Select letters of Ganganelli, Pope Clement XIV

SELECT
LETTERS

or

H. Bryer, Printer,
Bridge street, Blackfriars, London.

SELECT
LETTERS

OF

POPE CLEMENofe

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH,

C. J. METCALFE, Esa.

Sonfcou :

PUBLISHED BY JOSIAH CONDER,
18, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD.

735

LETTERS.

Page.
To M. de Cabane, Knight of Malta 1

To M. L'Abbe Ferghen 7

To one of his Sisters 19

To M. Bouget, private Secretary to his Holiness 21
To the Rev. Father Abbe of Mont Cassin • • • • 24

To Mr. Stuart, a Scotch Gentleman 26

To Signora Bazeudi 30

To the Prelate Cerati 31

To Madame * * * 33

To the Rev. Father * * * a Franciscan Monk 38

To M. * * * Canon of Osimo 41

To Count*** 46

To the same 49

To the same 52

To Prince San Severo 62

To one of his monastic friends who had become a

provincial 1 1 ....«••••• 64

a 3

Tl LETTERS.

Page.

To the Marchioness ft*** 68

ToM.deCabane 72

To the Bishop of Spoletto 77

To Madame B. a Venetian Lady 80

To the Rev. Father Louis of Cremona, a Friar

of the Pious Schools 84

To Count* * * 88

To a Monk setting out for America 94

To the Count of*** 97

To the same 101

To Madame Pigliani 103

To Count Algarotti • 106

To Consignor Rota, Secretary of Finance* • • • 108
To M. * * * Chief Magistrate (Gonfalonier) in

the republic of St. Marin 109

To C wnt*** l 1 4

To the AbU L'Ami 118

To Cardinal Qiiinni, Bishop of Brescia 122

To R. P * * * one of his friends who had been

appointed to a Bishopric ] 34

To a Tuscan Gentleman* • • • • • ...» 142

LETTERi. *li

Page,
To Cardinal Quirini • 155

To a Canon of Milan • • • • 1 59

To M. L'Abbe L'Ami l63

To Prince San Severo l66

ToM.****a Painter 173

To the Abbe Nicolini 175

To Mr. Stuart, a Scotch Gentleman 178

To the Rev. Father * * * on being appointed

Confessor to the Duke of* 183

To the Abbe UAmi 191

To Prince San Severo 1 95

To a young Monk • •• • 198

To the Rev. Father* * * Monk of the Congre
gation of the Somasqui 206

To the AbbS L'Ami 212

To a Protestant Minister 217

To Count* * * 220

To My Lord*** 223

To My Lord * * *. 233

Tothe Rev. Father* ** a Monk 235

To the Abbe Frugoni .... 237

Till LETTERS.

To the Abbe Frugoni 242

To the A be Genovesi 245

To M . I' Abbe Frugoni 265

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

As it is frequently seen that a casket, rough
in its exterior, and unpromising in its general
appearance, contains many a precious gem ; so
it must be acknowledged that there have been,
within the Roman Catholic community, encum
bered as is that religious system with super
stitious ceremonies, and disgraced by an intole
rant and persecuting spirit, some distinguished
individuals, whose piety or talents have reflected
honour not only on themselves, but also on the
hierarchy to which they belonged. To this class
of character belongs the celebrated writer of the
following Letters, who occupied a distinguished
place among the literati of his age, and was
rendered eminent by the Catholicism of his spirit,
still more than by the dignity of his ecclesias
tical station. To those readers who may not

X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

have access to a more detailed narrative, the
following biographical sketch may not be unac
ceptable.

F. L. Ganganelli was descended from an an
cient and illustrious family, which had long
flourished at St. Angelo in Vado, a small epis
copal city in the Ecclesiastical States. His

father was a physician of distinguished reputation,
.

resident in the duchy of Urbino. The subject

of the present brief memoir was born in October
1705, and having lost his father in the third
year of his age, was placed by his surviving

parent in the Jesuits' College at Rimini, from

•
which he was afterwards removed to one of the

monastic seminaries in his native province. Here
he early conceived the design of becoming a
member of one of the religious orders, and at
length accomplished his purpose, on the 17th of
May, 1723, by attaching himself to a monastery
of Franciscan Friars. He availed himself of the
opportunity which his retirement afforded him,
to pursue a course of extended literature ; in

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XI

which his progress was so rapid, that he was
considered by the learned Donati and other pro
fessors, under whom he studied, a youth of great
promise. Nor were their hopes concerning him
disappointed: for he discovered a highly culti
vated taste, a sound judgment, a well furnished
mind, and such habits of application as gave
a reasonable pledge of literary eminence. In
1727, he commenced the study of Theology
under Father Montalto; in 1728, he was called
to Rome by Cardinal Prosper Marefoschi, in
consequence of the reputation he had already
acquired for learning and piety ; and on the
23th of May, 1731, received his degree of
Doctor of Divinity, after a very severe and ho
nourable examination, conducted by Father Lucci,
who was at that time President of the College
of S. Bonaventur^. After this he studied Philo
sophy at Ascoli, in the same year; at which
place he delivered many public theses with great
applause, particularly those on " Religion,"
and on " the Birth of the Messiah." In con-

Xii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

sequence of his reputation for Oratory, he was
appointed about this time by the Empress Queen
of Hungary, to deliver a funeral oration for
Cardinal Stampa.

In 1744, he was appointed by Cardinal An-
nibal Albani to the regency of the College of
S. Bonaventure, of which he had been so dis
tinguished an ornament; and in the same year
was selected to deliver a panegyric on Benet
XIV. the reigning Pontiff. In succeeding years
additional honours and distinctions were conferred
upon him, until at length in 1?59» he was
unanimously elected to the office of Cardinal.
But so far from being elated with his new dignity,
lie continued the same self-denying habits, the
same unaffected simplicity of manners, the same
literary occupations and pursuits, to which he had
before been accustomed. It was not without
much hesitation and great regret that he accepted
of^this dignity. On this subject he writes thus to
a friend — " O my books ! O my cell I I know what
" 1 leave, and am ignorant of what I shall find,

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

" Alas ! many troublesome people will come and
« rob me of my time ; many interested people
" will pay me feigned homage."

Ganganelli was elevated to the papal crown
A.D. 1769, and assumed the title of Clement
XIV. On this occasion we again hear him com
plaining of his heavy burden, and regretting the
loss of his tranquillity. " If you think me
44 happy, you are deceived. After having been
" agitated all the day, I frequently wake in the
" night, and sigh after my cloister, rny cell, and
" my books. I can truly say I look on your
" situation with envy/' His administration wa§
but of short continuance, yet it was marked by
many important, and some extraordinary events.
It commenced at a moment in which the Catholic
Church was embroiled with the house of Bourbon,
through the insidious arts of the Jesuits. Witk
consummate address, Ganganelli settled thesa
differences, and re-established peace between tin
Holy See, and the Kings of France, Spain,
and Portugal, on the most advantageous and

b

XY BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

honourable terms. But that which chiefly dis
tinguished his sliort administration, was his sup
pression of the order of Jesuits, which by its
intrigues and cruelties had rendered itself ob
noxious to all the European powers. He adopted
this measure, as he himself affirms, on the fuikst
examination and most deliberate conviction of
its necessity, with the utmost caution, and afte
having called in the aid of most fervent and oft
repeated prayers. He well knew that this reso
lution would create him hosts of enemies, and
when he signed the decree for the abolition of that
order, said emphatically to a friend who stood
near " I am well aware that I am about to sign
" my death warrant, but that is of no conse-
''quence/' He survived this most important act
which reflects the highest credit on his integrity,
his disinterestedness, and his political discernment,
but fourteen months : and it has been supposed by
some, that his death was accelerated by poison.
It is however certain, that the Jesuits celebrated
the event as a triumph, and affected to represent it
as a judgment from heaven, on account of his

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH XV

persecution and abolition of their order. This
event took place on the 22d of Sept. 1774, in the
sixty-ninth year of His ago.

The amiable and benevolent disposition of this
distinguished pontiff — his high literary attain
ments — his unwearied efforts to revive commerce,
encourage manufactures, and patronize the arts —
his strenuous endeavours to promote a good under
standing between the Catholic and Reformed
Churches, and his truly Catholic spirit, (in the best
sense of that term,) all concur to render him
deserving of the esteem not only of the membert
of his own communion, but of the whole Chris
tian world.

The following eulogium not unfitly describes
the peculiar features of his character, and the most
important events of his life.

1.

Raised by Divine Providence
From a state of evangelical poverty
And worldly contempt,
To St. Peter's Chair,

XVI BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

He still remained the same,

Unchanged but in external rank,

To his friends a friend, all things to all.

But to himself he reserved a life of labour and fatigue.

Not all his pastoral solicitudes

Could disturb his tranquillity,

Nor the unsettled state of the Papacy

His cheerfulness,

Nor the most tremendous storms

His fortitude.

2.

Serene amidst a troubled sea
He strengthened the weak and consoled the sorrowful

By skilfully managing the sails,
He was enabled to navigate the vessel of the state
Amidst the most furious tempests,

His eye fixed on Heaven,

He grasped the helm with a firm hand,

And hoped for better things.

GANGANELLFS LETTERS.

LETTER I.

TO M. DE CABANE, KNIGHT OF MALTA.

Sir,

THE solitude which reigns in your heart, renders
it unnecessary that you should seek any other.
The value of cloisters consists alone in the mind
being collected there; it is not the walls ~of a mo
nastery which constitute its merit.

The House of La Trappe which we have in
Italy, and to which you wish to retire, is not less
regular than that in France ; but why should you
retire from a world which you might edify ? and
which will always be corrupt, if abandoned by all
good people.

Besides, is not the Order of Malta, in which
you live, a religious state, and capable of sancti
fying you, if you fulfil its duties?

We ought to reflect seriously when we wish to
bring ourselves under peculiar obligations. The

I

Gospel is the true rule of the Christian; and the
call should be very evident before we bury our
selves in solitude.

That is an extraordinary path which leads us
from common life, and when we wish to embrace
the monastic life, we should fear lest it prove an
illusion. I highly honour the monks of the houses
of La Chartreuse and La Trappe, but there should
be only a few of them. Besides the difficulty of
finding many zealous monks, we should be fearful
of impoverishing the state by rendering ourselves
useless to society. We are not born monks, but
we are born citizens. The world has need of
libjects who contribute to its harmony, and who
promote the prosperity of empires, by their ta
lents, exertions, and virtuous conduct.

These profound solitudes, in which there is no
exterior sign of life, are literally tombs.

St. Anthony, who lived so long in the desarts,
aid not make a vow to remain there always. He
quitted his retreat, and came to Alexandria, to
combat Arianism and to disperse the Arians, be
cause he was convinced he might benefit religion
and the state by his active services rather than by
his prayers. And when he had finished his mis
sion, he returned to his hermitage, grieved to
Carryback there the little blood which old age

left in his veins, and that he had not suffered mar
tyrdom.

When you are at La Trappe, you will pray to
God day and night, it is true ; but can you not
Continually raise your heart to him, though in the
midst of the world ? It is not the voice which.
Constitutes the merit of prayer. The sovereign
Legislator himself tells us that it is not the mul
tiplicity of words which obtains for us the assist
ance of Heaven.

Many respectable writers have no hesitation
in saying that the remissness of monasteries has
in part arisen from a too great number of devo
tional exercises. They thought, with justice, that
attention must be wearied by prayers of immode
rate length, and that manual labour is more ad
vantageous than a continual psalmody.

The world would not have exclaimed so much
against the monks, had they seen them employed
in works of utility. We still continue to bless
the memory of those who first brought our waste
lands under cultivation, and of those who enriched
the cities with learned productions, whether relating
to the facts of history, or to the time of their oo
currence.

The Benedictines of the learned Congregation
of St. Maur, in France, whom we commonly call

B 2

Maurini, have acquired an honour which will long
remain, by having published a great number of
works, at once curious and useful. The celebrated
P. Montfaucon, by no means one of their least
ornaments, filled all Italy with his erudition, when
he devoted himself entirely to the study of Anti
quity.

St. Bernard, the reformer of so many monaste
ries which follow his institutes, rendered himself
useful to religion and his country, not when he
preached up the Crusades, which could only be
justified by the intention, but when he gave judi
cious advice to Popes and Kings, and composed
immortal works. He would not have become a
Father of the Church, had he spent his whole
life in prayer.

Le P. Mabillon, in his famous Treatise on Mo
nastic Studies, appears to me to have completely
triumphed over the Abbe de Ranee*, who pretended
that the monks should apply themselves merely
to contemplation and psalmody. Wan is destined
to labour. There is but one step from a specula
tive to an idle life, said Cardinal Paleotti, and no-
thing is easier than to make the transition.

You will do more good in comforting the poor,
in consoling them with your discourses, than in
burying yourself in a desart, John the Baptist

LETTERS. 5

himself, who was the greatest among men, left
the wilderness to proclaim the kingdom of God,
and to baptize on the banks of the Jordan.

Do not imagine, my dear Sir, that in speaking
of the useful life, I wish to make an apology for
Mendicant Friars, to the prejudice of the Monks.
Each Order has its customs, and in this case we
may say, Let not him that eateth not, despise hint
that eateth. But I confess I esteem the state of
the Minor Brethren so much the more, inasmuch
as they unite the active life of Martha to the con
templative life of Mary ; and I apprehend, what
ever certain ascetics maintain, that this kind of
life is by far the most meritorious.

St. Benedict felt that a person ought to be use
ful to his country, and consequently caused an
academy for gentlemen to be instituted at Mont
Cassin. He knew the rules of action produced
by a love of our neighbour.

If, however, notwithstanding my reasons, you
continually feel a secret inspiration, which calls
you to the monastic life, you will do in that re
spect as you please, for I should be fearful of
opposing the will of God, who conducts his ser
vants as he pleases, and frequently by singular
ways.

I could wish to be with you at Tivoli, and to

6

contemplate there the celebrated cascade which,
dividing itself into a thousand different torrents,
and falling with the greatest impetuosity, repre
sents in the liveliest manner the world and its agi
tations.

I wish you pleasant holidays, and am more than
all Ciceronian eloquence can express,

Sir, your very humble, &c.

F. L. GANGANELLI.

P.S. My very humble respects to the very worthy
Bishop.

Cement of Holy Apostles, Oct. 29, 1747.

LETTERS,

LETTER II.

You cannot do better M. l'Abb6, in order to
dissipate your troubles and embarrassments, than
to visit Italy. Every learned man owes a homage
to this country so deservedly celebrated. I shall
see you here with inexpressible satisfaction.

You will at first discover the bulwarks bestowed
on it by nature in the Appenines and the Alps,
which separate us from the French, and which
have obtained for them from us the name of Ul-
tramontani. These are majestic mountains formed
to serve as a frame to the magnificent picture they
surround.

Torrents, rivulets, rivers, without reckoning
seas, are other perspectives, which offer to tra
vellers and painters the most curious anU interest
ing spectacles. Nothing is more delightful than
the most fertile soil, under the finest sky, inter
spersed throughout with waterfalls, peopled with
villages, adorned with superb towns, and such is
Italy.

GANGANELU'S

Were agriculture there in as high esteem as ar*
chitecture ; were the country not divided into
small states, all of a different form, and almost
all weak and insignificant, we should not find
there misery by the side of magnificence, and ac
tivity without industry : but unfortunately they
employ themselves more in the embellishment of
the towns, than in the culture of the fields ; and
on all sides uncultivated lands reproach the inha
bitants with their idleness.

If you enter by Venice, you will see a city
unique as to its position ; it resembles a vast ship
reposing quietly on the waters, to which access
can only be obtained by sloops.

This is not the only singularity which will sur
prize you. Inhabitants masked during four or
five months in the year, the laws of a despotic
government, which allows the greatest liberty to
diversions, the rights of a sovereign who has no
authority, the customs of a people who fear even
his shadow, and who enjoy the greatest tranquil-
lity, form a series of contrasts singularly interest
ing to travellers. There is scarcely a Venetian
who is not eloquent : collections have been made
of the jests of the Gondoliers, which abound with
the most brilliant wit.

Ferrara will display to you in its circumference

LETTERS. V

a fine and extensive solitude, almost as silent as
the tomb of Ariosto who reposes there.

Bologna will present you with another picture.
You will find there sciences familiar even to the
female sex, brought forward with dignity in schools
and academies, in which daily trophies are erected
to their honour. A thousand different pictures
will gratify your taste and your eyes, and the
conversation of the inhabitants will afford you
great delight.

You will afterwards pass, in the space of more
than a hundred leagues, a number of small towns,
each of which has its theatre, its Casin (the ren
dezvous of the nobility,) and some literary cha
racter, or some poet, who employs himself accord
ing to his taste and leisure.

You will visit Loretto, a pilgrimage celebrated
for the concourse of strangers, and the treasures
with which its temple is superbly enriched.

You will at length perceive Rome, which might
be seen a thousand times with a pleasure ever new..
This city, situated on seven hills, which the an
cients called the seven mistresses of the world,
appears from thence to govern the universe, and
proudly to tell all nations that she is their Capital
and Queen,

* 3

10

You will call to mind those ancient Romans,
the remembrance of whom will never be effaced,
on surveying the celebrated Tiber, so frequently
mentioned, and which was so often swoln with
their blood and that of their enemies.

You will be enraptured at the sight of St. Peter's
Cathedral, which connoisseurs call the wonder of
the world, as being infinitely superior to that of
St. Sophia at Constantinople, of St. Paul at
London, and even Solomon's Temple.

It is a pile of building which extends in pro
portion as we go through it, where every thing is
colossal, and every thing appears of an ordinary
size. The paintings are exquisite, the mausolea
finely executed, and the whole seems to resemble
the Nfw Jerusalem come down from Heaven, men
tioned by St. John in the Apocalypse.

You will find in the whole, and in each part
of the Vatican, erected on the ruins of false ora
cles, beauties of every kind, which will at once
weary and charm your eyes. It is there that Ra
phael and Michael Angelo have displayed some
times in a terrible, and sometimes in a tender
style, the chefs d'ceuvre of their genius, by ex-
pressing in a lively manner all the energy of their
souls j there is the deposit of the learning aad

LETTERS. II

mind of all the writers in the world, in a number
of works which compose the richest and largest
library.

The churches, the palaces, the public places, the
pyramids, the obelisks, the columns, the galleries,
the porticos, the theatres, the fountains, the
gardens, the perspectives, all \\ill tell you you are
at Rome, and all will attach you to it, as to the
City which has always been pre-eminently and
universally admired. You will not meet there
with that French elegance, which prefers the
pretty to the majestic, but you will be recom
pensed for it by the coups d'ceil which will con
tinually excite your admiration.

ID short you will perceive a new world in all
the paintings and statues executed both by ajncient
and modern artists, and you will fancy it an ani
mated world. The Academy of Painting occupied
by the French, will shew you pupils destined to
become great masters, and who honour Italy, by
coming here to take lessons.

You will admire the grandeur and simplicity
of the Head of the Church, the servant of the
servants of God in the order or humility, and the
first of men in the eye of Faith. The Cardinals
by whom he is surrounded, will represent ts you

the four and twenty elders who surround the throne
of the Lamb, for you will find them as modest in
their manners as they are edifying by their morals.
. The misfortune is that this magnificent scenery
\\ill terminate in groups of beggars, improperly
supported in Rome by her too extensive chanties,
instead of being employed in useful labours ; and
thus the thorn is seen with the rose, and vice is
too frequently found by the side of virtue.

But if you wish to see Rome in its splendour,
endeavour to be there at the feast of St. Peter.
The illumination of the church begins by a gentle
light, which might be readily taken for the reflec
tion of the setting sun, it displays the finest spe
cimens of architecture, and afterwards ends in un
dulating flames, which form a moving picture,
and last till break of day; that is accompanied by
a double firework, the brilliancy of which is so
great, that one would think the stars were loosened
from, the sky, and falling with considerable noise.

I do not mention the strange metamorphose
v;hich has placed even in the Capitol Franciscan
Monks, and has caused an entirely new Rome to
lise out of the ruins of the ancient one, in order
to teach the universe that Christianity is truly the
work of God; and that it has subdued the most

LETTERS. 13

celebrated conquerors, in order to establish itself
even in the centre of their territories.

If the modem Romans do not appear to you
warlike, it is because their present government
does not inspire them with valour ; for they have
the germ of every virtue, and are as good soldiers
as any others, when they carry arms under the
command of some foreign power. It is certain
they have considerable genius, a 'singular aptness
for the sciences, and they might be thought to be
born mimicks, so expressive are they in their
gestures, even from their infancy.

You will afterwards go to Naples by the cele
brated Appian way, the antiquity of which un
fortunately now renders it very inconvenient, and
you will arrive at Parthenope, where the ashes of
Virgil repose, over which you will perceive a
laurel growing, wnich cannot be better placed.

On one side Mount Vesuvius, on the other the
Elysian fields, will present you with singular ap
pearances, and after you have been satisfied with
them, you will find yourself surrounded with a
number of Neapolitans, lively, animated, but too
much inclined to pleasure and idleness to be what
they might become. Naples would be an en
chanting city, were it not for the crowd of ple
beians you meet with there, who have the ap-

14

pcarance of being wretches and robbers, though
in reality they arc neither.

The churches are richly decorated, but the
\vrctched st)le of architecture does not corre
spond with that of Rome. You will take a sin
gular pleasure in traversing the environs of this
city, delightful on account of its fruits, its per
spectives, its situation ; and you will penetrate
into its celebrated subterraneous caverns, where
the city of Ilerculaneum was formerly swallowed
up by an eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Should
it chance to be burning, you would see torrents
of fire issuing from its bosom, which would spread
majestically through the country. Portici will
present to you a collection of what has been taken
from the ruins of Herculaneum, and the environs
of Puzzuoli, sung by the Prince of Poets, will
inspire you with a taste lor poetry.

You must go there with the ./Eneid in your
hand, and compare \\ith the Cumcean Sybil's cave
and the River Acheron, what Virgil has said re
specting thi m.

You will return by Caserta, which, by its
decorations, its marW«*s, iis extrnt its aqueducts,
worthy ui anciuu Koine, will become the finest
castle in buropt- ; ar-u you will visit MontCa&sin,
where the spirit of 6t. btnei, alter nearly twelve

LETTERS. 15

centuries, remains without interruption, notwith
standing the immense riches of that superb mo
nastery.

Florence, from whence proceeded the fine arts,
and where their most magnificent chefs d'oeuvre
are deposited, will present you with other objects .
you will there admire a city which, according to
the remark of a Portuguese, should be shewn only
on Sundays, it is so genteelly and so prettily de
corated ; traces are throughout to be seen of the
splendor and elegance of the Medicis mentioned
in the annals of taste, as the restorers of the fiue
arts.

Livurnum, a sea port both well inhabited and
advantageous to Tuscany. Pisa, always in posses
sion of schools and learned men of every descrip
tion. Sienna, renowned for the purity of its air
and of its language, — will alternately interest you
in a singular manner. Parma situated in the
midst of the most fertile pastures will present to
you a theatre containing fourteen thousand people,
and v. hete each one can hear what is said only in
a whimper; and t'lacenua will appear to you
worthy of ;ht- u;ane si bears, as a residence, which,
by its situation and pleasantness is singularly in-
tertsunr' m travellers.

You will not iorget Modena, as the country of

16 GANGANELLl's

the illustrious Muratori, and as a city celebrated
for the name it has given to its sovereigns. '

You will find at Milan, the second church in
Italy for grandeur and beauty ; more than ten
thousand marble statues adorn the outside, and
it would be a chef d'oeuvre, if it had a frontispiece.
The society of the inhabitants is perfectly agree
able since the French besuged it. They live like
the Parisians, and all, even to the hospital and
the cemetery, have an air of splendour. The
Ambrosian library is interesting to the curious*
nor is the Ambrosial) ritual less so, especially to
ecclesiastics, who wish to know the customs of
the church as well as of antiquity.

The account you will receive of the Boromean
islands will induce you to visit them. Situated
in the middle of the most delightful lake, they
present to the sight whatever is most magnificent
and pleasing in gardens.

Genoa will prove to you that it is really superb
in its churches and palaces. We find there a
port celebrated for its commerce and the concourse
of foreigners; there is a Doge who changes
almost as often as the superiors of a monastery,
and who has scarcely any more authority.

At length Turin, the residence of a court where
the virtues have long dwelt, will charm you by

LETTERS. 17

the symmetry of its edifices, the beauty of its
public walks, the regularity of its streets, the
genius of its inhabitants, and thus you will plea
santly finish your tour.

I have just made the four of Iraly, very rapidly,
and as you see, with little ex pence, in order to
induce you to come there in reality ; besides,
with a person like you, mere sketches are suf
ficient.

I say nothing of our morals, they are not more
corrupt than among other nations, whatever ma
lignity may say; there are only shades of dif
ference according to the various governments;
for the Roman does not resemble the Genoese,
nor the Venetian the Neapolitan ; but it may be
said of Italy as of the whole world, that with,
some slight difference, it is here as there, a little
good and a little bad.

I do not mention the pleasantness of the Italians,
nor their love for the sciences and the arts ; it is
what you will soon know when you associate with
them, and especially you beyond any one else,
with whom one is delighted to converse, and to
whom it will always be a pleasure to say that] I
am your very humble and obedient servant,

F. L. GANGANELLI.
Rome,\2tk Nov. 1756.

GANGANELLl's

P.S. I have seized a leisure moment, to give you
an idea of my country ; it is a mere daub,
whereas in other hands, it would be a pretty
miniature ; the subject is worth the trouble,
but my pencil is not sufficiently delicate.

LETTERS. 19

LETTER III.

TO ONE OF HIS SISTER*.

THE loss we have experienced, my very dear
sifcter, of so many relatives and friends, proclaims
to us that this life is but a borrowed one, and that
God alone is essentially possessed 01 immortality.
The reflection should afford us consolation, that if
we constantly adhere to him, we shall be re-united
in him.

The troubles you mention would be more pro
fitable to you than pleasures, if you possessed
faith. Calvary is here below the place of the
Christian, and if at any time he ascend Tabor, it
is but for a moment.

My health is always good, because I neither
humour nor pamper it; sometimes my stomach
would be out of order but I tell it I have no time
to attend to it, and it leaves me quiet. Study
absorbs all those lesser ailments, of which men
frequently complain. It often happens that idle
ness is the only complaint ; many women are ill
without knowing their malady, because they have

20

GANGANELLl S

nothing to do : they arc tired of being too well,
and this satiety is overwhelming to people of the
world.

I am very glad to hear such good accounts of
little Michael, lie is a plant which, if cultivated
with caie, will one day produce excellent fruits:
all depends OH a good cultivation. \Ve generally
become every thing or nothing according to the
education \ve receive.

You lament that we do not see each other ; but
it is neither our words nor our actions which con
stitute our friendship. Provided we meel in affec
tions and thought, what signifies it if our persons
be far removed from each other ? When we love
a person in God, we always see him, because we
find God every where ; he should be the centre
of every thought, as he is of every soul.

I love you very cordially, and I fully appreciate
the letters you write to me; they recal to my
mind a father of whom I knew too little, and a
mother, whose life was one continued lesson of
virtue. I have never failed remembering them at
the altar, without forgetting you there, my very
dear sister, whose I am, beyond all expression,
very humbly and affectionately.

F. L. GANGANELLL

LETTERS.

LETTER IV.

TO M. IJOUGET, PRIVATE SECRETARY TO HI!}
HOLINESS.

My Lord,

I SHALL nor fail to accept your gracious invita
tion, an to the house of one in whom centres
genius, wisdom, and cheerfulness. If ever melan
choly intrude upon me, I shall seek your agree
able conversation, of the value of which Benet
XIV. was fully aware, and which would have
made the same impression upon Saul as the harp
of David. You have the talent of relating in a
rapid manner with the most lively interest. Things
comparatively insignificant, from the turn you
give to them, become the subjects of solid conver
sation.

We have sometimes met at the Trinity of the
Mount. Our French Minimcs fathers deserve to
be visited ; we cannot but feel attached to them, if
\ve love science and agreeable society, and this

.

22 GANGANELLl's

attachment must necessarily encrease when you
are found among them.

\Vhen you come to see me, I will shew you my
reflections on a cause that will interest you.
There are all kinds at the Holy Office, some cal
culated to inspire laughter, others lamentations ;
but be not afraid, I will not read you the most
dismal : the great art of society consists in serv
ing people according to their taste.

Cheerfulness is the true physician of studious
people; we must dilate their minds and hearts
when they are exhausted with any difficult task.
Cheerfulness of soul is as necessary as the budding
of trees, if we would see them recover their ver
dure and flourish: but there are persons, who,
like rose-trees without flowers, never present any
thing to our view but bark and thorns. When I
meet them, I say nothing, and pass on quickly,
lest I should be pricked.

Cheerfulness retards old age ; we always carry
with it an air of freshness, instead of that paleness
and those wrinkles, which arise from care.

Benet XIV. would not enjoy such good health
were it not that he is always extremely cheerful ;
he lays down his pen to say some bon mots, and
resumes it again, without ever being fatigued.

LETTERS. 2$

You have done very well in engrafting some of
the Italian cheerfulness on the French; it is the
way to live a hundred years. I wish you them,
being more than I can express.
My Lord,

Your very humble, &c.

F. L. GAHGANELLI.

24 OANGANELLl's

LETTER V.

TO THE REV. FATHER THE ABBE OF MONT
CASS1N.

Most Rev. Sir,

You do me too much honour in wishing to
consult me respecting the date of your two ma
nuscripts. I believe them to be of the ninth cen
tury, from comparing them with the writing of
that period ; one of our authors who was then
living, is continually quoted in them, an author
with whom few are acquainted, and of whose
writings some fragments remain on the sacrifice
of the Mass.

It is very generous in you to be willing to re
ceive the feeble light of an insignificant Franciscan,
whilst you are the chief of an Order perfectly
well acquainted with antiquity, and which has
given in every part of the world the most brilliant
proofs of it, and has thereby acquired the greatest
honour.

Without the Benedictines we should be the most

LETTERS. 25

foolish people, said Innocent XI. (Odescalchi}.
Besides that they constituted the glory of the Holy
See, and of different churches for whole centuries,
they have still been the fathers and preservers of
history. It is amongst them that monarchs found
the most august and interesting titles, and that
science and the true faith were preserved without
interruption, as the most precious depot, whilst
the blackest cloud seemed to overshadow the
universe. They were never seen, although rich
and powerful, caballing in kingdoms, nor en
gaging in any intrigue prejudicial to states; on
the contrary they were their greatest help. It
may also be said that, notwithstanding all the
wealth and honour they enjoy, public gratitude
has not yet repaid them.

If I can be serviceable to you, I will willingly
enter that celebrated solitude, whence have issued
a whole world of saints and sages. It seems as
though, in treading the soil where they resided, we
participate their merit.

It would be impossible to add any thing to the
profound respect with which I am, &c.

F. L. GANGANELLI.
ilome, 5th March, 1748.

26

LETTER VI.

A SCOTCH GENTLEMAN.

