CHAP. I. Conjectures concerning the Exiſtence of Old Maids before the Deluge.

A DUTCH author, diſtinguiſhed by his erudition and his misfortunes, has endeavoured to prove, in a diſſertation of more learning than modeſty, that, when our progenitors were firſt created, it was the intention of Heaven, that Eve herſelf ſhould become an Old Maid; and that [2] original ſin was introduced into the world by the diſobedience of our frail mother, not literally in eating a myſterious fruit, but in wandering from the path of virgin purity. This fanciful hypotheſis did not ariſe in the heavy air of Holland—the idea was entertained by ſome illuſtrious fa⯑thers of the church; and the great living hiſtorian of the Roman empire, in thoſe ſarcaſtic remarks on Chriſtianity, which are the only blemiſh in his exquiſite compoſi⯑tion, has obſerved, ‘it was their favourite opinion, that if Adam had preſerved his obedience to the Creator, he would have lived and died in a ſtate of virgin purity, and that ſome harmleſs mode of vegeta⯑tion might have peopled Paradiſe with a race of innocent and immortal beings.’ In a note to this paſſage, the great hiſtorian informs us, that ‘Juſtin, Gregory of Nyſſa, Auguſtin, &c. ſtrongly inclined to this opinion;’ but he has not attended, with his uſual accuracy, to the idea entertained by the laſt of theſe fathers on this curious [3] point. Auguſtin, in the 14th book of his City of God, enters into a long and rather indelicate diſcuſſion of it. He affirms, that Paradiſe would have been peopled, not by a harmleſs mode of vegetation, but by an ac⯑tual intercourſe between the ſexes, yet un⯑ſtimulated by any wanton or paſſionate deſire; and, as a proof that man might have poſſeſſed this perfect command over his innocent frame, the good father, and his learned commentator Lodovicus Vives, al⯑ledge the moſt whimſical and ludicrous oc⯑currences that were ever recorded by a ſe⯑rious pen. The curious reader may find theſe extraordinary anecdotes related in very coarſe but explicit language, at the 498th page of the Engliſh tranſlation of St. Auguſtin, printed in 1620. I ought, per⯑haps, like the holy father himſelf, when ſpeaking of matters much more indecent, to aſk the pardon of chaſte eyes, for point⯑ing out to them ſuch indelicate wonders; but, I flatter myſelf, the kind ſiſterhood will forgive the coarſeneſs of the ſtory, for [4] the ſake of my zealous ſolicitude to indulge their curioſity. I truſt I may afford them both amuſement and inſtruction, by ſhew⯑ing them how ſtrangely men of the moſt reverend character have been betrayed, by frivolous ſpeculation, into the groſſeſt ab⯑ſurdity.

Perhaps, without the ſanctity of Au⯑guſtin, I am now expoſing myſelf to a ſimi⯑lar cenſure; but if an enquiry into antedi⯑luvian virginity ſhould be conſidered by any moroſe or ſceptical readers as a frivo⯑lous ſpeculation, let them remember, that I am profeſſedly following the example of thoſe great antiquarians, who have aſto⯑niſhed the preſent enlightened age by the profundity of their reſearches. The elabo⯑rate works of theſe gentlemen evidently prove, that they have two conſiderable and ſeparate points to purſue; the firſt and moſt important, to diſplay their own extenſive erudition; the ſecond and inferior, to in⯑form or to amuſe their reader, which, like all other ſecondary aims, muſt be frequently [5] ſacrificed to the more important. After the marvellous intimate acquaintance which the learned Mr. Bryant has ſhewn with the family of Chus, the grandſon of Noah, every author who profeſſes to treat of an ancient inſtitution, may be reaſonably ex⯑pected to give ſome account of whatever relates to it, either immediately after, or long before the deluge; and the reſpect which I bear to the ſiſterhood makes me ambitious of ſhewing them, that I have di⯑ligently ranſacked ſuch memorials of paſt ages, both genuine and fictitious, as I thought likely to elucidate the hiſtory of their long-neglected though venerable or⯑der: yet, as it is an eſtabliſhed privilege of authors to point out their own particular merits, and the particular failings of their brethren, let me here modeſtly boaſt of my own candour, in not endeavouring to raiſe the antiquity of the intereſting order to which my pen is devoted, at the expence of truth; a failing that almoſt all my brother antiquarians may be ſaid, I fear, to have [6] learned from each other. For my own part, I wiſh the chaſte ſiſterhood, in all points that concern both themſelves and others, to diſtinguiſh rumour from fact.

On theſe principles I ſhall proceed to tell them, that Eve herſelf has been ſaid to have inſtituted a religious order of certain young women, who were to continue vir⯑gins, and to preſerve unextinguiſhed the fire, which had fallen from heaven on the ſacrifice of Abel ^*. This chaſte inſtitution is reported to have ariſen in the ninety-ninth year of the world. An advocate for the exiſtence of antediluvian chaſtity may appeal to an evidence of reſpectable autho⯑rity, to no leſs a perſonage than the pro⯑phet Enoch, the ſeventh in a direct line from Adam. In certain fragments, ſtill preſerved, of this moſt early writer, we are told, that ſome women, in the age of this ingenious patriarch, had devoted them⯑ſelves to a life of virginity: but it is pro⯑per [7] to add, that although the compoſition of Enoch is mentioned in the Epiſtle of St. Jude, the authenticity of theſe fragments has been forcibly called in queſtion, and, though quoted and defended by ſome of the fathers, yet moſt modern authors of eminence, and particularly the learned Sir Walter Rawleigh, in the firſt book of his Hiſtory of the World, ſeem inclined to conſider them as a fiction.

The very conciſe narration which Moſes has given us of events before the flood, has tempted the fanciful rabbies of the Jews, and other writers on ſacred hiſtory, to amuſe themſelves with the compoſition of various antediluvian romances: among the moſt remarkable and amuſing of theſe, we may reckon the fable of an amorous connection between the apoſtate angels and the daugh⯑ters of men; a fable ſo faſcinating to a lively imagination, that our divine poet has introduced it, in the moſt ſerious manner, as a part of Satan's anſwer to Belial, in the 2d book of Paradiſe Regained.

We may obſerve alſo, that in his greater poem, this ſublimeſt of bards alludes more than once to this illicit commerce ‘Betwixt th' angelical and human kind.’ As the idea was founded on a miſconſtruc⯑tion of the following paſſage in the ſixth chapter of Geneſis, ‘The ſons of God ſaw the daughters of men, that they were fair, and they took them wives of all which they choſe,’ this ſtrange ſtory has been ſometimes an object of the moſt ſe⯑rious credit; and a very learned modern divine ^* has annexed, to his elaborate Hiſ⯑tory of the Patriarchs, a diſſertation to prove, from ſcripture, from reaſon, and from the [9] nature of angels, that theſe aetherial ſpirits, whatever ſhape they might aſſume, were utterly incapable of begetting children.

If we might venture to conſider this fa⯑ble as genuine hiſtory, we might certainly draw from it a very ſtrong argument againſt the exiſtence of antediluvian Old Maids; for, if the evil ſpirits were per⯑mitted to exerciſe ſuch power over the fe⯑males of the infant world, what fair indivi⯑dual could be ſuppoſed to have preſerved her chaſtity, when both men and demons were perſonally engaged in its deſtruction?

But, rejecting this fabulous interference of theſe licentious angels, and adhering to the more juſt interpretation of the Moſaic hiſtory, let us now examine what we may fairly conclude on the point in queſtion. The family of Seth are repreſented as or⯑derly and devout; but, as the ſtate of the world ſeemed to require a haſty increaſe of its inhabitants, it is not probable that any female, even in that ſober race, ſhould have proved ſo unreaſonable as to decline con⯑curring [10] in the important work of peopling the wide wilderneſs of the earth. If any peculiar ſanctity or ſelf-denial may be ſup⯑poſed to have exiſted, for a ſhort time, among this more innocent diviſion of the human race, it was ſoon overpowered by the influence of the moſt licentious ex⯑amples. The purity of the Sethites was corrupted by the temptations they found among the children of Cain; and the ſtate of female manners at this period is very forcibly deſcribed in the following lines of Milton:

Theſe verſes, compared with the former quotation from Paradiſe Regained, afford a ſtriking proof how ingeniouſly the great poet adopted the moſt oppoſite interpreta⯑tions of ſcripture, as they happened to ſuit his poetical purpoſes.

I cannot help remarking, that although ſome lines in the paſſage juſt quoted are ſupremely beautiful, yet, in the cloſe of it, both the genius and the juſtice of this in⯑comparable poet appear to have deſerted him: the puerility of expreſſion in the two laſt lines is particularly unhappy; and the aſſertion, that female wantonneſs was the chief cauſe of the deluge, appears rather [12] uncandid and cruel. Let us, however, apo⯑logiſe for the nobleſt of bards, on this oc⯑caſion, by obſerving, that he was probably miſled by his reverence for a learned and holy character, as his deſcription ſeems to be borrowed from the annals of Eutychius, the patriarch of Alexandria.

Though I cannot ſubſcribe to this ſeve⯑rity on the firſt female inhabitants of the world, yet, after what I have alledged, I may venture, I think, to terminate this chapter, by aſſerting, that from every thing which a diligent enquiry can collect on this very deep and delicate queſtion, we have the ſtrongeſt reaſon to ſuppoſe, there never exiſted ſuch a being as an antediluvian Old Maid.

Into what blind and unjuſt conjectures are we poor mortals betrayed, when we at⯑tempt to eſtimate the conſtitution and cha⯑racter of our remote predeceſſors!—I had juſt cloſed the preceding ſpeculation againſt the exiſtence of an antediluvian Old Maid, when I was agreeably ſurpriſed by the ar⯑rival [13] of a packet from a learned friend, who had promiſed to collect for me, in his travels over Europe and Aſia, every ſcrap of antiquity that could afford me any light in my maiden reſearches. Although the favour which I have now received from him abundantly proves, that I was groſsly miſtaken in my conjectural account of an⯑tediluvian virginity, I ſhall ſuffer what I had written to ſtand, as a warning to future antiquarians, not to indulge themſelves in ſuch haſty deciſions.

I cannot more ſtrongly expreſs my zeal for the ſiſterhood, than by preſenting to them, with a ſincere delight, this very choice morſel of antediluvian hiſtory, which deſtroys my hypotheſis, and by thus aſſerting their primaeval honour, at the expence of my own hiſtorical ſagacity.— My friend, the learned traveller, writes me word from Spain, which he is now viſiting on his return, that as ſoon as he reaches England, he ſhall correct for the preſs a journal of his tour; that in a ſupplement [14] to his travels, he intends to inſert ſome other ancient tracts, which he has fortu⯑nately reſcued from oblivion; that he will there recount the incidents which led to their diſcovery, and clearly prove that the fragment, with which he has favoured me, muſt have proceeded from the pen of Enoch himſelf. He aſſures me, that he has ſent a moſt faithful tranſlation; and that he can demonſtrate, by unanſwerable arguments, that this fragment was con⯑tained among thoſe very writings of Enoch which the pious Tertullian declared he had peruſed, and from which the celebrated Poſtellus confeſſed he had borrowed very freely, in his elaborate treatiſe on the origin of things.

But I ſhall wave all farther preface, that I may no longer detain the reader from a precious and intereſting moral tale of the moſt eminent author that exiſted before the deluge.

It is with great concern I inform my reader, that this invaluable fragment does not extend beyond the preceding imperfect ſentence. I am perſuaded, that every per⯑ſon of feeling, every true friend to virginity, muſt lament, that we are not made fully ac⯑quainted with the final deſtiny of the inter⯑eſting Kunaza. We may, however, ſafely affirm, that after ſhe had reſiſted ſo ſucceſſ⯑fully all the baſe machinations and power of the prince of magic, ſhe could never fall by the ſtrength or artifice of man. I truſt, therefore, that her name and character will now obtain the honour they deſerve, from all the nations of the modern world; and that the ſiſterhood, in particular, will never fail to revere her, as the original preſident of Old Maids.

CHAP. II. Conjectures concerning Old Maids among the Jews, Aegyptians, and ſome other Nations of Antiquity.

IN the firſt centuries after the deluge, it ſeems to have been the wiſh of every individual to aſſiſt in the great buſineſs of repeopling the deſolated world. At a time when a numerous progeny was conſidered as real opulence, and a peculiar mark of the divine favour, it is not probable that any female ſhould have willingly precluded herſelf from the moſt envied diſtinction. Indeed, the Hebrew women appear to have been actuated by the moſt lively deſire of increaſing the number of their reſpective families. Children were regarded as ſuch a treaſure, that ſeveral wives of the patri⯑archs, whom nature had diſappointed in this expectation, very chearfully corrected [39] the unkindneſs of their own conſtitution, by preſenting a handmaid to their huſ⯑bands. Among all the Moſaic inſtitutions, there is no trace of any order of men or women devoted to a ſingle life; and, though ſome of the fathers, who have ſtu⯑died, in their writings, to raiſe the honour of monaſtic virginity, have affected to de⯑rive it from Miriam the ſiſter of Moſes, by aſſerting that ſhe died a virgin, at the age of an hundred and thirty-three years, it is ſaid with more probability, that this muſical ſiſter of the Jewiſh legiſlator was herſelf married to Hur, a man of eminence in the tribe of Judah. St. Jerome, whoſe zeal for chaſtity has ſometimes tranſported him beyond the limits of ſober reaſon, expreſſes an inclination to believe, that ſeveral wo⯑men, before the Chriſtian aera, received the gift of prophecy from God, as a reward for their living a life of virginity:—but it is re⯑markable, that the celebrated Hebrew pro⯑pheteſſes were married women. Deborah was the wife of Lapidoth; and Huldah, [40] whoſe prophecy is recorded in the 22d chapter of the ſecond book of Kings, is not only mentioned as the wife of Shallum, but is ſaid to have dwelt in the college of Je⯑ruſalem; a ſufficient proof that virginity was not required in thoſe females, who made a part of that hallowed inſtitution. The heroine as well as the propheteſs might contribute to the glory of her nation, with⯑out any claim to this chaſte perfection. Jael, who is celebrated in a ſong of triumph for the ſlaughter of Siſera, was the wife of Heber the Kenite; and the more noble Judith, immortaliſed for delivering her country, by the deſtruction of Holofernes, was, at the time of her exploit, a young wi⯑dow. Throughout the hiſtory of the Jews, from their father Abraham to their utter diſperſion, I cannot recollect the exiſtence of any one diſtinguiſhed Old Maid; nor is it probable, that many ancient virgins were ever to be diſcovered, in a nation where every man was at liberty to marry as many wives as he thought himſelf able to ſup⯑port; [41] and where the wiſeſt of their princes was ſo weak as to encumber himſelf with a domeſtic eſtabliſhment of many hundred concubines.

As the Aegyptians were diſtinguiſhed by a melancholy caſt of temper, and a paſſion for gloomy retirement, we might be led to imagine, that the women of that country were the firſt who devoted themſelves to the mortifications of religious celibacy; but there is a remarkable aſſertion in Hero⯑dotus, which ſeems to preclude us from ſuch a conjecture. In ſpeaking of Aegypt, he expreſsly ſays, ‘^* no woman is ever conſecrated to any Divinity, male or fe⯑male, the holy office belonging ſolely to men;’ yet the ſame great hiſtorian in⯑forms us, that women acted a principal part in the hallowed myſteries of this artful people; not, indeed, as we may fairly con⯑jecture, for the purpoſes of chaſtity, as he [42] ſays, that in the temple of the Aegyptian Jupiter at Thebes, as in that of Belus at Babylon, a virgin was ſecluded for the God, and ſuppoſed to ſleep with the Divinity himſelf, in a magnificent bed prepared for that purpoſe, in the higheſt apartment of the building. From this ceremony, and from other circumſtances, we may con⯑clude, that Aegypt was not very fertile in the production of Old Maids. Parents of the poorer ſort ſold their female children to procure ſubſiſtence for themſelves; and we cannot reaſonably ſuppoſe, that many an⯑cient virgins exiſted in ſuch a country, where two of its ſovereigns, according to the hiſtorian I have quoted, proſtituted their own daughters in the moſt public manner; the firſt, to ſupply his exhauſted treaſury; and the ſecond, to detect a very artful thief ^*.

