Part 9

Menelaus spoke after his wife, whose ingratitude and infidelity he exaggerated; he accused her of having poisoned him on the return from Troy. “Why assassinate me, when she had the liberty to go to her relations? Could I have done more to express my regret at her loss, after her elopement, than by building to her memory a temple, consecrated to Venus?”

“You are a very clever man,” said Jupiter to Menelaus; “who told you that a husband could make his wife love him by caresses and services? A woman who does not love her husband, takes all his cares for stratagems, invented by jealousy: she believes him false and wicked. Accuse only your patience and weakness; and between ourselves who are dead, since the living cannot hear it, it is a very good joke, to make so much noise about the infidelity of a coquette:” and Jupiter sang a song, the burden of which was, that one was often very happy to be rid of his wife, as he then could enjoy the advantages of liberty.

“Am I permitted to be as stoical as you are?” said Menelaus. “One must have a great force of spirit, to vanquish a passion like that of love: how cruel, to love without return! Ah! I now condemn myself: let Helen prosecute her quarrel with her relation Polixo, to which I am a stranger.”

“Since this Grecian prince is voluntarily condemned,” said Lucifer, “I am about to pass sentence upon the husbands who have complained of their wives; and upon the wives who have complained of their husbands.”

The judgment was couched in these words: “Since love is natural, and no one can dictate a woman’s will, and since neither the jealousy nor severity of a husband are of any avail, to compel a wife to conjugal fidelity, we order, that all husbands shall suffer the pain of foolish and indiscreet love, without having from that any pretence to restrain them; provided, however, that they may revenge themselves with chance intrigues, and contribute, by their patience and complaisance, to the ruin of their rivals. We ordain, also, that women who complain of the amours of their husbands, shall be condemned to the torments of jealousy; with an equal permission to those ladies who are not beloved by their husbands, to receive the cares and attentions of their neighbours. Finally, we forbid the married of both sexes, to bring any more actions upon these subjects, and reject them, in advance, from court. We command our demons, and principally Asmodeus, the demon of marriage, to bear in hand the execution of the present ordinance. Given in hell, at the grand audience hall, to be signified to whom it may concern.—Signed, _Lucifer_, king of hell: and countersigned by my lord, the devil _Patiras_.”

“Signor,” said Cleopatra, “this edict cannot prejudice my rights against Augustus, emperor of the Romans: his ambition prompted him to attach to his triumphal car the queen of the Egyptians: to save myself from this shame, I laid violent hands upon myself. I demand that Augustus should be punished as guilty of my death.”

“Am I responsible for your actions?” said Augustus. “Who informed you that I should put this indignity upon you? Cæsar had loved you; Pompey also, as I believe: that Antony did, no one can doubt. The reputation of those charms by which you had subdued the conquerors of the world, had made such an impression upon my heart, that I would not only have made you its governor, but have re-established you upon the throne of your ancestors; but the timidity so natural to your sex, pride, and haughtiness, misled you: the poison you employed to produce death was so subtle, that I could never discover its nature.”

“All! tyrant,” said Antony to Augustus, “you were not satisfied with having at the same time caused my death and the loss of my empire; but you must also effect the death of my spouse, whom I preferred to the throne.”

“I deny that,” replied Augustus; “you abandoned the field of battle to follow Cleopatra; yourself commanded a servant to give the blow of death, to prevent falling into my hands; it was in conformity to your counsel that Cleopatra killed herself; great Lucifer, I am innocent of these things.”

“We ordain,” said Lucifer, “that both parties should be delivered to their remorse of conscience; if they are not satisfied with this judgment, let them present themselves before Astarte, sovereign of women, to whom Venus and Pallas are associated, where their cases shall be more amply examined.”