I HAVE followed you in spirit, my dear Sir, both
on the sea and on the Thames. As long as my
mind alone travels in England, I am in no danger
of being insulted ; whereas if I were to go in
person, and in my monkish dress, God knows how
the populace would treat me. Confess that the
Popes are good people ; for were they to retaliate,
they would require that every Priest and Monk
should be suffered to enter London in his dress,
or they would receive no Englishman at Rome.
And who would suffer ? You first, my dear Sir*
who delight in frequently visiting Italy; but I
should suffer still more than you I protest, and
you may believe me, for I am sincerely attached
to the English nation, which has always peculiarly
cultivated the sciences, and in which we find
much profit ; we should lose too much were we
deprived of seeing individuals from thence. I
have an ardent passion for your great poets and
philosophers ; we are sublime with them and sea

LETTERS. 27

t&e world under our feet. I sometimes pay noc
turnal visits to Newton ; at a time when all nature
appears wrapt in sleep, I wake to read and ad
mire him. No one like him unites science and
simplicity. It is the character of genius which
knows neither boasting nor ostentation.

I rely on your bringing me, when you re
turn, the little manuscript of Berkeley, that il
lustrious madman, who imagined that the world
had nothing in it material, and that all bodies
existed only in idea. How delightful the prospect,
which reason contemplates, that all learned men
who now differ in their opinions, will be re-united,
and that that reason, after having preserved them
incognito, will enlighten them with its rays. How
many will be at once surprised and abased who
had the vanity to think themselves more than
inspired.

The world was always devoted to disputes and
errors ; and we should think ourselves happy,
that in the midst of so many clouds and con
tradictions, we have a sure light to guide us in
the right road; I mean the flambeau of Reve
lation, which, notwithstanding all the efforts of
infidelity, will never be extinguished.

It is with religion as with the firmament^ which

c 2

28 GANGANELLl's

sometimes appears to us obscure, but which is
not on that account the less radiant. The pas
sions and senses are vapours which rise from the
bosom of our corruption, and hide from our view
the heavenly lights ; and the man who reflects,
without being alarmed and astonished, waits the
return of fine weather. Do we not know that
the mists formed by Celsus, by Porphyrus, by
Spinosa, by Collins, by Bayle, have been dis
persed, and that those of modern philosophy will
share the same fate. Distinguished people have
appeared in every age, who sometimes with arms,
and sometimes with fanaticism, have seemed to
endeavour to destroy Christianity; they have passed
away like these tempests, which serve only to
make the sky appear more serene.

It is because men have no principles, that they
suffer themselves to be dazzled by sophisms : they
consider contemptible objections as completely un
answerable because they know nothing. In re
ligion all is united, all is combined; and lest
they should allow a single truth to escape, they
find nothing more but abysses and darkness. Man,
instead of concluding, at the sight of the wonders
he enjoys, that God can doubtless give him
possessions more valuable after this life, judges

LETTERS. 29

lhat the Deity, however powerful, can go no
further, and that this world is necessarily the
termination of his wisdom and power.

I should like to see a work which proved to
a demonstration (and it would not be difficult,
provided the author were acquainted with physic
and theology) that the universe, as we know it,
is truly an enigma. Religion alone can inform
us both of the immensity of those heavens, the
use of which the infidel cannot comprehend ; and
of the miseries we suffer, the causes of which the
philosopher cannot discover; and of the suc
cession of desires which agitate us, the impetuosity
of which we cannot restrain.

We have sketched these great subjects when we
have conversed familiarly sometimes at the Borghese
villa, and sometimes at that ©f Negriori. — That
time has passed, and part of our lives with it ;
because every thing passes away, except the sin
cere attachment with which I am,

My dear Sir, £c.

F. L. GANGANELLI,
Rome, 3rd May, 1748.

30

LETTER VII

TO SIGNORA BAZARDI.

Do not consult me, I entreat you, on your son's
embracing a monastic life. If I tell you he
cannot do better, you will think me an interested
person, speaking on behalf of his own order ; if
on the other hand I tell you that he would do
well not to think of it, you will consider it as
the advice of a monk disgusted with his state,
or convinced that a cloistered life is replete with
misery. Thus, madam, I advise you neither
way. Each object has two appearances ; it is
of importance to know which is the best, and
to adopt it.

If I foresaw that a candidate for the monastic
life would become eminent for learning and piety,
I should use every effort to fix him ; but as I do
not know what may happen, I am very re
served, and never advise any one to become a
monk.

I have the honour to be, &c.

Rome, 15th May, 1748.

LETTERS,

31

LETTER VIII.

TO THE PRELATE CERATI.

f DO not pardon you for depriving the public
of a number of anecdotes which are familiar to
you, and the collection of which would be ex
tremely interesting; in future when I see you I
shall take my pencil and write* What would
become of science, if all men of learning were
to follow your example? conversation would be-
brilliant, but there would be no reading.

M» Cerati ought to- reflect that he is useful;,
when he speaks, only to those who surround him,
and that were he to write, he would be ser
viceable to the most distant people. A good
book becomes the patrimony of the whole world,
it is in the hands of the Russian, as well as in
those of the Italian. The Pope should oblige you,
under pain of excommunication, to make knovm
through the medium of the press, all you keep
back from the knowledge of the world. But
perhaps, having seen foreign nations, you would-
no longer be so much of an Ultraraontanus, and

32 GANGANELLl's

do you think you can elude the judgement of
a Roman decree f He has seen much, read much,
and retained all, said the Cardinal Porto Carrero
to me lately in speaking of you, but that will
be of no use to us, because he will carry his
knowledge with him into the other world.

Too much has been written ; and I grieve at
it, when I consider all the productions which
libertinism has produced ; but enough will never
be written when it refers to the excellent things
you know. For my part I wish it to be im
pressed that you cannot be too much admired,
nor can I too frequently repeat the honour I
esteem it to be,

Yours, &c.

F. L. GANCANELLI.

LETTERS. 83

LETTER IX.

TO MADAME

Madam,

TRUE devotion consists, neither in a careless ap
pearance nor a monastic dress. The greater part
of devotees imagine, and I know not for what
reason, that celestial spirits are more pleased with
dark than with lively colours. Angels, however,
are always painted either in white or blue. I
do not like that piety which makes great pre
tensions ; modesty does not depend on a colour ;
to be what we ought, it is sufficient for us to be
decent in our clothes and countenance.

Besides, observe that if any woman who has
been publicly slandered appear angry, enraged
with every body, it is most frequently she who
is in sable. Singularity is so little allied to true
devotion, that we are ordered in the gospel to
wash our faces when we fast, that we may not
be remarked.

Thus I am of opinion, madam, that you should
make no change in the from or colour of your

c3

34 GANGANELLl's

dress. Let your heart be towards God, refer all
your actions to him ; that is the chief point.

The world would not have so much ridiculed
devotion, had not the devotees given occasion
for it. Almost always animated by a bigotted
zeal, they are only contented with themselves,
and would wish every one to yield to their ca
prices, in which alone their piety frequently con
sists.

Every one truly pious, is patient, kind, hum
ble, thinks no evil, is never angry, and conceals
the defects of his neighbour when he cannot
excuse them. He rejoices with those who re
joice, weeps with those who weep, agreeable to
the advice of St. Paul, and is wise only with
sobriety, because there should be temperance in
all things.

In short, true devotion is charity, and without
it whatever we do is absolutely useless to sal
vation. False devotees do scarcely less harm to
religion than even the impious, Always ready
to break forth against what is contrary to their
opinions, or their humour; they have a restless,
impetuous, persecuting zeal, and they are in ge
neral fanatical or superstitious, hypocritical or
ignorant. Jesus Christ does not spare them in the
gospel to teach us to beware of them.

LETTERS. 35

When you feel, madam, that you have neither
hatred in your heart, pride in your spirit, nor sin
gularity in your actions, in- short that you observe
the commands of God and the church without
affectation or a trifling exactness, you may then be
lieve yourself really in the path of safety.

Above all, render your domestics happy, by
abstaining from tormenting them. They are our
other selves, and we must continually lighten their
yoke. The way to be well served is always to
have a serene countenance. True piety always
preserves the same calmness and tranquillity of
mind, whilst false devotion is continually va
rying.

Bring up your nieces according to their con
dition, and do not require of them precisely what
you yourself do, because you have a particular
propensity for mortification.

This subject would require a whole letter.
Young people are frequently disgusted with piety,
because too great perfection is required of them ;
and they weary themselves with penitential works,
when they have not learned to govern themselves*
Common life is the most sure, though it cannot
be the most perfect. It is acting a violent part
to wish to deny yourself every visit and relaxation.
Take care that your confessor be not too mys-

36 GANGANELLl's

tiral, and that his directions do not end in making
you a scrupulous, rather than a good Christian.

Is so much self-denial then necessary to em
brace piety ? Religion teaches us what we ought
to believe and practise, and there will never be
a better director than the Gospel. Mingle soli
tude with society ; and form acquaintances which
will lead you neither into melancholy nor dis
sipation.

Vary your reading. There are many works of a
recreative nature, which may succeed those which
are serious. St. Paul in giving us rules for an
ornamental conversation, permits us to indulge in
things lovely and agreeable ; qucBcumque amabilia.

We should serve God like slaves, if we imagined
ourselves always transgressing. The yoke of the
Lord is pleasing and light. Love God, said St.
Augustin, and do whatever you wish ; because you
will then do nothing displeasing to him, and you
will act in his sight, as a son towards his father
whom he loves.

Above all, comfort the poor, especially as you
hare the means of assisting them. Humanity is
the pedestal of Religion, and if we are uncha
ritable, we are not Christians.

I do not advise you to give any thing to re
ligious communities ; besides that they will not

LETTERS. 37

fail, it is unjust to impoverish families to enrich
them. Many charges you hear brought against
the Monks for their rapacity ; and there is no
need to furnish people of the world with new
subjects of complaint on that ground. Our wealth
ought to be our reputation, and it should be
founded on disinterestedness, and the practice of
every virtue.

Although a friend to my Order, I will never
engage any one to bequeath us a legacy, or to
become a Monk. I am fearful of giving occasion
for reproaches and repentance, as I should be
fearful of tiring you, were I to prolong this epistle,
which has no other merit in my eyes, than the
opportunity it affords me of being able to assure
you of the respect with which I have the honour
to be,

Madam, &c.

F. L. G.

LETTER X.

TO THE REV. FATHER ***, A FRANCISCAN
MONK.

I HAVE scribbled, my dear friend, to the utmost
of your wishes. I have endeavoured to unite
in this discourse the pathetic, the sublime, the
simple, and the moderate ; that I may suit all
tabtes. You must apply yourself to learn and
to deliver it well, not only on your own account,
but for the sake of the audience, which will be
very numerous and respectable.

This little work will bear marks of precipitation,
but it will have so much the more fire. My
imagination takes fire like a volcano, when I am
extremely hurried; I collect all my ideas, all my
thoughts, all my perceptions, all my sentiments,
and all this bubbles up in my head and on my
paper in a surprising manner.

Notwithstanding all the animation you will find
in this production, I have observed in it as much
order as possible. I shall be satisfied with it,
if you are, and I ardently desire it.

LETTERS. 39

The war is raging more than ever; I have
heard from Flanders, where the walls are falling
like tiles in a tempest. May the French be always
victorious ! You know how much I love that
nation, and am interested in its successes. My
existence is misplaced — I ought really to have
been born in France, and it is my turn of mind
and heart which makes me of this opinion.

Tell no one that you have heard from me. The
Monks are cunning ; and they might guess your
intelligence came from me, were you to bring
me to their remembrance.

I am always in the bosom of my thoughts,
which are scattered or collected according to the
work imposed on me by Providence, and which
arise from circumstances, My day is frequently a
chaos in which I conceive nothing ; I am obliged
to pass successively from one pursuit to another ;
and these are contrasts more dissimilar than white
and black, than light and darkness. After that I
mix with my brethren talking and laughing, ab
hoc et ab hac, because I need it to recruit myself,
so much am T exhausted. I frequently leave the
elder ones to discourse with the young, and we
play like children. It is the best mode of re-
luxation when we leave a profound study, and

40 GANGANELLl's

it was the method adopted by the celebrated Mu-
ratori.

Adieu ; love me ; you should do so since I
am, as I have been, and shall ever be your best
friend,

F. L. GANGANELLI.
Convent of the Holy Apostles.

LETTERS. 41

LETTER XI.

TO M. ***, CANON OP OSIMO.

Sir,

RELIGION, which resided from all eternity in
the bosom of God, first came forth when the
universe sprang out of nothing, and took possession
of the heart of Adam. This was its first temple
on earth, and from thence the most fervent desires
were continually exhaled towards Heaven. Eve,
formed in innocence, as well as her husband,
partook of the inestimable advantage of always
blessing the Author of their being. The birds
Joined by their warbling in this divine concert,
and universal nature applauded it.

Such was religion, and such its worship, when
Sin entered into the world, and soiled its purity.
Innocence then fled, and penitence endeavoured to
replace it. Adam banished from a terrestrial pa
radise, found only briars and thorns, where he for
merly gathered the most beautiful flowers and most
excellent fruits.

Just Abel offered his own heart to God as a

42

burnt offering, and sealed with his blood the love-
he had for justice and truth. Noah, Lot, Abra
ham, Isaac, Jacob, covenanted to observe the law
of nature, the only 'religion which was then agree
able to God.

Moses appeared like a new star which shone
on Mount Sinai, by the side of the sun of justice,
and the decalogue was given to him to be put
into execution without any alteration. Thunders
were the external signal of this new alliance ; and
the Hebrew nation became the depository of a
law written by Wisdom itself.

Notwithstanding the fervour of Moses, Joshua,
and all -the leaders of the people of God, the
Christian religion alone made worshippers in spirit
and truth. All that was holy before it existed,
belonged to it, and when emanating from the in
carnate Word it made its appearance in the uni..
verse, it established itself on the ruins of Judaism,
as the daughter of predilection, Jilia delecta, and
changed the face of the whole world.

Bad desires were prohibited, as well as evil,
actions ; and the purest and most sublime virtues
sprang from the blood of a multitude of martyrs.

The Church then took the place of the Synagogue;
and the Apostles, wko were its columns, had suc
cessors who were to continue to the end of time..

LETTERS. 43

According to this celestial plan and divine eco
nomy, reality succeeds to shadow, for all the an
cient law only represented Jesus Christ ; and sight
after death will be the recompense of faith. We
shall see God as he is, and shall rest with him
eternally.

Thus, Sir, should you begin your work on Re
ligion; ascend to its source, display its excellence,
rise with it to Heaven from whence it descends,
and whither it must return.

Religion will only be found in its centre, when
there will be no other reign than that of Charity;
for it is neither science, nor its external magni
ficence which constitute its merit, but the love of
God. That is the foundation of our worship;
and we are but images of virtue, if we be not im
pressed with this idea.

I consider Religion as a chain, of which God
himself is the first link, and which is extended to
eternity. Without this bond, every thing is dis
solved, every thing is overthrown ; men are no
more than animals deserving of contempt, and
the universe has nothing interesting to us, for it
is neither the sun nor the earth which constitute
its merit, but it is the glory of being included in the
immensity of the Supreme Being, and of subsisting

44

only through Jesus Christ, conformably to the
words of the Apostle, " All things were made by
" him, and by him all tJi'nigs consist.19

Take care that there be nothing in your work
unworthy of your subject, and when in your
route, you meet with some celebrated infidel or
heretic, subdue him by that courage which truth
inspires, but without ostentation or animosity.

The cause of Religion is so good an one to
maintain, one .which unites in its favour all the
testimonies of earth and heaven, that it ought to
be defended only with moderation. Efforts of
genius are not essential to truth. " It is suf-
"Jicient to expose religion," said St. Charles Bo-
rome"e, " as it is to shew its necessity." Men
who wished to pass for pious people, have either
reduced themselves to eating acorns, or indulged
in the greatest excesses.

I have studied Religion upwards of forty-five
years, and am continually more struck with it.
It is too elevated to be the work of man, what
ever impiety may affirm. Be filled with the spirit
of God before you write any thing, that you may
not give the world vain words. If the heart prompt,
not the pen which expresses holy truths, they
seldom reach those of the readers. Penetrate their

LETTERS. 45

souls with the fire which God himself brought
on the earth, and your book will produce mar
vellous effects.

What has rendered the " Imitation'' so precious
and affecting, is that its author (Gersen, Abb£ of
Verceil in Italy) has introduced in it all that holy
charity which inflamed his breast.

Gerson is generally confounded with Gersen ;
it is however easy to demonstrate that neither
Gerson nor Thomas a Kempis is the author of
this inimitable work ; this, I confess, affords me
infir.ite pleasure ; for I am delighted that so ex
cellent a book should be written by an Italian.
There is in the Fifth chapter of the Fourth Book,
an evident proof, that the Imitation was not
written by a Frenchman. The priest, it is there
said, clothed in his sacerdotal robes, carries be
fore him the cross of Jesus Christ. Now it is well
known that the chasubles* in France differ from
those of Italy in their wearing this cross only on
the back. But I do not wish to hold a disser
tation on this subject, contenting myself with as
suring you, &c,

* A sacerdotal cloak, worn iu sacred ministrations.

GANGANELLl's

LETTER XII.

TO COUNT ***.

Sir,

I WAS too much your father's friend, and am
too firmly attached to you, not to recal you to
yourself, when you are wandering so far astray.
Is it possible that that dear child whom I have
seen under the paternal roof, so mild, so lovely,
so virtuous, should have so totally forgotten what
he was, as to become profligate, proud, irreligious ?
1 have the greatest difficulty to persuade myself
of it; but I have such frequent assurances of the
fact, and that by people who are in the habit of
visiting you, that there is no longer any room
to doubt it.

Come to see me, I entreat you, and in the
effusion of a heart which tenderly loves you, I
will tell you not what anger inspires, not what
prejudice suggests, I will not load you with bitter
reproaches, but I will say whatever the most lively
attachment can dictate, to draw you from the
abyss into which you have been precipitated by
wicked companions.

LETTERS. 47

You will find in me neither an imperious ad-
'riser, nor an angry pedagogue ; but a friend, a
Brother, who would speak to you with the same
mildness, with the same tranquillity as he would
to himself.

I know that youth is an ungovernable period ;
that it is most difficult to disentangle ourselves
from the world, when rich and indulging our
tastes. But honour, reason, decency, religion, all
these should speak more loudly than the passions
and senses.

What is man, my dear friend, if he take 'counsel
only of his corrupt heart? Alas ! I should find in
myself, as you do in yourself, that which would
lead me astray, did I not listen to my conscience
and my duty ; for we all partake of falsehood and
corruption.

I look for you with the greatest impatience,
to stretch out my arms to embrace you. Be not
alarmed at the sight of my cloister and monkish
habits, the circumstance of my being a monk
is the very reason why I should have more cha
rity. We will weep together over the misfortune
of having lost a father who was so necessary to
you. I will endeavour to give you advice, which
shall cause him to live again in your examplr.

48 GANGANELLl's

Do not violate his memory by leading an irregular
life.

Nothing is yet lost if you deign to listen to
me; for I am confident that the plan of life I
shall trace out for you, will replace things in their
proper order. Do not fear, I will not send you
to do penance either among the Capuchins, or the
Chartreuses. I am not fond of violent measures.
Heaven will direct us. God does not abandon
those who return to him.

I shall not leave home to-morrow, that I may
see you.

LETTERS. 49

LETTER XIII.

TO THE SAME.

Is it possible, my dear Sir, that you have not only
not come to my house, as I entreated you, but
that you even concealed yourself when I called
upon you. Ah ! what would your father say, to
whom you promised, at the time even of his death,
that you would have an entire confidence in my
advice; that you would consider it a duty always
to cultivate my friendship. I ask again, what
would he say ? Am not I he who has so fre
quently carried you in my arms ; who has watched
your growth with the greatest pleasure ; who gave
you your first instructions, and to whom on a
thousand occasions you have manifested the
strongest attachment.

Shall I cast myself at your feet to induce you
to grant me your friendship? I will do it, for
nothing can restrain me when I have to recal a
friend to his duty.

If you had not a noble heart and a penetrating
mind, I should despair both of your reformation,

D

50 GAKGANELLl's

and of the success of my advice ; but you partake
of a fine understanding, and no common degree
of sagacity. Do you indeed suppose that I take
a pleasure in rebuking you ? it is only false
devotees who find a satisfaction in being angry. I
have happily read enough of the gospel, which is
my rule and yours, to know how Jesus Christ
•received sinners, and how careful we should be
not to quench the smoaking flax, nor to break the
bruised reed. I have not forgotten that St. John
the Evangelist went on horseback, notwithstanding
his great age, to seek a young man whom he had
brought up, and who had fled from him. Besides,
have you not known me long enough to be aware
that I am neither haughty nor ill tempered, but
that I know how to compassionate the weaknesses
of humanity ? The more you avoid me, the more
I shall believe you guilty. Do not listen to your
comrades; let your heart speak, and I will im
mediately see you ; mine urges me never to aban
don you. I will persecute you with my love, and
will give you no rest till we are brought together.

It is because I am your best friend, that I seek
you, at a time when almost all your relations
refuse even to hear your name.

If you fear my remonstrances I will say nothing
to you, being well convinced that you will accuse

LETTERS. 51

yourself, and leave me no time to speak. Try at
least a visit, and if it be not agreeable to you, you
shall never see me again. But I know your
mind ; I know my own, and am very sure that
after this interview you wjll not wish to leave me.

I ought naturally to have a greater ascendancy
over your mind, I who have known you for
twenty years, than all the young people who sur
round you, who study only how to devour your
wealth and your reputation.

If my tears can touch you, I assure you they
are now flowing, and that their sources are the
most precious in the universe, religion and friend
ship. Come and dry them, it will be the true
means of proving to me that you still remember
your father, and that you are alive to the pains of
a friend.

Rome, 1st Feb. 1750f

i) '2

LETTER XIV.

TO THE SAME.

THE consolation which your three visits afforded
me, my most intimate friend, is incredible. The
tears you shed in my presence, the confession you
made to me, while joining your cheeks to mine,
grasping my hand, declaring that you would never
forget the anxiety with which I sought you, pro
mising me in the most affecting manner to amend
your past conduct, to labour diligently to regain
the favour cf God ; all this can never be effaced
from my memory and my heart. I always said
to myself: ' He has received a Christian edu-
* cation ; he will return to his duty, I shall see
' him again ; his wanderings are only a storm
' which will disperse/ The calm has returned,
blessed be God : it is not me my dear friend, but
him only that you must thank.

Since you wish me to give you a plan to direct
you, I will simply tell you what my weak under
standing and strong friendship dictate; this will
be short. The commandments of God, those first

LETTERS. 53

and sublime laws, from which all others are de
rived may be reduced to few words. Precepts,
when they are clear and founded in reason as well
as happiness, need neither commentaries nor dis
sertations.

Read every morning the parable of the Prodigal
Son; repeat the Psalm Miserere* with a contrite
and humble heart, and that will be the whole of
your prayers. Read some Christian authors in
the course of the day, not as a blave who finishes
his task, but as a child of God, who returns to
his father, and hopes for every thing from his
mercy. This reading should not be long lest you
should be disgusted with it. Accustom yourself
to going to Mass as frequently as possible, but
especially on Sundays and festivals : you should
go there as a suppliant imploring mercy and
hoping to obtain it.

Make it a duty to bestow daily some alms
among the poor, to repair the injury you have
done them by expending in criminal pleasures and
superfluities what was their due. You should
relinquish the society of those who have led you
astray from God, from yourself, from your true
friends, and should form fresh connexions sanc-

* Psalm LI.

54 CANGANELLl's

/ tioned by honour, decency, and religion. Jt is
easy to dismiss vicious companions without offend
ing them. Tell them frankly of the plan you
mean to pursue ; endeavour to persuade them to
follow it ; tell them only of the regret you feel for
your past conduct; of your good resolutions for
the future, and they will soon return no more :
or if they come again, it is a proof they have
altered their conduct; and then, instead of avoid*
ing them, receive them with greater pleasure than
before.

Walk frequently, that retirement may not pro
duce melancholy, and endeavour always to have
as a companion either a person of experience, or
a virtuous youth. Be alone as little as possible,
and especially while your resolutions are not yet
confirmed. It might occur, that being the slave
of wandering thoughts, and soon the subject of
ennui, you may meet with circumstances which
would again hurl you down the precipice.

Read some lively, but instructive book, to
preserve in you a proper degree of cheerfulness.
Melancholy is the rock on which many young
persons have split who seemed to be in earnest
about their conversion. They draw the parallel
between their former dissipated life, and the

LETTERS. 55

serious life prescribed to them, and finish by re
turning to their sins.

Take an exact account of your debts and
revenues, and by economy you will be able to
pay all your creditors. A man is always rich
when he accustoms himself to privations, as he is
always poor when he denies himself nothing.

Settle an annuity on the woman you have
seduced, that misery may not oblige her to con
tinue an irregular course of life, on condition that
she should live at a distance from you, and you
should inform her of your intentions by letter,
asking forgiveness for having seduced her, and en
treating her to forget the creature, that she may
henceforth be attached only to the Creator.

When an opportunity presents itself of enjoying
society, you should not refuse it, because it will
take up your time properly, and will not expose
you to the railleries of a world which seeks only
to ridicule piety.

You should dress like every one else according
to your condition, being neither too particular nor
too negligent. True devotion runs into neither
extremes. It is only when it is counterfeited that
a person affects to wear a slovenly habit, a droop
ing head, an austere countenance, a whining tone.

You should send away the servants who were

56 GANGANELLl's

the accomplices of your intrigues, and partakers
of your guilt, lest knowing your foible, they
should lay snares to lead you again into the way
of perdition, although after having injured them,
it would be proper to set them a good example,
you are yet too young to leave your heart un
guarded.

You should live with your new servants, whose
\visdom and fidelity should be well attested to
you, as a master well acquainted with the duties
of humanity ; ' as a Christian who knows that
before God we are all equal notwithstanding the
inequality of conditions. You should set them
only good examples; you should watch over their
morals, without being either a torment to them,/
or a spy upon them, and you should attach them
to yourself by your kindness and gentleness..
Nothing is so flattering as to render those happy
by whom we are surrounded.

I exhort you to visit the chapel in the interior
cf the Chartrcux, built by order of Cardinal Cibo,
vhose memory 1 highly respect. Rather than
mingle his ashes with those of his illustrious
ancestors, which repose in the most superb tombs,
he would be interred among his servants, whose
epitaphs he wrote, reserving only for himself these
words, replete with humility, Hie jacet Cito,

LETTERS.

57

vermis immundus, (Here lies Cibo, an unclean
worm.)

This tomb is absolutely concealed from the
sight of men ; but God, to whom every thing is
known, will make it manifest at the last day ; and
this will be an overwhelming reproach to those
proud men who are vain even in their coffins.

You should think of taking some charge which
would occupy you. We always do evil when we
do nothing. Fathom your understanding, consult
your taste, examine your heart, and above all,
address yourself to God, that you may know what
is fit for you, whether a military or a civil life.
The ecclesiastical state will not suit you : we
should not carry into the sanctuary the remains
of a heart defiled with the commerce of the world,
unless the will of the Lord should manifest itself
in an extraordinary manner; which is rare, and
much more to be admired than imitated.

People will hereafter think of marrying you,
and I would advise you not to defer it too long.
Marriage, when entered into with puriry of heart,
preserves young people from a number of dangers ;
but do not rely on my finding you a wife. I
made a vow, at the time 1 embraced the religious
state, never to interfere with "marriages or wills.
A Monk is a person interred, who ought never

D 3

58

to shew any signs of life, except on purely
spiritual occasions, because the soul never dies.

Your relation to whom I have just happily
reconciled you, is a man of wisdom, of integrity,
and of honesty; and is best able to direct your
choice. Religion and reason ought to be more
consulted than inclination, in an establishment
that is to last through life. We seldom see
marriages prosper which have no foundation but
love. That is delightful in Idyls and Romances,
but is worth nothing in practice.

I mention neither your expences nor your table :
with the principles I have laid down these must
of necessity be moderate. Frequently invite some
virtuous friend to dine with you : I do not like to
see you alone, and I would have you SQ as little
as possible, except when you are at prayer or
reading : " It is not good for man to be alone/'
saith the scripture,

Go only occasionally to your estate. If you
were to live in the country, and especially at this
time, you would bury all your good resolutions us
well as your education. Rural societies only lead
to dissipation,, and however little you may
freqnent them, it will terminate in forgetting all
you knew, and becoming clownish, ignorant, and
unpolished. Hunting, love, wine, are but too

LETTERS. 59

frequently the pastimes of gentlemen who always
live in the country. The town polishes the
manners, adorns the mind, and hinders the soul
from growing rusty. You should not be scru
pulous with respect to your hour for rising and
going to bed. Order is necessary in every con
dition, but constraint and monotony almost inva
riably produce a contracted mind.

If you contemplate religion as a whole, as it
ought to be seen, you will not find in it all the
puerilities with which it is invested by people of
little devotion ; and never open those mystical or
apocryphal books, which under a pretence of
nourishing piety, only amuse the soul with trifling
ceremonies, and leave the mind without light and
the heart without compunction. True devotion,
written by the celebrated Muratori, will preserve
you from all the dangers of false credulity. I
advise you to read that book again and again that
you may profit by it.

Do not take advice indiscriminately; for in the
diseases of the soul as well as in those of the body,
every one wishes to give his advice. Avoid
hypocrites as well as dissipated characters; both
will prove hindrances to you in arriving at the
point we propose. I shall not rely on your con
version till you have been long proved. The

transition from libertinism to the practice of
virtue is not easy. On that account I would have
you take as your director our good Franciscan,
the friend of your late father and mine. He is
an excellent pattern of a spiritual life, and if he
keep you some time before he admits you to a
participitation of the holy mysteries, it is that he
may be well assured that you are a changed
character; and that he ma}7 follow the constant
practice of the Church. Do not fear his severity,
he unites the tenderness of a father with the firm
ness of a wise director ; and he will not load you
with forms, which is generally the practice of less
enlightened Confessors. If you have sinned
through pride, he will point out to you the means
of humbling yourself; if through sensuality, he
will prescribe remedies to mortify you ; thinking
with reason that the wounds of the soul are not
healed by a few prayers hastily repeated, but by
labouring continually at the reformation of the
heart. Most sinners, for want of this method,
spend their time in offences against God and
I'onfessicns.

Above all, let there be no excess in your piety,
take no violent measures, this would occasion a
relapse.

This is, my dear son, my dearest friend, \\l:a;

LETTERS. 61

I conceived to be my duty to sketch out for you.
I could not use more tenderness were I to write to
you with my own blood. I should die with grief,
were the resolutions you lately made in my
presence to vanish. What encourages me is, that
you are a man of your word, that you love me,
that you are fully convinced I sincerely desire
your welfare ; in short, that you have experienced
that an irregular life is a mixture of chagrin, of
remorse, and of torment.

Listen to the voice of a father who declares to
you from his tomb, that there is no happiness here
below but for the friends of God, and who charges
you to keep the word you formerly gave him, to
live by the assistance of Heaven like a good
Christian. I am much more attached to you than
to myself.

P.S. I shall certainly reconcile you to all your
family, except, perhaps, the Marchioness of
R * * *, who is, I believe, too much of a devotee
to pardon you. I shall expect you on Saturday
to take chocolate : I will then shew you a letter
from poor Sardi, an old servant of your mother's,
who is really in want. You do not require much
time to get4 from Viteibo to Rome, especially if
you have horses of any spirit.

Rome, 1st Nov. 1750.

LETTER XV.

TO PRINCE SAN SEVERO, A NEAPOLITAN.