If we muſt not expect to find an Old Maid in Aegypt, we have ſtill leſs chance of [43] meeting with this rarity among the Baby⯑lonians. This ingenious people had de⯑viſed a very happy expedient, which is highly approved by Herodotus, to prevent their women's being expoſed to the morti⯑fications of a ſingle life, by the want of per⯑ſonal attractions. It was their annual cuſ⯑tom to produce all their virgins, who had attained the marriageable age, in a kind of public auction; the moſt beautiful were ſold for conſiderable ſums, and this pur⯑chaſe money was diſtributed in ſuch a man⯑ner, among the homely damſels, as to pro⯑cure for each of them a huſband. Such a civil inſtitution is in itſelf almoſt ſufficient to have prevented the exiſtence of an Old Maid among them; but their religious ce⯑remonies, if we may give them credit, had ſtill a greater tendency to produce this ef⯑fect, as every woman was required, once in her life, to admit the embraces of a ſtranger in or near the temple of their goddeſs Mylitta.

In Phoenicia, where Venus and Adonis [44] were particularly worſhipped, the com⯑merce between the ſexes was ſtill more li⯑centious. We may, indeed, obſerve, that among ſeveral nations of antiquity, the ſa⯑crifice of female chaſtity was conſidered as a religious duty. Perſons of the higheſt rank among the Armenians, as we are told by Strabo, devoted their virgin daughters to the goddeſs Anaitis. It was their cuſ⯑tom, that theſe young women ſhould be proſtituted for a conſiderable time in the ſervice of their Divinity, and ſettled after⯑wards in marriage, no man refuſing a ma⯑trimonial connection with ſuch hallowed females ^*.

The pagan mythology was calculated to promote the moſt corrupt ſtate of manners; and in ſome of the voluptuous nations of antiquity, the virtue of continence ſeems to have been utterly unknown. In Lydia, ſays [45] Herodotus, every girl plays the harlot.— Yet, in the luxurious region of Aſia, ſome religious inſtitutions were eſtabliſhed for the protection of chaſtity. The famous temple of Diana, at Epheſus, had a train of holy virgins; and, for their perfect ſecurity, the prieſts, to whoſe guardianſhip they were en⯑truſted, were all eunuchs. Yet we cannot venture to affirm, that this ſanctuary pro⯑duced a number of Old Maids; for it is probable, that theſe young votaries of Diana, like the Veſtals of Rome, whoſe hiſtory I ſhall conſider hereafter, had the privilege of marrying towards the middle ſeaſon of life. This we may alſo conjecture to have been the caſe with the religious virgins in Perſia; who ſeem to have been guarded with peculiar ſanctity, from an anecdote related by Juſtin:—Darius, the ſon of Artaxerxes, not ſatisfied with thoſe imperial honours to which his father had raiſed him, demanded of that monarch his favourite miſtreſs Aſpaſia. The aged ſo⯑vereign, unwilling to grant, and afraid, [46] perhaps, to refuſe, the paſſionate requeſt of his ſon, was reduced to a mortifying expe⯑dient for ſecuring the lady from ſo dan⯑gerous a rival: he made her, for that pur⯑poſe, a prieſteſs of the Sun ^*. Plutarch relates this incident with ſome variations, but in a manner which equally ſhews, that chaſtity among the Perſians was very ſtrictly guarded in a religious aſylum; yet virgi⯑nity, as the ſtory ſufficiently proves, was not a neceſſary qualification for the cha⯑racter of a prieſteſs.—Among all the king⯑doms of antiquity, none, perhaps, contri⯑buted leſs than Perſia to the ſiſterhood of Old Maids, as the Perſians are diſtinguiſhed by a peculiar ceremony, which ſtrongly proves, that both ſexes conſidered celibacy as an object of abhorrence, not only as an enemy to human enjoyment, but as pre⯑cluding them from the happineſs they ex⯑pected in a future life. From this idea aroſe their extraordinary cuſtom of marry⯑ing [47] the dead; which conſiſted of hiring either a huſband or a wife, for every perſon who happened to die ſingle, at an early period of life. This ſtrange kind of mar⯑riage is ſaid to have been generally ſolem⯑niſed, in ſuch caſes, ſoon after the burial of the deceaſed, being regarded as a neceſſary paſſport to the regions of bliſs.

In Scythia, perhaps, ſome good Old Maids may have exiſted; whoſe ſingle life was the conſequence of their poſſeſſing a delicate frame or a tender heart; for we are told by hiſtorians, that no female, in that martial country, was permitted to marry, till ſhe had ſlain, with her own hand, an enemy in battle.

Among the warlike Amazons, a very different cauſe might produce the ſame ef⯑fect. As theſe formidable ladies made it a point of national honour to ſupport their empire with the leaſt poſſible aſſiſtance from the other ſex, we may reaſonably ſup⯑poſe, that ſhe was conſidered as the trueſt Amazonian patriot, who united virginity [48] with valour. I muſt, indeed, confeſs, that the amorous adventures of ſome Amazonian queens are not very favourable to this hy⯑potheſis; but, if Quintus Curtius informs us, that Thaleſtris requeſted an embrace from Alexander, and diſcovered more ^* ea⯑gerneſs for amorous pleaſure than the young and voluptuous hero himſelf, let us remember the more chaſte deportment of her predeceſſor on the Amazonian throne, the celebrated Pentheſilea, who lived and died a virgin, in the licentious court and army of Priam, during the ſiege of Troy. She was ſlain, as Quintus Calaber relates, by the inflexible Achilles; who wiſhed, however, as the poet ſays, that he had married his lovely antagoniſt inſtead of killing her ^†. From the example of this virtuous heroine, I am perſuaded, that if a [49] conſiderable number of Old Maids ex⯑iſted among any of thoſe ancient people, whom the Greeks regarded as barbarians, it muſt have been in the nation of Ama⯑zons. I am aware, that in the profound reſearches of Mr. Bryant, the very exiſtence of this nation is diſputed; but, as the champion of the ſiſterhood in all ages, I cannot aſſent to this opinion of a moſt learned writer, nor permit the daring anti⯑quarian to annihilate ſo illuſtrious a com⯑munity, and thus, as it were, to deflower in a moment at leaſt a million of ancient virgins.

While I contend for the exiſtence, and the chaſtity, of theſe female warriors, who are deſcribed in the moſt lively and cir⯑cumſtantial manner by the poets and hiſ⯑torians of antiquity, I muſt not forget their rivals, both in courage and continence, the Gorgons. Theſe alſo were a nation of women, according to Diodorus Siculus; who informs us, that, bordering on the Amazons in Libya, and looking with envy [50] on their neighbours, they frequently in⯑feſted their country, till the more powerful Amazons, armed in the immenſe ſkins of African ſerpents, and led to battle by their queen Merina, ſubdued the Gorgons in a ſevere engagement, in which they took three thouſand priſoners ^*.

I muſt own, that many contradictory opinions have been held concerning theſe more doubtful heroines, the Gorgons. Some critics have conſidered them as lovely young women, whoſe beauty was ſo power⯑ful as to fix every beholder in motionleſs amazement; others have ſuppoſed them to have been frightful old hags, whoſe de⯑formity was ſo hideous, that no one could look at them without ſhuddering; and ſome late writers, with a ſceptical refine⯑ment, have denied their human exiſtence, and believed them to have been thoſe cele⯑brated mares of Africa, who were ſaid to conceive by the ſouth wind. But, to ſup⯑port [51] the ancient dignity of the ſiſterhood, I ſhall adhere to the evidence of that very re⯑ſpectable old Grecian, Palaephatus, who wrote a treatiſe expreſsly to explain the poetical riddles of his country; in which he explicitly declares, that the three princely Gorgon ſiſters, Stheno, Euryale, and Meduſa, were three voluntary Old Maids.

CHAP. III. On the Old Maids of Greece.

IN thoſe ages which are honoured with the name of heroic, virgins ſeem to have been treated with very little reſpect. Every hero appears to have thought himſelf entitled to the careſſes of the maiden cap⯑tives, whom his own proweſs, or the chance of war, had placed within his power; and the venerable Neſtor, at the age of fourſcore and five, does not retire to ſleep without that agreeable reward of ancient heroiſm, a fair and affectionate damſel. The warm and enthuſiaſtic admiration with which cri⯑tics of the moſt liberal ſpirit have contem⯑plated the genius of Homer, has led ſome of them to aſſert, that his poems are ſo won⯑derfully comprehenſive, as to include every character which human life can exhibit. [53] But this praiſe may be conſidered as hyper⯑bolical; ſince it is certain, that we cannot diſcover, either in the Iliad or the Odyſſey, a portrait, or even a ſketch, of a ſingle Old Maid. Perhaps, as this immortal bard is ſo minutely faithful in his delineation of manners and cuſtoms, we might infer, that no ſuch character exiſted in his time; and in⯑deed, the more we reflect on the religious and political inſtitutions of Greece, the more reaſon ſhall we find to believe, that the number of Grecian Old Maids muſt have been at all periods very inconſider⯑able.

It was the ruling paſſion of the Greeks to aggrandize their country; and, as they juſtly conſidered citizens as the real wealth of every ſtate, they thought it the firſt of patriotic duties, equally incumbent on both the ſexes, to enrich the republic by increaſ⯑ing its numbers. Plato carries this point ſo far as to ſay, that ‘all perſons, in the article of marriage, ought to conſult the ſervice of the public, in preference to [54] their own private enjoyment ^*.’ The ſame illuſtrious philoſophic ſtateſman pro⯑poſes a heavy tax upon thoſe who conti⯑nued ſingle beyond the age of thirty-three. Such a tax is ſaid to have exiſted at Sparta, where every public inſtitution had a pecu⯑liar tendency to encourage population. "Their public dances" (ſays Plutarch) ‘and other exerciſes of the young maidens naked, in ſight of the young men, were in⯑centives to marriage; and, to uſe Plato's expreſſion, drew them almoſt as neceſ⯑ſarily by the attractions of love, as a ge⯑ometrical concluſion follows from the premiſes. To encourage it ſtill more, ſome marks of infamy were ſet upon thoſe that continued batchelors; for they were not permitted to ſee theſe exerciſes of the naked virgins, and the magiſtrates commanded them to march naked round the market-place in the winter, and to [55] ſing a ſong compoſed againſt themſelves, which expreſſed how juſtly they were puniſhed for their diſobedience to the laws ^*.’

Athenaeus informs us, that their puniſh⯑ment was ſtill more ſevere; and that, on a certain feſtival, theſe unprofitable ſervants of the ſtate were dragged round an altar, and beaten, by the women of Lacedaemon, that their pride might be awakened by this in⯑dignity, and incline them to become huſ⯑bands and fathers ^†.

In a country where ſuch cuſtoms pre⯑vailed, it is not probable that many women ſhould have declined the moſt important of public duties, for the ſake of ſecuring to themſelves the diſhonourable tranquillity of a ſingle life. Indeed, we muſt do them the juſtice to obſerve, that the ladies of Greece [56] appear to have been, in this point, the ſin⯑cereſt of patriots: it ſeems to have been their general ſentiment, that to live and die un⯑married was the moſt humiliating diſgrace and affliction that the Deſtinies could inflict.

[57]Such is the natural and pathetic lamenta⯑tion with which the intereſting Antigone of Sophocles prepares for death.—This great and judicious poet has given exactly the ſame ſentiment to his more fiery Electra; who, at the time ſhe is mourning for her murdered father, and meditating the moſt tremendous vengeance againſt her imperi⯑ous and guilty mother, cannot refrain from lamenting that ſhe is herſelf ‘Hopeleſs of children, and of nuptial rites ^*.’ So prevalent was this idea in the mind of every Grecian female.—Euripides carries it ſtill farther, and aſſigns ſimilar language to his Electra; though he repreſents her as [58] actually married, by the tyranny of her pa⯑rents, to an honeſt labourer, who generouſly abſtains from her bed in deference to her rank.

From theſe examples we may conclude, that a Grecian female hardly ever expreſſed an inclination to become an Old Maid; and indeed, whatever her own private wiſhes might be, the iniquitous laws of her country made her ſo much the ſlave of her relations, that ſhe had little or no power of fixing her own ſituation in life. "Nothing (ſays the accompliſhed Sir William Jones, in ſpeak⯑ing of Grecian laws that relate to women) ‘nothing can be conceived more cruel than the ſtate of vaſſalage, in which wo⯑men were kept by the poliſhed Athe⯑nians; who might have boaſted of their tutelar goddeſs, Minerva, but had cer⯑tainly no pretenſions, on any account, to the patronage of Venus. All unneceſ⯑ſary reſtraints upon love (which contri⯑butes ſo largely to relieve the anxieties of a laborious life) and upon marriage [59] (which conduces ſo eminently to the peace and good order of ſociety) are odious in the higheſt degree; yet at Athens, whence arts, laws, humanity, learning, and reli⯑gion, are ſaid to have ſprung, a girl could not be legally united with the ob⯑ject of her affection, except by the con⯑ſent of the [...] or controller, who was either her father or her grandſire, her brother or her guardian: their domination over her was transferred to the huſband, by whom ſhe was uſually confined to the minute details of domeſtic oeconomy; and from whom ſhe might in ſome in⯑ſtances be torn, for the ſake of her fortune, by a ſecond couſin, whom probably ſhe deteſted. Nor was her dependence likely to ceaſe; for we may collect from the ſpeech on the eſtate of Philoctemon, that even a widow was at the diſpoſal of her neareſt kinſman; either to be married by him, or to be given in marriage, accord⯑ing to his inclination or caprice. Yet more; a huſband might bequeath his [60] wife, like part of his eſtate, to any man whom he choſe for his ſucceſſor: and the mother of Demoſthenes was actually left by will to Aphobus, with a portion of eighty minas. The form of ſuch a be⯑queſt is preſerved in the firſt ſpeech againſt Stephanus; and runs thus: "This is the laſt will of Paſio the Acharnean. I give my wife Archippe to Phormio, with a fortune of one talent in Peparrhetus, one talent in Attica, a houſe worth a hundred minas, together with the female ſlaves, the ornaments of gold, and whatever elſe may be in it."—For all theſe hardſhips which the Athenian women endured, a very poor compenſation was made by the law of Solon, which ordered their huſbands to ſleep with them three times a month ^*.’

In a country where women, at every pe⯑riod of their life, were ſo miſerably depen⯑dent as to be diſpoſed of like inanimate pro⯑perty, [61] we have reaſon to apprehend their having ſuffered every ſpecies of cruelty and oppreſſion. If Greece did not abound in voluntary Old Maids, we may believe that ſome lovely females of that celebrated region were kept in a wretched ſtate of celibacy, by the iniquity of a tyrannical parent or guar⯑dian. If a ſuperſtitious and cowardly old father happened to dream that a grand-child would prove fatal to his peace, he probably imitated the abſurd precaution of Acriſius, and attempted to confine his daughter, like Danae, in a ſubterranean chamber on a bed of braſs ^*; ſince cowardice and ſuperſtition are not to be corrected by the inſtructive hiſtory of that beautiful captive, and old men are even yet to learn, that female chaſtity is more endangered than protected by a rigo⯑rous confinement.

However frequent ſuch examples of pa⯑rental perſecution may have been among the [62] Greeks, we do not find many traces of them in the hiſtory of that intereſting, capricious people. There is indeed an amuſing anec⯑dote in Herodotus, which may ſerve to ſhew, that parents uſed to threaten their children with the dreaded continuance of a virgin life. Polycrates of Samos, being angry with his daughter for oppoſing his viſit to the Perſian noble, Oraetes, becauſe ſhe had been alarmed by a terrific viſion, threatens the affectionate but teazing girl, that if he returns in ſafety, ſhe ſhall for a long time remain a virgin; to which ſhe re⯑plies with great filial tenderneſs, by praying that his threat may be accompliſhed, ſince ſhe would rather remain a virgin ^* ſome time longer, than be utterly deprived of her father.