There came next a queen, accompanied by many women and girls, armed as soldiers: this was said to be the foundress of the kingdom of the Amazons. To this troop, Zenobia, queen of Palmyra, Elizabeth, queen of England, and other princesses who had governed their states, joined themselves. Amazonide, daughter of Samornas, (so they called the foundress of this female monarchy,) complained against Hercules that he had made some of her subjects captive: against Theseus, who had married one, when their army was defeated in Greece; against Achilles, who had put to death the princess Orythia, for having succoured the Trojans; against Alexander the Great, because, not content with the favours he had received from the queen Thalestris, he had put her kingdom under contribution; against the Ephesians, who, for their ingratitude towards the Amazons, who had founded their city, were themselves delivered to other masters: and thus in the same manner against many other princes and people.

“Illustrious women,” said Lucifer, “a sex so fragile as yours, a monarchy so naturally given to tenderness, could not resist the force of men, nor get away from an empire so sweet as that of love. You have wished to act contrary to your destiny: made to submit, you have desired to command; but women cannot reign but by submissions to the laws of love; that renders men completely amenable to the will of woman. If men have done you wrong, accuse your own hearts; they have done the injury of which you complain. A warrior, proud and gallant, is full of ardour for victory when a fair Amazon is the price of conquest; and on the other hand an Amazon fears to vanquish a young soldier whose amiable qualities have now disarmed her. So we re-commit to yourselves the examination of those affairs you have brought to our tribunal: do yourselves the justice I should do, if I examined the matter with more care, and let all women be convinced, they have no greater enemies than their own hearts.”

Zenobia then took the stand, and said to Lucifer, that her heart had never been master of her head: “I lost,” continued she, “my husband Odenatus, for whom I had the purest attachment: although he left me young, my subjects were willing to obey me. During the thirty years of my government, I can now say, that I maintained my sway with as much mildness as wisdom. When the thirty tyrants under Galienus divided the empire, I took possession of a province in Syria, that had formerly been separated, and united it to my kingdom. Aurelian declared war against me, and having taken me captive, led me in chains behind his triumphal car. In the endeavour to overcome the fidelity with which I preserved the memory of my spouse, and which was my sole consolation for the loss of my crown, he exiled me, under a specious pretext, into the Tybertine country; but he could not vanquish my constancy. Spite and rage seized him; he put to death Herennianus and Timolaus, my two sons, whom I had myself brought up; I had given them an excellent education, and had taught them the Egyptian, Greek and Latin languages; it was for their use, that I had compiled an abridgment of the oriental history, and that of Alexandria. What was my grief at seeing myself deprived of two children, who would have perpetuated my name, and honoured my blood upon the throne of Palmyra! Let no one boast to me of the liberality of this prince towards his subjects: I am aware that he often distributed among them clothing, corn, wine and oil: but this virtue was tarnished by his avarice towards strangers. Could he not be contented with the boundaries of the Roman empire, which was a world of itself, in which one could make voyages both by land and sea? And why should I not accuse him of the murder of my two sons, since he even put to death the son of his sister? His cruel jealousy might well extend itself to the children of a queen whom he had ruined. Justice, god of hell! do not suffer Zenobia to remain under the tyranny of this haughty emperor; for even here, he pretends to exercise it over me. Does not death reduce to an equality monarchs and their subjects, conquerors and their slaves? A distinguished Roman poet has said, ‘he knocks, without distinction, at the gates of palaces and huts.’ Lucifer, hell, remorse, eternity, do me justice for these grievous tyrannies.”

“Speak Aurelian,” said Lucifer; “what prerogative do you pretend over this princess?”

The emperor answered in this manner: “Aurelian, emperor of the Romans, pontifex maximus, consul, censor, augur, tribune of the people, supreme head of Germany, Parthia, Persia, Arabia, Scythia, and Africa, to Lucifer—”

“Lay aside these vain titles,” said Belial, who sat near Lucifer: “could not the scurviest beggar who had traversed with his pack, for a living, the various countries of the globe, assume as many with as much propriety?”

“I must then be but plain Aurelian?”

“Yes, you are nothing else.”