My Liege,

I PRESENT you my most humble thanks, for
having paid such attention to M. Weslcr, on the
recommendation of so simple a person as myself,
who ranks neither with the great nor the learned,
lie never speaks but with enthusiasm of all your
plans to promote the study of natural philosophy,
and the reputation of philosophers. These are
always new discoveries equally useful and curious.

Naples is the most proper place for exercising
the genius of the learned. It presents every where
so many phenomena of every kind, that the at
tention is wholly occupied by them. Its moun
tains, its subterraneous caverns, its minerals, its
waters, the fire by which it is as it were penetrated,
are so many objects for examination.

I am ,not surprized, my Prince, that the King
himself is flattered by your labours and success.
Every monarch who knows his glory, knows how
much that of learned men is reflected upon him-

LETTERS. 03

self, when he protects them. If minds capable of
great undertakings were encouraged amongst us,
Italy would again produce great personages of
every description. The germ of talents is always
there, and it only needs to be cherished to flourish
in magnificence.

But the artists begin to lose that creative genius
which produced wonders. The best pictures, like
the best statues that are now executed, appear to
be mere copies, it may be said that they force the
pencil to work in spite of itself. There is a coarse
ness in. the drawings, instead of that sweet softness
which is admired in our first painters, and we
now want that expression which is the very soul
of painting.

We are richer in writers. We have still some
who for energy of style, and beauty of imagery,
may be ranked with the ancients, such is the Abbe
Buonafede of the Order of Celestines.

For this we are indebted to our language. Its
charms are an inducement to cultivate literature,
as are your talents to every one to tell you that
there is nothing more flattering than the opportu
nity of assuring you of the sentiments of respect
and admiration with which, &c.

GANGANELLl's

LETTER XVI.

TO ONE OF HIS MONASTIC FRIENDS, WHO HAD
BECOME A PROVINCIAL.

DIGNITIES affect me so little, that I know not
how to compliment those who are invested with
them. They are an additional servitude, which
must be joined to all the miseries of humanity,
and they are the more to be feared from the dan
ger there is of their making us proud. Man is
so unhappy as to identify with himself, trifling
honours which are mere outside shew, and to for
get an immortal soul, to feed on chimerical pre
rogatives, which last only for a few days. Even
in cloisters, where all should be disinterestedness,
self-denial, humility, they glory in certain prefer
ments as though they had the command of some
kingdom.

I send you these reflections the more willingly,
as your turn of mind sets you above all honours,
and because you have acquired authority only to
make others happy. I am convinced that you
will judiciously mingle mildness with severity,

LETTERS. OJ

that a cloud will never be seen on your brow,
nor inequality in your temper ; that you will al
ways be the brother of those of whom you have
become the Superior, that you will seek to place
them according to their inclinations and talents,
and that you will employ no spies, except to dis
cover the merit of those who are too modest to
make it appear.

Thus you will acquire honour by the manner
in which you fulfil the duties of your station, and
every one will wish to see and detain you, whilst
there are Provincials whose visits are dreaded like
a tempest. Especially, my dear friend, take care
of the aged and the young, that the former may
be supported, and the latter properly encouraged.
These two extremes appear far removed, and yet
they meet, since the young grow older every mo
ment. Observe moderation in all your proceed
ings, and consider that to yield to an excess of
mildness is preferable to too great severity.

Speak nobly of religion, and only at proper
times. Those persons are avoided who are conti
nually preaching. Jesus Christ did not preach
long sermons to his disciples, but what he said to
them was spirit and life. Words have much more
force, when they are but a sketch. Let there be
BO affectation in your manners ; there are some

&& GANGANELLl's

men 'who imagine that every thing done by an
official person should be precise, and these are
little minds.

I shall say nothing to you against duplicity,
unhappily too much in use among monks who
govern. I flatter myself, from the high opinion I
have of your merit, that you will never bring an
accusation against any one, without having fre
quently warned him, and giving him previous in
formation of your design. Be fearful of disco-
vering the guilty, and humble yourself when yoa
do meet with them, by the consideration that man
of himself is incapable of doing any good. Be
affable : we lose much in the estimation of those
we govern when we are too reserved. In a word,
be what you wished a Provincial should be, when
you were an inferior; for too frequently we re
quire of others what we are unwilling to do our
selves. Discriminate offences by their motives,
by circumstances, and remember that if there be
some which ought to be punished, there are others
which should not be seen, because every one has
his imperfections.

Let your secrets be few, and when you impart
them, let it not be by halves, for your confidants
will guess the rest, and are not obliged to keep
the secret. Have no predilection for one more

LETTERS. 67

than another, unless it be for some one of distin
guished merit. We are in such a case authorised
by the example of Jesus Christ himself, who ma
nifested a particular affection for St. Peter and
St. John.

In short enter the monasteries like a beneficent
dew, so that people may regret the time when you
shall be no longer in office, and say of you —
Transiit b€nefacic7ido9 (He went about doing good.)

Love me as I love you, and consider this letter
as the transcript of my heart.

My compliments to our common friends, and
especially to our respectable old man, whose
good advice has been very useful to me, and to
wards whom my gratitude is immortal.

Rome, 3 1st January, 1751.

LETTER XVII.

TO THE MARCHIONESS, R * * *.

Madam,

IT is doubtless distressing to your dear relation,
the Count, that you are unwilling to be reconciled
to him, notwithstanding the humble and touching
letter he wrote you, and the visit he paid to you,

Is it thus then that God acts with respect to us ?
and what will the public think of your piety when
they see you so incensed as to reject the prodigal
•on. For my part, madam, who have not your
virtue, I ran after him, as soon as I heard he had
gone astray, and I hope God will reward me for
it.

You continually say, Madam, that he has lost
a great deal of money, in short that he is a bad
man. But what is the loss of gold itself that it
should give you such poignant grief? Your chief
regret should be that he has abused his good
qualities; and consider that if he be really a bad
man, he has more need than ever of the advice
and example of the good.

LETTERS. 09

It is a very mistaken idea of religion, that a
young man is to be forsaken because he has com
mitted some errors.

Ah ! how do you know, madam, but that this
profligate may to-morrow be accepted of God,
whilst your services may displease him? for there
needs indeed but one grain of pride, to spoil the
best action. The Pharisee who fasted twice a
week was rejected, and the Publican who
humbled himself was justified.

Charity, with respect to all men, is always
charity; this I will ever maintain, and it is per
fectly consonant with the morals taught in all
Christian schools and in all pulpits.

Were the mercy of God to depend on certain
devotees, sinners would be much to be pitied.
False devotion knows only an exterminating zeal ;
whilst God, full of patience, goodness, long-suf
fering, waits for amendment of life in all those
who have prevaricated.

The blood even of Jesus Christ calls for your
kindness towards your dear relation ; and it is
setting no value upon it to refuse him an entrance
into your house.

How do you know, madam, but that his sal
vation is connected with the crimes of which he
now repents? God frequently permits great dis-

70

orders, to arouse man from his lethargy. You
cannot be ignorant that there is more joy in
heaven at the conversion of one sinner, than over
the ninety and nine just persons who need no re
pentance. Will you then cherish resentment,
whilst the angels rejoice. This would be a dread
ful kind of piety.

I tremble for all the devotees who are so rigid,
for God himself assures us that he will treat us
as we have treated others. Have the goodness to
rc'ad the Epistle of Paul to Philemon, with
respect to Onesimus, and you will know, madam,
whether it be your duty to pardon.

It is not for us to decide whether the heart of
a man who appears seriously 10 examine himself,
be changed. Besides that God alone knows it
we ought always to presume it. Would you
think, madam, that your neighbours dealt fairly
by you, if, being witnesses of your good works,
they pretended you only acted from pride? Let
us leave to the searcher of consciences the care
of deciding on the motive by which we are actu
ated. The brother of the Prodigal Son is con
demned in the eyes of Religion and of Humanity,
for not being properly affected at his return.

If I were your Confessor, although this office
is not compatible with my labours or my taste,

LETTERS. 71

I would prescribe to you, in order to appease
your anger, to write to him who is so odious to
you, to see him frequently, and even on condition
of forgetting what is past.

If our piety he regulated by caprice, it is but a
phantom of virtue ; and indeed, madam, I pre
sume that yours has charity for its basis; for I
never judge uncharitably of my neighbour.

Should my letter, contrary to my intention,
appear to border on the severe, consider that it is
less on ydur relation's account than your own that
I have addressed you in this manner, for your
salvation depends upon it. Should you not par
don him, when it is presumed God himself has
forgiven him ? I cannot persuade myself it is so.

I have the honour to be,

Madam, with respect.

72 UANQANELLi's

LETTER XVIII.

TO M. DE CABANE.

You will persevere then, Sir, in the resolution*
of burying yourself at La Trappe, and in thus
putting it out of my power to address any thing
to you but your epitaph. Since it is your de
termination, I shall not oppose it ; as you are an
experienced person, and are advanced beyond the
age when inconsiderate steps are taken.

The men of the world will ridicule you; but
what do they not ridicule ? I know no person's
work, undertaking, and even no virtue, which has
not its censors. This should console Religious
Orders for the hatred manifested against them,
and the contempt with which people speak of
them.

Too many eulogies were bestowed upon them
on their first appearance, a counterbalance was
necessary to keep them humble. The founders
had only good intentions in the formation of the
different institutions found in the bosom of the
Church, and even the dress they gave to their

LETTERS. 73

Disciples, which the world conceives to be whim
sical, proves their wisdom and piety. They
thought it the means of hindering Friars from
mixing with laymen, and excluding them from
profane assemblies. It was natural thai a people
who embraced a kind of life entirely different from
the customs of the age, should have particular
dresses.

Thus are they justified in this respect. Ah !
how easy would it be for me to make an apology
for them, were I not myself a Monk ! Let their
rules be read, their customs examined, and it
must be acknowledged that all that is recom
mended, all that is observed in their cloisters,
leads to God.

If they have fallen from their first estate, it is
because all men are weak, and after a certain
time, the greatest fervour abates. But nothing
scandalous ever became a law in religious Orders ;
there is always in every monastery some one who
protests against irregularities and abuses.

Those who continually rail at the Monks, who
wish their possessions to be seized, and that they
be banished from ail states, are certainly ignorant
that they were introduced into the different king
doms by kings themselves, who idolized them, and
loaded them with kindness. They do not con-
E

74

sider that if the acts of princes are not sacred,
nothing in the world will be spared ; that in short,
these monks whom they treat so harshly, gained
by the sweat of their brow, their vigils and their
labours, the bread which nourishes them.

Their pretended rapacity is only a calumny.
The Benedictines acquired their wealth by cul
tivating the wastes and the vineyard of the Lord, in
periods when corruption and ignorance committed
the greatest ravages. The first disciples of St.
Dominique, of St. Francis d'Assisi, of St. Francis
de Paul, asked nothing from monarchs, whilst
they maintained the greatest intimacy with them,
and could obtain every thing : of which their
present indigence is a proof.

I know that some monasteries, by their mis
conduct have become corrupt and need reform ;
but the accusation should neither attach to the
monastic rules nor to the founders. A man who
lives as he ought in cloisters, must ever obtain
the esteem and deserve the attachment of all good
men : for what is a true Monk, but a citizen of
heaven, who lives above the world, who offers to
God himself, in the person of his Superior, a
sacrifice of his senses and inclinations, who desires
continually the coming of the Lord : who instructs
and edifies his neighbours for their good, who

LETTERS. 75

discovers, by a countenance always cheerful, the
joy of a good conscience and the charms of
virtue ; who prays, who labours, who studies for
himself and his brethren ; who places himself
beneath all by his humility, above all, by the ele
vation of his hopes and desires ; who possesses
nothing but a peaceful mind; who wishes for
nothing but heaven ; who lives only to die, and
dies only to live again in eternity.

Such, my dear Sir, will be your future cha
racter after a little instruction, since you will no
longer have intercourse with men. This is the
only thing which concerns me, for I am parti
cularly fond of a man's being useful to his
neighbour.

Time, which is to mankind in general an over
whelming burden, will not prove so to you.
Every minute will seem a step to bring you nearer
heaven; and night itself will appear to you as
light as the day through the intercourse you will
then maintain with God. Et nox sicut dies illu-
mmabitur, (And the night shall be light as the
day.)

You will not hear the bell which will call you

to prayers, merely as a bell, but as the voice of

God ; you will not obey your Abbe as a mere

man, but as one who is in the place of Jesus Christ

E 2

76 GANGANELLl's

himself, and who speaks to you in his name ; you
will not consider repentance as a task which
cannot be dispensed with, but as a holy pleasure
which will constitute your delight.

You will omit none of the most minute regula
tions which subdue the spirit and oppose the will,
for a Monk maintains fervour, and preserves him
self from ennui only by practising exactly what
is recommended to him, and thus, Sir, you will
preserve the liberty of the children of God, by
doing heartily and with a good will, what appears
to be required of you.

I shall be happy to see you according to
promise, having no greater satisfaction than to be
with the true servants of God, and so much the
more ais they are now extremely rare.

I can add nothing, &c.

LETTERS.

LETTER XIX.

TO THE BISHOP OF SPOLETTO.

My Lord,

WHAT you sent me on the Relics of the Saints,
does honour to your discernment and your re
ligion. There are really two rocks which a true
Catholic must avoid, that of believing too much,
and not believing enough. "Were we to give
credit to all the relics shewn in every country, we
should frequently persuade ourselves that one sain'
had ten heads or ten arms.

This abuse, which has acquired for us the ap.
pellation of superstitious, t has happily taken root
only among the ignorant. We know, thank
Heaven, in Italy, (and the clergy repeat it often
enough) that the mediation of Jesus Christ alone
is absolutely necessary ; and that that of the Saints,
as the Council of Trent formally declares, is only
good and useful.

The relics of the blessed deserve all our venera
tion, as precious remains which will one clay be
gloriously reanimated ; but we acknowledge in
honouring them, that they have not in lheins>elvcs

78

any virtue, and that it is Jesus Christ of whom
they are in a manner fragments, and the Holy
Spirit, whose true temples they are, which com
municates to them a celestial impression capable
of performing the greatest wonders.

The worship we owe to God is, however, too
frequently distracted by that which we pay to the
saints. Hence it is wisely ordered in Rome, that
relics should not be placed on the altar where the
Venerabile (the Holy Sacrament) is deposited, for
fear of attracting the attention.

Our religion which is so spiritual and sublime,
is unjustly accused of countenancing abuses, the
least vestige of which is not to be found in cathe
drals or ancient monasteries.

If a person condescend to listen to the ignorant,
who do not seek instruction, there will be no
statue but has spoken, no saint but has raised the
dead, no corpse but has reappeared ; but the
enemies of the Catholic religion frequently impute
to the Roman Church, the apocryphal facts to
which superstition continually gives vent. It is
in vain to argue with the common people, they do
not recover from their obstinacy, when they are
persuaded of something contrary to the doctrines
of the whole church.

I lately obliged an Englishman to confess, that

LETTERS. 79

the Protestants made it their business to charge us
continually with absurdities, which we reject, and
that their manner of judging us was unfair.

Italy had always pastors who lamented the
credulity of weak, and the incredulity of strong
minds. It is not by the belief of the common
people that the man of sense judges of the Faith
of a country ; but by the dogmas it teaches, either
by the catechisms or in the public instructions.

It would be very singular if i\ome, the sovereign
and mother of all the churches ; that Rome, the
centre of truth, and unity, should teach absurdities.
It is worthily revenged, my Lord, in the work
you have sent me ; I entreat you to publish it, to
shut the mouths of the enemies of the holy See,
and to shew the whole world, that if there be
superstitions in Italy, perhaps more than else
where, it is because the people there have a more
exalted imagination, and consequently more ready
to embrace without reflection, whatever presents
itself to the mind. Take care of your health,
notwithstanding ihe zeal which devours you, and
deign to believe me, with infinite respect,

My Lord, &c.
Rome, IJth Jan. 17 51.

CANGANELLl's

LETTER XX.

TO MADAME B. A VENETIAN LADY.

Madam,

You do me too much honour in asking my opi
nion respecting your elegant translation of Locke.
Is it possible that in the heart of a city as much
immersed in pleasure as in water, a person of
your rank should fathom the depths of metaphy
sics ? The greatest proof, that our soul frees itself
from the senses, and consequently that it is spi
ritual, is, when it shakes off matter.

I have read and re-perused, with the greatest
attention, the valuable manuscript in which you
have so nobly displayed the beauties of our lan
guage, and converted with so much elegance,
the barren field of philosophy, into an agreeable
parterre. The English philosopher would indeed
be proud, could he see himself clad with so much
taste in an Italian costume.

I should wish, had it been possible, that your
ladyship had expunged from his work, the pas
sage in which Locke asserts that matter is capable

LETTERS. 81

of thought. This is not the reflection of a philo
sopher who has reflected much. The faculty of
thought can properly belong only to a being ne
cessarily spiritual and reflective. Matter will
never have the privilege of thinking, any more
than darkness of enlightening, both imply a con
tradiction, but people had rather say absurdities,
than not say something extraordinary.

1 congratulate my country more than ever, on
its always having had learned women. It would
not be amiss to make a collection of their works
and rare qualities. The translation of Locke
would hold a distinguished place among them,
and the more so as you have discovered the se
cret of employing occasionally a poetical style, to
enliven philosophy, which commonly contracts the
brow, and seldom expresses herself but in tech
nical language.

I entreat you, madam, to publish this work,
were it only to prove to strangers, that the sciences
are always in repute amongst us, and that the fe
males here are not so frivolous as is represented.

How did you discover me in the crowd in which
my small share of merit has placed me ? There
are many Academicians, and especially at Bo
logna; whose opinion may be considered better
than mine. A person is not a philosopher because
£ 3

82

he has professed philosophy, and especially that of
Scotus, whose captious subtilty is nothing but a
continual quibble.

There is more subtilty in one page of our Meta
physicians of the last century, than all the books
of Aristotle and of Scotus. It is not the same
frith Plato, who, in such a time as this, would
have been an excellent philosopher, and very pro
bably a true Christian. I find him full of com
prehensive materials. He extended his views to
the Deity, without their being obscured by the
clouds of the ancients.

I could wish, madam, that in the latter pages of
your translation, there were no play upon words,
which are a disgrace to it. What is majestic in
itself has no need of frail charms. Cicero would
no longer be what he is, were he to be made to
speak like Seneca. Excuse my frankness, but
you love truth, and this quality is greater in my
eyes than all the rest which adorn you.

If you can diffuse at Venice a taste for philo
sophy you will work a great miracle. It is a
country in which is much mind, even among the
artisans ; but pleasure is there a fifth element, to
which they sacrifice their rest and their time,
except among the senators, who are so much oc
cupied, that they may be called the slaves of the

LETTERS. 83

nation. The people give themselves up entirely
to amusement, whilst they labour. But I perceive
I am insensibly getting on the topic of government ;
and my letter would soon be guilty of the crime
of treason. I know how ticklish the most serene
republic is with respect to every thing relating to
its ways and customs, as well as to its laws.

I will therefore confine myself, madam, to
telling you, what will not be contradicted, and
will be conformable to the sentiments of the whole
senate; that the respect due to your mind, your
birth, your virtues, is inexpressible, as well as that
with which I have the honour to be, &c.

84

LETTER XXI.

TO THE REV. FATHER LOUIS OF CREMONA, A
FRIAR OF THE PIOUS SCHOOLS.

My Reverend Father,

To take Bourdaloue for your model in preaching,
is to be a candidate for immortality. We wanted
an orator of your talents and courage, to reform
our pulpit style. We are poets in our sermons
rather than orators ; and unfortunately, more fre
quently pantomimical than pathetic ; whereas the
word of God requires the noblest eloquence and
the greatest circumspection.

I am astonished at the manner in which you
have translated some volumes of Bourdaloue : I
doubt not but our most holy Father will be en
chanted with your labours, I know how much he
desires a reformation in our sermons. He does
not indeed wish Italian eloquence to become
French ; each language has its peculiar beauties :
but he would prefer that an evangelical style
should be christianized, and not disfigured by
«xtravagance.

LETTERS. 85

The mouth of a preacher is indeed the mouth
of God. Alas ! then, what must we think of him
who can utter buffooneries and trifles.

He who cannot find in the sacred scriptures
and the works of the Fathers wherewith to move
his auditors, is not fit to preach. There are no
finer images of the greatness and mercy of God,
than in the Psalms and Canticles, no histories
more touching than those of Joseph, of Moses, of
the Maccabees ; no examples of divine justice
more striking than the punishment of Nadab and
Abihu, and that of Belshazzar, who saw a dread
ful hand writing his condemnation on the wall in
awful characters.

In all the books in the world we find no traits
of eloquence equal to the reflections of Job ; the
attempt to paraphrase enervates them. If the
choicest parts of the scriptures were collected,
and adapted to the subject, they would form a
delightful discourse. St. Paul, a most pathetic
and sublime writer, employs only the language of
scripture in his epistles, and they are admirable.

We must burn the greater part of our old col
lections of sermons in order to form the taste of
our young preachers. There they search for
apocryphal facts, and pagan quotations, and
acquire a truly ridiculous style. Feelings of grief

86

or terror, which are excited merely by the excla-
clamations, tones, or gesture of a preacher, will
prove but transient impressions ; they are peals of
thunder, which lead the hearers to cross them
selves, and the next moment excites a smile.

If your method, my reverend Father, be intro
duced amongst us, you will be the restorer of
Christian eloquence, and will be blessed by those
who know you.

I had for my spiritual father, a Monk filled
with the Spirit of God, and who was grieved
whenever he heard certain preachers. When he
preached to us himself, it was his heart which
spoke ; and he consequently made a deep impres
sion upon his audience.

It will afford me the greatest pleasure to see
you, when you will honour me with one of your
visits ; I shall have nothing to do but to listen to
you.

I endeavour in the midst of my daily occu
pations, always to reserve some moments of leisure
for myself and friends. The mind has need of
this respite, in order to return to labour. The
sciences are mountains which cannot be ascended
without taking breath.

Take care of yourself, less on your own account
than on ours, who wish to read, hear, and admire

LETTERS. 87

you. It is with a desire, so conformable to the
wishes of religion and of the country, that I have
the honour to be in all the plenitude of my heart,
your very humble, &c.
Convent of Holy Apostles, 1st March, 1753.

P.S. With respect to the reformation you mention
in the Breviary, it would be adviseable to
request the Holy Father seriously to apply
himself to this object. I am not, however, of
your opinion, as to the distribution of the
Psalms, I should think it right, were I con
sulted, to Iqave the " Beati immaculati in
t'ia" to be repeated every day. It is a con
tinual protestation of an inviolable attach
ment to the law of God, which is better put
into the mouths of the ministers of God,
than certain psalms, which are obscure,
enigmatical, and frequently unintelligible to
the greater part of the priests.
I would also have the prayers as they are : you
will tell me frequent repetition has its evils.
But may not the same inconvenience be ap
prehended from the prayers of the Mass,
when it is celebrated every day.
The notes you sent me on the " Imitation" are
admirable.

88 CANGANELLl's

LETTER XXII.

TO COUNT * * *.

I OWE you a library, my dear friend, but you
must pay for it. I promised to give you a list of
necessary books, and I will now keep my word.
This list will be short, since it is not a- multiplicity
of books which constitutes a learned man. It is
of little importance to read much ; but it is essen
tially important to read well.

The first book which I put at the head of your
library, is the gospel, as that is the most necessary
and sacred. It is right that a work which forms
tiie principle and basis of religion should be the
basis of your reading.

You will there learn what we owe to God, and
the wisdom and goodness of the Mediator in
whom we trust, and who by his blood has recon
ciled earth and Heaven.

You have been in possession of this book
almost from your infancy, but from the little at
tention you have hitherto paid to it, it will now
excite in your mind sentiments entirely novel.

LETTERS. 89

The gospel when studied with due attention,
appears really to be the language of God. We
do not find there that oratorical emphasis which
characterizes the rhetorician, or those syllogistical
arguments which designate the philosopher ; all is
simple, all is within the comprehension of man,
all is divine.

I particularly recommend your reading the
epistles of St. Paul. JSIot only will they inspire
you with an aversion for false professors, and for
the false devotees, who under an appearance of
piety ruin the spirit cf it ; but they will £1! you
with that universal charity which embraces all,
and which, better than all the masters in the
world, renders us good parents, good friends,
good citizens. We learn in the school of the
Apostle all the economy of religion, its length, its
breadth, its depth, its height; in short, the ex
cellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ, who
would be universally adored if he were more
known, and by whom both the intellectual and
material worlds were made.

The Psalter should be familiar to you, as the
work of the Holy Spirit, a work, which warms at
the same time that it enlightens the mind, and
which surpasses in sublimity all the poets and
orators.

GANGANELLl's

It is not adviseable to overcharge yourself with
these writings. The sacred scriptures should not
be read without great reflection and reserve ; for
besides that each text " may form the subject of
ample meditation, the word of God deserves a
different kind of respect than that which is paid to
man.

Take care to procure the Confessions of Sf.
Augustin, a book written with his tears, and ad
dressed rather to the heart than to the head. To
this you should join the collection of select pieces
from the fathers of the church, that you may
know from experience that Christian eloquence
alone can truly elevate the soul, and that you may
be persuaded that it is a thousand times more
sublime than all profane oratory, because its
object is God himself, the source of all greatness.

The Imitation of Jesus Christ is "a work too
full of unction and wisdom to be omitted. It is,
notwithstanding what all commentators have said
respecting it, an Italian production, (Gersen, Abbe
de Verceil being its author) in which will be found
all that can edify the soul. Make frequent use of
it, as a work the most replete with consolation for
every situation in life.

Study attentively the Introduction to the Chris
tian Doctrine, a work by Father Gerdil, a Bar-

i

LETTERS. Of

nubile, as a book which you cannot read too fre
quently; and connect the history of the Church
with that of empires and nations ; taking due care
not to confound them in your recollections and
ideas. We must always leave to the mind the
perspicuity which is necessary to judge with
wisdom and precision. When you are better ac
quainted with the French language, I would advise
your reading Bossuet's Universal History, and
Pascal's thoughts on the truths of religion.

The Annals of Italy by the immortal Muratori,
the History of Naples, by Giannone; the Cam~
paigns of Don Carlos, by Buonamici, the period
ical papers of the Abbe L'Ami, are so many works
you should read not to teach you decision, but to
think well.

I do not mtlition books of natural history and
antiquities; they are subjects of which no on«
should be ignorant.

You will remember, my dear friend, that
Cicero, Virgil, Horace, trod the soil we now in
habit; that they breathed the same air which we
breathe, and that as fellow countrymen, we should
occasionally read their writings, especially as they
are full of exquisite beauties. You have had a
good education, and it will be easy for you now
and then to enjoy their agreeable conversation.

I do not forbid your reading our modern poets,
provided you read them with caution, and do not
run headlong into all their labyrinths, grottos, and
groves; these are not the places for a Christian
mind. I do not wish you to continue long with
the Goddesses of Fable; they are mere fiction?,
but they conduct too frequently to realities.

I should be better pleased to see you with
Pliny's letters, the Meditations of Marcus Aure-
lius, or of Seneca. Sentiments of humanity may
be derived from them which cannot be too much
cultivated*

This is, my dear friend, all the library to which
I would limit you ; because I am of opinion, that
books should be had for use and not for osten
tation. You may add to them Cardinal Bentivo-
glio's letters.

1 refer you neither to legends, nor to mystical
books. You will find the principal saints in the
history of the church ; and the account given of
them in the Apocryphal Books would serve per
haps, only to make you doubt the miracles they
wrought, and to diminish the respect due to them.
Great men should be viewed only as a whole, and
truth needs no support to make it respected.

If I have not mentioned to you books on philo
sophy, it is because 1 do not wish to send you

LETTERS. 93

again to school to adopt systems, and learn the
art of disputation. 1 should fear lest you might
adopt some strange opinion ; and to speak impar.
tially, we cannot with safety embrace any senti
ment of the schools.

Philosophy has given rise to more sophisms
than reasonings; and it is sufficient for you to
have an exact knowledge of the earth and
heavens ; a clear and precise idea of our duties,
our origin, our destiny, that you may be a true
philosopher. Reflect in the midst of your exer
cises and studies on these great objects ; and when
you shall have decided on a profession, it will
then be proper to point out the means of preparing
yourself for its duties.

Good night, my pen can go no further; my
head, fatigued by the incessant labours of the day,
obliges me to stop. My heart alone always feels
full of vigour, when it is employed in assuring
you how much I am, &c.

Rome, 31st Dec. 1751.

GAKGANELLl's

LETTER XXIII.

TO A MONK SETTING OUT FOR AMERICA.

THE seas then will soon separate us; such is the
lot of man in the present life. Some are thrown
to the extremities of the world, whilst others always
remain in the same place. This, however, is
certain, that my heart follows yours, and that
wherever you may be it will find you out.

If you were not established in piety, I should
tremble exceedingly for you, in a passage where
all the words that will be uttered, will not be those
of edification, and in a country where all the
examples you will behold, will not be models of
virtue. America is the terrestrial paradise, where
the forbidden fruit is frequently eaten. There the
serpent continually extols the love of riches and
pleasures, and the heat of the climate causes the
passions to boil.

We are so unhappy in the present state as not
to know how to restrain ourselves, when we
perceive no other Superior than God, unless indeed
a lively faith be the principle of our actions ; and

LETTEftS. 95

thus it is with the Monks resident in America ;
having none to preside over and to command them,
they are lost, if the gospel reign not in their hearts.
You will, I am persuaded, frequently seek
strength of God, that you may be preserved from
all dangers. However inclined the negroes may
be to gross vices, there is good to be done amongst
them, when you can gain their confidence, and
impress them with a certain degree of fear.

Consider that God will be as near you in -
America as in Europe, that his eye sees every
thing, that his justice will judge all, and that it is
for him alone you are called to act. Lead a
laborious and regular life, for if unhappily idleness
should possess you, every other vice will soon
assail you, and you will be no longer able to defend
yourself against them.

Never suffer a word to escape you which may
be interpreted against Religion and morality.
Even those who appear to applaud, will really
despise you, as an unfaithful servant, who laughs
at the master whose bread he cats and whose livery
he wears.

May God preserve you from covetousncss. A
priest who loves money, and especially a Monk
who has taken a vow of poverty, is worse than a
wicked rich man, and deserves to be more rigor
ously treated.

96 GANGANELLl's

Finally be social, and \vin the affections of your
parishioners by many kindnesses ; let them see
that you are governed by true piety and not by
caprice. Do not meddle with secular affairs,
except with a view to accommodate differences
and re-establish peace. I will pray for you to
Him who commands the waves, who stills the
tempests, and who never leaves" his people, in
whatever country they may be found. My con
solation is that souls know no distance, and that
by the ties of Religion and of the heart, we are
always neighbours.

Adieu, adieu ; I embrace you tenderly.

LETTERS,

LETTER XXIV.

TO THE COUNT OF ***.

S
IF scruples possess you, my dear friend, you are

lost; you will relapse into dissipation, or you will
only serve God as a slave. Remember that the
Jewish law was a law of fear, but that the New,
is a law of love. The clay tenement to which our
soul is attached, does not allow us to attain to an
angelic perfection. .