We may, however, believe that parental tyranny was not ſo often exerciſed in at⯑tempts to keep a daughter ſingle, as in thoſe of marrying her to a perſon ſhe abhorred. Perhaps in the latter caſe there was the greater [63] probability of her becoming an Old Maid; not from the ſpirit of contradiction, but be⯑cauſe an unhappy girl, ſo perſecuted, had no reſource to ſhield her from a deteſted marriage, but the ſacred altar of ſome maidenly power, who offered an aſylum to virgins in diſtreſs.

That ſuch places of refuge exiſted, we have a very ſtriking proof in a paſſage of that ſingular poem, the Caſſandra of Lyco⯑phron. The propheteſs, in the midſt of her misfortunes, breaks forth into the fol⯑lowing declaration of her future glory:

I think it proper to add, that Caſſandra, in promiſing this aſylum to perſecuted vir⯑gins, mentions a circumſtance, which might leſſen, perhaps, the influence of her protec⯑tion: ſhe declares, that her chaſte votaries [65] muſt disfigure their faces with a medical lotion, and dreſs themſelves in the habit of the Furies. Whether, after annexing this condition to her patronage, ſhe was likely or not to have many virgins in her ſanctuary, is a point that I ſubmit to the judgment of the ladies: obſerving, how⯑ever, that none of my fair readers are pro⯑per judges of the queſtion, except thoſe, who have been perſecuted by the addreſſes of a very odious ſuitor.

From the preceding part of this chapter, ſome readers of a ſceptical caſt may be in⯑clined to doubt, if Greece ever produced an Old Maid. But if the teſtimony of a poet may be admitted, the queſtion is explicitly decided. That the character really exiſted at Athens, we are expreſsly informed by Ariſtophanes, in a verſe which I have adopted as a motto to this Eſſay; and which, for the ſake of my curious fair readers, I ſhall now tranſlate: endeavour⯑ing, at the ſame time, to collect as much light as I can from its comic author, con⯑cerning [66] the real condition of Attic Old Maids.

In the comedy, which bears the name of Lyſiſtrata, that lady conceives the lively project of inſtructing her own ſex to obtain an abſolute dominion over the men; and to force them into a concluſion of thoſe wars, by which Greece was perpetually diſtracted. As ſhe propoſes her pacific expedient with more wit than modeſty, my fair readers will undoubtedly approve my delicacy in not giving them a minute account of it; and the more ſo, as it is ſufficient for our preſent purpoſe to obſerve, that Lyſiſtrata, after touching on the vexations that war pro⯑duces to married women, proceeds to the following ſentiment of diſintereſted com⯑paſſion:

[67]It is very remarkable, that although Ly⯑ſiſtrata thus mentions the Old Maids as ob⯑jects of her ſolicitude, the poet does not venture to introduce upon the ſtage a ſingle ancient virgin, either in this play, or in a drama, where he had, I think, a ſtill fairer occaſion to diſplay the character with all his licentious vivacity: I mean his comedy of the Female Orators ^*. A very ſhort ac⯑count of this witty, but indecent compoſi⯑tion, will be ſufficient to ſhew, that an Old Maid might have appeared among the per⯑ſons of the drama with a very comic ef⯑fect. Ariſtophanes undoubtedly intended, in this comedy, to ridicule the political whimſies of Plato, who contends, in his Re⯑public, that property and women ſhould be poſſeſſed in common. The poet exhibits, with infinite humour, the ludicrous evils ariſing from ſuch a ſyſtem. The women of Athens uſurp the government; and Praxa⯑gora, the heroine of the comedy, adopting [68] the ideas of Plato, eſtabliſhes a new ſet of laws. I ſhall ſpeak only of that which re⯑lates to my ſubject. By one of her ſtatutes, ‘it is enacted, that no young man ſhall re⯑ceive the favours of a young woman, till he has firſt gratified the inclinations of an old one.’ The modern reader might ex⯑pect the poet to introduce, after this inci⯑dent, even a chorus of Old Maids; but, li⯑centious as he was, Ariſtophanes had more reſpect for the ſiſterhood. It is true, in⯑deed, that he brings ſome ancient ladies on the ſtage, and repreſents them not a little ſolicitous to take advantage of a law ſo ex⯑preſs in their favour; but they are very far from appearing in the character of Old Maids, as one of them gives us clearly to underſtand, that ſhe has no claim to that title.

I would by no means inſinuate, that the remarkable conduct of Ariſtophanes, in not exhibiting an Old Maid, might tempt us to ſuſpect, that no ſuch character exiſted in his time. The only inference I would draw [69] from it is this: that the Old Maids of Athens were either entirely ſequeſtered from ſociety, or guarded with ſuch a reli⯑gious veneration, as the moſt licentious of comic poets preſumed not to violate. That ſuch perſonages really exiſted, I not only think the ſpeech of Lyſiſtrata a ſufficient proof; but I apprehend their condition, as ſhe intimates, was owing to the frequency of war among the Grecian republics.

How far the women of this martial country conſidered themſelves as neglected and aggrieved by that contentious ſpirit, which detained their warriors in diſtant fields of battle, we have a memorable ex⯑ample in the following very ſingular anec⯑dote recorded by Strabo.

‘To revenge the death of their king, Teleclus, who was ſlain as he went to ſa⯑crifice at Meſſena, the Lacedaemonians engaged in a war againſt the Meſſenians, and took an oath, either that they would not return home till they had taken [70] Meſſena, or that they would all die in the attempt.’

‘In marching forth to this enterprize, they left only their very young and very old citizens to guard their own city. After the tenth year of the war, the women of Lacedaemon aſſembled, and ſent a depu⯑tation of their own ſex to the army, to reprove the men, as not engaging on equal terms with the Meſſenians; ſince theſe, remaining in their own country, were ſtill producing children; while they, who had left their women deſolate, were encamped in a ſtate of hoſtility, at the riſk of letting their own country decay by a deficiency of men. The Lacedae⯑monians ſtill reſpecting their oath, and conſidering at the ſame time the argu⯑ment of the women, detached from the army the youngeſt and moſt vigorous of their countrymen, who did not violate an engagement by their return; ſince, while they were yet boys, they had marched [71] from home with the band of young men. This detachment was directed to con⯑nect themſelves with the virgins at La⯑cedaemon, all with all, for the greater chance of increaſing population ^*. To [72] thoſe who were born from this connexion, they gave the title of "Partheneiai," the offspring of virgins.’

In a ſtate, where the women could pre⯑ſent ſo tender, ſo patriotic, and ſo ſucceſsful a remonſtrance to their abſent heroes, we cannot, I think, reaſonably ſuppoſe that the number of Old Maids was very conſider⯑able. Perhaps in this point, as in all others of delicacy and refinement, Sparta was con⯑feſſedly inferior to Athens. As the latter was more eminently diſtinguiſhed by the patronage of the virgin goddeſs Minerva, we may juſtly believe her to have furniſhed [73] to her guardian deity the more numerous train of ancient and immaculate votaries.

The mythological deſcriptions of the Grecian poets are generally founded on ſome hiſtorical fact; and the poem of Non⯑nus contains a very remarkable paſſage, which almoſt perſuades me, that the women of Greece, at ſome early and obſcure period of their hiſtory, were ſo vehemently devoted to the arts of Minerva, that they neglected or renounced the more intereſting rites of Venus, and almoſt endangered the continu⯑ance of the world. As the paſſage, to which I allude, has the advantage of exhibiting Venus in a new point of view, it may amuſe the reader to ſee it at full length. The poet having informed us that his hero, Bacchus, gave a banquet to his attendants, proceeds thus:

I rejoice in being able to enliven and il⯑luſtrate this philoſophical Eſſay, by ſo appo⯑ſite a paſſage from the very poet, however obſcure, from whom Mr. Bryant has ſtruck ſo much light in his profounder reſearches. I have given almoſt a literal tranſlation of the preceding ſong; and I flatter myſelf that my candid readers, who are familiar with the deciſive ſtyle of our antiquarians, will allow me to conſider it as a ſtriking proof, that a confederacy of very beautiful ancient ſpinſters was once formed in Greece, who reſolutely devoted themſelves to the quiet labour of the loom, inſtead of aſſiſting in the more important buſineſs of forming new citizens to ſupport their country. Evident as this point muſt appear from theſe remarkable verſes, it might puzzle, perhaps, even the very learned gentleman juſt menti⯑oned, to decide at what period of the Grecian [80] hiſtory theſe ſpinſters lived, and how long they perſiſted in their dangerous reſolution. From the concluſion of the ſong I am in⯑clined to believe, that they reſembled a certain ſociety of modern ladies, under the guidance of a ſeraphic preſident, intitled Madonella; a lady whoſe adventures are related with infinite humour in the firſt vo⯑lume of the Tatler, and who, having devoted herſelf and her aſſociates to a life of virgin purity and retirement, was rapidly and in⯑geniouſly induced to take an active part in the neceſſary increaſe of the world.

My deſire to do all poſſible honour to the ſiſterhood, has made me extremely ſolicitous to diſcover every Attic Old Maid, whoſe name might reflect a luſtre on the community: but in my hiſtorical en⯑quiries for this purpoſe, I have not been ſo ſucceſsful as I expected to be. Many Gre⯑cian ladies have been celebrated for an at⯑tachment to philoſophical ſtudies; and I concluded that, in the liſt of theſe, I ſhould find ſeveral individuals, who in chaſtity as well as learning were the faithful votaries [81] of Minerva. Monſieur Menage has com⯑piled, with extenſive erudition, a little hiſ⯑tory of all the female philoſophers, of whom any traces can be found in the writ⯑ings of the ancients. Their number amounts to ſixty-five; but it is very remarkable, that if we except St. Catherine, there is only one lady in this long catalogue, who is celebrated for her virginity; and how far that might be either real or meritorious may ſtill be a queſtion, as this lady did not live ſingle, but was the wife of the philoſo⯑pher Iſidorus.

Thus diſappointed among the ancient female profeſſors of philoſophy, I reflected with ſingular pleaſure, that thoſe more venerable poetical old ladies, the Sibyls, would ſupply this defect; and of all the Old Maids that antiquity could furniſh, I conſidered them as beſt entitled to the ho⯑nourable diſtinction of being claſſed at the head of the ſiſterhood. I imagined their title to this high rank to be fully confirmed by the ſentence of St. Jerome; who, ſpeak⯑ing [82] of them, in the firſt part of his eloquent invective againſt Jovinian, expreſsly ſays, that ‘virginity was their characteriſtic, and divination the reward of their virgi⯑nity ^*.’ But, examining the hiſtory of theſe reverend ladies with that attention which it deſerves, I ſoon perceived that the fervent and generous ſaint had given them credit for a quality, which they were very far from poſſeſſing. The learned Servatius Gallaeus, who has obliged the world with a thick quarto volume on theſe intereſting females, completely expoſes the miſtake of St. Jerome, and laughs at him as a ridicu⯑lous champion, contending for the chaſtity of a harlot. Nor can we wonder that the credulity of the candid ſaint ſhould be treated with deriſion, ſince one of the Si⯑byls, for whoſe continence he contends, very freely acknowledges, in a remarkable [83] verſe of her own ^*, that ſhe had formerly indulged herſelf in all the criminal exceſſes of licentious paſſion.

After all my laborious endeavours to in⯑veſtigate the hiſtory of Old Maids in Greece, I muſt cloſe this chapter upon them, with the modeſt ignorance of a Gre⯑cian philoſopher, confeſſing all I know is that I know nothing: to the virginity of theſe ancient and perhaps ideal ladies, I may apply the following ingenious ſimile of a great modern poet:

CHAP. IV. On the Veſtals, and other Old Maids, of Rome before the Chriſtian Aera.

AS the Roman empire was founded on a rape, and no leſs than ſix hundred and eighty-three Sabine virgins were for⯑cibly converted into wives, according to the account of that accurate antiquarian Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus, we cannot ex⯑pect to meet with many Old Maids in the early periods of the Roman hiſtory. In⯑deed, in the firſt ages of the republic, the patriotic ambition of the Romans, and the expreſs letter of their law, operated with equal force againſt a life of celibacy. Ci⯑cero, in the opening of his third book, De Legibus, has given us the very words of the ſtatute, by which the cenſors were directed, not only to examine and enroll the children of every Roman family, but to take care [85] that no citizens ſhould lead a ſingle life ^*; and we learn from a valuable fragment pre⯑ſerved in Aulus Gellius, that the moſt emi⯑nent ſenators of Rome conſidered marriage, not as a ſtate of private enjoyment, but as a public indiſpenſable burthen, which every man was bound to ſupport for the good of the community. As the ſubject is curious and intereſting, I ſhall preſent to my reader not only the fragment to which I allude, but a conſiderable paſſage from the author who has given it a place in his miſcella⯑neous and amuſing work.

The ſixth chapter, in the firſt book of Aulus Gellius, begins in the following manner:

‘The oration which Metellus Numi⯑dicus, a man of dignity and eloquence, delivered, in his cenſorſhip, to exhort the people to matrimony, was read to a large and learned audience. In this oration it was thus written: 'If, Romans, we had [86] the power of living without a wife, we ſhould all be free from that trouble; but ſince nature has ſo diſpoſed it, that we can neither live very commodiouſly with them, nor without them exiſt at all, we muſt provide rather for perpetual ſecurity, than for tranſient pleaſure.' It appeared to ſome, that the cenſor Metellus, whoſe intention was to exhort the people to marry, ought not to have made ſuch a confeſſion concerning the trouble and perpetual vexations of the married life, ſince, inſtead of exhorting, he ſeemed ra⯑ther to diſſuade and deter. His oration, they ſaid, ought rather to have taken a contrary turn; he ſhould have aſſerted, that marriage in general was attended with no vexations; and if at any time it appeared to produce ſome, theſe, he ſhould have ſaid, were light and trifling, very eaſily endured, and obliterated by a ſuperior portion of emolument and de⯑light; nay, that theſe very vexations were neither common to all, nor owing [87] to the nature of the connection, but oc⯑caſioned by the failings and injuſtice of particular huſbands. But Titus Caſ⯑tricius maintained, that Metellus had ſpoken both with truth and propriety. It is one thing, ſaid he, to ſpeak as a cenſor, and another to ſpeak as a rheto⯑rician. We allow the latter to uſe ex⯑preſſions fraudulent and bold, ſubtile and captious, if they have but a certain air of truth, and the power of exciting, by any artifice, the paſſions of the audience. He obſerved, moreover, that it is diſ⯑graceful to a rhetorician, even in a bad cauſe, to leave any part of his ground de⯑ſerted and unfought; but for Metellus, he ſaid, who ſpoke to the Roman people with that ſanctity of character, as a man whoſe life had been diſtinguiſhed by ac⯑cumulated honours, it became him to utter nothing but what he himſelf, and his whole audience, might eſteem ſtrictly true; and the more ſo, as he ſpoke upon a ſubject, of which the experience of [88] every day enabled every man to judge. Confeſſing, therefore, thoſe vexations which were notorious to all men, and de⯑ſerving, by that confeſſion, the confi⯑dence of his auditors, he at laſt, with eaſe and rapidity, perſuaded them of that important and eſſential point, that the preſervation of the ſtate depended on the prevalence of marriage.’

Without ſtopping to make any farther remarks on the eloquence of Metellus— from whoſe honeſt confeſſion we might in⯑fer, that the moſt ſpirited of the old Ro⯑mans were not perfectly able to manage their wives—I ſhall only obſerve, that in the firſt ages of the republic, the cenſors ſeem to have attended very minutely to this part of their office, which had ſo ſtrong a ten⯑dency to prevent the exiſtence of Old Maids. Valerius Maximus informs us, that the cenſors Camillus and Poſthumius levied a fine on thoſe citizens who had grown old in a ſingle life, and brought it to the public treaſury. Plutarch alſo, in his [89] Life of Camillus, relates, that ‘as the wars had made many widows, he obliged ſuch of the men as lived ſingle, partly by per⯑ſuaſion, and partly by threatening them with fines, to marry thoſe widows.’ — From the latter circumſtance we may infer, that virgins of a marriageable age were at this period very ſcarce in Rome; and, in⯑deed, we may believe, that, in the active pa⯑triotic days of the republic, there would not have exiſted a ſingle Roman Old Maid, had not the ſingular religious eſtabliſhment of the veſtal virgins formed a kind of nur⯑ſery for that reſpectable ſiſterhood to whom this work is devoted.