“I will not consent to it; and I had rather be condemned than not to affix my titles to the head of my defence.”

This emperor having declined answering, Lucifer accorded to queen Zenobia what she had demanded.

Elizabeth, queen of England, then came forward: she complained of the count of Essex, who slighted her affections at the time she was sought by all the princes of Europe. Lucifer referred her to the tribunal of Astarte, where he had sent the Amazons.

After her appeared Dido, queen of Carthage. She testified great dissatisfaction at Virgil, who had represented her as enamoured with a man she had never seen.—Referred to the same tribunal.

Sappho also was in court: she averred that there had never been any other Sappho than herself, who was born in the Island of Mitylene: had given her name to the sapphic poetry, and was the author of poems dedicated to her friend Phaon, one of which had been translated by Ovid.

The other Sappho declared that she was the true, the only Sappho who had existed; that she was born at Erise, in the time of the elder Tarquin, king of Rome; that she had married Cersyla, of Andros, one of the ancestors of the muse Clio; and that she had composed poems of different kinds. The claims of Sappho of Mitylene were then recognized, and the other forbidden to assume this name, or any work thereunto appertaining, because the property of a wife belonged to her husband: and according to the laws of all nations, her acts ought to appear in his name.

Sappho having been confirmed in her rights, accused Phaon of coldness and ingratitude. “When,” said she, “I had given him my heart, I was no more mistress of myself; I wished by my works to immortalize my love and his name: hard as the rocks of Parnassus, inflexible as the fiercest dog of Thessaly, impenetrable as the isthmus of Corinth, he disdained my flame; my verse made no impression upon him; weary of my love, he sought but to escape from me; insensible to my anguish, when I threw myself from the precipice of Leucadia, he manifested no sorrow. O, rage! O, fury of love! avenge my wrongs.”

Lucifer ordained that Sappho should present her case before the goddess of females.

Artemisa rehearsed all she had done to eternise the memory of her spouse: she repeated a hundred times the name of her dear Mausoleus, and demanded that he should be again restored to her, since she had died for love of him.

The matron of Ephesus, who stood near her, began to laugh loudly, at the idea of a woman’s demanding her lost husband from hell.

Both of them being adjudged fools, for contrary reasons, were remanded to their dungeons.

Lucretia, a Roman lady, succeeded them; she demanded justice against Tarquin, who, by her violation, had been the cause of her death. Jupiter, who wished to amuse himself, asked her if she had made any resistance.

“Yes,” said she.

“What hindered you from stabbing Tarquin as he approached you?”

“He was the stronger party, and would have killed me.”

“Was he alone?”

“Yes.”

“Was there ever seen a man, who could, unassisted, force a woman to the gratification of his lust? Why did you not rather suffer death, than permit him to consummate his enterprise?”

“You are so importunate, that I must needs avow the truth: Collatinus, my husband, discovering my intrigues with the young prince, poinarded me, and then spread a false report, to advance the designs of Brutus and himself. This Jupiter,” murmured she, retiring, very angry, “is an impertinent—he will not believe that any woman could be capable of so heroic an action as that attributed to me, and that they are all coquettes.”

“Let all the women,” said Lucifer, “betake themselves to the tribunal established for them.” He then gave orders for the approach of four princes, who craved audience: the first was Darius, who impleaded Alexander the Great: the second, Bajazet, who accused Tamerlane of robbery: the third, Constantine Paleologus, who reproached Mahomet with his cruelty and ambition; the fourth, Montezuma, king of Mexico, who complained against Fernandez Cortes, and the usurpation of the Spaniards. The three first replied, custom, and the laws of war: as to the last, he was listened to, more from curiosity than any intention to reinstate him in his possessions.