We degrade religion, when we give our attention
to trifles. There will be distractions in prayer, so
long as men shall continue to pray ; faults in their
conduct, as long as they are capable of acting,
because all men are subject to error and vanity.
OWT?ZS homo mendax»

Only false devotees are scandalized at, and see
Satan in every thing. Fulfil the law without any
labour of the mind, without any effort of the
imagination, and you will be accepted of God.
Nothing retards the soul so much in the way of
piety, as ill understood scruples. As too much
solitude cherishes illusions, and society dissipates

them, frequent the company of the good, instead
of being alone. Besides, be not discouraged when
you are tempted, for temptation is a test by which
we learn to distrust ourselves, and encreases our
excellence of character.

Come and see me, and we will endeavour to
discover together the sources of those scruples
which torment you. I have nothing more at heart
than to see you a good Christian ; but I should be
grieved if you were to become scrupulous : then
every thing would wound you, and you would
become insupportable to yourself.

I have always forgotten to speak to you about
your good relation. Thus does my forgctfulness
continually play me sad tricks, but my heart is
not accountable for them. The Marchioness more
startled than convinced by my remonstrances,
knows not how to act. When devotion hesitates
about a reconciliation, we must only look for
suspicious demonstrations of friendship. But as
in the case of a bad debt we take all we can get,
you must content yourself with whatever slight
attentions your dear relation may think fit to shew
you.

Persevere, my dear friend, persevere. I am
animated by your courage, and am delighted that
you are satisfied with the guide which I have

LETTERS.

given you. Is he not a truly worthy man, and
one who leads safely to God ? He has wonderful
skill in penetrating into the minds of others, and
a happy method of acquiring their confidence.

I approve of your reserving something for
charities, but I do not like the plan of giving drop
by drop; or of subjecting oneself to rules in the
distribution of charities, so as to have no reserve
for cases of extreme distress.

It is better to pluck one or two families from
misery, than to scatter abroad many crowns which
comfort no one. And besides, it is proper always
to have a sum in reserve for extraordinary causes ;
by this management we may remedy the most
pressing evils.

Do not practise that contracted devotion which,
without regarding either birth or extraction, would
oblige every person to clothe himself and to live
like the meanest of the people.

Chanty is humiliating to no one, and it knows
how to proportion itself to circumstances and con
ditions. Giving with pride is still worse than giv.
ing nothing. Distribute your alms so as to appear
more humble than he who receives. Religion is
too noble to approve of those little minds who
mingle pride with the obligations they confer, and

F 9.

100 GANGANELLl'S

who make the importance of their services to be
felt.

Do not content yourself with giving, but lend
also to the needy, according to the precepts of
Scripture. I know of nothing so contemptible as
money, if it be not employed in assisting our
neighbours. Is the insipid pleasure of amassing
wealth, to be compared with the satisfaction of
making others happy, and to the felicity of attain
ing Heaven.

When you are economical without avarice, ge
nerous without prodigality, I shall then consider
you as a rich man who is within the possibility of
salvation. Prevent wants, without waiting till you
are asked.

Adieu! it appears to me superfluous to repeat
to you at the end of this letter, that I am your
best friend and most humble servant. Certainly
you do not doubt it, or you would do me a great
injury.
Home, \9th4pril, 1752.

LETTERS. 101

LETTER XXV,

TO THE SAME.

You ask me why there are days in which, aban
doned to melancholy, without knowing the cause,
we become a burden to ourselves ? and I answer,

First, that it is because of our dependence on
a body which is not always in perfect equilibrium.

Secondly, because God would make us sensible
that this world is not our happiness: and that we
shall always be uneasy, till v/e quit it. which
made the Apostle continually long for eternal pos
sessions.

There are vapours in the moral as well as the
physical wond ; and the soul, like the sky, has its
clouds.

The best way to dissipate this gloom is to love
employment. \Ye have no leisure either to be sad,
or weary, when we are seriously engaged. Study
is the element of the mind. You will not be a
burden either to others or to yourself, said Seneca,
if you love study. It is inconceivable, how many
miserable quarters of an hour there are, in th<t

102 GANGANELLl's

course of our lives, from which employment re
lieves us. You will not be happy in this world,
except you know how to wile away your sorrows.
He who has no troubles, either has had, or will
have them, because labours and griefs are the he
ritage of our first father, from which we cannot
hope entirely to preserve ourselves.

I am heartily, &c.
Rome, 19th April, 1752.

LETTERS.

103

LETTER XXVI.

TO MADAME FIGLIANI.

IT is not a matter of indifference to keep your two
daughters with you; the maternal relation imposes
on you the most important duties. The world will
continually intervene between you and your chil
dren, if you do not take care to banish it, not with
that austerity which only excites murmurs, but
with that wisdom which gains confidence.

Your daughters will only be hypocrites if you
Wd them with instructions, and if you render
their situation uncomfortable, whereas they will
love Religion, if by your example and by your
amiableness you possess the art of rendering it
lovely.

Those who have arrived at twenty years of age
cannot be managed like children of ten years old,
There are modes of discipline suited to different
ages as well as to different conditions.

Cherish in them as much as possible a taste for
good rending and industry, but with that indul
gence which does not ask an account of every

fiANGANELLl's

minute, and that spirit of discernment, which will
make a difference between a secular house and a
monastery.

Establish your daughters according to their cir
cumstances and rank, not forcing their inclina
tions, lest they should wish to form alliances with
vicious and dissipated characters. Marriage is the
natural state of all men ; there are, however, ex
ceptions to the rule when it may be dispensed
with.

While you avoid an undue conformity to the
world, do not ridicule too freely its customs. Piety
becomes a subject of raillery, when it is exhibited
under a singular exterior. A wise Woman will
avoid rendering herself remarkable.

When our birth requires us to adopt a certain
style of dress, we should conform to it, but always
with that decency which modesty would dictate.

Take care that your daughters enter into society.
True devotion is neither rough nor austere. If not
rightly understood solitude will but irritate the pas
sions; and as for young people, it is frequently
more safe for them to visit a select society, than
to be alone. Promote cheerfulness, that your
piety may not appear forced. Let your recrea
tions consist in walks and innocent diversions, and
when the season of application arrives* let it not

LETTERS. 105

be devoted to those profound studies or to those
abstract sciences which frequently render the sex
vain and talkative.

Especially make yourself beloved by them ; it
is the greatest pleasure to which a mother can
aspire, and the highest prerogative she can enjoy,
to do good to her children according to their
\yishes.

Your domestics should possess religion and
honesty : they are capable of doing any thing when
they do not fear God. We should behave towards
them neither with pride nor with familiarity, but
treat them both as men and as inferiors. Justice
is the mother of order; every thing is in its
proper place when equity is observed.

Never punish but with sorrow, and always
pardon with pleasure.

Frequent your parish church, that the sheep
may be often found with their pastor; this practice
accords no less with the holy Canons, than with
ancient custom.

Your wisdom will teach you the rest. I rely
much on your understanding and good intentions ;
as you may be perfectly assured from the respectful

consideration with which 1 have the honour to be,

6 ' ' '

£c.

Rome, 1 5th Nov. 1754.

r 3

106 •ANGANELLl's

LETTER XXVII.

TO COUNT ALGAROTTI.

CONTRIVE, my dear Count, so that in spite of
your philosophy I may see ycu in heaven; for I
should be grieved to lose sight cf you throughout
eternity.

You are one of those few individuals who are
so distinguished by their genius and their hearts,
that we cannot know them without wishing to love
them even beyond the grave. No one has more
reason than you to be convinced of the spirituality
and immortality of the soul. Years are gliding
away both with respect to the philosopher and the
peasant, and what will be their termination, must
surely deserve the attention of every reflecting
mind.

You will confess, that I know how to accom
modate my discourses, so as not to disgust a cul
tivated mind, and that if it were usual to preach
thus briefly, thus affectionately, you would some
times listen to the preacher : but it is not sufficient
:o hear, truth must enter the heart, it must

LETTERS. 107

vegetate there, and the amiable Algarotti must
become as good a Christian as he is a philosopher ;
and I shall then be doubly his servant and friend.
Rome, Mth Dec, 1754.

108

LETTER XXVIII.

TO MSnor. ROTA, SECRETARY OF FINANCE.

I THINK, my Lord, that to enable us to enjoy each
other's society, there should he a fixed time of
meeting, I entreat you to inform me of it, and I
will certainly not fail to observe it.

There is nothing I more regret than the time
lost in the anti-chambers. Time is the most
precious gift God has given to us, and man wastes
it with a profusion as unnatural as surprising.

Time, alas, is a species of property frequently
pillaged, every one takes from us a portion of it,
and notwithstanding all my endeavour to keep it,
I see it escape from my hands ; and scarcely can
I exclaim, it is going, ere it has already passed.

I wait your orders to come to your house, and
to tell you that if there are particular seasons for
seeing you, there are none in which I am not, with
as much attachment as respect, my Lord,

Your very humble, &c.

Rome, 3d Jan, 1754.

LETTERS. 109

LETTER XXIX.

TO M. * * * CHIEF MAGISTRATE ( Gonfd-

lonier) IN THE REPUBLIC OF ST. MARIN.

My very dear Friend,

ALTHOUGH you are only the little sovereign of
a very small state, you have a soul which renders
you equal to the greatest princes. It is not the
extent of empires which constitutes the merit of
their possessors ; the father of a family may have
many virtues and a Gonfalonier of St. Marin great
reputation.

I find nothing so delightful as to be at the head
of a small canton scarcely perceptible on a geo
graphical chart, where neither discords nor war
are known, where there is no storm but when the
sky is darkened, no ambilion but that of preserving
oneself in retirement and mediocrity; where all
the property is common, because the people assist
each other.

Oh how this little spot of earth charms me !
how delightful to live there ! and npt in the midst
of the tumult which agitates great cities, not in the

110

midst of grandeur which oppresses the poor, not
in the midst of luxury, which corrupts the soul
and dazzles the eye ! It is a place where I would
willingly fix my tabernacle, and where my heart
has long been, by reason of the friendship I bear
you.

There is no greater burden than sovereignty,
but yours is so light, that it occasions no em
barrassment; especially when I compare it to
those monarchies, which cannot be governed
without, as it were, multiplying oneself, and turn
ing the eyes in every direction.

All persons conspire secretly against a prince,
who is at the head of a vast kingdom. At the
time he persuades himself that they are paying
him court, they endeavour to deceive him. If he
be irregular, he is flattered in his excesses ; if he
be pious, they play the hypocrite, and laugh at
religion ; if he be cruel, they affirm that he is just,
and he never hears the truth.

He must frequently descend into the recesses of
his own heart to seek it. But how is he to be
pitied if it cannot be found there ! The only
reason, why history contains the reigns of so many
bad princes, is because they preferred to live
estranged from the truth. This is the only good
friend of kings when they are willing to hear her,

LETTERS. Ill

but they frequently mistake her office, considering
her only as an importunate monitor, whom they
must either expel or punish.

For myself, who have loved her from my ten-
derest infancy, it seems to me that I should always
love her, even though she told me the most re
pulsive things. She resembles those bitter me
dicines, which are unpleasant to the taste but
salubrious. She is better known at St. Marin
than any where else, she is seen but obliquely in
great courts, but you see her face to face, and give
her a cordial welcome.

I will not send you the book you wished to see,
it is very ill written ; badly translated from the
French, and abounds with errors against morality
and the true faith. The author only applauds
humanity (for that is the term now artfully sub
stituted for charity,) because humanity is only a
Pagan virtue, whereas charity is on the contrary
a Christian virtue. Modern philosophy will have
nothing to do with any part of Christianity, and
thereby demonstrates to reason, that it loves only
what is defective.

The ancient philosophers who were not in
structed in the faith, and had not the happiness
to know the true God, earnestly desired a reve
lation, and the moderns reject that which they

112

cannot disprove, but they thereby betray them
selves; for had they a right spirit and a clean
heart, if they were as humane as they pretend to
be, they would agree in receiving a religion which
condemns even evil desires, which expressly
commands the love of our neighbour, and which
promises an eternal reward to all those who shall
have assisted their brethren, and been faithful to
their God, their king and their country. The
virtuous man cannot hate a religion which teaches
nothing but virtue.

Thus when I continually see the words legis
lation, patriotism, and humanity, proceed from
the pens of writers who anathematize Christianity,
I say, without hesitation, " These men are
laughing at the public, and are inwardly neither
patriotic nor humane." Out of the abundance of
the heart the mouth generally speaks.

It is in this manner I would attack modern
philosophers, did I feel myself sufficiently strong
to combat them. They might inveigh against my
arguments, because I should press them closely;
but they would not complain of my vivacity. I
would speak to them as the most tender friend ;
concerned alike for their happiness and my own ;
as an impartial and faithful writer, who was ready
to acknowledge their talents, and \vlio is willing

LETTERS. 113

frequently to do justice to the brilliancy of their
genius. I have sufficient presumption to think
they would love me, although I was their an
tagonist.

I shall not execute this design, because I do
not here realize that happy tranquillity which is
tasted at St. Marin ; the quietude there enjoyed
must have in it something celestial.

This repose must, however, be fatal to the
Sciences and Belles Lettres, since I do not see in
the- immense catalogue of celebrated men, any
writers i who were citizens of St. Marin. I advis*
you to stir up your subjects, whilst you are in
office; but make haste, for it is not your reign of
which it is said, " It shall have no end." There
is genius in your country, it only remains for you
to bring it into action.

Here is a letter as long as your states, especially
if you consider the heart which has dictated it,
and in which you frequently occupy an eminent
place. Thufc do people write and love, when they
have been at College together. Adieu.

fiANGANELLl's

LETTER XXX.

TO COUNT * * *.

1 WOULD not advise you, my dear friend, to study
the mathematics, until you are confirmed in the
principles of religion. I fear lest in applying to
a science which requires demonstration, you
should follow the example of so many mathema
ticians, who insist on submitting even our mysteries
to that test. Mathematics, extensive as they are,
prove themselves but finite, as soon as they are
applied to the things of God. All the lines which
can be drawn on the earth, all the points in which
they meet, are inhnitc-ly small, in comparison with
that immense Being who admits neither of parallels
nor resemblances.

Mathematics will give you a sound mind ;
without them, a man is in want of a sure method
of rectifying his thoughts, of clothing his ideas,
and of forming correct opinions. It is easy to
perceive, in reading a book, even of morality,
whether the author be a mathematician; I have
seldom been deceived in it. The celebrated

LETTERS. 115

metaphysician, would never have com
posed his " Recherche de la Vcrite" nor the
learned Leibnitz his Theodosia, unless they had
becji mathematicians. We perceive in their pro
ductions that geometrical order, which connects
arguments, gives them energy, and above all,
method.

So excellent a thing is order, that there is
nothing in nature which docs not bear its impress,
and that without it there is no harmony. Mathe
matics also may be said to be an universal science,
which unites all others, and shews them in their
happiest relations.

The views of a mathematician are generally
coups-d'ceil, which analyze and decompose with
precision; whereas a man unacquainted with the
science of mathematicst sees objects only in a
vague and almost always uncertain manner.

Apply yourself then to the cultivation of this
science so worthy of our curiosity, and so ne.
ccssary, only not in so great a degree as to distract
your mind. We must endeavour always to main
tain self possession in whatever study we engage.

Had I your leisure and youth, I should cultivate
a more extensive acquaintance with geometry. I
have always had a predilection for that science.
The turn of my mind makes me seek with avidity

116 GANGANBLLl's

whatever is methodical, and I set but little store
by those works in which imagination alone can be
found.

We have three principal sciences, which I
compare to our three essential constituent parts.
Theology, which, by its spirituality, resembles the
soul ; Mathematics, which by their combination
and accuracy indicate Reason j and Physics,
which by their mechanical operations delineate
the body: and these three sciences, which will
perfectly harmonize, when kept within their proper
sphere, necessarily raise our thoughts towards their
Author, the source and plenitude of all knowU-dge.

I undertook, whilst at Ascoli, a work, the
object of which was to shew the perfect harmonj
of all the sciences. I developed their source,
their design, and their mutual relation ; but the
exercises, of the Cloister, and the lectures I was
obliged to, give, prevented me from finishing it.
I have some fragments of it which 1 will look for
among my papers, and you shall read them, if
they will afford you any amusement. You will
find in them some ideas, some comprehension ;
but they are mere sketches, which you must fill
up in reading, and to which you are fully com
petent.

Philosophy without geometry, is like medicine

LETTERS. 117

without chemistry. The greater part of modern
philosophers talk nonsense, only because they are
not geometricians. They take sophisms for truths,
and if they lay down right principles, they deduce
from them false consequences.

The habit of studying will not of itself produce
a scholar, nor will a knowledge of the sciences
make a philosopher. But we live in an age in
which great words are imposing; and in which
people are supposed to have genius, in proportion
as they imagine eccentricities. Those writers are
to be distrusted who attend more to words than
things, and who hazard every thing, that they may
have the satisfaction of exciting astonishment.

I will send you at the first opportunity, a work
on Trigonometry ; and, if necessary, I will prove
to you geometrically, that is to demonstration, that
I am always your best friend.

Rome', Wd June, 1753.

118 GANGANELLl's

LETTER XXXI.

not how to collect my thoughts amidst the
disorder which reigns both in my cell and in ray
head. All there is confusion, and I must write to
an author as methodical as yourself, to arrange
such a chaos.

Your last letter on Poetry would appear to me
a chef d'oeuvre, had you characterized in it the
poetical genius of each nation. The Italians are
not such poets as the English, nor the Germans
as the French. They resemble each other in their
principles, but they differ in spirit and enthusiasm.
The German poetry is a fire which enlightens ; j
the French, a fire which sparkles; the Italian, a
fire which burns ; the English, a fire which
obscures.

Too many images are crowded together in our j
poems, and they should be more sparingly used,
in order to produce a stronger impression. No- !
thing excites a reader more than surprise, and this j

LETTERS. 119

effect cannot be produced when those things which
occasion astonishment are too frequently mul
tiplied.

Happy the sober mind, which in poetry as well
as in prose, manages with delicacy episodes and
incidents. I am *oon tired with a garden in which
I see on all sides cascades and groves, whereas I
am enchanted if I discover, but as by accident,
green-houses and lakis. Violets are more es
teemed from being half concealed under a thick
foliage. A flower hidden from our view excites
more curiosity.

There are no beauties but by comparison. If
all were equally magnificent the eyes would soon
be tired of admiring them. Nature, which should
serve as a model to every writer, varies her per
spectives, so as never to fatigue the sight; the
most magnificent meadow is found in the neigh
bourhood of the simplest valley, and frequently a
charming river by the side of a bleak hill.

frequently inculcate these lessons, my dear
Abb^, to correct, if possible, in our poets, that
profusion of beauties which are but gold heaped
up without order and without taste. Your papers
are esteemed as much as your genius is ad
mired ; and when a journalist has acquired this

120 GANGANELLl's

double honour, he may speak as a master, well
assured that he will be heard.

I was a young scholar, when I lost one of my
companions to whom I was extremely attached by
sympathy. Alas ! after having taken many re
tired walks together, and made many reflections
on things which as yet we did not know, but were
desirous of learning, he died ; and I could devise
no better means of consolation than that of ad
dressing verses to my departed friend, being fully
convinced from that time, that we only change our
mode of existence when we appear to die.

I especially praised his candour and piety, for
he was an example of virtues. But this eulogy,
as I have since discovered, offended by excess of
imagery. I introduced into it all the beauties of
*he country, and did not give my reader time to
breathe. It was a tree broken down by the weight
of its branches and foliage, where no fruit could
be perceived.

Since that time I have not dared to versify. I
have contented myself with reading the poets, and
endeavouring to ascertain their principal faults
and beauties. My chief regret has been to find
that my work» so full of imperfections, would not
descend to posterity, whilst my friend deserved in
every respect the honour of being immortal.

LETTERS.

121

Never will he be banished from my heart.
Thus it is that true friends possess a sentimental
immortality, when they are not able to perpetuate
their friendship by works of genius ; such is my
situation with respect to yourself. Read this by
way of relaxation to fill up the place of that at
tachment which I have pledged to you ; and you
will find that if I be not a good writer, I am at
least a good friend and a good servant. Put me
to the proof.

Rome, IQth Dec. 1755.

122 «ANGANELLI*S

LETTER XXXII.

TO CARDINAL QUERINI BISHOP OP BRESCIA.

May it please your Eminence,
YOUR Eminence does me too much honour, and
manifests too high an opinion of my slender know
ledge, in not disdaining to enquire of me how
Theology should be studied and taught.

There was formerly but one mode of exhibiting
this sublime science, which derived from God
himself flows in the midst of the church, like the
most majestic and copious river; this was call
ed the Positive.

They were contented, no doubt from respect to
the sacred doctrine of the scriptures, councils and
fathers, simply to state to the students of The
ology the precepts of morality, and doctrines of
the Gospel. Thus the commandments of God
were formerly given without any commentary to
the Jews, and they treasured them up in their
memory and heart, as that which was most in
teresting, and constituted their highest felicity.

The Church always agitated by tempests, although
built on the holy mountain, the foundations of which

LETTERS.

123

are eternal, saw from time to time rebellious children
proceeding from its bosom, who were skilled in
sophistry ; and it was their artificial language
which obliged the defenders of the Faith to use
the syllogistical form.

The era is well known in which certain doctors
armed themselves with enthymemes and syllogisms
to drive within their last entrenchments the heretics
who disputed about the interpretation and language
of Scripture. Thomas the Angel of the Schools,
Scotus the subtle Doctor, adopted the same mode
of reasoning ; and insensibly their method, sanc
tioned by their transcendent reputation, prevailed
in the universities.

But as every thing usually degenerates, it was
no longer possible to re-establish the use of the
Positive Theology; and the manner of teaching in
the schools, which took the name of Scholastic,
turned but too frequently on distinctions and words.
They perplexed every topic by their attempts at
explanation, and frequently answered nothing by
wishing to answer every thing.

Besides that this ergotism was consistent only
with philosophy, it had the appearance of rendering
doubtful the most certain facts, and this was the
rather to be deplored, inasmuch as ridiculous
questions were agitated, and disputes were held

c 2

124

even on the mysteries of Religion, the sublime
depths of which ought to check every reflecting
mind.

However as the Scholastic mode has the advan
tage of assisting the memory, by giving a form to
reasonings, which, apart from the abuses with
which they are chargeable, never obscure sacred
truths, the reign of which is as lasting as that of
God himself, it was thought right to preserve it.

I have always thought too, my Lord, that a
modified school divinity, such as is taught at the
Sapientia at Rome, and the first schools of the
Christian world, might subsist without enervating
morality, and altering established doctrines, pro
vided the professors are perfectly enlightened, and
do not take simple opinions for articles of Faith.

Nothing is more dangerous than to propose as an
object of Faith that which rests only on opinion,
and to confound a pious belief with a revealed fact.
The true theologian uses only solid and real dis
tinctions ; and draws consequences only from clear
and precise principles.

A truth is never proved more effectually than
by the common practice of all churches. This
is a circumstance to which most of the modern
theologians have not paid sufficient attention. The
doctrine of the Eucharist never appears more
firmly established than when there is an agreement

LETTERS, 125

oji tbis subject, between the Roman Catholics and
Greek Schismatics.

In order that Theology, may be solid and lu
minous, that is, may preserve its essential attributes,
it needs only a clear and simple exposition of all
the articles of Faith, and it is then that it appears
supported by all its proofs and authorities.

If we wish, for example, to establish the truth
of the mystery of the incarnation, it is necessary
to demonstrate that as God could act only for
himself he had in view at the creation of the world
the eternal word, by whom the universe and the
ages were made ; and that in forming Adam, a&
Tertullian says, he already traced the lineaments,
of Jesus Christ* This is conformable to the
doctrine of St. Paul, who declares in the most ex
press manner, that every thing exists in this divine
Mediator, and subsists only by him : Onmia per
ipsum ; et in ipso constant.

We must next prove by the types and prophe
cies, the authenticity of which are demonstrable,
that the incarnation is their object, and that there
is nothing in the sacred books which does not
directly or indirectly refer to it ; we must further
shew the time and place in which this ineffable
mystery was accomplished, by examining the
character of the signs which accompanied it, of the

126 CANGANELLl's

witnesses who attested it, of the miracles which
followed it, and add all the traditions on the sub-
ject.

The authority of the Fathers of the Church,
the force of their reasonings, the sublimity of
their comparisons, are next to be demonstrated,
and we must avail ourselves of the school divinity,
in order to clear up the sophisms of the heretics,
to fight them with their own weapons, and thus to
subdue them.

Thus does Positive Theology resemble a mag
nificent garden, and Scholastic Divinity a hedge
thick set with thorns, to hinder obnoxious animals
from penetrating and laying it waste.

While I presided over the school of Theology
which belongs to the fraternity of Scotus, I was
under the necessity of teaching Scotism. It would
ill become a private individual to wish to change
the mode of instruction in an order of which he
becomes a member; this would be frequently
attended with mischievous consequences, although
fantastical opinions ought not to be servilely em
braced.

As for you, my Lord, who as Bishop, have an
incontestable authority over the schools, and can
give them what form you please, I entreat you to
recommend to your theologians not to use the

LETTERS. 127

Scholastic Divinity, but with discretion, for fear
of enervating Theology.

I shall think they have complied with your
instructions, if I see them repairing to the sources
of knowledge, instead of merely copying manu
script theologies ; and if they content themselves
with declaring the doctrine of the church without
giving themselves up to disputations or manifesting
a party spirit.

This spirit, my Lord, is so much the more dan
gerous, as then private opinions occupy the place
of eternal truths which every one should respect ;
and men give themselves up to altercations which,
under a pretence of maintaining the cause of God.
extinguish charity.

Do not permit that, in order to maintain free
will, the omnipotence of grace be denied ; or that
human liberty be destroyed for the purpose of im
proving this inestimable and purely gratuitous
gift ; or that through too great a respect for the
Saints, what is due to Jesus Christ be forgotten.
All theological truths are but as one, from the
connection they have with each other ; and there
are some covered with a mysterious veil, which
it is impossible to raise.

The grand defect of some theologians, is to
wish to explain e?ery thing, and not to know

128 GANGANELLl's

where to stop. The Apostle tells us, for example,
when speaking of heaven, that tye hath not seen,
that ear hath not heard what God hath prepared
for' fas Saints, but they give us a description of
Paradise, as though they had been there. They
assign ranks to each of the Elect, and they would
deem it almost heresy, were any one to dare to
contradict them. The true theologian stops where
he should stop, and when any thing has not been
revealed, and the Church has been silent, he thinks
it adviseable not to decide. There will always be
an impenetrable cloud between God and man till
Eternity commences.

Types ceased with the ancient law, to give
place to reality ; but complete evidence is not to
be found till after death ; such is the economy of
Religion. It were to be wished, my Lord, that in
speaking of God, men always mentioned him with
a holy feeling, not as a Being whom they fear, but
as a Spirit whose immense perfections excite the
greatest respect and astonishment. Thus, instead
of saying : God would be unjust ; God would be
a liar ; God would not be omnipotent, were such
a thing to take place ; they should accustom them
selves never to join words so offensive to that of
God. Let us content ourselves with answering
like St. Paul,— Is God unjust ? God forbid.

LETTERS. 129

The name of God is so terrible and so holy, that
it should never be used in a trifling manner. Is it
not sufficient for man to employ his faculties on
the phenomena of nature, to dispute about the ele
ments and their effects, without making God him
self the subject of their contests ?

It is this which has rendered Theology ridiculous
in the eyes of Free-thinkers, and which has per
haps taught them to introduce God into all their ob
jections and sarcasms ; for how could Theology,
which is but an exposition of the providence, the
wisdom, in short all the attributes of the infinite,
omnipotent, excellent Being, appear a. futile
science, were it represented only with, dignity ?
Would the knowledge of a grain of sand driven
by the wind at pleasure, of an insect which is
crushed by man, in short of a world which must
itself perish, be superior to the knowledge of God
himself, of that God in whom we have our being,
motion, and life, before whom the seas are but as a
drop of water, the mountains as a point, tho uni
verse as an atom ?

It is with the grandeur of this immense and
supreme Being, that the theologian should begin
his course. After having demonstrated his ex
istence to be absolutely necessary, and necessarily
eternal j after having traced to him as Us source,
G3

130 *AN6ANELLI*i

the constitution of mind, after having proved that
every thing emanates from him as from its prin
ciple, that every thing breathes in him as its
centre, that every thing returns to him as its end,
he displays his immense wisdom, his infinite
goodness, from whence proceeds revelation, and
the worship we pay to him.

The natural law, the written law, the law of
grace then appear each in its rank, according to
its merit and chronology. It must be then de
monstrated how God has been always adored by
a small number who worshipped him in spirit and
in truth; how the church superseded the syna
gogue, how it cut off from time to time the rebels
who wished to corrupt its morality and articles of
Faith ; and how, always powerful in works and
words, it has been sanctioned by the most learned
doctors, and maintained in its purity, in the midst of
the most dreadful scandals and most cruel divisions.

It is necessary that those who study Theology
should find true light in what is taught them, and
not false glimmerings more calculated to dazzle
than to enlighten ; that they should be led to the
purest sources, under the conduct of St. Augustin
and St. Thomas ; and that they should lay aside
every thing which wears the appearance of no-
telty ; that they should be possessed of evangelical

LETTERS. 131

tolerance with respect even to those who resist the
Faith, and that it be impressed on them that the
spirit of Jesus Christ is not a spirit of bitterness
and authority.

It is neither by invectives against heretics, nor by
manifesting a bitter zeal against unbelievers, that
men are brought back to the truth ; but by shew
ing a sincere desire for their conversion ; by never
speaking of them but to shew a sincere love for
them, at the same time that their sophisms are
combated.

It is necessary for a professor of theology to
oppose the theologians of Paganism to those of
Christianity ; and the rather as this is the surest
method of over throwing Mythology, of covering
with eternal ridicule the superstitions of the ancients,
and of raising on their ruins the doctrine of the
incarnate Word.

It is still more necessary that he should not be
systematical. He should keep to the church,
scripture, and tradition, when he teaches eternal
truths, because he is then the deputy of the body
of pastors, to instruct in their name, and to ex
ercise their power.

Would to God that this method had been faith
fully followed. The church would not have
witnessed the most afflicting and obstinate disputes

132

springing from its bosom, passion occupying the
place of love, and hatred of the doctors produc
ing the most fatal effects.

Whence it follows, my Lord, that your Emi
nence cannot be too attentive in appointing mode
rate theologians, lest a bitter zeal should do much
more harm than good. The spirit of the gospel
is a spirit of peace, and it is improper that men
whose duty it is to preach it, should be of a tur
bulent disposition.

If I dare, my Lord, I would entreat your
Eminence to cause a system of Theology to be
composed, which would form the perpetual in
struction of your diocese, and which would be
certainly adopted by many rl the Bishops. The
liberty of the schools should be permitted relative
only to indifferent questions, for there is but one
baptism and one faith.

Theology is not intended to exercise the minds
of young people ; but to enlighten and elevate
them to him wjio is the fulness and source of all
light.

It is proper to provide the scholars with the
best books, relative to the treatises they study. The
best way of studying Religion, is to be very fa«
miliar with sacred writers, with the councils and
fathers. They should learn in the schools not

LETTERS. 123

to wander into error, but to speak of Christianity
in a manner worthy of it.

