliged to render, and they would begin by the Worishp due to God. Subjects would obey their Sove∣raigns, Children their Parents, and as no body would claim what does not belong to him, there would be no Mention of Thefts nor Mur∣thers; even detraction would be banisht all Societies.
Whilst Dorante ended these words, word was brought, that the Meat was on the Table, and Erastus being risen up; you must acknowledge your selves, said he, greatly surpriz'd at the novelty of
my Compliment; for I know not whether I shall begin with Gentle∣men, or Ladies; you must draw me out of this perplexity, and for the rest, I know it by heart.
The Company having laught at the serious air wherewith Erastus spake this, answer'd, that he might use his liberty, so that he reassum'd the discourse in these terms.
Come let's end at Ta∣ble this Discourse of Distinctions. You'l soon distinguish between the wretched Treats I give you, and the delicate Entertainments you give. What say you of these An∣titheses?
That they are admira∣ble, although we are on the point to convince them of falsity.
After these words they eat, and bad the People who were to set out with them to make hast; and they returned to Cleonices Cham∣ber.
I always go to Versailles with a great deal of pleasure, but at my return I am strangely im∣portun'd by Arsinoa, she will have me to describe new Magnificences, or new Rarities, and puts such questions to me as are strangely troublesome.
I am yet more troubled with Celisira, she asks news of me with the greatest earnestness, and will have me give her an account of all that passes in the whole world. She has given me such a great aversion for what we may call news, that I neither have askt nor told any for this Twelve Months.
But, Madam, hereby you deprive your self of a very considerable diversion, and hinder your self from learning important matters, wherein an infinite num∣ber of People are concern'd. And therefore, Madam, I must beg your
favour for News. They are an innocent cause of the vexation which Arsinoa gives you, and it is not just you should for this reason extend your resentment so far as to hate them.
But should we not seek some means to make them a∣greeable, to reconcile them the more easily with Cleonice?
I Cannot so far interest my self in the quar∣rels of Cleonice as to take her part against News; however I must preser those which divert before others. I am very earnest to tell of a Marriage lately made be∣tween two persons who sincerely
loved, and were much traverst in their design. I am pleas'd to de∣scribe a gallant and magnificent Feast, or a famous Action per∣form'd at the head of two Ar∣mies. And I must acknowledge I am no less delighted in telling with what subtilty a covetous Hunks has been put upon, or by what address the precautions of a jealous Person has been rendred fruitless. You see I discover my defects to you, and that I am not exempt from Malice, nor an Ene∣my to pleasant Relations. It's true, there are very few Stories that please me. If it be an ad∣venture, I would have it surpri∣sing; if the News respects only those ready and lively answers which we call pleasant Repartees, I require a great delicateness in the tour of expression.
I am not of Erastus's mind in point of News. The
gay please me less than the sad; and my Spouse must pardon me if I say that I love to have my heart lively toucht with com∣passion.
There is indeed I know not what kind of sweetness in be∣ing toucht with pity. Other pas∣sions are more violent and less a∣greeable. Experience shews it us in the representation of a Trage∣dy. Infinite numbers of People are drawn to it by the tenderness of their sentiments, and do not part wholly satisfied, if they have not been forc'd to weep.
The Tragedies you speak of, and the sad News which please Belise, have a farther good effect, which apparently you have not thought on, which is, that we cannot see a Person of great me∣rit fall into a great misfortune, but that we feel a secret mitiga∣tion of our evils. Can we justly
reproach Fortune in giving us a mo∣derate stroke, when we see what cruel pains she inflicts on Persons of an extraordinary Virtue.
Do not you think that the News which War fur∣nishes you with, ought to carry it before all other sort of rela∣tions? Can one better draw the attention, than in describing a great Battel, the taking of a con∣siderable Place, the conquest of a Country, or the revolution of a State?
Were I a Lover of News, I would only recount such wherein those should be Interess'd that heard me; and if this News were News of that part of the Town where I live, they would please me better than the News Philemon commends.
And I must declare my self for that kind of News which is instructive, and 'tis of that sort
methinks wherewith we should entertain our selves.
I know not, Madam, whether there be News which may in particular, be called in∣structive, but I may say that all News in general may become instructive, when they are related by an able man. He can render the circumstances thereof useful for manners, for the administra∣tion of affairs, for the Govern∣ment of People, and for the or∣dering of Armies. If a Siege or Battel be set forth to us in their proper colours, we shall observe the defects or the good conduct of the Generals, and thence make our advantage. If we be told of the consternation wherein the Ottomans were, we shall see that we must lay aside Pleasures, when business requires a constant attendance. We shall accuse Ma∣homet IV. of blindness, in going
to divert himself in hunting, when he should be at the head of his Armies.
We shall observe that things are generally preserv'd by the same means as they were acquired, that Valour is necessary to keep a So∣veraign on the Throne; that Cowardise draws only the con∣tempt and indignation of the Sol∣diery and Subjects.
That which passes at Court serves still more for our instruction. We see that all Peo∣ple must do their duty under a Master who is never deceived, and who only recompenses Me∣rit.
What you say would give me a great desire to inform my self on the Affairs of the Court of Rome, did I believe we might entertain our selves with that sort of News, as well as with those we now spoke of.
I do not believe it unlawful for to speak our senti∣ments on things we see printed, and posted up; provided it be rather to instruct us, than to make our selves busie bodies, who fan∣cy we must decide all things.
We can add nothing to what was said on this matter by a great Magistrate, whose Learning and Eloquence has long since been admired by all the World. The force of his Rea∣sons and his Citations have en∣creast the astonishment wherein I was before, at the usage was shew'd our King's Embassador.
Yet the Law of Na∣tions, which requires that the Person of an Embassador be sa∣cred, is known by all the World, and every body has seen after what manner we have received the Embassies which were sent us from Infidel Kings. They
have dealt in a different manner at Rome, towards the Embassador of the Eldest Son of the Church, the most Christian King, a Mo∣narch whose Predecessors have protected and defended the Holy See.
Will you believe me, instead of wading farther into this matter, do as I have done, buy the Book we have already hinted at, read it more than once, and you will have the pleasure of profiting by the labours of a great man who knows more of it than we shall ever know.
Return we then to what we are to say of other News. Do you think we may draw any instruction from the little Rela∣tions Erastus has declared himself for?
We need not doubt thereon; for when we are told with what dexterity a jealous or
covetous Person has been impo∣sed on; we are instructed how to make use of the like subtil∣ties; and the Covetous and Jea∣lous are hereby taught to take better care. In fine, Cleonice must permit us to say that News may render a Conversation agreeable; That a Polite Person may recount them, provided he is sure of what he says, and that he does not wholly set up for a News-mon∣ger.
I find nothing so ri∣diculous as to apply one's self to the telling of News from Morn∣ing till Night to all those we meet.
It's true, there are People who have no other business. As soon as they are seen, they are immediately askt how many Bassas are strangled at Constanti∣nople, or in the Turks Army. They are questioned on the man∣ner
after which the Imperialists live in Transilvania; they must know whether the King of Poland pretends to make himself Master of Caminec; and what design the General Morosini may have.
A News-monger can answer all questions; if he has any knowledge in Maps, and the interests of Princes, he may re∣turn probable answers, otherwise he pays for his boldness. For if there be any News-mongers who guess right, there are others who speak confidently without know∣ing what they say. These last sometimes bring themselves into trouble, and imagine thereby to make themselves famous.
As Dorante ended these words, they were advertised that every thing was ready, and this agree∣able Company parted for Versail∣les.