As I preſume that my fair readers have but a ſlight acquaintance with theſe moſt intereſting nuns of antiquity, although their name, ſurviving that fire for whoſe eternity they prayed, is ſtill applied in poetical lan⯑guage to modern ladies of diſtinguiſhed purity, I ſhall here inſert the curious ac⯑count of the Veſtals, which is preſerved in the above-mentioned moſt excellent anti⯑quarian, [90] Dionyſius, and I ſhall inſert it in the words of his accurate and elegant tranſ⯑lator, Mr. Spelman.

‘The virgins, who ſerve the Goddeſs, were originally four, and elected by the kings, according to the laws eſtabliſhed by Numa; but, afterwards, from the multiplicity of their functions, their number was encreaſed to ſix, and has ſo remained to this day. They live in the temple of the Goddeſs, into which none are hindered from entering in the day⯑time; but it is not lawful for any man to remain there in the night. They are under a neceſſity of continuing unmar⯑ried during the ſpace of thirty years; which time they employ in offering ſa⯑crifices, and performing other rites or⯑dained by the law. During the firſt ten years, their duty was to learn their functions; in the ſecond ten, to perform them; and, during the remainder of their time, to teach others. After the expiration of the term of thirty years, nothing hin⯑dered [91] ſuch as deſired it from marrying, upon their quitting their veils ^*, and the other enſigns of their prieſthood; and ſome, though very few, have done this, the end of whoſe lives has not been ſo very happy as to tempt others to imitate them; ſo that the reſt, looking upon their calamities as ominous, remain virgins in the temple of the Goddeſs till their death, and then the pontiffs again chuſe another to ſupply the vacancy. They receive many diſtinguiſhing honours from their country, by which the deſire of children [92] and of marriage is taken away. They are alſo ſubject to great puniſhment in caſe of delinquency; which, by the law, the pontiffs are appointed both to enquire into and puniſh. Thoſe Veſtals who commit leſſer crimes, they whip with rods; but if they ſuffer themſelves to be debauched, they are delivered up by the pontiffs to the moſt ſhameful and the moſt miſerable death; for, while they are yet alive, they are carried upon a bier, with all the formality of a funeral, their friends and relations attending them with lamentations; being arrived at the gate Collina, they are placed in a ſubterraneous cell, prepared within the walls, in their funeral attire, without any ſepulchral column, funeral rites, or other cuſtomary ſolemnities. There ſeem to be many indications of the prieſteſs who does not perform the holy functions with purity; but the principal is the ex⯑tinction of the fire, which the Romans dread above all misfortunes, looking [93] upon it, from whatever cauſe it proceeds, as an omen that portends the deſtruction of their city; and they bring fire again into the temple, with many expiatory rites.—It is alſo well worth relating, in what manner this Goddeſs has manifeſted herſelf in favour of thoſe virgins who have been falſly accuſed.—It is ſaid, that once the fire being extinguiſhed, through ſome careleſſneſs of Aemilia, who had then the care of it, and had intruſted it to another virgin, who was newly choſen into their number, and then learning her duty, the whole city was in great diſor⯑der, and an enquiry made by the pon⯑tiffs, whether ſome defilement of the prieſteſs might not have occaſioned the extinction of the fire. Upon this they ſay, that Aemilia, who was innocent, but diſtracted at what had happened, ſtretched out her hands to the altar, and, in the preſence of the prieſts and the reſt of the virgins, ſaid, 'O Veſta, tutelary Goddeſs of this city, if, during the ſpace [94] of near thirty years, I have performed the holy functions to thee with holineſs and juſtice, and have preſerved a pure mind and a chaſte body, appear in my defence, and aſſiſt me, and do not ſuffer your prieſteſs to die the moſt miſerable of all deaths; but if I have been guilty of any impiety, let my puniſhment expiate the guilt of the city.'—Having ſaid this, ſhe tore off a piece of the linen garment ſhe had on, and threw it upon the altar. After this prayer, they ſay, that from the aſhes, which had been long cold, and retained no ſpark of fire, a great flame ſhone forth through the linen; ſo that the city did not ſtand in need, either of expi⯑ations or of a new fire.—But what I am going to relate is ſtill more wonderful, and more like a fable.—They ſay, that ſomebody having falſely accuſed one of the virgins, whoſe name was Tucia, and, being unable to object to her the extinc⯑tion of the fire, he ſupported his accuſa⯑tion by falſe inductions drawn from [95] probable conjectures and teſtimonies; and that the virgin, being ordered to make her defence, ſaid only this—that ſhe would clear herſelf from the accuſation by her actions; and, having ſaid this, and called upon the Goddeſs to be her guide, ſhe proceeded to the Tiber, the pontiffs conſenting, and all the citizens attending her: when ſhe came to the river, ſhe was ſo hardy as to under⯑take a thing, which, of all others, is looked upon as impoſſible, even to a proverb; and, having taken water out of the river in an empty ſieve, and carried it as far as the Forum, ſhe poured it out at the feet of the pontiffs; after which, they ſay, her accuſer, though great en⯑quiry was made after him, could never be found, either alive or dead ^*.’

If ſome of theſe calumniated Veſtals were thus marvellouſly preſerved, others ſeem to have been deſtroyed with the moſt [96] ſavage barbarity, in ſpite of favourable oc⯑currences that might have been humanely conſtrued into a ſupernatural aſſertion of their innocence. In the rhetorical frag⯑ments of Seneca, a fair delinquent is men⯑tioned, who, being convicted of impurity, was brought to ſuffer death, by being thrown from the ſummit of ſo high a rock, that it was terrific even to thoſe who looked down from it in a ſtate of ſecurity ^*. In the moment preceding her puniſhment, ſhe appealed to Veſta in vindication of her purity; and, being flung from the precipice, deſcended without injury to the ground; when a ſet of inhuman orators maintained, that ſhe ought to be brought back, and thrown a ſecond time from the rock, al⯑ledging, that her wonderful eſcape rather indicated the anger than the protection of the Gods, ſince it was their deſign, not to ſave the life of this convicted criminal, but [97] to lengthen her puniſhment. Seneca does not inform us, that ſhe periſhed in conſe⯑quence of this cruel argument; and, in⯑deed, I am tempted to hope, for the ho⯑nour of human nature, that the whole ſtory was nothing more than the fiction of a fan⯑ciful declaimer.

However this may be, the anecdote af⯑fords us a ſtriking proof of the extreme ſe⯑verity with which the Romans regarded the frailty of a Veſtal. Indeed, the ſame au⯑thor furniſhes us with a proof of this point yet more extraordinary; for he gives us part of a criminal oration againſt a Veſtal, who was accuſed of inceſt, not for any evi⯑dent act of incontinence, but merely for having written a verſe, which forcibly ex⯑preſſed her ſenſe of thoſe pleaſures, which the married fair ones enjoy. This curious morſel of heart-inſpired poetry is happily preſerved, and I muſt gratify my female reader with a tranſlation of it, though I may injure the ſpirit of this feeling poeteſs [98] by converting her ſingle Latin verſe into the following Engliſh couplet:

We find, in the auſtere rhetorician, the moſt bitter invective againſt theſe natural ſentiments of a tender female. "How ex⯑preſſive," cries the declaimer, "is her lan⯑guage! how apparently flowing from the inmoſt ſoul, not only of an experienced, but of an enraptured woman!—She is guilty of inceſt, though not actually vio⯑lated, who wiſhes for violation ^†."

Let me add, however, in juſtice to Se⯑neca, that he gives us alſo the oppoſite ſide of the queſtion. "We confeſs," replies the defender of this poetical virgin, "we confeſs to you, ſhe is guilty of one crime: ſhe is [99] poſſeſſed of genius: how then could ſhe fail to envy Cornelia, the mother of the Grac⯑chi, or that happy parent who gave birth to Cato^*?"—We are not told what was the fate of this ingenious Veſtal; and ſhe alſo, like her ſiſter, who is mentioned in the preced⯑ing anecdote of the rock, might be a mere creature of fancy, and her offence invented for the exerciſe of declamation.

If our humanity is gratified by this ſup⯑poſition, yet other ancient writers afford us a melancholy aſſurance, that ſeveral un⯑happy Veſtals actually ſuffered the ſavage fate of being buried alive. For my own part, when I read of ſuch events, I feel that all the ſplendor of Roman glory is entirely eclipſed by theſe infernal acts of barbarous ſuperſtition. Let me remark, however, for the credit of the republic, that this puniſh⯑ment was introduced by the elder Tarquin. [100] It was firſt inflicted in his reign, upon a hapleſs victim, whoſe name was Pinaria. I ſhall not enumerate all the unfortunate females, who ſhared this inhuman deſtiny, but content myſelf with obſerving, that, ac⯑cording to the calculation of the Abbé Na⯑dal (who has given a copious hiſtory of the Veſtals, in the Memoirs of the French Aca⯑demy) from the eſtabliſhment of theſe vir⯑gins under Numa, to their ſuppreſſion in the reign of Theodoſius, a period of about a thouſand years, we cannot aſſign more to each century than a ſingle victim. As to the number of honeſt and unſuſpected Old Maids, which this religious ſociety might produce in the ſame ſpace of time, this is a point requiring ſo much nice calculation, that I ſhall leave it to be ſettled by our own indefatigable antiquarians.

We may fairly ſuppoſe, that, in ſpite of thoſe unpromiſing omens, by which many of the elder Veſtals were deterred from wed⯑lock, according to the above-mentioned ac⯑count of Dionyſius, ſome of theſe ſuperan⯑nuated [101] prieſteſſes were eager to aſſert their privilege, and ventured to marry. Indeed we have a ſingular proof that this ſome⯑times happened, in a few remarkable verſes of the Chriſtian poet Prudentius, who has exhibited a picture of the Veſtals, which is certainly painted with more zeal than po⯑liteneſs. As the paſſage is curious, and has not been fully quoted by the modern hiſto⯑rian of theſe intereſting ladies, I ſhall en⯑deavour to amuſe my fair readers by a po⯑etical tranſlation of it.

[103]Though the picture, which this pious poet has given us, may be conſidered as a piece of coarſe painting, it was undoubtedly drawn from the life. In one point I fear he judged but too well; I mean, in the ge⯑neral unhappineſs which he attributes to the younger Veſtals. From the time and mode of their introduction into this religious ſervitude, we cannot ſuppoſe that they felt themſelves very eaſy under it, when they grew old enough to acquire a knowledge of ſocial life, and to experience the full force [104] of all the natural paſſions. The Romans ſeem to have been ſenſible of the many mortifications, which muſt have attended the life of theſe lovely captives: and they endeavoured to compenſate the evils of their condition, by frequently increaſing the va⯑rious honours that were paid to every indi⯑vidual of this holy order. Even the cold-blooded Auguſtus beſtowed upon them ſome marks of his favour; and, as the hiſto⯑rian Dion Caſſius aſſerts, admitted theſe ſe⯑queſtered virgins to the enjoyment of all thoſe civic rights, which the policy of Rome had confined to mothers. Among the many privileges that belonged to the Veſtal, there was one that muſt have been peculiarly de⯑lightful to a feeling heart; I mean the pri⯑vilege of ſaving the condemned. The Ro⯑mans attached ſuch an idea of ſanctity to the perſon of a Veſtal, that if a criminal, in his way to execution, was fortunate enough to meet one of theſe virgins, the bare ſight of ſo pure a perſonage was ſufficient to expiate his offences, and the happy incident imme⯑diately [105] reſtored him to life and liberty. On theſe occaſions, however, it was neceſſary for the prieſteſs to affirm, that ſuch meeting was the mere effect of chance. Yet in the moſt turbulent and ſanguinary days of the republic, the lives of ſome political delin⯑quents have been ſaved by the ſupplication of the Veſtals. The vindictive Sylla him⯑ſelf is ſaid to have granted the life of Caeſar to the interceſſion of theſe compaſſionate vir⯑gins, highly provoked as he was by the re⯑ſiſtance of that ſpirited and ambitious youth. Perhaps the extreme eagerneſs, which Caeſar afterwards ſhewed to obtain the office of ſupreme pontiff, was partly owing to his generous deſire of diſplaying his gratitude to theſe holy virgins, to whoſe tenderneſs he was indebted for his life: for it was the duty of the ſupreme pontiff to ſuperintend this female ſociety; to retire into a place of privacy with every young Veſtal, who had committed any trivial of⯑fence, and, having ſtripped the fair delin⯑quent, to ſcourge her in proportion to her [106] demerit. It was perhaps in this high office that the celebrated humanity of this merci⯑ful tyrant was moſt uniformly exerted; and, however the Roman empire might juſtly murmur at his uſurped authority, when we conſider the characteriſtics of this great man, we may reaſonably conclude, that no tender Veſtal ever thought herſelf much aggrieved by falling under the rod of Caeſar. It had indeed been happy for this tender ſiſter⯑hood, if the ſucceeding emperors had ſu⯑perintended them with that gentle ſpirit, which on ſuch occaſions diſplayed itſelf in this the moſt liberal and moſt accompliſhed of tyrants. But among the many monſters, who ſucceeded this extraordinary uſurper in the government of the Roman world, there were ſome, who appear to have de⯑lighted in the horrible enormity of burying even an innocent Veſtal alive. The younger Pliny has related a tranſaction of this kind, in which the ſpirit of the lovely victim ap⯑pears in ſo intereſting a light, that I ſhall inſert the ſtory in the words of Mr. Mel⯑moth, [107] that amiable tranſlator, whoſe deli⯑cacy of ſentiment, and elegance of language, have placed him on a level with his enga⯑ging original.

If the perſonal ſecurity of theſe unhappy virgins was thus wantonly invaded by the [110] barbarity of the Pagan emperors, the chaſte reputation of the ſiſterhood has been treated with equal cruelty and injuſtice by the out⯑rageous zeal of ſome Chriſtian authors. We have already ſeen with what indelicate contempt the pious poet Prudentius has ſpoken of Veſtal purity. Saint Ambroſe, in his Treatiſe on Virgins, proceeds ſtill farther againſt it. Having aſſerted that vir⯑ginity was only affected among the Gen⯑tiles, the good ſaint exclaims, ‘Who will urge againſt me, the virgins of Veſta, or the prieſteſſes of Pallas? What kind of purity is that, which depends not upon morals, but upon age? which, inſtead of being perpetual, has a ſtated period pre⯑ſcribed?—There is greater wantonneſs in that virtue, whoſe fall is aſſigned to the latter ſeaſon of life: they who allow a fi⯑nal period to virginity, teach their own virgins that they are releaſed from the duty, and deſtitute of the power, of per⯑ſeverance. But what kind of a religion is that, in which young maidens are [111] commanded to be chaſte, and old women wanton ^*?’

My concern for the credit of many an honeſt, though unknown Veſtal Old Maid, obliges me to obſerve, that the holy Am⯑broſe has given a very unfair and a very ungenerous repreſentation of this chaſte community; but, ſevere as he is towards them, his ſeverity may be conſidered as moderation, when compared with the mercileſs treatment they have received from his brother ſaint, the vehement ſaint Jerome: that eloquent and impetuous fa⯑ther of the Catholic church ſeems to lay his daring axe to the very roots, not only of [112] Pagan, but of all heretical virginity; ex⯑preſsly ſaying, that the virgins, ſuch as are called ſo among divers heretics, and parti⯑cularly the Manichaean, are to be conſi⯑dered as harlots, and not as virgins ^*.

Let me add, however, as an inſtance of candour in this zealous ſaint, that although he appears ſo bitter an enemy to all unor⯑thodox virgins, in the preceding paſſage from his letter to Euſtochium, the daugh⯑ter of his friend Paula, on the preſervation of virginity—yet, in his invective againſt Jovinian, who had queſtioned the extraor⯑dinary merit of the moſt perfect chaſtity, he launches forth into a ſpirited panegyric on the virgins of the heathen world, allow⯑ing that title not only to the Sibyls, but to Caſſandra herſelf, though this unfortunate heroine had been very groſsly injured, both [113] by a Divinity and a mortal, being deluded by Apollo, and raviſhed by Ajax.