I have nothing to add, my Lord, but that a
a professor of theology should be a man equally
celebrated for his piety and knowledge. Eternal
truths should proceed, as much as possible, only
out of holy lips. From thence results the blessing
of Heaven on the master, on the scholars, and a
savour of life throughout a whole diocese. Italy
happily always had theologians who corresponded
with the purity of its Theology.

Excuse, my Lord, my rashness, which would be
unpardonable, had not your Eminence ordered me
to give you my advice. 1 submit it entirely to
your understanding, having the honour to be with
the most perfect obedience and profound respect,
frei

Rome, 3lst May, 1753.

134 CANGANBLLl's

LETTER XXXIII.

TO R. P * * *, A MONK, ONE OF HIS FRIENDS,
WHO HAD BEEN APPOINTED TO A BISHOPRIC.

AFTER having been the humble disciple of St.
Francis, you are at length raised to the rank of
the Apostles. I may tell you, my dear friend,
that you are only elevated, to become really the
servant of all, and that you should endeavour to
shine only by the brilliancy of your virtues.

There is no dignity on earth that is attended
with a greater degree of responsibility than the epis
copacy. A bishop is to watch night and day over
the flock of Jesus Christ, and reflect that he must
answer at his tribunal for every sheep that goes
astray. He must reproduce himself that he may
never be tired, multiply himself that he may be in
every place, and seclude himself that he may
study and pray.

Two things are so essential to bishops, that the
office cannot be worthily discharged, without pos
sessing them in an eminent degree ; purity, which
should render them like the angels themselves, and

LETTERS. 135

which gains them that appellation in the sacred
scripture, as appears by the first chapters of the
Apocalypse ; and knowledge which, in the Gospel
gives them the honour of being called the light of
the world. As irreproachable characters, they
ought not even to be suspected of immorality;
but they are moreover obliged to keep others from
corruption ; and on that account they are called
the salt of the earth. As learned men they should
be eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, the light of
the world. It is not sufficient for a bishop to
have virtues, and to consult enlightened characters
to know what he should do ; he should be able of
himself to discern good from evil, truth from
error; for he is constituted a judge of doctrine
and morals : and if he have not the talent of
judging, he will not possess that of governing, and
will suffer himself to be deceived.

What consoles me, is, that you are thoroughly
instructed, that you will resolve to see every thing
for yourself; which is of absolute necessity, if you
would not be the dupe, either of hypocrites or in
formers.

I doubt not but you have already seriously
studied the Epistle of St. Paul to Timothy, and
that of St. Peter to all the believers. By the first,
you will have perceived that a bishop must be

136

blameless, sober, chaste, peaceful, not to live as
those Christians whose history is precisely that of
the wicked rich man, inasmuch as they are clothed
in purple and fine linen, fare sumptuously every
day, and suffer Lazaruses to expire at their gates.

By the second, you will have learned not ta
lord it over any ecclesiastic entrusted to your
care ; for the spirit of Jesus Christ is not a spirit
of authority, but of meekness and humility ; so
that a bishop should regard the curates as his
equals, in the order of Christian charity, although
they may not be so in that of the hierarchy. His
house should be their place of resort.

Do not satisfy yourself with merely declaring
the word of God, from recollecting that St. Paul
said, " he was not sent to baptize, but to preach
the gospel/' Let there be no sacrament which
you do not administer from time to time, that you
may shew your diocesans how much you are de
voted to them, both in sickness and in health, at
their birth and their death.

Especially visit punctually the province en
trusted to you, and take care that your visits be
not storms which inspire only terror, but beneficial
dews which spread around cheerfulness and fi
delity.

Should you by chance find some one of your

LETTERS. 137

fellow labourers who has sinned, cast over him
the mantle of love, io lead him back 10 fri duty
by kindness, and as much as possible, to conceal
scandal : if it be a scandalous crime, persuade
him secretly to relinquish his situation, and before
he takes this step, assure him of a provision.

I will not tell you to entertain for monks a
paternal tenderness; this would be to nffrnd you.
You owe to them all you are, and it is at their
school, that you, as well as myself, have learned
all you know. Visit them frequently with cordi
ality; this is the way to excite among them a
proper emulation, and to make them respected.
To honour men whose life is one continual labour,
is to do honour to oneself. A General who
should despise his officers, would render himself
worthy of the greatest contempt.

Suffer not the piety of the faithful to be
nourished by false legends, and kept up by trifling
ceremonies. But take care that they learn to
recur continual!}7 to Jesus Christ, as to our only
mediator, and only to honour the saints as be
longing to him. Education is entrusted to you,
and you ought to know what is taught.

Be not too easily induced to ordain priests, and
especially as Italy abounds with supernumeraries
of that order who, carrying even to foreign nations

138 GANGANELLl's

ignorance and misery, degrade the dignity of the
priesthood, and dishonour their country.

Bestow benefices only on acknowledged merit,
and especially only on those who are distinguished
for knowledge and piety, if those benefices include
the care of souls : and see that he who has la
boured longest, be preferred before him who is
but recently ordained.

Appoint only those who have grown grey in the
ministry to the government of your diocese, and
who will possess influence from their age as well
as their virtues. A bishop whose society and
council consists only of young men is despised,
since it is easy to manage him at their will. The
Pope has but one Vicar General; and conse
quently one will be sufficient for you.

Let " My Lord" be the least of your titles ; and
let those of Father and Servant, be much more
precious to you; for the fashion of this world
passeth away, and all its grandeurs with it.

In short, in the midst of riches and honours,
retain only what is necessary for your own wants,
and to make you respected, recollecting that St.
Paul brought his body into subjection, and that
every Christian ought to mortify himself.

Above all reside, and again I say reside. A
pastor who is long separate from his flock without
reason has no right to eat.

LETTERS* 139

These are terrible truths : but as we are not at
liberty to change them, we must submit to or
renounce them. Let the poor be your friends,
your brethren, and even your guests. You cannot
give too much. Almsgiving is one of the most
essential duties of a bishop, and it must be dis
charged in prisons, in houses, in public places;
in short, every where, in imitation of our divine
Saviour, who ceased not during the days of his
mortality, to do good ; but especially give with
cheerfulness, Hilarem datorcm diligit Deus ;
(God loveth a cheerful giver;) and give so as
yourself to become indigent.

I have said nothing to you about your domestic
occupations, convinced that you will divide your
time between prayer, study, and the government
of your diocese. Those can never tire of reading
the scriptures and the fathers, who know their,
value, who do not live in dissipation, and who are
conscious that the episcopacy is a formidable un
dertaking, and not a secular dignity.

Listen to every one; render yourself popular,
after the example of our divine Master, who suf
fered the least children to approach him, and
spoke to them with the greatest kindness. Fre
quently visit those of your diocesans who shall
have experienced some misfortune, to assist and

140 SANGANELLl's

console them. It is a disgrace to a bishop, to be
acquainted only with the rich and illustrious in
his diocese. The lower orders will complain of it,,
and with reason; for frequently, in the sight, of
God, they are the most precious.

Should any dispute arise among the inhabitants
of your episcopal city, become instantly their
mediator. A bishop ought only to know the dif
ferences of others for the sake of endeavouring to
adjust them.

Examine yourself the ecclesiastics who apply
for Orders, and take care that no puerile
questions, nor any which are foreign to what they
ought to know, be put to them. Take care that
your confessors observe the rules of St. Charles in
the tribunal of Penitence.

Do not accustom yourself to visit your church
but seldom, under pretence of business.

The public is not satisfied with these excuses ;
they wish to be edified ;. and who can be expected
to pray to God, if not a bishop ?

After you shall have spent a life in such ex
ertions, you will find yourself surrounded at the
hour of death by a number of good works. They,
you know, follow us into eternity, whereas pomp,
grandeur, titles, are lost in the night of the tomb,
and leave behind but a fearful void. Read fre-

LETTERS. 141

quently what is said to the bishops designated in
the Apocalypse, and tremble.

I have, I think, run over in this letter all the
duties of the episcopacy; it is for you to reduce
them to practice. You have undoubtedly said to
yourself, and much better than I have done, all
that I have just called to your remembrance ; but
you have compelled me to give you this advice ;
it arises, I assure you, from the liveliest friendship,
and from a sincere desire of seeing you work ef
fectually for your own sanctification, by labouring
for that of others. You should do this both as a

monk, and a bishop.

I shall wait till you are consecrated to write to

you with more ceremony. Adieu. I embrace

you with all my heart.

Convent of the Holy Apostks, 30th May, 1755.

142

LETTER XXXIV.

TO A TUSCAN GENTLEMAN.

THE education, my dear Sir, which you wish to
give your children, will be but as tinsel, unless
founded on Religion. There are circumstances
in the course of life, in which probity alone will
not be found sufficient to resist temptation, and in
which the soul will be degraded if not sustained
by a firm hope of immortality.

Man, in order to be happy and wise, must see
God from his earliest infancy, as the beginning
and end of all things : reason and faith must con
spire to convince him that to be without religion
or law, is to descend to the level of the brute
creation ; he must know that truth being one,
there can be but one religion ; and that if authority
did not determine our belief, each one would have
his own system and opinion.

It is not by mere ceremonies that you will make
your children true Christians. Christianity is the
greatest enemy of pharisaism and superstition.
The church prescribes duties enough, without

LETTERS.

endeavouring to multiply them. Precept is too
frequently neglected, to follow men's opinions;
because men had rather listen to caprice than
reason, and because pride is in perfect agreement
with eccentricity.

You will take care to elevate the minds of our
three youths, and to convince them that the greatest
pleasure of man is to reflect, and to feel his own
existence. It is a sublime pleasure worthy of a
truly celestial spirit, so that I consider him as an
unfortunate being who is unacquainted with this
felicity.

The catechism is sufficient to teach the truths of
revelation : but in an incredulous age, something
more than the alphabet of religion is necessary.
You will therefore fill the minds of your children
with that refined and pure knowledge, which dis
sipates the clouds of modern philosophy, and the
darkness of corruption.

A few books, well chosen, will render your sons
well-informed Christians. They will read them
with a religious attention, not so much to fix them
in their memories, as to engrave them on their
hearts. Your design is not to form youths ca
pable of maintaining theses, but who are, as
reasonable creatures, to be convinced of eternal
truths.

144

When youth has studied the principles of re
ligion, it will seldom suffer itself to be seduced by
the sophisms of impiety ; unless the heart be en
tirely corrupt.

You should watch narrowl^, to keep them un
spotted, not by employing informers and spies, but
by having your own eyes and ears every where, so
as to imitate the Deity, who is not seen, and yet
who sees every thing.

Children must not perceive that they are sus
pected and observed; for they are then dis
couraged, they murmur, they become averse from
those they ought to love, they imagine evils of
which they were unconscious, and seek only to
deceive. Hence almost all scholars and pupils
act only from fear, and are never happier than
when absent from their superiors.

Be less the master than the friend of your
children; and they will be transparent in your
eyes, and will tell you even their faults. Young
people have a hundred times entrusted me with
their troubles and their faults, because I
always treated them with kindness : they will give
you the key of their heart, when they know that you
sincerely desire their good ; and that in reproving
them, you inflict punishment on yourself.

There are many reasons which induce me to

LITTERS.

recommend to you private education, and there
are still more which prevent me from persuading
you to adopt it. Private education is generally
the safest for morals, but there is something in it
so monotonous, so lukewarm, so languishing, that
it discourages and absorbs emulation. Besides as
it watches too closely, it more frequently makes
hypocrites than virtuous characters.

Should you however meet with a tutor who,
mild, patient, sociable, enlightened, knows how
to unite condescension with firmness, wisdom with
cheerfulness, temperance with sweetness of dispo
sition : I would advise you at least to try it, per
suaded that you would do nothing but in concert
with him, and would not attempt to govern him.
There are too many fathers who consider a tutor
as an hireling, and who think they have a right to
domineer over him, because he is in their pay.

Do not entrust your sons with a man whom
you cannot trust as well as yourself; but after
ihat, hesitate not to leave him master of his own
plans : nothing disgusts a master so much as that
want of confidence which is manifested towards
him, and the doubt which is entertained of his
rapacity. Be careful as to the servants who are
about your children : it is almost always by them
that youth is corrupted,

146

Let an amiable serenity continually beam on
your countenance and in your eyes, and accom
plish all your desires, without constraint and with
out fear. No one likes stormy weather, and every
body rejoices at the sight of a fine day.

Attach pleasure to every kind of study you
propose to your sons, by exciting in them a strong
desire to learn, and a great apprehension of re
maining ignorant.

Take care to unite relaxation with labour, that
you may not weary the memories and minds of
your children. When disgust is joined to study,
an aversion is taken to books, and negligence and
liberty alone are sighed after.

Instruct, not by punishing, but by making them
love your instructions ; and to this end, take care
to enliven them by some traits of history, and by
some sallies which awaken the attention. I knew
at Milan a young man who had become such a
lover of study, that he took holidays as a neces
sary repose, but considered them as days of
mourning. His books were his pleasure and trea
sure; and it was a good priest who, by the re
sources of his cheerfulness and imagination, had
inspired him with a love for all works of taste
and erudition. He would have been one of the

LETTERS. 147

moit learned characters in Europe, had not death
stopped him in his career.

Let their studies be proportioned to their age,
do not think of making them metaphysicians from
twelve years old. It is not young people who are
then brought up, but parroquets which are taught
words.

It is with the sciences as with food. The sto
mach of a child requires a light nourishment ;
and it is only by gradation that they are accus
tomed to solid and substantial meats.

Never fail to make an amusing book succeed to
a serious one, and to intermix poetry with prose.
Virgil is not less eloquent than Cicero ; and his
descriptions, his images, his expressions, give ima
gination and elocution to those who possess none.
Poetry is the perfection of languages, and if a
person be not accustomed to it in his youth, he
never acquires a taste for it : it is impossible at a
certain age to read verse long together, unless we
really have a poetical taste.

Moderate however the study of the Poets ; for
besides their very frequently taking licences con
trary to good morals, it is dangerous to love them
too well. A young man who talks and dreams
only about poetry, is insupportable in society ; he
is a maniac, who may be ranked amongst mad-

H 2

148

men. I except those whose genius is absolutely
poetical ; and then they are indemnified for this
mania, by the honour of becoming Dantes, Ari-
ostos, Tassos, Metastasios, Miltons, Corneilles,
Racines.

Let the history of the world, of nations, espe
cially that of your own country, become familiar
to your children ; and let not this be a dry study ;
but accompanied by short and suitable reflections;
teaching them to judge with propriety of events,
and to acknowledge an universal agent, in whose
hands all men are but instruments, and all revo
lutions, effects combined and foreseen in the eter
nal decrees.

History is a dead letter, if we be acquainted
only with its dates and facts ; and it is a book full
of life, if we observe in it the influence of the pas
sions, the resources of the soul, the emotions of
the heart, and especially if we discover therein a
God who, always master of events, produces, di
rects, deiermines them according to his good plea
sure, and for the accomplishment of his sublime
designs.

Our carnal eyes see in the universe only a veil
which conceals from us the action of the Crea
tor ; but the eyes of Faith shew us that all which

LETTERS. 149

takes place has a cause, and that this cause i»
truly God.

Take care that a good system of rhetoric, con
sisting less in precepts than examples, give a taste
of true eloquence to your sons. Make them under
stand that what is truly fine, depends neither on
moods, nor tenses ; and that, if there is, in different
ages, a different manner of expressing things, there
is but one of conceiving them aright.

Give them the greatest aversion for that puerile
eloquence, which, consisting of quibbles, is re
volting to good taste ; and persuade them that no
gigantic expression or idea ever enters into a fine
discourse. Although we should never be tired
of true eloquence, man is so whimsical as to be
satiated with it; and we therefore see in these
days a singular and frivolous diction preferred to
the imposing language of the orators of the last
age. *i

There are mfn and ages who have in every
thing fixed th,e public taste, and it is on their pic-
tures that your children's e_yes should be conti
nually fastened, as on the best models, but not
so as to become their slaves, for we should never
be the servile imitator of any one.

I like the mind to soar, and be itself, whereas
it is but a copy, when it dare not invent. We

150

have only men of mind, and we should have men
of genius, did they not too mechanically follow
the beaten tracks. We know nothing great when
we are acquainted with but one way. The spirit
of invention is an inexhaustible species, when we
know how to be bold. " Be yourself, and think
in your own way," is what I should frequently say
to young people of whom I had the care. It is la
mentable to pass whole years in teaching pupils
only to repeat.

When your children have come to years of ma
turity, then will be the moment to speak to them
as a friend of the trifling nature of the pleasures
in which the world makes her felicity to consist,
of the misfortunes they cause, the remorse they
excite, the harm they do both to the body and
mind, in short of the abysses they dig in their
paths, whilst appearing only to scatter flowers.

It will not be difficult to point out the dangers of
pleasure, either by vigorous expressions, or striking
examples, and to persuade them, that without
idleness, the greater part of the pleasures to which
they are immoderately attached, would have no
attractions. The most brilliant idea of it is formed
when we are unemployed, just as when wrapt in
sleep, we represent to ourselves a thousand pleas
ing chimeras.

LETTERS.

151

When a son is persuaded that a father only
talks reason to him, and that it is only through,
tenderness and not caprice that he reproves him,
he listens; and his advice has the better effect.

At length, after having raised this edifice, there
will be the summit, which I consider as the most
difficult thing; I mean the choice of a profession.
It is generally the touchstone for fathers and mo
thers, and the most critical period of life for chil
dren.

If you will believe me on this subject, you
will give them a year to reflect for themselves on
the line of life which suits them, without recom
mending to them one profession rather than ano
ther. The good education they have received, the
knowledge they will have acquired, will naturally
conduct them to a happy issue ; and there is
every reason to hope that they will then decide
for themselves, according to their inclinations and
according to reason.

It will then be necessary frequently to speak
to them of the advantages and disadvantages of
each profession, and to shew them the import
ance of faithfully fulfilling its duties, both on ac
count of this world and the other. The priestly
and monkish professions will furnish you with
ample materials for representing the inestimable

152

GANGANELLl S

happiness enjoyed therein, when we are really
called to them ; and the dreadful calamities ex
perienced, when we have the temerity to rush into
them, with only human motives. The military
and magisterial professions present a multitude of
duties to fulfil; and it will be sufficient to expose
them to view, in order to convince them of it.

After these precautions, and especially after
having frequently implored the assistance of Hea
ven, your sons will enter with a firm step on the-
career they have chosen ; and you will have the
consolation of being able to say before God and
men, that you have regarded their inclinations and
liberty. Nothing is more fatal than to control
the inclinations of our childern, we expose them
to an eternal repentance, and ourselves to the most
bitter reproaches, and even to maledictions which
we have unhappily deserved.

Since Providence has given you riches, and you
are born of a distinguished family, you should
maintain your sons according to their wealth and
rank in life, but letting them always feel some
privations, and keeping them always within the
bounds of modesty, to teach them that this life
does not constitute our happiness, and that the
more elevated we are, the less reason have we
for pride. You will take care to give them mo-

LETTERS. 153

ney, both that they may learn from yourself not
to be covetous ; and that they may be enabled to
assist the needy. It will be right to take notice
of the use they make of it; and, if you discover
avarice or prodigality, you must diminish their
allowance.

In short, my very dear and respectable friend,
work on the hearts of your sons more than on
their minds : if the heart be right all will go on
well.

Circumstances will teach you how to govern
them. Sometimes you will appear easy, some
times severe, but always just and honest. A spirit
of equity vexes young people who do not wish
to become wise, because they feel in spite of them
selves, that they can make no reply.

You should aiiow them proper liberty, so that
their father's house may not be their last resort.
It is necessary, they should delight in it, and find
there more than any where else the indulgences
and charms they ought to expect from a lather
who is a friend to order, and naturally beneficent.

My pen leads me on in spite of myself: it
might be snid to have sentiment, and to experience
the sweet pleasure I taste in speaking to you of
your dear children, whom I lovre better than my
self, and a little less thaa you. May God bless

H 3

154 GANGANELLl's

them abundantly : they will be all that they should
be, and the education you will give them will
"blossom for eternity. It is there that the fruit of
good advice given to youth ripens, and that wor
thy fathers are with their worthy sons, to be happy
for ever.

'Rome, 16th August, 1753.

LETTERS. 155

LETTER XXXV.

TO CARDINAL QUERINT.

May it please your Eminence,

The various reflections of your Eminence, on
the different ages which have elapsed since the
beginning of the world, arc worthy of a genius like
yours. I seem to perceive reason weighing all these
ages, some like ingots, others like leaves of tinsel.
Some are indeed so solid and others so light, that
it forms the most astonishing contrast. Ours,
without contradiction, is more marked than any
other, with the stamp of levity ; but it pleases, it
seduces, especially through the good offices of the
French, who have communicated to it an elegance,
which in spite of ourselves we find truly agree
able.

Our ancients would reasonably have murmured
at it; if however they lived in our day, they
would suffer themselves to be drawn along as we
are ; and without wishing it, they would be
amused with our light discourses, and our pretty
writings.

156

The Roman grandeur does not accord with
these pleasing frivolities ; but the Romans of the
present day are not so majestic as formerly. The
French elegance has passed the Alps, and we have
received it with pleasure, at the same time that
we were criticizing it.

Your Eminence, who is much attached to the
French, will surely have pardoned their graces,
detrimental as they may be to the dignity of the
ancients. It is only when every age is taken
collectively that there is evil, there are sparks and
flames, lilies and blue-bottles, rains and dews, stars
and meteors, rivers and brooks, this is a represen
tation of nature ; and to judge properly of the
universe and ages, we should re-unite the different
points of view, and make of them but one optick.

All ages cannot resemble each other : it is their
variety which enables us to judge of things ;
without this diversity there would be no compari
son. I know we should prefer living in an age
which presents to us only the grand, but it is best
to say that we must take time as it comes, and
not continually regret what is past, by attaching
ourselves to the car of the ancients. Let us take
their taste, and we shall have nothing to fear from
our futility.

LETTERS. 157

It is impossible to contemplate without dread
the gulph whence all ages spring, and into which
they arc precipitated. How many years, months,
days, hours, minutes and seconds are absorbed by
eternity, which, always the same, remains immove-
able in the midst of changes and revolutions !
It is a rock in the midst of the sea, against which
all the waves beat in vain. We are like grains of
sand driven about by the wind, unless we cling
unmoved to this support. There is that in your
Eminence which fixes you, and makes you under
take so many luminous works, which Europe
admires, and Religion applauds.

I am never tired of reading your travels, and
especially your description of Paris and France.
Besides that the Latin may be compared to St.
Jerome's, there are admirable reflections on all
that your Eminence has seen. What a glance is
yours, it penetrates into the essence of things,
into the substance of writings, and into the souls
of writers. You have had the happiness to see
at Paris several great men who still survived, the
precious remains of Louis XIV ; they must have
convinced you that that age was not praised with
out reason.

Nothing extends the faculties of the soul like
travels : I read them as much as I can, that my

158

thoughts at least may rove, whilst my body is se
dentary. It is certain that I am frequently in
idea at Brescia, that city, my Lord, which you
enrich by your example and precepts, and where
you continually receive homages to which I unite
with all my soul the profound respect with which,
&c.

Rome, 10th Dec. 1754.

LETTERS. 159

LETTER XXXVI.

TO A CANON OF MILAN.

A panegyric, Sir, upon St. Paul, is no trifling
enterprize ; a soul is requisite as capacious as that
of the teacher of the Gentiles, to celebrate him in
a manner worthy of him. His eulogy is that of
Religion ; he is so identified with it, that he cannot
be praised separately.

There is in this great Apostle, the same spirit,
the same zeal, the same love. How rapid should
be your pen, if you wish to describe his voyages
and apostolical labours ! He flies as quick as
thought, when he is about to undertake a good
work ; and he breathes only Jesus Christ when
he proclaims the Gospel. One would think, by
his multiplying himself, that he alone formed the
whole apostolical college ; he is at the same time
on land and on sea, always watching for the safety
of believers, always desiring the palm of martyr
dom, always on the wing to heaven. No one was
KO good a citizen, so good a friend : he forgets

160 GANGANELLl's

nothing ; he remembers the smallest services ren
dered to him ; and never does his heart palpitate
but -with a desire towards the heaven which has
enlightened him, an emotion of love for Jesus
Christ who has converted him, an act of gratitude
towards the Christians who have assisted him.

Panegyric is in general a kind of writing which
should not resemble a sermon : there should be
flashes in it, but they should shine on a foundation
of morality which should be the basis of the
discourse. We do not instruct if we only praise ;
and we do not celebrate our hero, if we seek only
to instruct.

The skill of the orator consists in eliciting from
the midst even of the eulogy luminous reflections,
having for their object the reformation of morals.
Especially take care, my dear friend, never to
panegyrize one Saint, at the expense, of the others :
nothing more clearly proves the sterility of the
orator. Every illustrious person has his merit ;
and it is to outrage the memory of a servant of
God, who considered himself as the least of all, to
exalt his glory to the prejudice of another Saint.

Make no digressions foreign to your subject.
Do not forget that it is St. Paul you wish to praise,
and that by attending to any thing but his eulogy
you will fail of your design.

LETTERS. 161

Let there be no languor in a panegyric ; every
thing should be rapid, and especially that of the
great Apostle, whose zeal never abated. Your
auditors should believe they see and hear him,
that they may say : It is he himself, behold him.
You should with him display all the power of
grace : like him you should put down those who
would lessen the absolute power of God on the
heart of man ; like him you should thunder
against false prophets, and the corruptors of
morality. In short you must give a succinct idea
of his different epistles, by presenting them burn
ing from the flames of love, and shining with the
light of truth.

Let there be no forced comparisons ; they should
arise from the subject ; no useless words ; they
should be all instructive ; no bombast phrases ;
they should all be natural. It is your heart, and
not your spirit, which should be the orator in this
discourse ; reserve spirit for the academies, when
you deliver some eulogy there ; but the dignity
of the pulpit, the holiness of the temple, the
eminence of the subject, in short the panegyric
of Paul, are infinitely above antitheses, rantings,
and jests.

Human eloquence is designed to praise human
actions ; but there is need of a divine eloquence

162 GANGANELLl's

to praise divine men. It is not among the poets,
but the prophets, that we must gather flowers to
crown the elect. I am more than I can express,
&c.

Rome, 13M Oct. 1755.

LETTERS, 363

LETTER XXXVII,

O, I am by no means of your opinion, my dear
Abbe, respecting the book you criticize with so
much severity. It is certainly not so meagre a
production as you pretend. There are principles
views, details, beauties in it, which render it an.
interesting work. Some inaccuracies in style do
not totally disfigure a book. Style is only the
bark, and a tree is sometimes good, when the
bark is worth nothing. Unhappily in the age in
which we live, we are less pleased with facts than
words. Phrases too frequently decide the fate of
a work. I have perused many pamphlets
printed at Paris, which had only a flowing and
seductive style. People asked themselves what the
author meant, and knew nothing about it. It is not
surprising that in a country so singularly attached
to ornament and whatever is glittering, they admire
a production written with elegance.

There are subjects which of themselves engage

164

the attention ; whereas there are some we should
never read, were they not written in a brilliant
style : it is their passport. A skilful writer
should know how to make this distinction.

I should be very glad if you were to analyse
two works, which have appeared here very re
cently. A Conversation with oneself, and the
Elements of Met aphy sicks, the former is singularly
interesting, from its raising the soul above tke
wrecks of the passions and senses. The latter is
not less so, inasmuch as it renders palpable itf
spirituality and immortality. These are two meta
physical productions, differently presented ; {Re
Conversation with oneself, with a light which
render^ it intelligible to every one ; the Elements,
with a depth which forbids its being read by the
greater part of mankind.

I consider your sheets as a stimulus which keeps
our Italians from slumbering over science and litera
ture. In a warm climate we frequently need ta
be roused from study. The mind like the body
gets drowsy, if we do not take care to rouse it,
and then we have courage neither to read nor to
think.

Florence was always a city renowned for litera
ture and taste, and \ have no fear of its degenerating
so much as you enlighten it. A periodical work

LETTERS. 165

conducted with discernment, enlightens the mind,
maintains emulation, and supplies the place of
reading many works which we have no time to
peruse, or means to procure.

When I read a journal giving an account of the
works printed in Europe, I leam the Genius of
Nations ; and I perceive that the English do not
write like the Germans, or think like the French.
This variety which distinguishes nutions in their
manner of writing and thinking, persuades me
that the moral world is really a copy of the phy
sical world, and that there are minds as well as
faces which bear no resemblance to each other.

Adieu. I leave you to thiow myself on the
thorns of controversy, where I shall certainly not
find so many flowers as are to be met with in your
writings.

JRowe, 5th Nov. 1755.

166

LETTER XXXVIII.

TO PRINCE SAN SEVERO.

My Liege,

The petrifactions I sent you, are very undeserv
ing of your thanks. I well know their value, as
also the advantage of keeping up a correspondence
with a philosopher whose delight it is to study the
history of nature, and who admires its phenomena
and amusements only when he knows their cause.

The birds you sent for from the new world for
the emperor, will be very curious specimens; but
I doubt whether, notwithstanding all possible pre
cautions, they will reach our climate alive. A
thousand times has it been attempted to import to
this country the fly catchers and the humming bird,
and the proprietors have as often had the mortifi
cation of seeing them expire at some distance from
our ports.

Providence, in giving us the peacock, has made
a sufficiently rich provision for us, without going
elsewhere to seek for winged beauties. America

LETTERS.

167

has indeed nothing more magnificent than our
most superb birds ; but we generally prefer what
is foreign ; merely because k comes from far.

You will, my prince, be delighted with the
work of M. de Buffon, a French Academician, and
with his first volumes which are in print. All
that I know of them at present is from having read
them very rapidly ; but it appears to me admirably
written. I am only sorry that the Author of
a Natural History should declare for a system.
It is the way to raise doubts respecting many
things he advances, and to be involved in perpetual
controversies with tb^se who are not of his
opinion. Besides, whatever is foreign to the
account in Genesis of the creation of the world, is
supported only by paradoxes, or at least by hypo
theses.

Moses alone, as an inspired Author, could
rightly inform us of the formation and develope-
ment of the world. He is not an Epicurus, who
has recourse to atoms ; a Lucretius who believes
matter to be eternal ; a Spinosa who admits a
material God ; a Descartes who lisps on the la\vs
of motion ; but a Legislator who announces to all
men, without hesitation, without fear of being
misunderstood, how the world was created. No
thing can be more simple and sublime than his

168

exordium, " In the beginning God created the
" heaven and the earth'' He could not have
spoken more decidedly if he had been an eye
witness ; and, by these words, mythology, systems,
absurdities are shaken, and appear only as chime
ras in the eye of reason.

Whoever does not perceive truth in the narrative
of Moses is not capable of discerning it. We are
continually disposed to attach credit to hypotheses
which are not even probable ; and are unwilling
to believe that which gives us the highest idea of
the power and wisdom of God.

The notion of an eternal world presents to the
mind a thousand more difficulties than an eternal
intelligence; and a co-eternal world is an ab
surdity which cannot exist, because nothing is so
ancient as God.

Besides that God is necessary, and the universe
is not, on what ground could matter, a thing quite
contingent, and absolutely inert, pretend to the
same prerogatives as an omnipotent spirit. These
are extravagances which can only arise in a dis
ordered imagination, and which prove the as
tonishing weakness of man, when he wishes to
understand more than himself.

The history of nature is a book closed to all
generations, if they do not perceive a creating and

LETTERS.