Montezuma spake very nearly in these words: “I was formerly the legitimate and peaceful possessor of the Mexican states, which my fathers had enjoyed from the universal deluge, if not before; for there are people called _preadamites_, who maintain, that God created men in that part of the world called _America_, who did not descend from the first man born in Asia, and whom they called _Adam_. The avarice and temerity of certain merchants, led them across the immense sea, which separates America from Europe; they represented themselves as persons, who, having been shipwrecked, had need of succour: we gave them firs, wood, and silver; we aided them to the extent of our power. All these gifts, which ought to have served for the establishment of an honourable commerce and friendship, only inflamed their cupidity and avarice. We were their friends; they made us their vassals, after having combatted us with arms, of which we were ignorant: mounted on horses of which we were horribly afraid, they put us to flight with the terrible noise of their cannon; having rallied, we assembled all our troops; they prevailed by the superiority of their arms; shutting us up in villages, they besieged, they massacred, they took us captive, and carried all before them, with fire and sword. Regardless of royal majesty, which I held of God, they took my life. If it is right to usurp the goods and estate of another, why do not subjects war against their sovereigns? Why do not families seek the downfall of families? Why do not the wicked and strong dominate, the one over the weak, and the other take away their goods? Natural right, which bestows every thing that hath no owner, was it upon the side of the king of Spain, or on mine, who had received the kingdom of Mexico, as an inheritance from my fathers? The civil law, which maintains possession, and which protects legitimate proprietors, was it in favour of the king of Spain, or in mine? The reason of all ages and countries accuse the Spaniards. We learn in childhood, that we must not do to others, what we would not have them to do to us; Did I carry war into Spain? Why then have they brought it to me, and that too, in a country where they had experienced the cares of hospitality, to destroy a prodigious number of men? What horrible ingratitude! what frightful injustice! what atrocious cruelty! Lucifer, be the avenger of one half the world: punish the Spaniards.”

Fernandez Cortes excused himself on the score of orders from the king, his master: he confessed that reason, humanity, and justice, spake by the mouth of Montezuma; but he observed, that the conquests of the Spaniards had instructed the Indians in the knowledge of the true God.

Upon that, Montezuma cried out, that the design of the Spaniards was not to eradicate idolatry in America, but solely to enrich Spain, at the expense of that part of the world; that this was so true, that in Mexico, the christian Spaniards and their slaves, did not compose more than one hundred thousandth part of the inhabitants.

“What do you desire,” said Lucifer, “that I should do to the Spaniards?”

“I do not demand,” said the prince, “to be reinstated in my dominions; some day, perhaps, one of my descendants, or some generous Indian, will deliver my country from the Spanish yoke; I wish only that the Indians who were killed in the conquest of Mexico, should have the liberty to roast upon spits, and eat their cruel enemies; and in this manner my nation shall be sufficiently revenged.”

“We accord to Montezuma,” said Lucifer, “the Spaniards who conquered Mexico, with the exception of the tailors, whom we reserve for our own table.”

After that came an abbot, who took the title of ten abbeys, besides priories, and eighteen cures. “Behold,” said Lucifer, “an abbot, with as many titles as a Roman emperor: speak, of whom do you complain? had you not a sufficient income to live honourably in the world, according to your degree? How have you employed your revenue? Play, women, good cheer, horses, dogs, equipage, dress, and relations, have eaten it. You demand, without doubt, justice against the authors of your ruin: I grant it amply and promptly. For the mortification of your enemies, I surrender you to the troop of beggars who throng the avenues of my palace, and who would not have been damned, if, by alms which would have cost you but little, you had removed from them the necessity of becoming thieves and robbers: go, learn in hell to spend but little yourself.”

The minettes, the bigots, and hypocrites, demanded audience. “These are very pleasant people,” said Lucifer to Jupiter; “they will divert us.”

“An Italian comic writer,” said one of them, “has burlesqued us, as if it was wrong to _seem_ honest men in the public eye. When one has not the substance of virtue, is it reprehensible to set a good example? It is true, that if our lives, hidden under this cloak, had been exposed, our hypocrisy and spurious piety would have been easily detected; but we injured no person, and if any one was scandalized by our example, it was for conscience sake.”