I ſhall not ſtop to comment on this in⯑conſiſtency in the rapid and energetic St. Jerome, as I intend, in the ſubſequent part of my work, to ſpeak more at large, not only of this celebrated advocate for a ſingle life, but of many other ſaints, whoſe pious labours have been particularly directed to that moſt attractive ſubject, virginity.

It is not ſurpriſing, that ſome of theſe holy writers ſhould, in the heat of their zeal, make very free with the reputation both of the young and old maids among the Pagans. We may forgive the exceſſes of miſtaken piety; but when a critic of mo⯑dern times—when an author, writing in a country that piques itſelf on delicacy and politeneſs—when a Frenchman, in the cour⯑teous age of Lewis the Fourteenth, raſhly attempts to diſhonour all the virgins of the heathen world, I eſteem it my duty, as the voluntary champion of the inſulted ſiſter⯑hood, to expoſe and chaſtiſe this very arro⯑gant [114] and licentious delinquent. The per⯑ſon who has been guilty of this high miſ⯑demeanor, is Monſieur Morin; who, in the year 1713, produced, in the French Aca⯑demy of Belles Lettres, a compoſition en⯑titled, "A critical Hiſtory of Celibacy." In the cloſe of it, this preſumptuous author not only traduces the poor mortal virgins of antiquity, but attempts to diſhonour even the virgin Goddeſſes themſelves.

That the ſiſterhood may be judges of his offence againſt them, I ſhall tranſlate ſome paſſages of the treatiſe, in which their pu⯑rity is ſo grievouſly inſulted. I ſhall be⯑gin with the inſtances he produces, of that high eſteem for chaſtity, which the heathens profeſſed.

[124]Such are the unwarrantable liberties which Monſieur Morin has taken with Pa⯑gan virginity.—In anſwer to the attack which this petulant Frenchman has made on all the Old Maids of antiquity, both mortal and divine, I ſhall only obſerve, that the inference he draws from the Pagan ſenti⯑ments he produces, is diametrically oppo⯑ſite to what it ought to be, not only ac⯑cording to the rules of delicacy and can⯑dour, but according to the laws of ſound reaſoning. Having ſhewn us very copi⯑ouſly, and very fairly, that the heathen la⯑dies ſet the higheſt value on virginity, he ought undoubtedly to have ſaid, that al⯑though the perſonal hiſtory of ſome ancient nymphs and goddeſſes might induce us to believe that incontinence was prevalent in the days of Heatheniſm, yet, when we con⯑ſider the forcible and graceful terms, in which ſome of theſe frail nymphs lament their own weakneſs, we ought certainly to conclude, that many honeſt virgins, though their names have not reached us, exiſted in [125] the Pagan world, and maintained, in the midſt of its tempting licentiouſneſs, a very happy and honourable agreement between their principles and their practice.

Some of the Pagan Goddeſſes ſhould un⯑doubtedly have been excepted from this ge⯑neral cenſure; three in particular, whoſe virginity (though it will not, I fear, reflect much honour on the ſiſterhood) was ſo un⯑queſtionable as to become a kind of pro⯑verb; I mean the Furies, whoſe maiden pu⯑rity is aſſerted in a ſtriking fragment of So⯑phocles ^*.

It may perhaps extenuate the offence of Monſieur Morin againſt the ſiſterhood, to remark, that he was led into this wanton cruelty towards the virgins of Paganiſm, by his deſire of paying an oblique compliment to thoſe more numerous Old Maids, the Roman Catholic Nuns; of whom I ſhall ſpeak at large in the ſubſequent part of this [126] work. At preſent, I have a few more ob⯑ſervations to make on the ladies of ancient Rome.—Theſe ladies may be ſaid, like the heroes of their country, to have reached the extremes both of virtue and of vice. There are two anecdotes in the Roman Hiſtory, which particularly diſcover the variation of female manners: the firſt is beautifully re⯑corded by Livy, in a few words; which muſt loſe, I fear, a great part of their graceful energy by the following tranſlation.

To this pleaſing picture of ſpirited mo⯑deſty, we find a ſtriking and melancholy contraſt in the conduct of thoſe Roman la⯑dies, who, in the conſulſhip of Acilius Bal⯑bus and Porcius Cato, were ſo extrava⯑gantly licentious, that the ſenate thought [128] proper to conſult the Sibylline oracle for ſome method of averting the public evils, ariſing from female depravity: they were directed to ſupplicate the Divinity who pre⯑ſided over the tender affections; and ac⯑cordingly built a new temple to Venus, un⯑der the title of Verticordia—The Corrector of the Heart.

This extraordinary fact is related by Va⯑lerius Maximus, and clearly alluded to in the following verſes of Ovid.

Ovid ſeems to have been as partial to the fair ſex as any individual of the poetical choir; yet we cannot ſay that his poetry, taken altogether, leads us to think very highly of Roman chaſtity, in the celebrated age of Auguſtus. If the ſtate of manners could be fairly eſtimated from the ſuſpicious teſtimony of a ſatirical poet, we might ſup⯑poſe the condition of this tender virtue ſtill more deplorable in the ſucceeding reigns; and we might abſolutely deſpair of finding a ſingle Roman Old Maid after the days of Juvenal. This outrageous declaimer, in that moſt groſs and virulent libel againſt the fair ſex, his ſixth Satire, conſiders the man as perfectly inſane, who expects to meet with a chaſte woman in Rome. But ſuch indelicate ſarcaſms are diſgraceful only to their author; and I doubt not but many good wives, and virgins (for ſuch ſurely ex⯑iſted, even in the days of Juvenal) deſpiſed [130] the groſs invective of this frantic moraliſt, as much as thoſe of modern times have de⯑ſpiſed the leſs indecent ſarcaſm of Pope, that ‘Every woman is at heart a rake.’ It is very remarkable, that the three ſa⯑tiriſts, who have written againſt the lovely part of the creation with the moſt acrimo⯑nious hoſtility, were three old batchelors: at leaſt we have never heard that Juvenal had a wife; and of Boileau and Pope we know, not only that they were never mar⯑ried, but in all probability never flattered by the endearments of any amiable woman. I have made this remark, becauſe it will na⯑turally lead me to what reflects the higheſt honour on the ſiſterhood—a compariſon be⯑tween old batchelors and Old Maids in an important point, which very forcibly ex⯑preſſes the different characters of each com⯑munity.

We find that theſe three poetical and moral old batchelors, in thoſe raging fits [131] of ſour ſpleen, which they falſely ſuppoſed the enthuſiaſm of genuine virtue, calumni⯑ated woman, though a gentle being, from whom they had received no injury, and with whom they could never form a perfect acquaintance. Now obſerve the contraſt; among all the Old Maids who have written either verſe or proſe—and their number is infinite—I never heard of one, who had vented her ill-humour in ſuch bitter and contemptuous invectives againſt the ſtronger and more injurious ſex. No; the ancient virgin has that natural tenderneſs and generoſity of heart, that, whatever her ignorance of man may be, whatever ground ſhe may have to complain of his neglect, ſhe ſtill conſiders him, to uſe the words of Shakeſpeare, as the paragon of animals. The exceſs of virtue has been known, in many male moraliſts, to degenerate into a ſullen and prepoſterous contempt and ha⯑tred towards the whole human race; but, for the honour of the fair ſex in general, and of my candid friends the Old Maids in particular, I beg it may be for ever remem⯑bered, [132] that they are perfectly free from that moſt diſguſting and moſt wretched of all mental infirmities, miſanthropy.

But to return to the main ſubject of my preſent chapter, the Old Maids of ancient Rome.—I cannot indeed exhibit ſuch a liſt of theſe ladies as I could wiſh; but the deficiency, without doubt, ariſes not from the rarity of the character, but from the in⯑excuſable inaccuracy, which I have before lamented in the ancient hiſtorians and bio⯑graphers, who have failed to commemorate the merits of the ſiſterhood. I am happy, however, in being able to conclude, and to embelliſh this chapter with the name of one illuſtrious Old Maid, who may be regarded as a peculiar favourite of Minerva, ſince ſhe was not only eminent for her chaſtity, but excelled in one of the moſt elegant among the arts. I mean the celebrated Lala, who, though not a native of Rome, ex⯑erciſed the profeſſion of painting in that city, during the youth of Marcus Varro. He pro⯑bably gave a full deſcription of this amiable [133] perſon, in one of thoſe 490 volumes, which he is ſaid to have written. Though the works of this moſt learned Roman have un⯑fortunately periſhed, the name and merits of Lala have happily ſurvived. We are told, that ſhe painted with great rapidity; that ſhe excelled in the portraits of women; and that her pictures bore a price ſuperior to what was given to the moſt ſkilful pain⯑ters of her time. Her claim to honourable diſtinction in this volume, is grounded on the unqueſtionable evidence of that pro⯑found naturaliſt, antiquarian, and connoiſ⯑ſeur, the elder Pliny; who certainly could not be deceived in ſuch a point of natural hiſtory; and who aſſerts, in the moſt poſi⯑tive language, that Lala was a perpetual virgin.

With this lady I muſt cloſe my very im⯑perfect account of the Pagan virgins; and, when I reflect how many good but un⯑known Old Maids exiſted before the chaſte Lala, I cannot help breathing a ſigh of re⯑gret, ſimilar to that which Horace expreſſes [134] in reflecting on the many brave, but unce⯑lebrated warriors who lived before Aga⯑memnon;

But let us haſten to conſole ourſelves with a view of the more fortunate ancient virgins of the Chriſtian ſiſterhood; theſe, inſtead of wanting an encomiaſt, have per⯑haps been ſometimes extolled in too laviſh panegyrics: as this, however, is a queſtion of great delicacy, we will proceed to a can⯑did and ample diſcuſſion of it, in our ſubſe⯑quent chapters.—I ſhall begin with conſi⯑dering the infinite increaſe of Old Maids after the eſtabliſhment of the Chriſtian aera.

CHAP. I. On the infinite Increaſe of Old Maids after the Chriſtian Aera.

I Am now arrived at the moſt hazardous part of this important Eſſay; and I feel that the future conduct of it muſt be attended with many difficulties. To do full juſtice to my Maiden ſubject, I hold it neceſſary to dwell on ſeveral of thoſe ancient fathers of the church, who conſidered vir⯑ginity as the darling object of their pious lucubrations: but, as I wiſh to render theſe volumes attractive to every claſs of readers, let me here declare, that I ſhall zealouſly [136] endeavour to ſpeak of all the ſaints, who have touched on this intereſting topic be⯑fore me, in ſuch a manner, that I may hope not to tire the volatile, or offend the pious.

By the pious, I mean only the good peo⯑ple of our reformed religion, being aware that I muſt expect little or no mercy from a Catholic reader; for although I declare my⯑ſelf the friend and champion of the honeſt Proteſtant Old Maid, I am very far from being an advocate for monaſtic virginity. Indeed, it is with pity and indignation, that I conſider how many thouſand of the moſt lovely females have been immured, to lan⯑guiſh in a cloiſter, by parental tyranny; or have been led, by the inſinuating arts of ſu⯑perſtition, to enter on a voluntary ſecluſion from all the moſt amiable duties and de⯑lights of human life. Though I am wil⯑ling to believe, that ſincere purity has often reſided in a convent, I cannot but conſider the Proteſtant Old Maid, who ſupports with chearful content a virginity, which is the conſequence rather of accident and neceſ⯑ſity, [137] than of choice, as a more exemplary and intereſting perſonage than the Romiſh nun, who, in her zeal for chaſtity, renounces mankind for ever. I am convinced, that the former character, neglected and depre⯑ciated as it may have been, is more truly conſonant to the genuine ſpirit of Chriſtia⯑nity, that ſimple and ſublime religion, which is a friend to ſocial happineſs, and an enemy to every ſelfiſh principle.

Since nature, reaſon, and faith may all incline us to co-operate in the preſervation of our ſpecies, it is aſtoniſhing, that any powers could be found ſufficient to coun⯑teract their united influence, and to make a number of human beings perſiſt in re⯑nouncing the moſt precious privilege of their exiſtence, the privilege of communi⯑cating their own enjoyments, both tranſient and eternal, to new beings, more dear to them than their own perſonal advantage. The ſevere pains of child-birth are graci⯑ouſly compenſated by ſuch a profuſion of tender delight, that the moſt ſelfiſh timidity [138] could not decline the burthen, after think⯑ing on its reward. The more we reflect on the generous energy of the maternal feel⯑ings, the more ſhall we be ſurpriſed at the multitudes of women, who, in the firſt ages of Chriſtianity, devoted themſelves to a ſingle life. The whole ſex appears to have been inflamed with a paſſion for virginity; and a reſpectable author, who has lately given us an amuſing hiſtory of women, informs us, that in the fourth century, a ſingle city contained no leſs than twenty thouſand virgins, who had taken a vow of perpetual chaſtity ^*. Notwithſtanding the extreme humility which they profeſſed, I am afraid there was a ſtrong mixture of ſecret pride in this unreaſonable conduct. All the primitive Chriſtian maidens ſeem to have coveted ſuch a ſepulchral panegyric as the following couplet beſtows on our queen Elizabeth:

Perhaps the nuns of the ancient church had pretenſions to this ideal ſanctity leſs equivocal than thoſe of our virgin queen. However this may be, it is a curious and in⯑tereſting ſpeculation to ſearch into the im⯑mediate cauſes of ſuch wonderful facts; and to examine the particular ſource of thoſe ideas, that could ſo forcibly counteract the tender bias of nature in the female character of thoſe times. The ardent zeal with which the early Chriſtians embraced a life of celi⯑bacy, may be aſcribed to two cauſes; firſt, to the advice of St. Paul, who ſtrongly diſ⯑ſuades them from marriage; and ſecondly, to thoſe flaming pieces of eccleſiaſtical elo⯑quence, in which the fathers of the church were pleaſed to magnify virginity, and to pour into the heated imagination of their [140] female diſciples an unquenchable love for this imaginary virtue. As I advance in this Eſſay, I ſhall give a particular account of theſe remarkable orations. In the pre⯑ſent chapter, I ſhall confine myſelf to con⯑ſider the advice of St. Paul, and the imme⯑diate conſequences which it ſeems to have produced.

I truſt that I ſhall not be thought to fail in that reſpect, which every ſincere Chriſtian owes to this eloquent and admirable apoſtle, by declaring that I have frequently read his ſtrong exhortation to a life of celibacy with ſurpriſe and concern. His Epiſtle to the Corinthians, in which he affirms, that it is better not to marry, inſtead of making me a convert to his opinion, induces me to exclaim with Milton,

It is true indeed that St. Paul is very far from uttering ſuch a prohibition; and in his firſt Epiſtle to Timothy he foretels, [141] that this prohibitory doctrine ſhall ariſe from ſeducing ſpirits ^*. In the ſecond chapter of the ſame Epiſtle, he appears to be ſo far from an advocate for celibacy, that he al⯑moſt ſeems to intimate, that women muſt work out their ſalvation by the produc⯑tion of children ^†:—yet his addreſs to the Corinthians is ſo pointed in favour of a ſingle life, his ſarcaſtic expreſſion, ‘It is better to marry than to burn,’ might, to many weak, or prudiſh, or enthuſiaſtic females, exhibit wedlock in ſuch a degrading point of view, that perhaps his ſtrong exhortation to a life of virginity might influence many of his maiden diſciples, more forcibly than an ab⯑ſolute prohibition of marriage could have done. At all events, when we conſider the extenſive veneration which was juſtly paid to this apoſtle, we may fairly conclude, that the multitude of primitive Old Maids was infinitely increaſed by his Firſt Epiſtle to the Corinthians. As St. Paul expreſsly tells [142] us, in this Epiſtle, that, ‘concerning virgins, he had no commandment of the Lord ^*;’ we may queſtion, without a ſhadow of im⯑piety, the utility of his advice.—I confeſs, that at the firſt view, it appeared to my un⯑derſtanding not conſiſtent with that bene⯑volent and temperate wiſdom, which cer⯑tainly adorned the character of St. Paul. But the excellent Mr. Locke, in a note to his Paraphraſe of this Epiſtle, ſuggeſts an idea that may juſtify the apoſtle's diſſuaſion from marriage, not as a general precept, but as a temporary counſel. It is ſuppoſed by our great Chriſtian philoſopher, that St. Paul might ſpeak, in this Epiſtle, ‘out of a prophetical foreſight of the approaching per⯑ſecution under Nero.’ On this ſuppoſi⯑tion he might diſſuade his diſciples from marriage, not as an enemy to connubial en⯑joyments, but as fearing they would more ſenſibly feel the miſery of their impending oppreſſion, if they were torn from all the delightful comforts of a married life.