169

preserving God ; for nothing is more evident than
his agency. The Sun, magnificent and imposing
as it is, the Sun, though adored by different na
tions, has neither intelligence, nor judgement ; and
if his course be so regular, that it is never inter
rupted for a single moment, it is because it receives
an impulse from a supreme Agent, whose orders
it obeys with the greatest punctuality.

In vain do we cast our eyes over the vast extent
of this universe, we see it absorbed in the immen
sity of a Being before whom the whole world is as
though it did not exist. It would be very remark
able, if while the smallest work cannot exist with
out a workman, the world should have the privilege
of being indebted to itself alone for its existence and
beauty.

Reason digs for itself frightful precipices, when
it listens only to the passions and senses; and
reason without faith is to be pitied. All the acade
mies in the universe may imagine systems re
specting the creation of the world ; but after all
their researches, conjectures, and combinations,
after multitudes of volumes written on the subject,
they will tell me much less respecting it than Moses
has staid in a single page ; and still they will only
tell me things which have no probability. And
such is the difference between the man who speaks

170

only according to his own imagination, and an
inspired writer.

From the height of heaven Jehovah laughs at
all those senseless systems, which arrange the
world at their pleasure : which attribute it some
times to chance, and sometimes suppose it to be
eternal.

We love to persuade ourselves that matter
governs itself, and that there is no other Deity ;
because we well know that matter is absolutely
inert and senseless, and that we have nothing to
fear from its effects ; whereas the justice of a God
who sees and weighs all, is overwhelming to the
sinner.

Nothing is more exalted than the history of
nature, when united to that of religion. Nature
is nothing without God, and by the operation of
God, it produces and vivifies all things; without
forming any part of the material of the universe,
in God it lives, it moves, and has its being. With
draw his influence, and there is no more activity
in the elements, no more vegetation in plants, no
more spring in secondary causes, no more revolu
tions in the stars ; eternal darkness takes the place
of light, and the universe becomes its own
tomb.

Were God to withdraw his hand, the same

LETTERS. 171

would happen to the world, as happens to our
bodies, when he stops their motion. They drop
into the dust, they exhale in smoke, and we are
not even aware of their having existed.

If I had sufficient knowledge to write a natural
history, I should begin my work by setting forth
the infinite perfections of its Author, I should then
proceed to treat of man, who is his chef d'oeuvre,
and afterwards successively descend from substance
to substance, from species to species, until I came
to treat of the ant, and should shew in the
smallest insect, as well as in the most perfect
angel, the same wisdom which shines, and the
same power which acts.

Such a picture of nature would interest the
lovers of truth ; and religion itself, which had
traced its design, would render it infinitely,
precious.

Let us never speak of creatures, but that we
may draw near to the Creator. They are the
reflection of his ineffable light ; and they are ideas*,
which at once elevate and abase us ; for man i*
nevermore diminutive and more honoured, than
when he considers himself in relation to God.
He then perceives an infinite Being of whom he
is the image, and before whom he is but an atom :

l 2

GANGANELLl's

two apparent opposites to which we must be re
conciled before we can form a just idea of our
selves, and if we would not fall into the sin of
apostate angels, nor that of infidels, who sink
themselves to the level of the bruie creation.

Your letter, my Prince, has led to these reflec
tions; and I confess to you at the same time, that I
never experience more satisfaction than when I
find an opportunity of speaking about God.
He is the element of our hearts, and it is only
in his love that the soul rejoices.

I have happily felt from my earliest years this
great truth, and I consequently chose the cloister,
as a retreat where, separate from my fellow-
creatures, I might the more easily hold converse
with the Creator. Worldly society is so tumul
tuous that it scarcely admits of that abstraction of
mind which unites us to God.

I intended only to have written a letter, but it is
a sermon; except that instead of finishing with
tmcn, I shall conclude with the respect which is
due to you, and with which I have the honour to
be, &c.

Rome, 13th Dec. 1754.

LETTERS. 173

LETTER XXXIX.

TO M. ***, A PAINTER.

IN proportion, my dear Sir, to the expression
there is in your pictures, you may congratulate
yourself on your works. This constitutes its dis
tinguishing excellence, and renders excusable
many defects which would not be allowed to pass
in an ordinary painter.

I have spoken of your talents to his Eminence
the Cardinal Porto Carr6ro, and he will recom
mend you as you wish in Spain ; but nothing will
make you better known than your own genius ; it
is as necessary for a painter as for a poet. Carracci
would have done nothing notxvithstanding the
boldness of bis pencil, had he not possessed that
rapture which produces enthusiasm and fire.

We recognize in his pictures a soul which speaks,
which warms, which ravishes. We appear to be
transformed into himself by the admiration we
bestow upon him, and to be filled with the truth
of his images.

174 GANGANELLl's

Let this great man whom you have chosen as
your model, breathe in you ; and you will after
wards make him live again on the canvass. Were
you but his shadow you would deserve to be es
teemed. There is some reality, even in the sha~
dow of a great man.

Nature should always be kept in sight by every
painter ; and to represent it truly no efforts are
needful. We become extravagant amongst pain
ters, as amongst poets, when we force the mind to
compose. When the conception of a work takes
full possession of the head, we feel ourselves to be
drawn on by an irresistible bias, to take the pen
or the pencil, and give ourselves up entirely to our
inclination ; without that there is neither expres-
.sion nor taste.

Rome is the school where taste is to be formed ;
but whatever pains we may take, we shall never
rise above mediocrity, unless we are possessed of a
picturesque genius.

It is time for me to be silent, since a counsellor
of the Holy Office is not a painter, and there is
danger of risking every thing when we speak of
what we know but imperfectly.

I am, Sir, &c.

LETTERS. 175

LETTER XL.

TO THE ABBE NICOLINI.

Sir,

I was very sorry to have been absent from the
Convent of the Holy Apostles, when you did me
the favour of calling to see me before your de
parture. I was unhappily on the banks of the
Tiber, which the ancient Romans swelled like their
triumphs, and which is but an ordinary river as to
length and breadth.

It is a w<xlk with which I am particularly do
lighted, on account of the ideas which it inspires
of the grandeur and fall of the Romans. I recal
to mind the period in which these proud despots
enchained the universe, and when Rome had as
many gods as it had vices and passions.

I afterwards retire to my cell, where I con
template Christian Rome, and where, although,
the least in the family of God, I labour for its
benefit ; but it is an imposed task, and on that
account almost always tedious, for in matters of

176

business, man for the most part likes only what he
does of his own accord.

I dare not speak to you of the death of our
Common friend, it is tearing open too grievous a
wound. I arrived too late to hear his last words.
He is regretted as one of those rare individuals who
are superior to their age, and who possess all the
merit of former ages. He is said to have left
some poetical pieces worthy of the greatest
masters. He never mentioned them ; a circum
stance so much the more extraordinary, as poets
are seldom more secret as to their writings than as
to their merit.

We have had here for some time, a swarm of
young Frenchmen ; and you may suppose I have
seen them with much pleasure. My room was
not large enough to hold them, for they all did
me the favour to come and see me ; because
they were told there was a Monk in the Convent
of the Holy Apostles, who was particularly fond
of France, and of all who come from it. They
#11 spoke at once ; and it was a complete earth
quake which exceedingly delighted me.

They do not much like Italy, because every
thing here is not yet quite in the French fashion ;
but I consoled them by assuring them that they
would one day complete the metamorphosis,

LETTERS. 177

and that I myself was already more than half
changed. I have the honour to be, &c.

Rome, 24M July, 1756.

I 3

178

LETTER XLI.

tO MR. STUART, A SCOTCH GENTLEMAN*

Sir,

If you did not partake of the undulations of
the waves which surround you, I should be dis
posed to accuse you of inconstancy ; for we must
not forget an old friend who is warmly attached to
us. Your conduct reminds me of what I have
often thought, that the principal nations in
Europe resemble the elements.

The Italian, according to this comparison, re
sembles fire, which, always in motion, blazes and
sparkles ; the German, the earth, which, notwith
standing its density, produces good herbs and ex
cellent fruits ; the French are like the air, whose
subtilty leaves no traces behind; and the English,
the inconstant wave which changes continually.

A skilful minister either dextrously manages
these elements when it is necessary, or makes them
strive with each other, when it suits his master's
interest. This has frequently been seen, when

LETTERS. 179

Europe has been in a state of combustion, and
disturbed by mutual aggressions.

Human policy pursues war or peace, according
to its interests, having nothing more at heart than
dominion or self aggrandisement. Christian
policy on the contrary knows nothing of the cri
minal art of sowing discords, though it should
ensure by this means the most brilliant success
I cannot esteem policy without justice ; for it is
Machiavelism put into action ; but I entertain the
most favourable idea of a policy, which, some
times tranquil, and sometimes active, suffers itself
to be governed by prudence, reflects, calculates,
foresees; and which, after having retraced the
past, reflects on the present, glances at the future,
bringing into contact all ages, standing alike pre
pared for inactivity or exertion.

It is absolutely necessary that a good politician
should be perfectly well acquainted with history
and the age in which he lives ; that he know the
degree of strength and spirit of those who appear
on the theatre of the world, that if they be weak,
he may intimidate them; if courageous, he may
resist them ; and if rash, he may restrain them.

The knowledge of men, rather than that of
hooks, is the learning of a good politician ; it is
of vast importance in business to know who to

.180

employ. Some are proper only to speak, others
have courage to act, and every thing consists in not
•having misjudged in this matter. Many statesmen
ruin themselves by an improper confidence. We
can no longer keep a secret when it has escaped
us, and it is better to err through too much reserve,
than by imprudence. What we have not spoken
can never be written.

The fear of being betrayed renders him pusil
lanimous who has too rashly made a disclosure of
his heart. There are circumstances in which we
must appear to tell every thing, when in fact we
tell nothing ; and in which we must know how to
alter our plans without betraying the truth; for
that must never be violated.

It is not a mark of weakness to yield when we
cannot do otherwise, but of wisdom. Every thing
depends on the right knowledge of opportunities
and characters, and on foreseeing at once the
effect that would be produced by any resistance to
our measures.

Self love often interferes with sound policy. We
frequently wish to triumph over an enemy from a
feeling of resentment, and engage in a bad cause
without foreseeing its consequences.

We ought to know how to controul the passions
\fhen led away by them, and oppose only a cool

LETTERS. 181

riead to those who are must inflammatory ; which
seems to have given rise to the saying, the earth
belongs to the phlcgmatical.

We may disconcert the most impetuous adver
sary by great moderation.

We should have fewer quarrels and wars in the
world, were men only to compute what their
quarrels and battles will cost. It is not sufficient
to have men and money at our disposal ; we must
know also how to dispose of them, and we should
recollect that fortune does not always favour the
brave. We have long pursued at Rome a tempo
rising system of politics, because we are weak,
and the course of events is often the happiest means
of relieving those from embarrassment who cannot
resist. But, as our irresolution is well known,
(and it is now a secret of which no one is ignorant)
it may even be commendable in a Pope, not indeed
to urge august claims, but to prove himself firm ;
without this, the Pontiffs will be sure to be opprest
as often as they are menaced.

There are nations which have unfortunately
need of war in order to become opulent ; — others
to whom it is certain ruin. And from all this I
conclude that a minister who takes a proper ad
vantage of these circumstances is really a treasure,
and that when a Sovereign has had the happiness

182 GANGANELLl's

•

to meet with such an one, he should keep him not
withstanding all court cabals.

I have just lisped on a subject with which you
are much better acquainted than myself; but one
expression leads on to another, and we are insen
sibly emboldened to speak of subjects of which
we are wholly ignorant.

Thus letters are written, we begin them without
foreseeing all that we shall say. The mind when
left to its own resources, is justly astonished at its.
fertility. It is a lively image of the production
of a world springing out of nothing ; for our
thoughts which had no existence suddenly break
forth and convince us that creation is not really as
certain modern philosophers pretend, a thing im
possible. I leave you to yourself, you are much
better off there than with me. Adieu. •

Rome, <22nd August, 1"56.

LETTERS. 183

LETTER XLII.

TO THE REV. FATHER * * *, ON BEING AP
POINTED CONFESSOR TO THE DUKE OF *.

WHAT a charge ! what a task ! my very dear
friend. Is it for your destruction, or is it for your
salvation, that Providence has assigned you so for
midable an employment. This thought should
make you tremble.

You ask me what you must do to fulfil its
duties ? I answer, Be an Angel.

How many are the dangers and snares laid for
the Confessor of a Sovereign, if he have not pa
tience to wait God's time, mildness to bear with
imperfections, and firmness to controul passion.
He more than any one else should be filled with
the gift of the Holy Spirit, sometimes to inspire
fear, sometimes to excite hope, and always to dis
seminate knowledge. He should possess a zeal
which is proof against every thing, and an impar
tial spirit which will enable him to balance the
interests of the people and those of the sovereign
of whom he has the care.

184 GANGANELLl's

He should first be anxious to know whether the
prince he directs, is acquainted with the duties of
religion, and with his obligations to his subjects ;
for unhappily, it too often happens that a princtf
comes out of the hands of his instructors, with
but a superficial knowledge. He should therefore
oblige his penitent to study, and to gather know
ledge from genuine sources, not by overloading
his memory by frequent reading, but by studying
radically what religion and politics require of the
man who governs.

There are some excellent works on this subject,
of which you should not be ignorant. I know
one which was composed for Victor Amadeus, and
which has no other defect than that of being too
diffuse, and requiring too much.

When the Duke is well instructed (for he must
not be stupified with trifling ceremonies) you should
recommend him continually to seek truth, and to
love it without reserve. Truth should be the
compass of sovereigns. This is the way to defeat
the base designs of all those informers and court
parasites, who maintain themselves by fraud and
flattery, and who, a thousand times more dangerous
than the worst plagues, involve princes in present
and eternal ruin.

You should insist continually on the indispensa-

LETTERS. 185

ble necessity of enforcing the respect due to re
ligion, not by inspiring a spirit of persecution, but
by recommending that evangelical courage, which
spares the people, and yet prevents the practice of
crimes. You should frequently remind him that
the life of a sovereign, like his crown, is of no
value if he suffer the worship of God to be ridi
culed, and do not arrest the progress of irreligion.

You must take care by your firmness, your
, remonstrances, your prayers, and even by your
tears, that the prince of whom you have the ma
nagement, distinguish himself by good morals, and
contribute to their promotion in his states, as con
stituting the tranquillity of citizens, and the hap
piness of families, which are the true germ of
population.

You should often represent to him that his sub
jects are his children ; that he should be devoted to
them night and day, in short every moment, to
console and assist them ; that he should tax them
only in proportion to their property and industry,
so as not to involve them in indigence or despair*
and that he owes them prompt justice.

If you do not persuade him to examine every
thing himself, you would only half fulfil your mi
nistry. We cannot render the people happy but by

186

entering into particulars ; and there is no way of
knowing them but by descending into detail.

Let the people (so despised by the great, who
seem to imagine that in a state all are common
people but the sovereign) be always present to you
as a sacred portion for whom the prince ought
ever to be solicitous; a portion, which is the sup
port of the throne, and which he should guard
as the apple of his eye.

Impress upon your illustrious pupil, that the
life of a sovereign is a life of labour ; that recre
ations are not permitted to him as to all other
men, but by way of relaxation, and teach him
that he must even interrupt his religious reading,
and his prayers, if the necessities of the state re
quire it.

You must remind him of the solemn account
he will render to God of his administration, and
not merely of the judgment which history pro
nounces on bdd princes after their death. It is
not a sufficiently Christian motive to fix the atten
tion of a religious prince on this subject, for
history is only the voice of men. and will perish
with them ; but the thought of an overliving God.
who continually avenges the crimes of men, ought
chiefly to regulate the conduct of a sovereign. It
is but of littlo importance to mobt people whether

LETTERS. 167

others speak well or ill of them after their death ;
but the sight of an inflexible, eternal Judge, makes
the deepest impression on the mind.

You will not prescribe that penitence which
consists only in repeating prayers ; but you must
apply a proper remedy to cure the wounds you
may perceive ; and you must especially endeavour
to discover what is the besetting sin. Without
this we may confess a penitent for a century, and
still remain ignorant of his real character. We
must always go to the source of an evil, if we
would arrest its progress.

Take great care to confine yourself to the duties
of your office, and not to interfere, I do not say
merely in any intrigue, but in any court business.
It is unbecoming in a Monk who should appear
only to represent Jesus Christ, to dishonour that
august function by a sordid interest and a horrible
ambition.

All your desire, all your views should be di
rected only to the safety of the prince who places
his confidence in you. Astonish him by exhibit
ing a virtue proof against every assault, and
always equally preserved. If a confessor do not
render himself respectable, and especially to the
court by whom excuses are ever sought for not

188

GANGANELLl S

being a Christian, he authorizes vice, and is in
danger of being despised.

Inculcate deeply on the mind of the prince, that
he is responsible to God for all the places he gives
away, and for all the evil committed therein, if he do
not make a good choice of those who should fill
them. Represent to him especially the danger of
appointing to ecclesiastical dignities ignorant or
vicious people, and of nourishing their effeminacy
and avarice, by giving them numerous benefices.
Persuade him to seek out merit and to reward those
who write for public utility and for religion. Teach
him to maintain his dignity, not by pomp, but by a
magnificence proportionate to the extent of his
states, his resources and his revenues ; and to
descend at the same time from his rank, to associate
with his subjects, and contribute to their happiness.

Often remind him of his duties not with a severe
tone, not with importunity, but with that charity,
which being the effusion of the Holy Spirit,
never speaks but with prudence, seizes the proper
moment, and profits by it. When a prince is
convinced of the wisdom and piety of a confessor,
he listens to him with docility, unless he has a
corrupt heart.

If he should not accuse himself of essential
faults in his administration, you must speak of

LETTERS. 189

them in general, and thus insensibly obtain a con
fession of ail that is important for you to know.
You should frequently insist on the necessity of
hearing every one, and of seeing justice promptly
executed. If you do not feel disposed to adopt
this plan, retire; for these arc precepts which
cannot be transgressed without becoming guilty in
the sight of men and before God.

The office of an ordinary director does not
attract the attention of the public ; but all eyes
are open to the conduct of the confessor of a
sovereign. Thus he cannot be too exact in the
tribunal of penitence, that those may not approach
the sacraments, who, by scandalous actions, ren
dered themselves unworthy of it, in the judgement
of the public. There are not two Gospels, one
for the people, and the other for sovereigns. Both
will be equally tried by this unalterable rule,
because the law of the Lord remains for ever.

Princes are not only the images of God by
their power and authority, which they derive only
from him, they are still more so, on account of the
virtues they ought to possess in order to represent
him. A people should be able to say of their
sovereign, he governs us like the Deity himself,
-with wisdom, -with clemency, with equity ; for
sovereigns are unaccountable for their conduct

190

GANGANELLl'«

towards their subjects, not to unveil to them the
secrets of their councils, but to do nothing to in-
jure them.

Take care especially neither through weakness
nor from deference to your fellow creatures, to
violate truth. We are not to capitulate with the
law of God ; it is of the same authority at all times,
and the spirit of the Church is always the same.
It still praises the zeal of the great Ambrose with
respect to the emperor Theodosius, as it did for
merly ; for it varies neither in its morality nor in
its articles of Faith.

I pray God with all my heart that he may keep
you, and enlighten you in your arduous career, in
which you ought to be not a common man, but a
celestial guide. You will then live like an Ancho
rite in the midst of the great world ; like a Monk
in an abode where there is generally little religion ;
like a Saint in a spot which would prove destruc
tive to all the men of God, if the Lord had not his
elect in every place. I embrace you, and am, &c.

Rome, 26M April, 1755.

LETTERS. 191

LETTER XLIII.

TO THE ABBE L*AMI.

I wish, my dear Abbe, for the honour of your
country and of Italy, that the history of Tuscany
about to be published, may perfectly correspond
with its title.

What a fine subject to treat upon, if the writer,
at once judicious and delicate, describe the arts
as proceeding from this country where they had
been hidden for many centuries ; and represent in
glowing colours the Medicis, to whom we are in
debted for these inestimable advantages.

History brings together all ages and men, with
the design of producing a perspective, which delight
fully fixes the attention. It gives colour to thoughts,
soul to actions, life to the dead ; and makes them
re-appear on the scene of the world, as though
they were still living, with this difference, that it is
no longer to flatter, but to judge them.

History was formerly written ill, and our Italian
authors of the present age do not write it top wejl«

192

They only heap together epochas and dates, with
out displaying the genius of every nation and of
every hero.

Most men consider history as a fine piece of
Inlanders tapestry, at which they give a glance.
They are satisfied with seeing the personages it
represents, dazzling by the brilliancy of colouring
given to them ; without thinking of the head which
conceived the design, or of the hand which exe
cuted it; and thus do people think they see every
thing, whilst they see nothing.

I deny that history is of any use, when the
principal aim is to bring into view princes, battles,
and exploits ; but I know not a more instructive
book, when we attend to the order of events, and
observe how they were brought about ; when we
analyze the talents and intentions of those who
put the world in motion ; when we are transpoited
by it to ages and regions in which memorable oc
currences have taken place.

The reading of history yields an inexhaustible
variety of reflections. We must weigh each fact,
not like a sceptic who doubts every thing but like
a critic who does not wish to be deceived. It is
seldom that young people profit by history, because
they are never spoken to on the subject but as a
course of reading to exercise their memories.

LETTERS.

193

whereas they should be told that it is with the
soul and not with the eyes merely, they are to
read historical works.

Then we shall discover men who were flattered,
and yet who dishonoured humanity ; men who were
persecuted, and yet who were the glory of their
nation and age. We shall then see the advantages
of emulation, the dangers of ambition ; then we
shall perceive that interest actuates alike cities,
courts, and families.

Historians seldom indulge in reflections, that
they may give their readers leisure to analyze, and
opportunity to form a judgment of the persons to
whom the narrative refers.

There are in all the histories of the world, be-
ings who are scarcely seen, and yet who, behind
the curtain, put every thing in motion. The man
\vho reads properly, fixes on these characters,
and gives them that honour which flattery too
often pays to men in office. Almost all princes,
and almost all their ministers, have a secret spring
which directs their actions, and is only discovered
when they are decomposed for the purpose of esti
mating their value.

It may be also observed that those great events
which astonish the world, have frequently been
brought about by men of very inferior, and even

194 GANGANELLl's

obscure condition. Many women, who appear
only as the wives of such a prince, or such an
ambassador, and who are not even mentioned in
history, have frequently been the cause of the
finest exploits. Their advice prevailed, it was
adopted, and the husbands had all the honour of
an enterprize, which was owing only to the sa
gacity of their wives.

Tuscany furnishes a thousand brilliant traits,
which a skilful hand might draw in a most lively
and bold style. The place in which it would be
seen that princes, possessing so little power as
the Medicis, were capable of reviving the Arts,
and re-animating them throughout Europe, would
not be the least pleasing. When I figure to my
self this era, I seem to view a new world spring
ing out of nothing, a new sun shedding his beams
upon the nations. Were this work, my dear Abbe,
in your hands, you would give it all the life of
which it is susceptible. Adieu, I am just be
sieged, and will not suffer myself to be blockaded ;
so much the more as they are visits of decorum,
and we must know how to be civil.

Rome, Nov. 8j

LETTERS,

LETTER XLIV.

TO PRINCE SAN SEVERO.

May it please your Excellence,

I always admire your new discoveries. You
cause a second universe to arise out of the first
by all that you create. This vexes our antiqua
ries, who persuade themselves that nothing is in
teresting or beautiful, but what is very old.

It is doubtless right to value antiquity, but we
should not I think be slaves to it, so as to exalt
beyond measure a thing in itself of no value,
merely because it was taken from the gardens of
Adrian.

The ancients, like us, made use of things ex
tremely common ; and were things to be prized for
their antiquity alone, the earth might on this
account claim our first homage ; for surely no one
will dispute its antiquity.

I cannot endure enthusiasts, any more than
persons completely frigid. They, and they alone,
who steer a middle course between these two ex
tremes, can see and judge properly. The indif-

K 2

196

ference of the apathetic deprives them of taste and
curiosity ; and both are necessary in order to ex
amine and decide correctly.

Imagination is still more dangerous than indif
ference, if it be not well regulated. It causes a
dazzling light which intercepts the view, and ob
scures reason. Even philosophy, over whom this
wanton nymph should never gain the ascendancy,
is daily sensible of its too fatal impression. The
sophisms, the paradoxes, the captious reasonings
\vhich follow in the train of all our modern phi
losophers, have no other source than the imagi
nation. It acts by caprice, and has no regard ei
ther to experience or truth.

Your Excellence must be acquainted with these
writings, having frequent opportunities of reading
the works of the age. England which, from its
phlegmatic temperament, should seem to have less
imagination than other nations, has often published
the most extravagant theories. Their philosophers
have raved still more than ours, because it was
necessary for them to make greater efforts to over
come their naturally gloomy and taciturn charac
ter. Their imagination is like a torch which
easily takes fire, but whose vapour affects the
brain.

Imagination is properly called the Mother 01"

LETTERS.

197

dreams, she produces more than the Night itself;
and they are so much the more dangerous as,
when giving ourselves up to them, we do not be
lieve that \ve dream ; whereas the morning dispels
the illusions of sleep.

I always fear lest your chemical experiments
should injure your health. Terrible accidents
sometimes result from them. But when we are
making any new experiment in natural philoso
phy, we are disposed to pursue it without fear
of the issue, as an officer, who, impelled by va
lour alone, rushes at random into the thickest of
the fight.

I have the honour to be, with as much respect
as attachment, &c.

Rome, Jan. 13, 1757.

LETTER XLV.

TO A YOUNG MONK.

THE advice you wish, my dear friend, re
specting your course of study, should be analo
gous to your dispositions and talents. If vivacity
of mind be predominant, you should temper it
by reading works in which there is but little ima
gination ; if on the other hand your thoughts are
heavy, you should enliven them, by familiarizing
yourself with books full of fire.

Do not overload your memory with dates and
facts, before you have given order to your ideas,
and correctness to your reasonings. You should
accustom yourself to think methodically and to
dissipate, but without effort, all the chimeras
which pass through your mind. He who always
thinks vaguely, is fit for nothing, because he finds
nothing which can fix his attention.

The basis of your studies should be the know
ledge of God and of yourself. By thorough self
examination you will find in yourself the impress
of him that created you ; and by reflecting OK

LETTERS. 199

the wanderings of the imagination and of the heart,
you will perceive the necessity of that Revelation
which has renewed the Law in a most efficacious
and impressive manner.

You should then give yourself r^p without re
serve to that knowledge which, by the consent of
reason and authority, introduces us at once into
the sanctuary of religion ; and from thence you
will derive the celestial doctrine taught in the holy
books, and interpreted by the Councils and the
Fathers of the Church.

The reading of these will familiarize you with
true eloquence, and you should take them early
as models, if you would succeed afterwards in
your style of writing and preaching.

You should take advantage of the intervals
which will occur in your exercises, to glance oc
casionally at the most beautiful fragments of ora
tors and poets, after the example of St. Jerome,
that is, not like a man who is to live upon them,
but as a person who extracts from them whatever
is best to adorn his style, an 1 makes them sub-
sen ient to the glory of religion.

The historians will afterwards lead you by the
hand from age to age, in order to show you those
revolutions and events which have not ceased to
agitate and occupy the world. This will conti-

200 GANGANELLl's

nually constrain you to see and adore that Pro
vidence, which directs all according to its wise
designs.

You will see in history in almost every page,
how empires and emperors were instruments of
justice or mercy in the hands of God ; how he
exalts and abases them ; how he creates and de
stroys them, being himself always the same and
never changing.

You should read again in the morning what you
have read in the evening, that your reading may
be treasured up in your memory and in due order;
and you should never fail, if you would not be
come prejudiced in favour of a party, to make the
reading of a phlegmatic and grave work, succeed
to that of a book full of imagination.

This will temper those thoughts which the pro
ductions of an exalted mind may have excited,
and fix the genius which suffers itself too fre
quently to be carried out of its proper sphere.

You should cultivate as much as possible the
conversation of learned men. Happily Provi
dence has made provision for this, for in almost
all our religious houses, monks are to be found
who have made a considerable progress in litera
ture.

Do not neglect the society of the aged. They

LETTERS. 201

have in their memory stored with many facts of
which they were witnesses, a repertory which it is
desirable to examine. They resemble those old
books which contain excellent things, although
frequently moth eaten, dusty, and badly bound.

You should not be passionately fond of any
work, of any author, or of any sentiment, lest
your mind should become tinctured with preju
dice, but you should give the preference to one
writer over another, when you find him more
judicious and excellent. Prepossessions and pre
judices are the things against which we ought to
guard with the greatest precaution ; and unhappily
the more we study, the more we are liable to be
led away by it.

We identify ourselves with an author who has
said some good things, and insensibly become the
panegyrist and admirer of all his opinions, how
ever extravagant they may be. Guard against this
misfortune ; and be always more the friend of
truth, than of Plato or of Scotus,

Respect the sentiments of the Order to which
you belong, that you may neither oppose received
opinions, nor be a slave to them. We should not
obstinately adhere to any thing which is not con
nected with the Faith, nor has received the sanc
tion of the Church. I have seen Professors who

K 3

202

would rather be killed than abandon the opinions
of the Schools. My conduct with respect to
these was to pity and to shun them. Attach your
self to the scholastic method only in as much as
it is needful to understand the jargon of the Schools,
and to refute the sophists ; for far from being the
essence of Theology, it is only the bark.

Avoid disputes: seldom is a subject rendered
clear by disputation; yet you should know how
on proper occasions to maintain truth, and com
bat error, with the arms which Jesus Christ and
his Apostles have put into our hands, and which
consist in mildness, persuasion, and charity. It
is not easy to take minds by storm ; but we may
succeed in gaining them over, if \ve know the art
of insinuating ourselves.

Be cp.reful not to fatigue the faculties of your
mind, by giving yourself up to immoderate stu
dios : sufficient to the day is the evil thereof; and
unless there is a necessity for it, we should not,
by labour prolonged at night, anticipate the next
day.

The man who manages his time, and who gives
only some hours regularly to study, makes much
greater advances than he who heaps moments on
moments, and knows not when to step. When
we have no method we generally finish by. being

LETTERS. 203

only the frontispiece of books, or a library in con
fusion.

Love order then, but without being precise,
that you may know how to lay aside your work
till another time, when you are not disposed to
study. The man of study should not labour like
the ox, which is yoked to make a furrow, nor
like the hireling who is paid by the day.

It is a sad custom continually to struggle against
repose and sleep : what is done against the will is
never well done ; and what is written with con
strained application of mind, impairs the health.

There are days and hours in which we have
no disposition to labour; and then it is a folly to
do violence to ourselves, unless we are extremely
hurried.

There are very few books which do not dis
cover labour of composition, because people too
frequently write when they ought to rest.

The great art of succeeding in our studies, con
sists in applying ourselves to labour, and resting
at proper intervals : without this, the head will be
heated, the mind either depressed or exalted, and
nothing will be produced but what is either lan
guishing or extravagant. Learn to make a good
choice of the works you read, that you may know
only good things, and how to make a good use of

204: GANGANEtLl's

them, life is too short to be wasted in superfluous
studies : if we do not make haste to learn, we
shall find ourselves grown old without knowing
any thing.