The Italian writer, who happened to be present, and whom I had not before perceived, cried out, “satyrists of France and Italy, our cause is common.”

Immediately there appeared a number of comic writers, ranged under their respective masters, among whom I saw, with pleasure, Juvenal, Terence, Plautus, Seneca the tragedian, and Greek, Latin, and French authors, ancient and modern. The writer, behind whom they were ranged, decried the manners of his age, and exposed the wickedness of hypocrites, who, abusing all that is sacred in religion, to deceive men, dupe the simple, and gain an unmerited reputation. Who would believe that a man was wicked enough to wish to deceive, at the same time, both God and man? This is what hypocrites do, when under the veil of divine love, and with an air of humility, more haughty than vanity itself, they conceal sensual affections, hatred of brethren, and a licentious life, unknown but to those who participate in it.—A woman wishes to hide from her husband an amorous intrigue; she is at her devotions in the morning, and in the evening still goes to a lecture, where she knows she shall see her friend. Often the church itself is the theatre of a love scene—the preacher, a fine young man, whose manners are more fascinating than his discourse. Frequently some broad-shouldered fellow sets at nought truth, chastity, continence, the money of husbands, and so forth. Affairs of business are conducted on the same principle, as those of love. “Who would believe that this devout man was a usurer: that he had possession, almost for nothing, of the meadow, the vineyard, and the house of a peasant! Oh, this is a holy man! he is full of conscience; every day constantly at church, his piety is exemplary. Behold the fate of a hypocrite: this knavery, is it any thing but a dead loss? for of what service is it to bigots to live in such uneasy constraint, if that does not procure them pleasure, property, or the gratification of their vanity?

“And I,” said a woman, “can I be accused of hypocrisy? My virtue, my science, my writings, do they not demonstrate the unfeignedness of my devotion? Should I be spoken of in any other way than as Saint Therese? Have I not had, in that character, apparitions, visions, a spirit of prophecy, and a discernment into the heart and conscience?”

“Contemplate, sirs,” said the satirist, “the people of the spirit, if such a thing is not above your comprehension. What is this but to deceive the world by spiritual artifices? What is this incomprehensible new grace? What devotee but has possessed it; and what mystick but has held the same language? Truly, madam, grace is very much obliged to you, and fanaticism owes you thanks; visionaries and lunaticks have gained their causes; the ancient heretics and comforters owe you a statue and a chapel.”

Another woman said, “I have not had visions; but I have experienced realities: I have seen what I thought I saw; and if I had any devotion it was for my directors. I had one whom I looked upon as my guardian angel; I had for him an extreme friendship; I made him presents and he never failed in any thing towards me; I saw him every day, and should have preferred deceiving my father rather than him. Was he sick, I suffered also; and to solace him, sent meats, confections, fruits, and even money. I was so chagrined at his absence that I could not bear my own house; I became unquiet, impatient and melancholy; every thing vexed me. His superiors having ordered his change, I almost expired with grief; I wrote to him by every mail; if I received not his letters, I felt new sorrow: a thousand phantoms presented themselves to my imagination. I fancied him as bestowing his pains upon another object, and thought that absence and change of residence had altered his inclination. He returned: what rapture! I ran to his house, although in dishabille: on the morrow I was at his feet; each day of the week I go to recount to him my pleasures and pains. In the mean time an honest man sought me in marriage; I consulted my director; he charged me to dismiss this man, who accordingly received his farewell. Another brave cavalier offered himself and received the same answer. Behold me now in my thirty-fifth year; my director exhorted me to consecrate to God my virginity: I retired to a monastery, but he was not willing that I should take the veil. At length he died; I wept, I regretted him; I observed a nine days’ devotion for his death. When my grief was assuaged, I reflected upon my age: the time of youth was past; I took the veil, contracted some amiable acquaintances, founded funeral obsequies for the repose of my soul, bequeathed my estate to the convent, and died. This is my history; this is true devotion.”