[143]However wiſe and well-timed the apoſ⯑tle's advice might be, we have reaſon to apprehend, that the extravagant attachment to virginity, which ſome of his female diſ⯑ciples conceived, was the occaſion of many domeſtic quarrels, and much private diſtreſs. At leaſt we have one memorable example of this effect, if we may give any credit to the marvellous adventures of his follower Thecla, who is celebrated by ſeveral fa⯑thers of the church as the firſt and moſt il⯑luſtrious of the virgin martyrs. As the anecdotes of this lady are very remarkable, I ſhall extract a little ſketch of her life from Jacobus Philippus Bergomenſis, who pub⯑liſhed, in 1497, a Latin folio on illuſtrious Women, addreſſed to Beatrice queen of Bohemia.

‘Thecla was a native of Iconium, a city of Aſia; ſhe was born in an elevated rank of life, and poſſeſſed, with the advan⯑tages of birth, the ſuperior attractions of beauty. Her mother Theoclia was pre⯑paring for the delight of marrying her [144] daughter to a noble and comely youth, whoſe name was Thamirus, when St. Paul arriving in their city, happened to lodge in the houſe adjoining to that in which Thecla reſided. The virgin was ſo faſcinated by the eloquence of the apoſtle, that no intreaties could prevail on her to quit the window, where ſhe had placed herſelf to hear him, and where ſhe ſat for three days without taſting any food ^*. Theoclia lamented, to the deſ⯑tined huſband of her daughter, this won⯑derful faſcination. But the lover and the parent were equally unſucceſsful in their attempts to divert the maiden from her attachment to the preacher. The morti⯑fied Thamirus departed in anger, to en⯑quire into the character and doctrine of this new prophet, whoſe diſcourſe had [145] produced ſo marvellous an effect on his alienated miſtreſs. Having learned that he was a Chriſtian, who, by his exhorta⯑tions, deterred virgins from wedlock, the indignant lover gave full ſcope to his re⯑ſentment, and delivered the preacher in bonds to the magiſtrate Sextilius, by whoſe order he was committed to priſon. The devout Thecla, having bribed the gaoler, contrived ſtill to feaſt on the elo⯑quence of the impriſoned apoſtle. Being detected in her ſecret viſits, ſhe was car⯑ried before the proconſul; where, being ſolicited to fulfil her engagement with Thamirus, ſhe diſdained to reply. The enraged proconſul, ordering the apoſtle to be ſcourged, and driven from the city, condemned the obſtinate virgin to periſh in the flames. But Thecla, being already fortified by the inſtructions of Paul, and arming herſelf with the ſign of the croſs, eſcaped unhurt and triumphant from the fire into which ſhe was thrown; and, quitting her native city, went to Antioch [146] with Paul. The praefect of Antioch be⯑came enamoured of her beauty, and at⯑tempted to violate her chaſtity; but the reſolute virgin ſo vigorouſly reſiſted the princely raviſher, that ſhe beat his crown from his head, tore his mantle aſunder, and threw him into a ſtate of idiotiſm, or frenzy. She was now accuſed of for⯑cery, and condemned to be devoured by wild beaſts. She marched, however, un⯑daunted to her puniſhment; and happily found in her purity a preſervative againſt the fury of bears and lions. The heart of the proconſul was ſoftened by her mi⯑raculous preſervation; and ſhe obtained her freedom.—After theſe adventures, ſhe had a joyful meeting with her preceptor Paul at Smyrna; and, having received from him every inſtruction that could ren⯑der her innocence more perfect, ſhe retired to Seleucia; where, having communicated her own virtues to many virgin compa⯑nions, ſhe cloſed a life of ſanctity, il⯑luſtrated by many miracles, in the month [147] of October, and in the ſixty-ninth year of our Lord.’

Such is the hiſtory which a reverend en⯑comiaſt of the fair ſex has given of this il⯑luſtrious virgin; and it correſponds with the account of other pious biographers, who have expatiated on the merits of the chaſte Thecla, in their various Lives of the Saints. The enlightened readers of our country will, perhaps, conſider with an equal degree of incredulity the different ad⯑ventures of this wonderful maiden. It is hardly more probable that St. Paul ſhould inſtigate a young damſel to diſobey her pa⯑rent, and to violate a nuptial promiſe, than that the hungry and enraged beaſts of the foreſt ſhould be rendered harmleſs and gen⯑tle by the influence of virginity. But in whatever light theſe aſſerted facts may ap⯑pear to the intelligent readers of our age and country, it is certain they were re⯑ceived, during many centuries, with impli⯑cit belief and veneration. The extraordi⯑nary merits of Thecla were a favourite to⯑pic [148] with many holy preachers, and St. Am⯑broſe in particular deſcants upon them in ſo high a ſtrain, that his diſcourſe muſt have had great effect upon his virgin diſciples. "^*Let Thecla," exclaims the holy fa⯑ther, in the ſecond diviſion of his Treatiſe upon Virgins, ‘let Thecla teach you to ſuffer martyrdom; who, flying from the bonds of matrimony, and condemned by the fury of her betrothed huſband, changed even the nature of ſavage beaſts, by inſpiring them with reverence for vir⯑ginity. When ſhe was expoſed to be [149] devoured, when ſhe ſhrunk from the ſight of men, and offered her vitals to the lion, ſhe converted the cruel wan⯑tonneſs of the ſpectators into a reſpect for modeſty: then might you have ſeen a wild beaſt fawning at her feet, and teſ⯑tifying, by a gentle murmur, that he had not power to violate the ſacred body of a virgin. The ſavage adored his prey, and, forgetting his own natural qualities, aſſumed that nature which man had thrown off. You might ſee, by this in⯑terchange [150] of nature, man aſſuming fero⯑city, and commanding a beaſt to be cruel; and a beaſt inſtructing man in his duty, by kiſſing the feet of a virgin. So truly admirable is virginity, that even lions revere it! The ſight of their prey did not allure them, though exaſperated by hunger; anger did not provoke them, though ſtimulated by the rage of the people; their cuſtom of devouring criminals did not deceive them; their natural qualities ceaſed to operate upon them! They taught us religion, by adoring the martyr; they taught us even chaſtity, by confining their kiſſes to the feet of the maiden, declining their eyes to the earth, as if aſhamed that any male creature, though only a ſavage beaſt, ſhould look upon a naked virgin.’

When the merits of Thecla were thus celebrated by one of the moſt popular and eloquent of the epiſcopal ſaints, we may reaſonably imagine that female ambition was univerſally awakened: the warm ima⯑gination [151] of pious maidens was heated to ſuch a pitch of enthuſiaſm, that a paſſion for the glory of martyrdom extinguiſhed all their natural affections; inſtead of wiſhing to become the mothers of well-educated children, they deſired only the purity and the renown of Thecla, to be adored by lions, and extolled by ſaints. How far the moſt eminent fathers of the church con⯑ſpired to inflame and perpetuate this ſuper⯑natural ambition in the tender ſex, I ſhall endeavour to ſhew in ſome ſucceeding chapters, concluding the preſent with a few remarks on the illuſtrious Thecla.—This holy maiden, being celebrated as the fami⯑liar friend and diſciple of an apoſtle, was generally conſidered as a model for every well-diſpoſed virgin; and, perhaps, in the very long liſt of female ſaints, it is impoſſi⯑ble to pitch on any individual, whoſe mira⯑culous adventures had ſo powerful an effect in diffuſing an univerſal ardour for the ho⯑nours of virginity, and increaſing the mul⯑titude of Old Maids. Nor is it in the dark [152] ages alone that we meet with panegyrics on the immaculate Thecla. In the ſixteenth century, ſhe inſpired a Doctor of the Sor⯑bonne with poetry. Claude d'Eſpence, who is ſtyled by his biographer the moſt judicious and moderate doctor of his time, compoſed, in Latin verſe, an heroic epiſtle from Thecla to St. Paul ^*.

CHAP. II. On ſome of the moſt early Chriſtian Authors, who have touched on Virginity—Tertullian —St. Cyprian.—On the Canonical Virgins.

SOME ages elapſed before the Chriſtian virgins were ſettled in regular com⯑munities; it was not till the cloſe of the fourth century, that the firſt nunnery was erected, in Verona, by Zeno, the biſhop of that city ^*. But the Chriſtian writers of a [154] much earlier date abundantly prove, that multitudes of pious maidens had devoted themſelves to a ſingle life, before any con⯑vents were raiſed for their reception.

Tertullian, who wrote in the ſecond and third century, compoſed a very curious treatiſe, to perſuade theſe holy virgins to cover their faces with a veil; and one argu⯑ment that he urges for this practice is ſo ſingular, that I cannot forbear to inſert it: —He tells them, it is highly proper to ſhade a countenance of ſuch dangerous power as to occaſion the fall of angels from heaven (alluding to the text of Geneſis, in which the ſons of God are ſaid to have been connected with the daughters of men); ‘for who can preſume,’ ſays Tertullian, ‘that ſuch angels would chuſe to cohabit with the relics of mortal impurity, and not rather burn for virginity, that flower, [155] which even excuſes the incontinence of man ^*?’

The next eminent Chriſtian writer, who treats expreſsly of virgins, is St. Cyprian; who has addreſſed to them a diſcourſe of admonition on their conduct and apparel. The good biſhop of Carthage declaims againſt ear-rings, paint, and falſe hair, as inventions of the devil, inconſiſtent with that ſimplicity of habit by which virgins ſhould be diſtinguiſhed. He exhorts them to avoid public baths and nuptial feaſts; he felicitates them on their eſcaping the curſe of child-birth; and encourages them to perſevere in their chaſtity, by an aſſur⯑ance, that their rank is glorious, and that the purity of a virgin approaches very near to the perſeverance of a martyr ^†.

[156]Such is the general tenor of St. Cyprian's addreſs to the pious ſiſterhood; but I can⯑not collect any light, either from Cyprian or Tertullian, concerning the number of Chriſtian females, who had in their times made a public profeſſion of virginity. There are, however, two circumſtances, which may induce us to believe, that theſe holy maidens amounted, even at this pe⯑riod, to an immenſe multitude.—In the firſt place, a veneration for celibacy was carried to ſuch exceſſes in the ſecond cen⯑tury, that many preachers declaimed againſt marriage as the ſuggeſtion of the devil. This gloomy doctrine is ſaid to have been firſt taught by Saturninus of Antioch. The learned Bingham, in his Chriſtian Antiquities, has enumerated many ſects who were addicted to this, perhaps the moſt abſurd of all ſuperſtitions; which yet prevailed to ſuch a degree, and was ſo for⯑cibly ſupported by Euſtathius, a preacher of the fourth century, that, to uſe the words of Bingham, ‘many women forſook their [157] huſbands, and huſbands their wives, from the perſuaſion, that no one who lived in a married ſtate could have any hope in God.’

The prevalence of ſuch an idea had cer⯑tainly a ſtrong tendency to increaſe the number of thoſe religious maidens, who, ſtill reſiding under the roof of their pa⯑rents, yet made a public profeſſion of virgi⯑nity, by enrolling their names in the book or canon of the church, and thence ac⯑quired the title of Canonical Virgins.

But there was a ſecond circumſtance, pe⯑culiar to this early period, which had, per⯑haps, an effect equally powerful and ex⯑tenſive in augmenting this maiden commu⯑nity; I mean a very extraordinary cuſtom, which crept into the primitive church, to the ſcandal of the good, and the entertain⯑ment of the licentious, the cuſtom (con⯑demned indeed by ſaints and councils, yet ſometimes avowed and vindicated by its adherents) which permitted the canonical virgins to attach themſelves to a favourite [158] preceptor, and even to ſhare his bed, with⯑out ceaſing to make a public profeſſion of their virginity.

This fact is ſo ſingular, that the modern ſceptical reader may incline, perhaps, to queſtion the truth of it. Many witneſſes concur in its ſupport; and, as the conſidera⯑tion of ſo ſtrange a cuſtom may inſtruct us in the ſtate of ancient manners, I doubt not but the more diſcreet virgins of the preſent age will thank me for exhibiting to their view the very dangerous temerity of their primitive ſiſters.

Among the Epiſtles of St. Cyprian, there is one addreſſed to Pomponius, which ſhews us, in very explicit language, the good biſhop's opinion of theſe reſolute, or rather raſh virgins, who, confeſſing that they ſlept with men, ſtill aſſerted their integrity ^*. The ſaint very forcibly con⯑demns [159] their conduct; and juſtly obſerves, that, however innocent they may be, no one can long be ſafe, who approaches ſo near to danger. Saint Cyprian proceeds to cenſure the boldneſs of thoſe more determined vir⯑gins, who attempted to juſtify their perſe⯑verance in ſo perilous a practice:— ‘Let not any one,’ ſays the wary ſaint, ‘con⯑ſider herſelf as ſufficiently excuſed or de⯑fended, by offering her perſon to the teſt of inſpection, ſince the profeſſional judges of virginity are frequently deceived ^*.’ From theſe ſingular expreſſions, we may conceive how ſtrenuouſly the canonical vir⯑gins contended for the maintenance of this tempting, though dangerous cuſtom, which, to uſe the metaphor of Dodwell, ‘had taken deep root in the church.’ —This learned commentator on St. Cyprian has il⯑luſtrated [160] the cuſtom, that I am now ſpeak⯑ing of, in a Latin diſſertation. He affirms it was firſt introduced into the Chriſtian church by Paul of Samoſata, biſhop of Antioch, who was perpetually attended by two of theſe fair and faithful virgin diſciples. The practice became ſo common, that the canonical virgins, who thus cohabited with their paſtors, were diſtinguiſhed by a parti⯑cular Greek appellation ^*. Many of the fathers declaimed with great energy againſt this claſs of virgins; and the eloquent St. Chryſoſtom, in particular, has left us an animated diſcourſe on this unorthodox co⯑habitation, divided into two parts; the firſt addreſſed to females, and the ſecond, to his own ſex. From this diviſion, it ſeems pro⯑bable, that the more wealthy pious maidens admitted indigent preachers to reſide under their roof; while, on the other hand, the wealthy prieſt afforded a ſimilar refuge to the poor canonical virgin. This friendly [161] and tender intercourſe was often perhaps very innocent; but, as it afforded much room for licentious ſurmiſes againſt the clergy, it was expreſsly prohibited by the council of Nice. The warm and eloquent Chryſoſtom begins his addreſs to theſe in⯑conſiderate virgins with the moſt pathetic lamentation:— ‘Virginity (ſays the indig⯑nant ſaint) the moſt honourable of all conditions, has now incurred the moſt humiliating diſgrace; and it ſuffers, not from its enemies, but from thoſe who ſtill preſume to profeſs themſelves its faithful votaries.—There were a few individuals among the Greeks, who, by the aid of philoſophy, were enabled to triumph over avarice and anger; but the flower of virginity never flouriſhed among them. In this point they have always acknow⯑ledged our manifeſt ſuperiority; confeſ⯑ſing that ſuch purity was above the reach of nature, and did not belong to our ſpe⯑cies ^*. It was in this point that all the [162] Gentiles have marvelled at our perfec⯑tion—but they can admire it no longer; and their admiration is turned into laughter and deriſion. The devil at⯑tacked us in this band, becauſe he per⯑ceived that our virgins were the moſt ef⯑fulgent phalanx in all the hoſt of Chriſ⯑tians; but he has ſo confounded this phalanx, that it would be better for us in future to have no virgins at all, if they can thus be driven to neglect their duty ^*. The cauſe of all theſe evils is this, that virgin purity exiſts only in name, while the eſ⯑ſence of it is ſuppoſed to be confined to the body, which is the leaſt part of vir⯑ginity: the more eſſential parts, and thoſe which chiefly denote it, are diſ⯑regarded; they have ceaſed to diſtin⯑guiſh themſelves by decency of habit, by the ſilence which becomes a virgin, by compunction, and other marks of a reli⯑gious ſpirit.’