Especially pray to God to enlighten you : for
there is no knowledge but from him, and we are in
darkness when we do not follow his light.

Leave events to take their course, and trust
alone to your merit for preferment. If places do
not seek you, content yourself with the last, and
believe me that is the best.

I have never been better pleased than when after
chapters have been held, I found myself possessed
of no other honour than that of existence : I then
congratulated myself on having refused all the
honours which had been offered me, and on having
only myself to govern.

The advantage of loving study, and conversing
with the dead, is worth a thousand times more
than the frivolous glory of commanding the living.
The best kind of government is that which consists
in keeping the senses and passions in due subjec
tion, and in preserving to the mind the sovereignty
which is its due.

Add to this that the diligent man knows no en
nui j that he thinks himself young when he is old ;

LETTERS. 205

the hurry of the cloister as well as the troubles of
the world, are always at a distance from him.

I advise you then, my dear friend, not only for the
advantage of Religion, not only for the benefit of our
Order, but for your own satisfaction, to give your
self up to study. With a book, a pen, and your
thoughts, you will find yourself \vell wherever you
may be. Both the understanding and the heart
present an asylum to man, when he knows how lo
retire thither.

I am sensible of all the honour you manifest
towards me, and so much the more as you might
have consulted the fathers Colombini, Marzoni,
Martinelli, in preference to me. They are men
who from their knowledge and talents, are capable
of giving excellent advice. Adieu ; and believe
me your servant and good friend.
Rome, 1th June,

206

LETTER XLVI

TO THE REV. FATHER * * * MONK OF THE
CONGREGATION OF THE SOMASQU1.

THE loss, my Rev. Father, which the Church has
just sustained, in the person of Benet XIV, I feel
so much the more, as I found in him an excellent
protector. 1 came to Rome in 1/40, the first
year of his pontificate ; and from that time he has
not ceased to honour me with his kindness. If
you were to compose his funeral oration, you
would have the finest subject to handle. You
would not surely forget that he studied amongst
you, at the Clementine College, and there laid the
foundation of that sublime and extensive know
ledge, which has procured him distinction in the
Church, and which will one day associate him
with the Bernards and Buonaventures.

Take care in this funeral oration, that your
mind rises with your hero ; and that the magna
nimity which characterized him be worthily ex
pressed.

Endeavour to be an historian as well as an

LETTERS. 207

orator, in such a manner, however, as that there
may be neither languor nor barrenness in your
details: the attention of the public should be con
tinually k<°pt up by fine strokes, worthy both of
the m -jesty °f tne pulpit, and the sublimity of
Lam') ;'tini.

In vain will you call to your aid all the figures
of rhetoi;.", if they do not come spontaneously.
That eloquence olMie is to be admired which flows
from the source, nnd rises out of the grandeur of
the subject •. forced eulogies are amplifications and
not eulogies.

Let those virtues which are likely to impress
your auditor* arise out of the ashes of Benct XIV,
and by which they mr»y be formed after his model,
and filled \\iih him only.

Let there be no minute details, no extravagant
facts, no bombast expressions. Mingle, as much
as possible, ihe sublime with the temperate, in
order to form that agreeable variety, which gives
grace to discourse. Endeavour to choose an ap
propriate text, which may announce the whole
plan of your Oration, uiul perfectly characterize
your hero. The division is the touchstone of a
panegyrist ; the discourse cannot be excellent, if
this be not happily constructed.

Introduce morality with discretion, so that it

208 GANGANELLl's

may appear to come in of its own accord, and
that your audience may be able to say " It could
" not be better than there ; that was its proper
" place."

Dread common place topics ; and let each one
see Lambertini, and not perceive the orator. Praise
•with much delicacy and sobriety, and give to your
praises a spring by which they may ascend to
God.

If you do not move the soul by happy> new,
and striking images, your work will be only an
effort of the mind ; and you will have made only
a simple epitaph, instead of erecting a mauso
leum.

Especially speak to the heart, by impressing it
with awful truths, which may detach it from life,
and make all your hearers descend into the tomb
of the Holy Father.

Pass slightly over the infancy of your hero :
all men resemble each other, till the time when
their reason begins to dawn. Let your sentences
be neither too long, nor too short : there is no
nerve in a discourse, which is divided into minute
parts.

Let your exordium be majestic, without being
inflated ; and let your first period especially an
nounce something grand. I compare the begin-

LETTERS.

209

ning of a funeral oration to the portico of a temple ;
I judge of the beauty of the edifice, if I fmd ma
jesty there.

Display in the most striking manner, death over
turning thrones, breaking sceptres, treading under
foot tiaras, tarnishing crowns, and place over these
wrecks of human grandeur the Genius of Benet ;
as having nothing to fear from the ruins of time,
as defying death to tarnish his glory and to efface
his name.

Detail his virtues ; analyze his writings, and dis
play throughout a sublime soul, which would have
astonished Pagan Rome, which edified Christian
Rome, and which attracted the admiration of the
Universe.

In a word, flash,— thunder,— but at the same
time collect those clouds which may serve to in
crease the splendour, and form a striking contrast.

My imagination kindles, when contemplating
so great a Pope as Benet ; that pontiff regarded
even by Protestants, and who could be represented
only by a Michael Angelo.

If I have dilated upon this subject, it is because
I know you can easily comprehend what I recom
mend to you. A funeral oration is fine only in
proportion as it is picturesque, and as the pencil is
guided by force and truth. The greater part of

210

panegyricks drop into the graves of those \vlio are
eulogized, because it is only an ephemeral elo
quence produced by a fine mind, and the lustre of
which is but tinsel.

I should be grieved to see Lambertini, celebrated
by an orator who should be only elegant : we
must serve each one according to his taste, and his
was always correct and good.

Write, my dear friend, 1 shall gladly see what
you commit to paper, convinced that ihere will be
passages full of fire, which will consume all that
is unworthy of such an eulogy. 1 judge so from
the productions you have already i-hcwn me, and
in which I have remarked great beauties. It is
time that our Italy lost its concetti ; and assumed
a masculine and sublime tone, analogous to true
eloquence.

I am endeavouring to form by my advice some
young orators, who take the trouble to consult me ;
and I endeavour as much as possible to give them
a distaste for those extravagancies, which con
tinually place in our discourses the burlesque by
the side of the sublime. Foreigners are justly
offended by so incongruous a mixture. The
French particularly arc unacquainted with 4his
strange variety. Their discourses are frequently
superficial, having much less solidity than surface ;

LETTERS. 211

but we generally find in them at least an unity of
style. Nothing is more offensive than to soar
above the clouds, and afterwards to fall abruptly.
My respects to our little Father, who would
have done wonders, had it not been for his deplor
able health.

Rome, 10M May, 1758.

212 GANGANJiLLl's

LETTER XLVII.

WE have at length, as head of the Church, Car
dinal Rezzonico, Bis/top of Padua, who has taken
the name of Clement, and who will improve the
Romans by his piety. It was in spite of himself,
and after many tears, that he accepted it. What an
office, when its duties are properly fulfilled ! He
must live for God, for the whole world, for himself,
occupied entirely with his great obligations, and
having Heaven alone in view in the midst of all
earthly concern?. To sustain with dignity this sacred
office is so much the more difficult as he succeeds
Benet XIV. after whom few could appear great.

Clement XIII. keeps Cardinal Archinto, as
Secretary of State. This is the best way to render
himself beloved by the sovereigns of Europe, and
his pontificate illustrious. It is necessary at the
commencement of a reign, to make choice of an
excellent minister, or to do every thing oneself.
Benet XIII. was the most unfortunate of men, in

LETTERS. 213

having reposed his confidence in Cardinal Coscia,
and Benet XIV. the most happy, in having had
Cardinal Valenti as his minister.

It is essentially necessary for a sovereign, and
especially for a Pope, to be surrounded by good
men. The knowledge of the most discerning
prince becomes perverted when he listens to flat
terers. Brass then becomes gold in his eyes, and
he preserves in office, whatever it may cost him, the
men whom he h-as once protected.

The discernment of characters is another quality
scarcely less necessary to a prince. Men dare
not impose on a monarch whom they know to .be
penetrating, and despise him who suffers himself
to be led. There are sovereigns who have done
more harm by sloth and weakness, than by wicked
ness. Persons may grow weary of correcting fla
grant injustice, but not of feeling and seeing no
thing.

The weaker a prince is, the more despotic he
will be, for as power must be lodged somewhere,
ministers possess themselves of it, and become
tyrannical.

One other quality which I consider as essential
to governing well, is to assign to each his proper
place. The moral world is governed like a game
of chess, where all is conducted in order and ac-

214

cording to rank. If one pawn be placed for
another, nothing can result ircm it bur confusion.
A sovereign is not only the ma^e of God by
the eminence of his rank, he should bt so also by
his intelligence. David, although a, shepherd, had
a superior knowledge which direcu-d him, ami he
made it appear as soon as he began to reign.

A prince who is all goodness, is but what every
one ought to be, as a prince \vho is all severity,
does not cherish towards his subjects the love which
he owes them.

Alas ! atoms as we are, we may talk well about
the duties of royalty ; but if we were invested
with it, how little should we know how to conduct
ourselves. There is a great difference between
talking and reigning. Nothing can stop us, where
we give a loose to our fancy, and let our pens run ;
but when we find ourselves overwhelmed with
business, surrounded by dangers, encompassed with
false friends, in a word, overwhelmed by the
heaviest and greatest obligations, we are alarmed,
we dare scarcely undertake any thing; and by an
indolence, natural to all men, we repose the task
of government on mere subalterns, and occupy
ourselves only with the pleasures of arbitrary
power.

It is certain that the art of government is ex-

LETTERS. 215

ceedingly difficult. If a prince succeed to an
hereditary crown, he becomes acquainted with th»
dignity, while he remains ignorant of the business of
royalty, and is thus easily deceived. If on the. con
trary he succeed to an elective Crown, he takes on
himself a sovereignty to which he has not served an
apprenticeship ; and seems as ill at ease in the
midst of his honours, as of the affairs of state.

An old man who is placed on a throne, is fit
only for a pageant. He dare undertake nothing,
every thing excites his alarm, every thing encreases
his supineness, especially if ignorant uf his suc
cessor. This is the situation of Popes, if they
are too old. They cannot then attend to the affairs
of the Church and State.

But the world will never be without abuses ; if
they are not in one place, they are in another,
because imperfections are common to humanity.
It is only in the holy city, said the great Augustin,
that all will be order, peace and charity ; for that
"Will be the kingdom of God.

I shall go and congratulate the new pontiff, not
as a monk who likes to put himself forward, but
as Counsellor of the Holy Office. He does not
know me, nor am I anxious to be known by him.
I like to remain covered with the dust of my

216 GANGANELLl's

cloister, and think myself not at all dishonoured
by it.

Adieu. Always preserve amongst us the good
taste of the Medicis ; and your memory will be
long cherished, although you may trouble yourself
very little about it. I am, &C.

Rome, 15th July, 1758.

LETTERS.

LETTER XLVIIL

TO A PROTESTANT MINISTER.

I AM very much obliged, my dear Sir, by the
interest you take in my health. It is very good,
thanks to Heaven ; and it would appear to me still
better, if I could use it in any thing agreeable to
you. The pleasure of obliging should extend
itself to every community.

I wish with all my soul to be able to convince
you that I bear all men on my heart ; that they
are all infinitely precious to me, and that I respect
merit wherever it is found. If your nephew come
to Rome, as you give me reason to hope, he will
find in me a person most zealous and anxious to
testify to him all the affection I entertain for you.

The Roman Church, my very dear Sir, is so
perfectly aware of the merit of the greater part of
the ministers of Protestant communities, that she
would be happy ever to receive them within her
bosom. She would not revive past quarrels ; she
would not reproduce those stormy times, in which
each one, impelled by passion, overstepped the

L

218

bounds of Christian moderation, but she would en
deavour to re-unite them in one creed, founded on
Scripture and Tradition, such as may be found in
the writings of the Apostles, Councils, and Fathers.
No one regrets more than myself the evils you
suffered during the last century : the spirit of per
secution is most odious to me.

How much would the nations gain by a happy
union? For this, if it were necessary, I would
shed the last drop of my blood, grieved that I had
not a thousand lives to give, might I but die a wit
ness to so wonderful an event. That period will
arrive, my dear sir, for the time must come when
there will be but one and the same faith. The
Jews themselves will enter into the bosom of the
true Church ; and it is in the firm hope of this,
founded on the sacred scriptures, that they are
tolerated at Rome, in the full exercise of their re
ligion.

My soul, God knows, is entirely yours, and
there is nothing in the world I would not under
take to prove to you as well as to all your denomi
nation, how dear you are to me. We have the
same God for our Father, we believe in the same
Mediator, we acknowledge as indisputable the doc
trines of the Trinity, the Incarnation, Redemption,
and we sincerely wish each other to go to Heaven.

LETTERS. 21S

In point of doctrine, there are not two ways of ar
riving there. There must be on earth a centre of
uni^, as well as a Head who represents Jesus
Christ — The Church would be in reality shapeless,
unworthy of our homage and attachment, if it
were only a headless body.

The work of the Messiah is not like that of man.
What he has established must remain for ever.
He could not cease one instant to assist his Church ;
and you, sir, are too enlightened to consider the
Albigenses as pillars of the truth, upon whom
you may rely. Do me the pleasure to tell all
your brethren, all your flocks, all your friends,
that Cardinal Ganganelli has nothing so much at
heart as their happiness in this world and the
other, and that he wishes to know them all, to
assure them of it. Nothing can be added, &c,

Rome, 30th Jan. 1769,

L 2

220

LETTER XLIX.

TO COUNT * * *•

I WRITE to inform you, my dear friend, in th«
solitude in which you have spent some weeks, that
brother Ganganelli, who always loved you ten
derly, is made a Cardinal, and that he himself
knows neither how, nor wherefore.

There are events in the course of life for which
we cannot account ; they are brought about by cir
cumstances, and ordered by Providence, which is
ihe mainspring of every thing.

However it may be, whether in purple or not, I
shall not be less entirely devoted to you, and I
shall be always delighted to see and to oblige
you.

I sometimes feel my pulse, to know if it be
indeed I myself, being truly astonished that fortune
has raised me to one of the highest dignities, has not
given the preference to one of my brethren, there
are many of them whom it would well have suit
ed.

Every one says in speaking of the new Cardinal

LETTERS.

Ganganelii : It is incredible, that without intrigue,
without cabal, he should have attained that honour;
it is nevertheless very true.

0 my books ! O my all ! I know what I leave,
and am ignorant of what I shall find. Alas !
many troublesome people will come and rob me
of my time ; many interested people will pay me
feigned homage.

As for you, my dear friend, persevere in the path
of virtue. We are superior to all dignities when
we are truly virtuous : perseverance is promised
only to those who distrust themselves, and temp
tation; whoever is presumptuous must expect
falls.

When I think that the public papers will deign
to mention me, to send my name beyond the Alps,
to tell different nations when I have the head ache,
and ambled, I smile with pity. Dignities are
snares which are only dazzling to those who suffer
themselves to fall in them. Few persons know the
vexations of grandeur: we are no longer our own ;
and act as we may we shall have enemies.

1 think with S. Gregory of Nazianzen : He
imagined when the people thronged to see him pass,
that they took him for an extraordinary animal.
J am not accustomed, I confess, to this usage ;
and if this constitute what is called grandeur, I

GANGANELL1*S

would willingly bid it adieu. I consider all men as
my brethren ; and am delighted when the most un
fortunate speak to me with freedom.

Men will say that I have plebeian manners, and
I am not afraid of this reproach, for I am only ap
prehensive of pride. This is so subtle that it will
do its utmost to penetrate and to possess me ; but
I will keep in view my own nothingness, and that
of all surrounding objects : this is the best way to
subdue self-love.

Do not take it in your head to pay me a com
pliment when you come to see me : that is a mer
chandise which I do not like, and especially on
the part of a friend. But here are visitors, or in
other words, all that is disagreeable to me, and
which has rendered me for some days insupport
able to myself. Grandeur like tempests has its
clouds, its lightnings and its whirlwinds ; I long
for a calm, and an interval of serenity. I am with
out reserve, and beyond all expression, as well as
in past times, your good and true servant, &c.

Rome, 3rd Oct. 1759-

BETTERS.

LETTER L.

TO MY LORD * * *.

I AM not accustomed to see a mind like yours,
the dupe of modern philosophy. Your knowledge
should preserve you from the sophisms it engen
ders, which reduce us to the wretched condition of
brutes.

If there be a God, as Nature proclaims in all
her works, there is also religion. If there be re
ligion, it must be incomprehensible, sublime, and
as ancient as the world, since it emanates from
an infinite and eternal Being : and if it have these
characters, that religion must unquestionably be
Christ's ; and if it be Christ's we are bound to ac
knowledge it as divine, and receive it with our
whole heart and soul.

Is it credible then that God should have con
structed the Universe in so glorious a manner,
merely to gratify the eyes of a multitude of men
and beasts, who are to be confounded together in
one common destiny; or that the understanding
which resides in us, which combines, which cal
culates, which extends beyond the earth, which

224 GANGANELLl's

rises higher than the firmament, which recals all
past ages, which penetrates into ages to come,
which has in short an idea of what is to last for
ever, should shine for a moment only to disperse
afterwards like a vapour.

What is that inward voice which continually
tells you, that you are born for great things?
What are those desires which are continually re
newed, and which make you feel, that there is
nothing in this world which can satisfy the heart.

Man may be compared to an invalid, who ru
minates on his own griefs, in proportion as he is
estranged from God ; and the light of his reason
•which he stifles, leaves him in the midst of tremen
dous darkness,

The same truth which assures you of your own
existence, I mean that inward witness of which
you are conscious, assures us of that of God ;
and you cannot receive a lively idea of this without
being impressed with that of religion. The wor
ship we pay to the Supreme Being, is so blended
with this idea, that our mind is only satisfied when
it renders him homage, and when we conform
ourselves to the order which he has established.

If there be a God, he must necessarily be benefi
cent ; and if he be beneficent, you ought by the most
just consequence, to thank him for his mercies.

LETTERS.

Neither the blessing of existence, nor that of health,
comes from yourself : seven and twenty years ago
you were nothing, and you have suddenly become
an organized body, enriched by a mind which,
-commands it like a master, and leads it at its will.

This reflexion should engage you to seek the
Author of your life; and you will find him in
yourself, when you are willing to' search yourself,
and in every thing which surrounds you, without
any of these objects being able to boast that they
form a particle of his substance ; for God is sim
ple, indivisible, and cannot in any respect be iden
tified with the elements.

If the religion he has established have taken
different forms, if it have been perfected since the
coming of the Messiah, it is because God has
treated it like our reason, which at first was but a
glimmering light, and which developing itself by
degrees, at length shines as the perfect day.

Besides, is it for man to interrogate God as to
his conduct? Is it for him to regulate the ways of
Jehovah, to prescribe to him his mode of operation ?
God communicates himself to us, but always re
serves to himself the right of acting as a master,
because there is in reality nothing that is not sub
jected to him. If he manifested to us his designs
clearly in the present state ; if the mysteries which

L 3

226

astonish us, and arrest our attention, were deve.
loped to us here, that would be the intuitive vision
which is reserved for us after this life, and death
would be useless. We shall have full evidence
only in heaven (cognoscam sicut et cognitus sum*),
and we wish to anticipate this moment, without
considering that every thing is regulated by infinite
wisdom, and that we have nothing to do but to
submit and adore. The infidel does not alter the
designs of God when he dares to rise up against
him, he even promotes his plan, that vast plan in
which evil concurs with good, for the harmony of
this world and the happiness of the next.

Nature and religion are equally derived from
God, and they have both, (although in a very dif
ferent manner,) their mysteries and incomprehen
sibilities ; and for the same reason that we do not
deny the existence of nature, although its opera
tions are frequently concealed from us, neither can
nor ought we to deny that of religion, notwithstand
ing its obscurities.

There is nothing here that has not a dark side,
because our soul, encumbered with a body which
darkens and oppresses it, would not be capable of
seeing every thing. Here it is in a state of infancy,
and it must have days proportioned to the weak-

* Then shall I -know even as I am known.

LETTERS. 227

ness of its sight, till death disengages it from the
weight which overwhelms it. It is like a tender
bird which continues to pant and cry out in its
-iiest, till it has learned to soar and fly.

The gradations of religion are admirable in the
eyes of the true philospher. He sees it at first
like a twilight, arising from the midst of chaos ;
afterwards like theduwri which announces the day;
at length the daylight is manifest, but it is surroun
ded by clouds, and he feels that it will not be per
fectly serene, and in its meridian splendour, till
.the morning when the heavens shall be open to us.

Has then the infidel who, without principle
censures revelation, one of his own which assures
Jiim that what we believe is absolutely chimerical?
But at what time, and in what place did this secret
light come to enlighten him ? Was it at the instant
when he was governed and absorbed by his pas
sions ? Was it in the midst of the amusements and
pleasures in which he generally passes his life ?

It is astonishing, my lord, how men abandon
all the authority of tradition, elude the force of
the strongest testimonies, blindly to follow two or
three individuals whom they consider as masters
of infidelity. They wish for no inspiration, and
^yet consider them as inspired ; whence it is easy to
Conclude that the passions alone attach them to

228

infidelity. People abhor a religion which imposes
restraints, when they wish to follow the torrent of
vice, and to float with the stream of a world co
vered with surges and foam.

Christianity is a superb picture drawn by the
hand of God, and presented by him to men ; it
was at first only sketched, until the time when
Jesus Christ came to finish it, and to give it the
lustre and colouring it is to have through Eter
nity.

Religion will then be the only object which will
fix our regards, because it will be in the essence of
God himself, making a whole with him, accord
ing to the expression of St. Augustin,

This gradation is conformable to the progress of
human life, and is carried on by succession. Thus
God has varied the forms of religion, because we
are in a world which varies ; and he will fix it in
an immutable manner in heaven, because there no
change is known. These are combinations and
proportions which render conspicuous the wisdom
of the Supreme Being. Religion being intended
for man, he has determined that it should follow
the progress of man, according to the different
modes of his existence.

We see nothing of all this, while we are terres
trial j and you would judge of it as I do, were you

LETTERS. 229

disengaged from all those pleasures, and all those
riches, which materialize you in spite of yourself.
Christianity is spirit and life ; and we are pro
digiously far from it, when we are engaged only in
what is bodily. Souls become luminous at death,
only because they no longer inhabit bodies which
surround and eclipse them. True philosophy does
what death will do, by disengaging man from all
that is carnal ; but it is not modern philosophy
which knows only the existence of matter, and
which considers metaphysics as a science purely
chimerical, although it is more certain than na
tural philosophy itself, which is proved only by
the senses.

I do not enter into the proofs of religion, because
they have been so frequently stated in immortal
ivorks, that I should do nothing but repeat their
arguments. Jesus Christ is the beginning and the
end of all things, the key of all the mysteries of
grace and nature; so that it is not surprizing that
people wander into a thousand absurd systems
when they have not this sublime compass. I can,
not give you a reason for any thing in natural any
more than in moral philosophy, said the celebrated
Cardinal Bembo in writing to a philosopher of his
time, if you do not acknowledge Jesus Christ.
The creation of this world is inexplicable, incom-

230

prehensible, and even impossible, if it had not been
framed for the incarnate word : for God can have
no other object in all he does, but what is infinite.
On this account Jesus Christ is called by St. John
the Alpha and Omega, and the Apostle tells us that
the world was made by him. " By whom also he
" made the world.9'

Study attentively this God-man, as much as a
creature is capable of doing it; and you will find
in him all the treasures of knowledge and wisdom,
and you will perceive him to be the first link of a
chain which unites all things visible and invisible,
and you will acknowledge him to be that divine in
fluence by which justice and holiness are nourished
in the heart.

The infidel can never answer satisfactorily the
question what is Jesus Christ, that man at once so
simple and so divine, so sublime and so abject, so
pure in the whole course of his life, so great at the
moment of his passion, and so magnanimous in
his death. This question must however be fairly
met. If he be only a man, he must have been an
impostor, for he declared that he was God, and
that thence proceeded his sublime virtues, thence
his Gospel, which forbids even the least equivoca
tion ; and how can we account for his victories or
ijbose of his disciples in all parts of the world I

LETTERS. 231

But if he be God, what must we think of his re
ligion, and of those who dare to oppose it ?

Ah ! my lord, this is a subject with which you
should seek an acquaintance, rather than with all
the profane sciences to which you are devoted.
Human sciences will end, " Whether there be
" tongues, they shall cease ; whether there be
" knowledge, it shall vanish away ;" and there will
remain only the knowledge of Jesus Christ, which
will rise above the abyss in which times and ele
ments will be swallowed up.

Consider yourself; and this view will necessarily
conduct you to truth. The least motion of your
finger indicates to you the action of God on your
person ; this action announces to you a Providence ;
this Providence informs you that you are dear to
the Creator ; and this information will conduct
you from truth to truth, till you arrive at the know
ledge of revelation.

If you are neither your own Creator, nor your
final end, you must necessarily have recourse to
him who unites these two qualities in himself. Ah !
who can this be — if not God ?

Religion will always be sure of gaining ground
in the esteem of all those who have principles.
We must trace its source, analyze and follow it to
ks final result, if we would know its truth ; but

232 GANGANELLl's

the impious disfigure it, dishonour it, and put a
mere skeleton in its place. I am no longer then
surprized if the ignorant, and those who judge ac
cording to fashionable minds, are fearful of it.

I expect, my lord, from the rectitude of your
mind and the extent of your capacity, a judgment
more solid than that you have hitherto entertained
of Christianity ; lay aside all systems and opinions
with which you are unhappily filled : enter, like an
entirely new man, on the path which tradition will
open to you, and you will judge quite differently :
return from the prejudices you have imbibed to
yourself: for you have not yet judged of it. For
my part, I act really according to the dictates of
my mind and heart, when I assure you of all the
affection with which I shall through life continue
to be your servant,

CARDINAL GANGANELLI.

Rome, 29M Nov. 1768.

LETTERS.

233

LETTER LI.

TO MY LORD * * *.

FOR the last four months I have been neither
to myself, nor my friends, but to all the different
Churches, of which, by divine permission, I am be
come the head, and to all the Catholic courts, many
of whom, as you know, have important transac
tions with the Holy See to regulate.

It is impossible to have a more litigious time to
become a Pope, and it is on me that Providence has
ordered this overwhelming weight to fall. I trust
that Providence will sustain me, and give me that
prudence and strength of mind which are alike
necessary to govern according to the rules of jus
tice and equity.

I am labouring to acquire the most exact know
ledge of the affairs which my predecessor left un
finished, and which call for the most careful in
vestigation.

You will confer on me a real pleasure if you
will bring me what you have written on things re*

234: GANGANELLl's

lating to this subject, and entrust them to me
alone.

You will find me as you have always known
me, as much a stranger to the grandeurs which
surround me, as though I did not know them even
nominally ; and you may speak to me as freely as
you formerly did, because the papacy has inspired
me with an increasing attachment to the truth, and
a fresh conviction of my own nothingness.

Rome, 21st Sep.

LETTERS.

235

LETTER LIL

TO THE REV. FATHER * * *, A MONK.

IF you think me happy, you are deceived.
After having been agitated all the day, I frequently
•wake in the midst of the night, and sigh after ray
cloister, my cell, and my books. I can truly say
that I look on your situation with envy. My only
encouragement is, that Heaven itself has placed
me in St. Peter's Chair, to the great astonishment
of the whole world, and that if it destine me to
any important work, it will sustain me.

I would, God knows, give every drop of my
blood, that all might be peaceful, that every one
might fulfil his duty, that those who have offended
might reform, and that there might be neither dis
cord nor the suppression of any Order.

I shall not proceed to extremities, unless urged
thereto by powerful motives, that posterity at least
may do me justice in case the age in which I live
should refuse it. It is not this, however, which
chiefly occupies my mind, but eternity, formidable
to every one, but especially to popes.

236

I will send you my answer on the subject you
\vish. You will know that I do not forget my
friends, and that if I do not see them as often as
formerly, it is because business and cares, like sen
tinels, are to be found at my gate, in my chamber,
in my heart.

Remember me to all my acquaintances : I think
sometimes of their astonishment on hearing of my
elevation.

Tell him especially with whom I studied, that
he did not prophesy well, when he said to our
companions that I should certainly go and finish
my days in France. There is no appearance at
present of the accomplishment of that prediction,
unless J should indeed be destined to very extraor
dinary things. I am always your affectionate

CLEMENT.
Castd Condolfo.

LETTERS* 237

LETTER LIII.

TO THE ABBE FRUGONI.

Sir,

I AM surprised that you have thought proper
to dedicate your last poems to me, who am no
further acquainted with the art of poetry than to
speak of it in a vague manner, that is to say, as
those who have not made it their study. This
however does not prevent me from admiring all
you give to the public, and from feeling my mind
enkindled at reading a beautiful poem. There are
odes which can scarcely be read without catching
something of the spirit of their Author.

Besides we must be insensible to the beauties of
nature, not to feel the images which our great poets
pourtray. There are some, for example, in, our
Metastasio, and in your compositions, my dear
Abbe, which would arouse the most senseless soul.
We are introduced into a new world, enriched with
new charms ; which has so much the more advan
tage over our finest flowers, as the latter fade in a

238 GANGANELLl'*

few days, but magnificent verses are handed down
to posterity.

I endeavoured, whilst at college, to compose
some small rural poems ; but I was so dissatisfied
with them, that I had the merit of burning them
as soon as I composed them. One advantage,
however, derived fiom them was, that they gave
me a greater facility of thought and expression.

It is with poetry, as with good instruments,
which should only be touched by skilful perfor
mers. Bad poetry, is like a piece of music exe
cuted by a wretched musician. Every thing grates
upon the ear, offends the taste, and distresses the
mind. There is no one who is sensible of the
transports of genius, whom the beauty of the
psalms does not render, in spite of himself, an en
thusiast. I confesb to you that I am a poet when
ever I repeat the psalms.

What energy, what imagery, what majesty!
We are no longer confined to matter, we are no
more ourselves ; we are transformed into the
prophet ; or to speak more properly, we become
divine.

But how grievous is it, to see poetry, '\hich was
originally intended only to celebrate Jehovah
(since Moses who makes. so noble a use of it was
the most ancient of writers) descending from such

LETTERS. 230

sublimity, to deify mortals, frequently more brutal
than the brutes themselves.

Poets, for the honour of poetry which has ren
dered them so sublime, should be careful never to
profane it. They should have had more respect
for their art, than thus to degrade it by versifying
at random. Every one wishes to celebrate in verse
the object of his passion ; and hence have arisen
a profusion of poems as indecent as ridiculous.

Every science that passes beyond its proper
bounds, draws in its train a thousand inconvenien-
cies. The Creator has assigned limits to all things,
and he has ordained for the harmony of the uni
verse, and of society, that those limits should be
respected. Without this there would be a dread
ful confusion in the universe.

The errors of infidelity arise from a wish to
give to philosophy the attributes of theology ; and
from pretending that theology, like mathematicks,
must proceed by demonstrations.

It has been thus with poetry, which being divine
in its origin, as having God alone for its object, has
become wholly terrestrial, by the abuses which
have crept in. Men have even been so impious as
to employ it against God himself, whilst its institu
tion had no other design, than to do homage to
Jehovah, and this is really its highest dignity.