[163]Such is the language, in which St. Chry⯑ſoſtom begins his exhortation to thoſe pro⯑feſſed virgins, who permitted men to dwell under their roof: in the courſe of it, the ſaint grows ſo vehement in his anger, as even to hint at burying the fair offenders alive; but, ſince that privilege is not al⯑lowed him, he contents himſelf with indig⯑nant lamentation. He mentions one cir⯑cumſtance, which exhibits, in a moſt ſtriking point of view, the groſs indelicacy of ancient manners:—"Every day," ſays he, ‘the midwives are running to the houſes of virgins, as if haſtening to a labour; yet not to aſſiſt one in the pangs of child⯑birth (though even this indeed has hap⯑pened to ſome of them) but that they may be examined, like young female ſlaves, when they are purchaſed, to diſ⯑cover which has been violated and which is pure. One has readily acquieſced in this probation—another has refuſed it; and by this refuſal is reduced to ſhame, even if ſhe is ſtill uncorrupted. One has [164] ſuffered, another has not ſuffered; yet the latter is put to ſhame not leſs than the former, as being unable to obtain credit for her purity, and wanting the evidence of ſuch an inquiſition.’

What a diſguſting idea of the fourth cen⯑tury (the age of Chryſoſtom) does this anecdote preſent to us! I have tranſlated this ſingular paſſage from the ſaint very faithfully, for my maiden readers, at the ex⯑treme hazard of offending their delicacy— I have ventured to incur this painful ha⯑zard, in the hope of thus guarding them againſt an infirmity, which is ſometimes objected to Old Maids; I mean the infir⯑mity of railing againſt their own time, and preferring paſt ages to the preſent. The good ſpinſter, who juſtly conſiders the point of view in which St. Chryſoſtom exhibits the virgins of his century, will bleſs her ſtars that ſhe was born in our happier days, when the dignity of the virgin character is ſupported with more eaſe and grace, and when the calumniated maiden can gain [165] credit for her innocence, without being re⯑duced to ſuch a ſhameful teſt of her inte⯑grity. The ſevere St. Chryſoſtom would not allow the opulent virgin to retain even a male ſervant under her roof. He laughs at thoſe who made the infirmity of their health a plea for this indulgence; and he draws a very ludicrous picture of thoſe noc⯑turnal occurrences, which his warm imagi⯑nation ſuggeſted to him as ariſing in the houſes, where the virgin miſtreſs was at⯑tended by a male domeſtic. Having en⯑deavoured to prove, that women only ought to wait upon women, he cloſes his addreſs to his female diſciples, by diſplaying, in the moſt magnificent imagery, thoſe high ho⯑nours, to which immaculate virgins are en⯑titled.

"Remember," ſays the eloquent enthu⯑ſiaſt, ‘in what quarter of the battle you are ſtationed—it is yours to ſtand and com⯑bat round the leader of the conflict, round the perſon of the king himſelf.— As in every war the whole army cannot [166] occupy the ſame ground, but ſome are poſted in the wings, ſome in the cen⯑tre, ſome in the rear, and ſome in the front of the array; while others, wher⯑ever the king appears, appear alſo, and co-operate on every ſide with him; thus to the choſen band of virgins is this poſt of honour allotted:—nor is it more the office of thoſe attendants who are decked with habiliments of gold, who ride on horſes adorned with golden trappings, who carry the golden armour and the re⯑gal gems, to denote the preſence of their king, than it is the office of a virgin to ſhew the preſence of her lord: theſe at⯑tendants, indeed, appear round the regal chariot of their ſovereign; but the virgin may, if ſhe is willing, be like the cheru⯑bim, and herſelf become the chariot of her king.’

Such are the dazzling and extravagant flights of ſaintly eloquence, by which the females of the primitive church were al⯑lured to a life of celibacy. Nature very [167] wiſely made the mutual attraction of the two ſexes ſo very ſtrong, that the moſt ve⯑hement efforts of ſuperſtition often failed in attempting to keep them aſunder, though the moſt brilliant and ſeducing rhetorick was aſſiduouſly employed for this pur⯑poſe.

Saint Chryſoſtom, in the ſecond part of his diſcourſe, where he addreſſes himſelf to the prieſts who kept canonical virgins un⯑der their roof, very candidly acknowledges, that it is pleaſant to reſide with women, ex⯑cluſive of any matrimonial or licentious en⯑joyment; but he endeavours to convince the clergy, who indulged themſelves in this tem⯑perate pleaſure, and aſſerted its innocence, that their condition was little better than that of Tantalus. He enumerates the ma⯑ny evils that may ariſe to man from reſiding with a female, even without a violation of their mutual chaſtity; and he compares a prieſt, who has enervated his mind by ſuch a gratification, to a poor lion, whoſe mane has been cut off, whoſe teeth and talons have [168] been taken from him, and who is metamor⯑phoſed from the tremendous lord of the fo⯑reſt into a wretched animal weak and ridi⯑culous.

Vigilant and ſolicitous as the fathers were to prevent this domeſtic connection between the prieſts and virgins, there were many ob⯑ſtinate offenders, who reſiſted and deſpiſed their public exhortations, and their private advice. The authority of the great St. Baſil himſelf was not ſufficient to prevail on an aged prieſt, whoſe name was Paregorius, to diſmiſs a canonical virgin reſiding in his houſe: it appears, from a letter ſtill extant, addreſſed by St. Baſil to this old delinquent, that he pleaded the age of ſeventy as his ex⯑cuſe, and reſolutely oppoſed the ſeverity of his malicious ſuperior, who had attempted to rob his declining life of ſo innocent a comfort. St. Baſil, however, is very far from admitting this apology; and cloſes his letter with a vehement threat of excom⯑munication, if the aged Paregorius ſtill [169] fondly perſiſted in his attachment to his fair attendant.

Love and religion are often found toge⯑ther; and are never, perhaps, ſo warm and vehement, as when they are united. The prieſt, who attached himſelf to a canonical virgin, with the endearing appellation of ſiſter, was gradually, and perhaps inſenſibly, led to the higheſt pitch of diſintereſted paſ⯑ſion. The writings of Athanaſius have incidentally preſerved to us a very me⯑morable example of the ſtrange exceſſes that may ariſe from this ardent affection: —The archbiſhop of Alexandria, declaim⯑ing againſt the wickedneſs and impudence of his antagoniſts the Arians, in his firſt apo⯑logy, aſſerts that, inſtead of being aſhamed of the crimes imputed to them, they perſe⯑vered, without a bluſh, in their offences. "Leontius," continues the primate, ‘be⯑ing cenſured on account of a young woman called Euſtolia, and forbid to cohabit with her, made himſelf a eunuch [170] for her ſake ^*, that he might continue to dwell with her in ſecurity.’ In his epiſtle to the Monks, Athanaſius ſpeaks again of this diſintereſted lover; and he there expreſsly affirms, that ‘Leontius had made this voluntary ſacrifice of himſelf for the liberty of ſleeping with Euſtolia, his wife, according to his own account,’ (ſays the angry Saint) ‘though ſtill called a virgin.’ —The good-natured reader, who will conſider the generous frailty of Leontius with leſs ſeverity than Athanaſius did, may rejoice, perhaps, to be informed, that the loſs of manhood did not prevent this affectionate enthuſiaſt from riſing to a mitre. The ſame auſtere ſaint, who has indignantly recorded his marvellous and unorthodox attachment to his Euſtolia, has told us, with equal indignation, that he was made a biſhop.

Of all the tender martyrs of love, Leon⯑tius has, perhaps, the ſtrongeſt title to our [171] compaſſionate admiration; and I am in⯑duced to recommend his hiſtory to our poets, from a perſuaſion that, in the hands of ſome impaſſioned genius, his Euſtolia might form a pleaſing companion, and a potent rival, to the pathetic and enchanting Eloiſe of Pope.—Before I cloſe this ſhort account of the prohibited domeſtic con⯑nection between prieſts and profeſſed vir⯑gins, it may be proper to obſerve, that Dodwell ſuppoſes this cuſtom to have de⯑ſcended to the primitive clergy from the moſt illuſtrious of the Pagan ſages ^*. This learned critic imagines, that many an ho⯑neſt heathen Old Maid attached herſelf to ſome eminent philoſopher of her time, and was contented with his doctrine, without aſpiring to his careſſes: he mentions the intimacy of Cicero and Cerellia as a caſe in [172] point. That ſuch an innocent but dan⯑gerous attachment has exiſted, even in mo⯑dern days, we have a memorable and a mournful inſtance in the hiſtory of Swift and Stella. That ſingular genius had the talent and the inclination to ſport very cruelly with the paſſions of women; but, as his ingenious and more manly godſon and biographer very candidly confeſſes, without the power to indulge them ^*. This inge⯑nuous confeſſion is, perhaps, the beſt of all poſſible apologies for the miſanthropical ſpirit imputed to Swift; for they muſt be imperfect and uncandid judges of human infirmities, who do not expect to find, and who cannot readily pardon, a large portion of miſanthropy in a great but unhappy cha⯑racter, immaturely deprived, or never per⯑haps poſſeſſed, of ſo common yet ſo inva⯑luable a faculty.—But peace to the aſhes of this admirable writer! and peace to thoſe of that fairer object of our compaſſion, his un⯑fortunate [173] Stella, who had the ſtrange miſ⯑fortune of uniting thoſe diſcordant titles, Wife, and Old Maid! May her ſevere and unmerited fate be an eternal leſſon to every ſenſible and warm-hearted ſpinſter, not to contemplate with too tender an admiration, either the wiſdom or the wit of any cold philoſopher!

CHAP. III. On Methodius, Biſhop of Olympus, and his Banquet of Virgins.

A SPIRIT of pious gallantry ſo in⯑flamed the firſt writers of the church, that their pens were inceſſantly employed in the praiſe of conſecrated virgins. Among the early epiſcopal champions of the ſiſter⯑hood, Methodius was particularly diſtin⯑guiſhed by the purity of his zeal, and the Platonic form of his compoſition. We have but few perſonal circumſtances tranſ⯑mitted to us concerning this elegant enco⯑miaſt of virginity; who being firſt biſhop of Olympus, and afterwards of Tyre, cloſed his ſcene of religious glory by acquiring the palm of martyrdom in the perſecution of Diocleſian. Of the many writings which he is ſaid to have left, one alone has eſcaped the ravages of time, and this, although its [175] title was ſufficient to awaken curioſity and regard, did not find an editor till about the middle of the laſt century: it is entitled, "The Banquet of Virgins," and bears an evident reſemblance to the celebrated Ban⯑quet of Plato. Love had formed the great theme of panegyric in the dialogue of the Pagan philoſopher, and virginity is treated in a ſimilar manner in the chaſter compoſi⯑tion of the Chriſtian biſhop. I truſt, that my fair readers will eagerly receive an ac⯑count of this curious performance, and the more ſo, if I firſt relate to them an anecdote, from which it will appear, that the Ban⯑quet of Virgins, even before its publication, attracted the attention of a queen, a famous and learned queen, who had the ambition, like our Elizabeth, to rank herſelf in the order of Old Maids, though on a very du⯑bious and diſputed title.

In the Paris edition of Methodius by Pierre Pouſſines, a French Jeſuit, who re⯑ſided at Rome, there is a letter from the editor to his friend Henri de Valois, which [176] gives an amuſing account of a literary morning, that he paſſed in the Vatican li⯑brary with ſeveral men of letters, and their royal patroneſs Chriſtina of Sweden. Among the curious volumes that Holſten, the librarian, preſented to the company, there was a copy of Methodius: on the ſight of it, the queen of Sweden ſaid im⯑mediately to Pouſſines, ‘Here is the book that we eagerly expect from you,’ al⯑luding to his tranſlation of the Greek text, which he had juſt completed, at the requeſt of his friend the librarian. Before the Jeſuit could reply to this flattering compliment, a man of diſtinguiſhed learn⯑ing, he tells us, interpoſed in this mortify⯑ing manner: ‘From me, moſt illuſtrious queen, is the Banquet of Methodius to be expected; I have occupied this ground, nor ſhall I yield it to any one.’ —"I was ſtruck dumb," ſays the unlucky Jeſuit, ‘I confeſs; for how could I op⯑poſe a perſon, my ſuperior in age, con⯑nected with me in friendſhip, a favourite [177] at Rome, and honoured, indeed, in all countries for his ſingular merit. While I was inwardly lamenting my own fruit⯑leſs labour,’ continues Pouſſines, ‘the queen took me aſide, and ſaid, "What can we do in this buſineſs? have you no expedient to propoſe?"’ —"None," replied the modeſt though mortified Jeſuit, ‘but to withdraw, as becomes my time of life and my profeſſion.’

With the letter thus relating his diſap⯑pointment, and dated in 1656, Pouſſines ſent a copy of his Methodius to his learned friend at Paris, and in the following year it was handſomely printed in folio, at the royal preſs of that city. Though Pouſſines does not mention the name of his ſucceſsful rival on this occaſion, yet we know, from the octavo edition of Methodius, publiſhed at Rome in the preceding year by the cele⯑brated Leo Allatius, that he was the learned perſon alluded to in the letter of the Jeſuit. —But let us turn from the Editors to the work itſelf.

[178]The Banquet of Methodius contains a ſeries of orations, pronounced by eleven virgins, in honour of virginity. To the eloquence of theſe fair and chaſte orators we are introduced by the following conver⯑ſation, between Gregorium, a female atten⯑dant of the virgins, and Eubulius, ſuppoſed to be a borrowed name for the pious author of the dialogue.

As I fear the majority of modern readers would not reliſh the pious prolixity of theſe rhetorical virgins, I ſhall only introduce a little ſummary of their reſpective orations.

Marcella begins her diſcourſe with an aſſertion, that virginity is ſupernaturally great, wonderful, and glorious, and that it requires a lofty ſoul to ſupport it. She conſiders it as a plant ſent immediately from Heaven, and unknown to the firſt ages of the world. She repreſents God as purifying human nature by degrees, like a [186] maſter leading his infant ſcholars through the rudiments of language to the ſub⯑limeſt contemplations; permitting, in the infancy of the world, promiſcuous marriage between brothers and ſiſters, refining wed⯑lock by degrees, and at length recommend⯑ing, in the perſon of Chriſt, a life of volun⯑tary continence, as the ſummit of rational perfection. She concludes with a long paſſage from the fourteenth chapter of Re⯑velations, to prove that the order of virgins has the firſt diſtinction in heaven, though inferior in number to other ſocieties in the celeſtial hoſt.

Theophila, the ſecond of the female ora⯑tors, conſidering the ſpeech of Marcella as a little too ſevere upon marriage, aſſerts the innocence and the dignity of procreation, in language that diſcovers her to be a won⯑derful adept in all the myſteries of nature, particularly as ſhe ſpeaks in the character of a ſequeſtered virgin. She is interrupted by Marcella; and the two maidens enter into ſome altercation on the poſſibility of [187] producing an infant in oppoſition to the will of God. Theophila adjuſts their dif⯑ference by illuſtrating, in a figurative man⯑ner, the formation of an embryo: ſhe vin⯑dicates the human frame as the exquiſite work of divine power; ſhe affirms, that even thoſe children who are licentiouſly be⯑gotten, are aſſigned to the protection of tu⯑telary angels; ſhe compares the church to a rich and variegated field, adorned with the flowers both of continence and propaga⯑tion ^*: but, although ſhe maintains the ho⯑nour of marriage, ſhe concludes with de⯑claring the pre-eminence of virginity.