240 GANGANELLl's

To address beautiful verses to perishable objects,
is to bury diamonds in the sand. Poetry then be
comes unnatural, and the poet renders himself
truly contemptible.

The sciences, like the arts, have no real gran
deur, but when they are traced back to their first
cause.

You did not expect, my dear Abbe, that a poem
would procure a sermon, and so much the rather
as men do not generally preach on Parnassus, and
poetical licences give poets more liberty than they
ought to take.

If all your poems are like that which you have
just addressed to me, I applaud the genius which
has, made you a poet. I will shew it to our com
mon friend as you desire, and I am persuaded he
•will be as pleased with it as myself.

It must be confessed that the country in which
you live (Parmesan) contributes much to excite
poetical rapture. I have crossed it more than once
with the greatest pleasure, and felt that if I had
really been a poet, I should have celebrated those
beautiful plains, and those magnificent flocks
which constitute their ornament. Thus it may be
seen that you have introduced into your poems
whatever is most pleasing at Parma, at Colonne,
and their environs.

LETTERS.

241

Here is very poor prose in return for beautiful
verses ; but as a poet like you, has the talent of
embellishing every thing, you will invest even this
letter with decorations, and will be disposed to re
ceive with pleasure the assurance that I am, with
much esteem and friendship, &c.

Rome, 10th March, 175%

242

LETTER LIV.

TO THE SAME.

I THINK, my dear Abbe% that you really wish to
make me a poet, by attaching me to your delight
ful verses ; but it is an enterprize that will not suc
ceed. I enjoy more than any one else your poetry,
but I have neither that fire which is found on
Mount Parnassus, nor that enthusiasm which fre
quently blazes more than Vesuvius itself.

I think the person for whom you interest your
self, will succeed at Naples. I have strongly
recommended him to Prince San Severo, the pro
tector of the Arts and Sciences, and who is as
obliging as he is well informed ; but your protege
must labour, and especially at first. I have used
every argument to persuade him that the art of
sculpture suffers no mediocrity, and that he must
have two souls, in order that he may put one at
least into his performances.

I should much wish that he may hereafter revive
those great artists who have almost made our finest
statues speak. The sculptor has the advantage of

LETTERS. 24$

relief, which the painter has not ; but the painter
has on the other hand the benefit of colouring, and
thus have the Arts, each in its kind, their advan
tages and inconveniences.

If you can make me a hymn in praise of -a
Saint whom some good nuns wish to celebrate on
the day of his festival, you would greatly oblige
me.

It relates to S. Cajetan, with whose life you ought
to be well acquainted ; for I suppose you are fa
miliar with other deities, besides those of Parnas
sus.

Send it me, I entreat you, as soon as possible.
It is to be set to music, and sung by several voices,
not in the Church, but in the Convent, so that they
wish to have it in the purest Italian.

Consider that however diligent you may be,
you will not prevent those who earnestly desire
this hymn, from feeling a great degree of impa
tience.

Five or six strophes will be sufficient, and es
pecially from your hand, since, by your precision
and energy, you have the faculty of saying many
things, and very forcibly, in a few words.

Precision, and the faculty of reducing into a
very small compass a multitude of objects and
beauties, is an admirable talent.

M 2

244 :

Prose is very defective when it is slovenly, but
in poetry it is intolerable. There must not be an
useless epithet ; and every word as far as possible
should be a thought : it is this which renders Tasso
an admirable poet. He gives full play to his imagi
nation, by his wonderful manner of compressing
his thoughts. It is not the same with Ariosto and
Dante, who alternately conduct their readers
through the most flowery fields, and the most bar
ren desarts. The reading these Authors really
resembles a long voyage, in which we meet with
some pleasant and some tedious places.

It is to please you that I have dwelt so long on
the subject of poetry ; as well as to procure my
self the highest gratification, that of assuring you
of the inviolable esteem I have vowed to you, and
with which I am, &c.

LETTERS.

LETTER LV.

TO THE ABBE GENOVESI.

AT sight of the metaphysical ideas with which
the production which you sent me was replete, my
thoughts on the subject were powerfully excited,
and I represented to myself, according to my weak
talents, man as he is, and as he ought to be. I saw
him at once so diminutive and so great, so weak
and so mighty, that I gloried in him and yet was
humbled.

; f I j it fy

You shall judge for yourself if I have conceived
of him aright. I add to this letter the picture
which my perception or my imagination has drawn
of him ; and if you find there what you wish, I
shall be delighted to have been able to second
your intentions, and to contribute to the work you
are about to publish on Man and on God.

It is not of so much importance to say new
things on this subject, as to say them well. Men
frequently disgust metaphysical readers, by affect
ing to be abstract. The more natural and simple
things are, the more beautiful do they appear.

246

Metaphysics, to be just, should relate only what
we feel, when they refer to the faculties of our
soul ; otherwise we rove amongst the regions of
chimeras.

The greater part of metaphysicians, both ancient
and modern, have thought proper to establish sys
tems ; and this has brought a degree of ridicule
on metaphysics ; a science in itself very simple and
full of truth.

It is not with the eyes of the mind, as with
those of the body. What I see in idea, my neigh
bour does not perceive, our ideas having a thousand
different causes. Hence arises that great diversity
of opinions amongst philosophers, and the persua
sion of Malebranche, that we see all in God ; and
that of Locke, that all our ideas proceed from the
senses.

I approve your observations so much the more,
as you are not systematical, and do not wish to
oblige others to adopt your mode of thinking : all
your ideas appear to me proper, your principles
clear, your conclusions just; so that your work
may be said to be the production of a sound judg
ment and of solid reasoning.

If, after having published it, you meet with con
troversialists, it will be a proof that you have not
convinced them, and a warning to you not to

LETTERS. 247

answer them. There are amongst writers barking
dogs, and we must be content to let them bark on.
They would remould all men, with whom they
did not agree.

As your book is to appear in, Latin, I have
thought proper to address to you the observations
you request, in that language, which is as familiar
to me as the Italian. If you find in them any
thing worthy of your work, it will be easy for
you, by merely adapting the style to your own, to
introduce them. You will confer upon them real
merit, by your manner of appropriating them.

This will perhaps be the first time, that a pen of
gold and of lead have been employed in the same
work ; but you wished it, and I cannot refuse when
called upon to prove to you the whole ex tent of my
esteem and attachment.

Rome, 22nd June, 1755.

[ 249 ]

A PICTURE OF MAN.

MAN presents himself under so many different
aspects, he unites so many contrarieties, that he
must necessarily appear a being wholly celestial,
or an entirely animal creature. By his soul he is-
allied to God in the most glorious and intimate
manner; in his body he partakes of nothingness
in the most humiliating and sensible manner.
Now he is a day which cheers us with its bright
ness, and now a night which terrifies us by its dark
ness.

From these opposite views it follows that the
man of Lucretius is not that of Descartes, nor the
man of Spinosa that of Pascal ; and that if we
would judge of ourselves according to our real
qualities and imperfections, we must appeal to re
ligion tor a\i exact knowledge of what we are.

Christianity, secure from every danger, and all.
ways maintaining a proper "medium, shews us. man.
on the earth, and in the bosom of God, as in a

M 3

250

double centre whence we proceeded, and to which
we must all return.

The glances of every child towards heaven from
the moment of its birth, the tears with which
he bedews his cradle, prove in a striking manner
that his origin is at once earthly and divine. If
his soul, like a flower which expands by slow
degrees, is insensibly developed, it is because
dependent on a body which is slow in its progress.

At length the instant arrives when reason dawns;
and then it is but a spark which produces a flame
or a bright and beneficent light, according to the
manner in which it is governed, and the objects to
which it is attached. I now refer to the passions,
the senses, and education, which are so many cir
cumstances influencing men in a greater or less de
gree. If sensible objects govern him, he becomes
the wretched sport of every surrounding object;
if on the contrary spiritual things govern him, he
is king of himself, and his reason shines in all its
glory. Then God appears always present to him,
and creatures are in his sight but as perishing
goods, which he must use as though he used
them not. The modes of education; the climate
in which they are born ; the impressions they re
ceive ; the objects which surround them, are so
many moulds in which they take different forms :

LETTERS. 251

thus the man born in the Indies, is not the Euro
pean : thus the man educated by Aristotle is not
the man formed by Newton : the essence is the
same, but the shades are so different, that an en
tirely different manner of thought and perception
ie produced.

We should also consider as the effect of a par
ticular Providence the happiness of being born
under a government which rectifies our thoughts,
and in the bosom of a family which instils into us
principles of wisdom.

It is certain, that every man, in whatever coun
try he may be born, is indebted to God, to his
neighbour, to his country ; and that he should en
deavour to instruct himself in the truth, that he
might not be the dupe of a false religion, and that
he might be secured from superstition. It is not
less certain, that if he be a simple citizen, he should
labour by his exertions and his talents, to render
himself useful to society ; and that if he be of an
elevated rank he should pay a tribute to the public,
either by his industry, his beneficence, or his va
lour, lie who recompenses society in these three
ways, is truly a great man, and gratitude owes him
statues.

The man who lives 'by himself, lives almost al
ways in an enemy's country : heated blood, an

252 GANGANELLl's

eccentric imagination, contending inclinations, and
inflammable passions, keep up an intestine war,
the consequences of which are frequently most
fatal. Life is spent in this inward conflict, when
we would govern ourselves with wisdom, far there
are two men within us, the earthly man and the
spiritual man, which are continually warring
against each other, and which only agree when an
enlightened understanding, and an upright heart,
are the pilot and rudder. Thus is man an object
of admiration or of pity, according to his actions.

We should never finish, were we to detail his
defects and contrarieties. His soul, his mind, his
reason, his will, like the four elements, although
they have nothing material in them, are contending
with each other, and hence result trmpests-, and
volcanoes which disfigure the image of the Creator;
for the more we examine man, the more we know
that he cannot have so much grandeur and ma
jesty, without being the emanation of a Supreme
Intelligence.

When man controuls his passions, and grants
them only a reasonable liberty, ho deserves the
homage due to virtue, and it is then that he an-
nounccs himself to be truly the sovereign of the
animal creation. The different conditions in whioh
we are placed, when our reason is in exercise, are

LETTERS. 253

so many means of arriving at perfection. But it
is of importance to make a good choice, otherwise
we become monsters in society, and disturb the
harmony which should subsist among reasonable
creatures, But man, almost always seduced by
sensible objects, is frequently deceived respecting
his vocation ; and hence arises the shock of so
many different passions which put him out of hu
mour with him&elf, which disturb families,, which
agitate empires, and which obscure virtue.

Thus we seldom see man in a true light. We
imagine indeed it is he ; but it is only an assem
blage of extravagancies, tastes, and opinions, which
be has borrowed from the authors he reads, and
from the persons whose company he frequents.
Study itself most frequently serves only to make
him unnatural, by taking from him all that was his
own, and by rendering him a factitious person.

St. Augustin said that man, considered in his
essence and in all his relations, is an enigma the
most difficult to explain. Indeed almost always-
unlike himself, hw escapes from the pencil, when,
we wish to take his portrait. On account of his
dependence on a perishable and carnal body, his.
thoughts like his blood are agitattd, and partici
pate in its fluidity. Cod alone could unite so in
timately an indivisible soul to a substance \vhoily

254

composed of parts, — an immortal spirit to a mass
of flesh destined to return to dust ; in short thoughts
to feeling, ideas to fibres, and affections to nerves.
It is sufficient then to consider and descend into
ourselves, to see a continually new prodigy ; but
we find there nothing but a frightful abyss, if God
do not occupy the first place. Each of us should
erect to Him a throne in his own heart, otherwise
it becomes a chaos in which there is neither order
nor symmetry.

The soul surrounded by the senses, is like a
king environed by his guards ; but if this centinel
suffer itself to be vanquished, and be not care
ful to repulse those vices which would usurp
the sovereignty, and render themselves masters of
the place, the man then experiences within himself
the most cruel anarchy.

Hence it is that there are so many materialists,
and so many bad men. We stifle within ourselves
the germ of immortality, and the soul becomes
whatever it pleases, provided we follow the torrent,
of our passions. In vain docs conscience, that
faithful monitor, lift up her voice ; we resist her
authority ; and pronounce that intr ikctual sub
stance a mere chimera, which may be justly styled
the mother of our thoughts, our reasoning powers,
and our affections.

LETTERS. 255

Man talks extravagantly when he attributes
these astonishing operations to the inert mass of
his body, and dares to give the honour of them to
the sharpness of his bile, or the quick circulation
of his blood. None but a spiritual Being can pro
duce immaterial ideas. We might collect together
whatever is most subtle in air or in fire ; we might
agitate it in every possible manner, but we should
never form a syllogism of it. Flame, however
radiant and penetrating, has never yet developed a
single thought, or a single judgment. Ah ! how can
that thought which traverses the world in the twink
ling of an eye, which subjects the universe to its
observation, which with the most rapid flight, rises
even to the Infinite Being, which has neither situa
tion, figure nor colour, which imperiously com
mands my whole body, and enforces obedience
to itself, how can this be a part of the same body ?

Was it then more difficult for God to create
spirits than matter ? Ah ! why if he be essentially
omnipotent could he not produce intellectual
beings ? Ah ! why, if a thought be really spi
ritual, should not the soul that engenders it be so
also? Well may we then apply to this subject
that passage of Horace. _j .

" Fortes creantur fortibus • —

256

nee imbcllem feroces
Progenerant aquike columbam."

We trace their sires'; nor can the bird of Jove,,
Intrepid, fierce, beget th' unwarlike Dove.

FRANCIS.

In order to fulfil his destiny according to the
plan of his Creator, man must necessarily be at once
terrestrial and spiritual. Without a body he could
not enjoy the material world which he must in--
habit : without a soul he could not know or ar
rive at the possession of the Deity. As a com
pound being he is at once subordinate to the ele
ments, and superior to the universe. It is he who
applies the sciences to a thousand pleasing and
useful purposes ; who makes use of them with the
greatest success to rectify his ideas, to enlarge his
mind and to arrive at the knowledge ot the Su
preme Being.

The earth without man, is only a vast desert ;
or rather, a tomb : it has need of his hand to be
cultivated, and of his society that it may be
inhabited ; so that she considers him w:ith reason
as her master and soveieign. She is also ready to
acknowledge his authority and recompense his

LETTERS,

257

labours, by offering to him in the course of the
seasons, the fairest flowers, and most precious
fruits.

It is melancholy, that this man whom the earth
obeys as her king, leaves every where vestiges of
his crimes and errors : We see no country which
has not been saturated with blood shed either by
hatred or fanatickm, by love or ambition. Virtue
Las never appeared in the world, but as lightning
flashing out of the thick gloom of a tempest.

Perhaps, however, man is not so wicked as we
imagine : Idleness has prompted him to more ex
cesses than perverseness. The opportunities of
doing ill, are greatly multiplied with a man who
is without employment ; and if women are re
proach. -d with being loquacious or slanderous, it
is because they are generally unoccupied. I have
not pretended to paint man as he is ; but I have
said enough to give a just idea of his nature, and
to make him acknowledge that he is an entire
being when united to God ; and that on the con
trary, he is nothing when detached from him.

Reason without religion, like those bright ex
halations which appear at midnight, enlightens
only to conduct to some precipice.

The present age exhibits the most melancholy
examples of those who, notwithstanding their

358

genius and knowledge with which they are adorned,
appear to forget God, to chase and worship phan
toms.

Every one must naturally revolt against such
an absurdity ; but the title of Philosopher given
to those who call in question the immortality of
the soul and the existence of God, imposes on the
multitude, and causes the most pernicious sophists
to be considered infallible oracles.

Let man retire into himself let him examine
into his soul, his heart, his conscience, in short all
his faculties; aiid he will find the strongest ar
guments in favour of religion ; but in order to
this, it is necessary that he subjugate his senses,
and maintain the dominion over his passions ; for
these are so many liars, so many impostors, who
incessantly preach up Materialism, and boast of
the love of pleasure.

How sad is it to have within ourselves, that
which is capable of rising to Jehovah, of main
taining the most sublime intercourse with him,
and of rendering ourselves immortal, whether by
cultivating the sciences, or by distinguishing our
selves by acts of beneficence, and yet destroy such
precious germs. tuk o

Most men are but abortives ; they either contract
their hearts by attaching themselves only to perish.

LETTERS. 25$

ing objects, or stifle their genius by employing
themselves only in useless occupations. The most
sublime sciences are not worthy of our souls, if
they lead not to God as their beginning and their
end.

All these miseries arise from the false estimate
which is made of the excellence of the human
soul, from man's priding himself in what ought
rather to humble him, from the original defilement
of his nature by the touch of sin. Death which
awaits him from his first breath, will alone teach
him the importance of rising superior to all sen
sible objects ; but death never warns us of our
errors, till it is too late to correct them. We still
think ourselves only in our cradle, while death is
opening our sepulchres, and causes us to descend
into them, at the very time in which we are form
ing future projects ; the rapidity with which the
moments flow between our birth and our death is
inconceivable. I compare them to a flash of light
ning, which issues from a cloud suddenly to re-
enter it ; so that it may be said in a figurative sense,
that every man is born and dies in the space of a
day. His birth is the twilight, his infancy the
dawn, his manhood the meridian, his death the
evening. Then, with respect to him, all objects
disappear, and an eternal night envelops him in

260

GANGANELLl's

darkness, unless illuminated by that uncreated
light, with which the righteous shall be replenished
and crowned.

This great object should not be lost sight of for
a moment. If man would be what he ought, let
him frequently represent to himself Death holding
the fatal urn in which all generations .are reduced
to ashes. This it is which should fix our attention,
if we would live as Chilian Philosophers. Thus
man is whilst here, only like a shadow which
passes away ; and it is in eternity we should con-
template him, if ue would form an exalted con-
ception of his nature. It is certainly a grander
object than the firmament itself, to behold at its
birth and its death that worm called man, pass in
the twinkling of an eye into the bosom of God,
at the moment when the earth shakes under his
feet, and a temporal life is taken from him to give
place to onecntnely divine.

It is astonishing that man, born as he is to such
high de-tinies, should have so little curiosity to
know them, and incorporate himself with the vilest
and most contemptible objects, whilst expecting in
another world to bv. united to God himself.

Philosophers have not considered in proportion
to the importance of the subject, the moment when
man will no longer be any thing on the earth, in.

LETTERS. 261

t>rder to be perfect in eternity. Their thoughts
seem to have been bounded by the tomb, and an
immortal soul which should naturally have suc
ceeded in idea, which, disengaged from the ties
which, confined it here below, seems no longer to
have either existence or duration.

I know that the night of the tomb is a chaos
\vhich we can never disperse whilst we languish
in this vale of tears. I know that notwithstanding
all that faith has revealed as certain on this subject,
we shall be filled with the greatest surprize when
we enter upon an eternal state. It is a gulph in
which all our reason is lost, and which we shall
never know till we see it.

As often as we see a fellow mortal entering the
region of the dead, we should feel assured that all
the faculties of his mind then acquire a surprizing
activity which serves to make him sensible to an
unspeakable degree, either of eternal happiness or
misery.

Man pasess into futurity, as he came into this
world, without knowing where he is going. When
we have lost sight of the world to which we have
been accustomed, another will present itself, but
so extraordinary and sublime, that it has no re
lation to the present.

In vain should we apply to the sciences, to ele-

26*2 GANGANELll's

vate us by means of religion, to the^ uncreated
Being ; this life is, properly speaking, only the
life of the body, so much do our senses and our
necessities tyrannize over us ; but the life to come
is in reality the life of the soul. There it will
expand in perfection, no longer encumbered by
a mass of flesh which retarded all its operations,
and so confounded it with terrestrial objects, as to
suffer itself to be enslaved, if care be not taken to
silence the passions. Thus we must unite the
present and the future, earth and heaven, in short
this world and the other, if we would know man
perfectly; for he really belongs both to the present
and the future life, we see only his shadow, if we
do not follow him beyond the grave. There it is
that we must follow him if we would know his
grandeur and see him as a new Phenix rising out
of his ashes all superb and radiant ; he will then
learn that his destiny was not to vegetate, but to
live in the Being of beings.

If man were habitually to consider himself as
he will be at death, he \vould hasten to complete
his existence by the fervour of his desires •. he
would wish frequently to converse on that happy
moment, when he shall put off this miserable life
which retards his glory and felicity.

Death, to which we have naturally so great an

LETTERS. 263

aversion, is however the brightest and most glorious
moment of man's existence, if he have fulfilled his
task on earth with fidelity, according to the laws
prescribed by religion.

I compare the good man, when he dies, to the
sun, which, after having been covered with a thick
cloud pierces at length through mists and fogs,
and shines with the greatest lustre; the wants of
this life^ like the passions, are so many clouds
which enwrap us, and conceal from ourselves the
sight of our greatness and faculties.

I am not surprized that death has been the
subject of continual meditation to Christian Phi
losophers. When properly viewed, it offers to
man nothing but what is great and consolatory.
But we only judge of it by the horror of the tomb,
that is, only by that which relates to our bodies ;
and then it exhibits to us the most dreadful scene.
This it is which caused St. Charles Boromie to
say, that if death were the enemy of the body, it
was the best friend of the soul, and that man did
not rightly understand his own interests, when he
did not desire it.

Ought we to hate a moment which will fill us
with glory and happiness. The body is a frail
edifice which must necessarily be thrown down,
that the soul may find its own centre. It is like

264 GANGANELLI5S

those scaffoldings of which architects make use in
building a palace, but which they take down when
the building is perfected.

Conscience no doubt generally reproaches us>
when we have so great a dread of death. It is
doubtless, formidable on account of the judgments
of God which are always impenetrable ; but God is
mercy itself, who desireth not the death of a sinner,
and who assures us that he will forget all our ini
quities, though they were multiplied, like the grains
of sand upon the sea shore, if we sincerely return
to him.

Death in the eye of faith is not the destruction
of man but a second creation, much more astonish
ing than the former, because instead of the mise
ries which attend us from our birth, we shall find
in a dying hour consolations and treasures which
the eye has not seen, and which now we cannot
know.

LETTERS.

LETTER LVI.

TO M. L'ABBE FRUGONI.

IT is from the library of his Eminence Cardinal
Passionfei that I send you these reflections,* written
as you will easily perceive in great haste. If you
find in them any thing useful, so much the better
for you ; if not, so much the worse for me.

It will not be the first time that I have written
things fit only to be erased. I will own to you
that I frequently erase my own productions, and that
it is this which has prevented me from composing
any work, joined to the fear of increasing the
multitude of writers of the age, already a thousand
times too numerous.

This must be balanced against former ages,
when there were no writers ; for all the past ages
should be taken collectively, so that one may
furnish excuses for the other, and that there may

* The reflections to which Ganganelli here refers are
those on Style, which will be found at the end of Urn letter.

be an alternation of light and shade, of vice and
virtue.

It is always with the liveliest emotions that I
enter that rich and magnificent library with which
you are perfectly well acquainted, though it is a
place in which J feel myself so insignificant a
being that I am utterly ashamed. So many ex
cellent authors by whom 1 here see myself sur
rounded, seem to reproach me with incapacity;
happily no one hears them but myself, otherwise
I should be too much humbled.

This library is enlarged every day by the care
which the Cardinal takes to augment it. It is his
delight and treasure, and the attempt to deprive
him of it, would be to annihilate him. A passion
for good books is an honourable one, especially
when their contents are impressed on the memory
and the heart.

Foreigners of every country contribute no less
than books to increase the knowledge of Cardinal
Passioned. No individuals of a certain rank come
to Rome without hastening to visit him, and com
municate any information they may possess. Even
French ladies, celebrated for the productions of
their genius, are anxious to secure to themselves
the advantage of being frequently with him, and
receiving from him due attention.

LETTERS. . 267

For my own part, I continue to reside in a
snug corner, content with admiring him at a dis
tance : This is the only part a simple Monk should
act.

It would not be the same with you if you
were to come here. The Cardinal who particu
larly esteems you, would consider it a feast to receive
you, as I do to assure you of the inviolable and
respectful attachment with which I have the
honour to be, &c.

26th June, 1758.

K 2

268

REFLECTIONS ON STYLE,

*1NT TO THE ABBE FRUGONIj WITH THE
PRECEDING LETTER.

STYLE being the manner of expressing GUI
thoughts, and giving them their colouring, particular
care should be taken to render it analogous to the
different kinds of writing. One species of compo
sition requires a plain style, but another a sublime
style.

Every writer has a style of his own ; and what
ever address he may use to vary it, connoisseurs
will not be deceived. The Creator, who has not
made two things alike, has diversified, not only
our countenances, but also our opinions and ideas,
as well as the manner of expressing them. He
has intended that each mind should bear its own
peculiar impress ; and this wonderful difference,
which characterizes every individual, proves the
infinite resources of a Being to whorp nothing is
difficult ; and who doth whatever seemeth him
good.

LETTERS. 269

Authors may very properly be compared to
Sculptors and Painters. The pen of Writers
resembles the chisel of the Statuary, or the pencil
of the Artist. Thus every book, every discourse,
every letter, is a picture and a work in relievo.
If the style be bold and animated it may be com
pared to Sculpture, if on the contrary it be highly
coloured, we may pronounce it a well executed
painting.

Agreeably to these comparisons, a library is a
gallery, in which ail the books are so many por
traits. Some o these are emblems of the heart,
others embody the understanding ; these render the
soul palpable, all impalpable as it is in itself, and
those enrich the imagination with the most beau
tiful images.

Every scientific writer should be on his guard
against a florid or highly ornamented style ;
simplicity of style is most suited to scientific sub
jects, unless we wish to seduce our readers; and
then we are quacks, not philosophers.

Style is a species of Magic, which is but too
often successfully employed for the purpose of
causing paradoxes to be received as truths, and
sophisms as sound argument. By this stratagem
the greater part of infidels and heretics have
subtilly diffused their venom. Their works are

N 3

<?ANGANELLl's

frequently so well written, that their contents are
read for the sake of the style, and their har
moniously constructed sentences procure them
many admirers.

Some works require a masculine style, such as
orations and pleadings ; but others, a grave and
pathetic style, such as prayers and works of de
votion.

History, being a picture which requires light
and shade and lively colouring, it should be written
with energy and truth, sometimes exhibiting ob
jects in the strongest light, at other times softening
them, scattering flowers at discretion, and always
pourtraying Virtue in her loveliness, ami Vice in
her deformity.

I do not speak here of Romances, the best of
which are worth nothing ; because that like most
of our theatrical pieces, they are almost all gigantic
figures, and have generally the same termination.
Besides it is morally impossible for a person who
employs fiction to inculcate truth, not to act a
double part, and consequently to become unnatu
ral.

The style of Academical works should be
brilliant, because they are solely within the juris
diction of the imagination. They must contain
meteors which dazzle, cascades which astonish, and

LETTERS. 271

skilfully arranged lights which present objects in
the most attractive form. The expressions should
be so well put together that they should reciprocally
embellish each other, as all the flowers which com
pose a nosegay relieve each other, so as to form an
agreeable whole, capable of satisfying rh^ eye.
But frequently too great an effort of mind is em
ployed to render a work interesting, by which
means the painting becomes unnatural, and be
trays too much labour.

With respect to the style of sermons, they offend
against all rule, if they be not pathetic, nervous and
sublime. St. Chrysostom has pointed out to us the
path ; he who, ever conversant with Deity, richly
furnished with scriptural knowledge, and an in
timate acquaintance with the human heart, speaks,
thunders, awakens, and leaves sinners speechless
with terror and remorse.

If a preacher only administer instruction, he
does no more than prepare the mind, if he only
touch the passions, he leaves but a transient im-
pres>ion, but if he pour forth unction, at the same
time that he diffuses light, he has discharged the
primary duty of a preacher.

Panegyrics, like funeral orations, should unite
the style of the pulpit and of the academy ; but
to succeed in them the mind should only discover

272

itself in the choice of terms, and serve as a colour
ing to genius.

Gen;us alone can produce surh works, as are
at once simple and sublime, historical and pole
mical, instructive and atfocting : morality should be
their very soul, but it should appear voluntary, so
that no effort or affectation may be perceived in
the orator.

I have read scarcely any good funeral orations,
because, after the exordium, the writer goes in
search of fancy, which when sought by us can
never be found.

A wrner will often find under his pen that
which he is> seeking at a great distance; and then,
instead of being surrounded by his own thoughts,
he finds himself encompassed with foreign pro
ductions, which have a languid or forced appear
ance, like those plants of the south, which are
brought into northern climes.

The epistolary style, is distinct from all others,
and, being subjected to scarcely any other rules
than those which each one prescribes to himself,
according to his imagination, his taste, his caprice,
or his humour, has nothing positively determined.
Amongst females, it is generally more natural,
because having seen and read less than most men,
heir letters are transcripts of themselves.

LETTERS,

27$

Besides, the style of letters differs according to
the rank we occupy, and the persons with whom
we correspond. Thus when I write to you, ray
dear Abbe, I adopt the conversational style. It
was that which Cicero employed in writing to his
friends, but that is a model of which I fall very
far short.

Although letters may be of great depth, and on
highly interesting subjects, the epistolary style
requires that we do not grow dull on the subjects
of which they treat. Since it ought to resemble
conversation, it must necessarily be simple and
light.

Letters written in too flowery a, style, are gene
rally studied compositions, and these are not the
best. The pen, in all letters of friendship gene
rally runs without constraint ; if it meet with a
flower in its way, it gathers it ; but does not stop to
find it.

Our Holy Father (Benet XIV.) has the talent of
epistolary writing with much more precision than is
usual in our language. I have seen some of them
in which there appear to be only thoughts, and no
words. This is the effect of an imagination
equally strong and lively, which expresses itself
only in sallies of wit.

We have general rules for all the different kinds

274

of style ; but one certain principle is that every
one has his own which it is often best to preserve.
Nature, which is generally fettered by principles,
is replaced by art, and we meet then only with
factitious geniuses. There would be much less
monotony in writing, if men were not to adhere
too servilely to what they learn at college. It is
by happy efforts that the }oke of ancient rules is
broken, and this is almost always the part of
genius. Every one who composes with too much
method, generally writes very coldly ; a sparkling
imagination is extinguished if encumbered with
shackles.

I see no reason why all sermons slmnlrl bp mould
ed into the same form. The eloquence of the pulpit
would take a bold flight, if it traced out for itself
the best plan. Were I a preacher, I think I
should not confine myself to divisions and sub
divisions. We do not observe this constraint in
the fathers, who were the most eloquent of men.

Wrhen the mind and heart are filled and warm
ed with their subject, it is easy to instruct and
move without a first and second part.

Every discourse should doubtless have a natural
geometry, that it may have order and not be a
crucK- mass, revolting to the auditors ; but a clear
understanding is sufficient, and then a man may

LETTERS. 275

flatter himself that he will not be mistaken in this
respect. Every one has in his reasoning powers
an excellent course of logic, which it is only
necessary to bring into action.

1 do not pretend to say that rules of eloquence
should not be given, and on the best manner of
composing discourses; but it is dangerous to lay
so much stress upon them, as to prohibit all de
parture fronrthem.

The greatest painters prescribed rules for them,
selves, and we mu>t endeavour to become our
own models instead of being always imitators.

THE END.

H. Bryer, Printer, Bridge-street, Blackfriars, London.

BX 1357 .A3 1819 SMC

Clement

Selec-t letters of

Ganganelli, Pope Clement XIV

47080403