The third ſpeaker is diſtinguiſhed by the poetical name of Thalia; who is anxious to obviate the ill effects which ſhe ſuppoſes to have ariſen from a miſconſtruction of the divine command, Increaſe and multiply. For this purpoſe ſhe contends, that all things ſaid of Adam and Eve, in the Moſaic hiſ⯑tory, ſhould be underſtood in a figurative [188] ſenſe, as alluding to the connection between Chriſt and the church. Thalia then exa⯑mines and illuſtrates the art, the energy, and the deſign of St. Paul, in his exhorta⯑tion to celibacy; ſhe inſiſts on his expreſ⯑ſion, It is good for a man not to touch a wo⯑man ^*; and ſhe contends, that the apoſtle's allowance of wedlock is like an indulgence granted to the ſick, of eating forbidden food upon a ſolemn faſt.—Such are the heads of Thalia's oration; which is, how⯑ever, ſo copious, that Eubulius exclaims, when the recital of it is finiſhed, ‘Well, Gregorium, ſhe has at laſt reached the ſhore, after traverſing a wide ocean of words!’ The good man expreſſes, at the ſame time, an eager deſire to hear the reſidue of theſe chaſte and pious harangues: upon which Gregorium proceeds to the ſpeech of Theopatra. This virgin delivers only a conciſe encomium on chaſtity, with a few texts of ſcripture very fancifully in⯑terpreted.

[189]Thalluſa, the fifth orator, enforces many religious precepts for the conduct of a maiden's life; and concludes with obſerv⯑ing, that gold is an excellent ſymbol of vir⯑ginity, in two particulars; firſt, as it is of a ſhining nature, and, ſecondly, not ſubject to ruſt.

Agatha, who now takes her part in the dialogue, gives a ſingular caution to her own ſex, by remarking, that lovers are the devil and his agents ^*; a poſition which ſhe endeavours to illuſtrate by a prolix and cu⯑rious comment on the parable of the wiſe and fooliſh virgins in ſcripture.

Procilla, who ſpeaks in the ſeventh place, repreſents Chriſt as the great encomiaſt of virginity, by a ſtrange miſapplication of the uxorious poetry of Solomon.

Thecla haſtens, with great eagerneſs, to deliver the eighth oration; and, as ſhe be⯑gins to ſpeak, ſhe is complimented by Arete, as a perſon ſuperior to all her ſex in [190] religious doctrine, and particularly in⯑ſtructed by the apoſtle St. Paul. The ſpeech of Thecla is far from anſwering the expectation which her character excites. She begins with a kind of pun on the Greek word which expreſſes virginity ^*; ſhe proceeds to a diſſertation on the great and red dragon of the Apocalypſe, exhort⯑ing all virgins to the moſt reſolute reſiſt⯑ance of this formidable monſter. Having concluded what ſhe had to advance on the general topic, ſhe deſires permiſſion to pro⯑nounce a ſecond diſcourſe, againſt a vain and wicked belief in the influence of the ſtars; and ſhe ſupports, with ſo much ſpirit, the free agency of man, that Eubulius ex⯑preſſes his admiration, in a lively panegyric on the force and ſplendor of her eloquence.

Tyſiana, the ninth virgin of the aſſembly, pronounces a myſtical harangue on the feaſt of tabernacles, in Leviticus.

Domnina, the tenth and laſt among the [191] gueſts of Arete, begins her diſcourſe by de⯑claring, that no perſon under the old law could be acceptable to God, nor till virgi⯑nity, under the auſpices of Chriſt, began to reign over nature. She affirms, that this happy dominion of chaſtity was clearly foretold in the book of Judges, by the fable of the trees electing a ſovereign; alledging, that the plant Rhamnus, which in our ver⯑ſion of the Bible is denominated the bramble, is a juſt and proper ſymbol of virginity.

Arete now cloſes the converſation, by remarking, that purity of mind and body are equally eſſential to conſtitute the per⯑fect virgin. She proceeds to commend and to crown the ten maiden orators; and the entertainment concludes with religious ſing⯑ing, Thecla taking the principal part, and the reſt of the aſſembly joining in the fol⯑lowing chorus, which is frequently re⯑peated:

‘For thee I am chaſte; and, poſſeſſing a reſplendent lamp, O bridegroom, I riſe to meet thee.’

[192]Upon Gregorium's finiſhing her account of the banquet, Eubulius ſtarts this curious and delicate queſtion: ‘Which are the better virgins, they who are chaſte from a quiet purity of conſtitution, or they who in practiſing this virtue are obliged to ſtruggle with deſire?’

Gregorium haſtily decides in favour of the firſt; but Eubulius arguing the point with her, much in the manner of Plato, at laſt convinces her, by alluſions to the phy⯑ſician who ſubdues a fever, and to the pilot who paſſes through a ſtorm, that the palm of honour is certainly due to thoſe maidens who have laboured through a fiery trial, and ſucceſsfully contended with an impe⯑rious paſſion.

Such is the Banquet of Methodius; which, though certainly the production of a pious and elegant mind, is ſo little adapted to modern taſte and manners, that I dared not venture on a more ample deſcription of it. The preceding abridgment may, I think, be amuſing to many readers, as it will ren⯑der [193] them acquainted with a ſingular com⯑poſition but little known, and as it forcibly ſhews, that, among the early paſtors of the church, one of the favourite points that piety and learning purſued, was to increaſe the multitude of Old Maids.

CHAP. IV. On the Saints who have written Panegyrics on Virginity—St. Athanaſius.

AS many moſt eminent fathers of the church appear to have contended for the palm of eloquence on this tempting ground, and ſucceſſively exerted all their powers of perſuaſion in magnifying the merits of virginity, I intend to give a little ſketch of their reſpective compoſitions, in chronological order.—The next holy en⯑comiaſt, who ſeems to have honoured the canonical virgins with an expreſs panegyric, is the celebrated Athanaſius, who became biſhop of Alexandria in the year 326. Though we find, in the printed works of this illuſtrious ſaint, a little treatiſe in praiſe of virginity, it is proper to remark, that the moſt judicious of the Catholic critics will not allow this to be the genuine production [195] of Athanaſius. It conſiſts of good advice to the pious virgin on the articles of dreſs and prayer; it exhorts her never to plunge her whole body into water, nor to take even the liberty of looking at herſelf when ſhe is naked.

In ſpeaking of holy meditation, Athana⯑ſius, or whoever the author may be, has a paſſage that ſtrikes me as ſublime: ‘Re⯑member,’ ſays he, ‘the twelfth hour; for in that our Saviour deſcended into hell; hell ſhuddered in beholding him, and cried aloud, Who is he that cometh with great power? who is he that tram⯑pleth on the brazen portals of hell, and unbindeth the chain of my captives?’

In the cloſe of this treatiſe, after deliver⯑ing many precepts in a very clear and ſimple ſtyle, the author breaks forth into a fervid and magnificent panegyric on virginity, which he calls a precious pearl, not viſible to the multitude, and found only by few ^*. [196] He concludes with the following remarkable expreſſion: ‘Theſe things have I written to thee, my dear ſiſter, thou dancing girl of Chriſt ^*.’ The learned Dupin conſi⯑ders this indecent metaphor as a proof that the treatiſe in queſtion is not the genuine work of Athanaſius.

But if ſuch an argument were ſufficient to prove a ſaint not the author of produc⯑tions aſcribed to him, the whole band of ſaintly writers might be almoſt reduced to nothing, ſince the zeal of the Catholic fa⯑thers, even when they are praiſing conti⯑nence, is very apt to hurry them into the uſe of an indelicate or voluptuous image.

If the treatiſe in queſtion is not, in truth, a work of Athanaſius, it contains, however, ſuch ſentiments on the ſubject as he is known to have profeſſed. In one unqueſ⯑tioned production of this illuſtrious ſaint, there is a paſſage which not only ſhews his unbounded reſpect for virginity, but ex⯑plains [197] to us, in ſome degree, the reaſon of that extraordinary and indefatigable ardour with which the fathers in general allured the young females of their time into an eternal abſtinence from wedlock.

In the cloſe of his apology to the emperor Conſtantius, the ſpirited Athanaſius inveighs with great indignation againſt the groſs in⯑juries which the religious virgins had ſuf⯑fered from their Arian perſecutors; and he introduces his animated invective againſt the brutality of theſe ruffians, by a ſhort but ſignificant encomium on the virgi⯑nity which they inſulted. ‘The Catholic church,’ ſays the indignant ſaint, ‘is ac⯑cuſtomed to call the females, who poſ⯑ſeſs this virtue, the ſpouſes of Chriſt; and even the Gentiles look upon them with wonder, as the temple of the Word; for in no other ſect is the venerable and heavenly profeſſion juſtly ſupported, but among us Chriſtians alone; and this, therefore, is a great and particular evidence, [198] that with us there is aſſuredly the true re⯑ligion ^*.’

We can no longer wonder at the eager⯑neſs of the fathers to increaſe the multitude of monaſtic virgins, when we find they could thus produce them as an argument to confirm the truth of Chriſtianity. Hiſtory, perhaps, can hardly ſhew us a more lament⯑able abuſe of reaſon than this, by which an inſtitution, certainly inconſiſtent with the general good of mankind, and of courſe inconſiſtent with the genuine ſpirit and prin⯑ciples of our benevolent religion, is un⯑worthily called a ſtrong evidence of its truth.

It is plain, from this paſſage, that Atha⯑naſius gave little or no credit to profeſſions of virginity among the heathen; and his aſſertion, to conſider it in a more ludicrous [199] light, is certainly uncandid towards the Pa⯑gan Old Maids. Some ſucceeding ſaints, in their encomiums on virginity, have treated theſe ancient ladies with a more li⯑beral reſpect, as we ſhall ſee in the courſe of our enquiries. I will cloſe this chapter by obſerving, that a ſaint of Alexandria, who wrote many years before Athanaſius, allows that a female ſociety exiſted among the In⯑dians, ‘who continued virgins, were called Venerable, and ſeemed, by ſtudying the ſtars, to acquire the powers of divina⯑tion ^*.’

CHAP. V. On Saint Baſil, and his Panegyric on Vir⯑ginity.

AMONG the many eccleſiaſtical wri⯑ters of the fourth century, there is no character more eminent than St. Baſil, who ſucceeded to the biſhopric of Caeſarea in 369. He has been diſtinguiſhed by the appellation of Great, and has received, per⯑haps, a ſtill higher title, in being called the Chriſtian Demoſthenes.

In the works of this eloquent ſaint, we have a long and elaborate diſcourſe on the incorruptible perfection of virginity. He pro⯑feſſes, in the opening of this diſcourſe, which is addreſſed to an epiſcopal brother, to draw a large and complete picture of true virginity at full length; and this pic⯑ture I ſhall now attempt to copy, but in the ſize of a miniature.

[201]Saint Baſil begins, by aſſerting the great excellence of virginity: and, to explain this conſummate excellence, as he ſays, in a ſingle ſentence, he affirms, it is by this virtue alone that a human being can re⯑ſemble God. As this is the prime idea, on which almoſt all the fathers have grounded their exceſſive praiſes of monaſtic celibacy, I ſhall digreſs into one obſervation con⯑cerning it.—Although this idea had cer⯑tainly a very dazzling effect, when embel⯑liſhed by ſaintly eloquence; yet, if juſtly examined, it exhibits, to a mind not tinc⯑tured with ſuperſtition, a very ludicrous abſurdity; for in truth it is ſaying, that a human being can only reſemble the great Author of all things, by producing nothing. Surely it would be more conſiſtent, both with reaſon and piety, to ſay, that if human weakneſs may in any degree aſpire to an humble reſemblance of the Divine nature, it muſt be in the tender and faithful diſcharge of thoſe duties which belong to the paren⯑tal character.—But I return to St. Baſil.

[202]Having aſſerted the infinite value of vir⯑ginity, he copiouſly enumerates the many dangers, to which ſo precious and delicate a treaſure is expoſed. He fully explains to the pious virgin how an inſidious enemy may encroach on her unſuſpecting inno⯑cence, through the avenues of her five ſenſes, He dwells on the peculiar perils that belong to each; and explains how the gratification of her palate, though apparently innocent, may inſenſibly lead her to the loſs of her chaſtity. He obſerves, that our nature con⯑ſiſts of a rational and irrational part; that the Creator has made man like a centaur ^*, giving him a manly form from the head to the breaſt, and aſſigning to his lower half the nature of a beaſt. St. Baſil proceeds to ſhew the neceſſity of keeping this inferior diviſion of the human frame in perfect ſub⯑jection to the ſuperior and more noble part; and this, he ſays, is chiefly to be effected by [203] refuſing to indulge the palate with any ſa⯑voury viands.—Having expatiated on the dangers ariſing from the ſenſe of taſting, he proceeds to the moſt perilous of all, the ſenſe of feeling; and on this point he ſeems to think it impoſſible to arm the virgin with too great a degree of caution.—"Since," exclaims the ſaint, ‘there is a fire in all our limbs, thoſe who wiſh to preſerve the body entirely free from burning, muſt avoid the touch of every limb, leſt the energy of this fire, reſiding in parts, ſhould be thus communicated, not only to the part which has been touched, but to the whole body, and to the very ſoul itſelf. As the throwing of a ſtone into a reſervoir does not only agitate that part of the water on which the ſtone fell, but, raiſing circles one after another, drives them with a continual agitation to the very margin—ſo an amorous glance or a ſpeech, containing the ſweets of licen⯑tious pleaſure, being vehemently thrown, as it were, into the ſoul of a virgin, as [204] into clear water, awakening other amo⯑rous ideas, as in the deep, agitates her whole frame, which is ſtruck according to the fancy of the ſtriker.’

I have tranſlated this figurative paſſage, not only as a ſpecimen of St. Baſil's elo⯑quence, but becauſe it contains a remark⯑able ſimile, which occurs no leſs than three times, as Dr. Warton has obſerved, in the writings of Pope. Whether he bor⯑rowed it from St. Baſil, or not, I ſhall leave to the deciſion of the critics, only tran⯑ſcribing thoſe lines of the poet which have the ſtrongeſt appearance of being copied from the expreſſions of the ſaint.

[205]To proceed with St. Baſil.—His diſcourſe is full of metaphorical ornaments—he calls the ſenſes the windows of the ſoul, "which," ſays he, ‘either opens theſe windows, like a chaſte woman, with care and modera⯑tion, to admit uſeful light, or looks out of them, like a harlot, to gaze on every licentious ſpectacle, and diſplay her own wanton vivacity.’ —Having ſhewn the ne⯑ceſſity of ſecuring theſe windows with many bolts, he points out to the pious virgin the dangers that may attend her in ſcenes of nuptial feſtivity, and unreſerved converſa⯑tion. He tells her, that the diſcourſe of a virgin ſhould not only be extremely pure, it ſhould alſo be moderate; ſhe ſhould ra⯑ther incline to hear others than to ſpeak herſelf; and, to prove the juſtice of this maxim, the ſaint obſerves, that nature has given her two ears, and only one tongue. He excites her to the contemplation and the love of her celeſtial ſpouſe, with a magnifi⯑cence of language highly calculated to dazzle and to inflame every female enthuſiaſt. He [206] expatiates on the enormous ſin of corrupting a canonical virgin. He conſiders even the touch of a fraternal hand, and the ſalute of friendſhip, as dangerous familiarities.

In pointing out to his fair friends the ma⯑nifold dangers to which they are expoſed, he relates a marvellous adventure of a cleri⯑cal eunuch and a canonical virgin. The ſtory, though related by a ſaint, is infinitely too groſs for the chaſte ears of the preſent age; but I may be allowed to repeat the ſaint's reaſon for recording it, as it decently acquaints us with the ſtrange abuſes of his time.

"We are entitled, I think, to pardon," ſays the ſaint, ‘for relating theſe particu⯑lars, as we mention them, not only to put the virgin on her guard, but to repreſs thoſe buſy eunuchs who have ſlipt into the church, ſince it is clear that their in⯑troduction is the contrivance and the work of the devil.’ —The good biſhop, in the warmth of his indignation againſt theſe imperfect churchmen, enters into a [207] very curious account of their dangerous imbecillity, and illuſtrates it with ſome in⯑genious ſimilies, which I forbear to inſert, from an apprehenſion of wounding the ex⯑treme delicacy of the ſiſterhood; indeed the ſaint himſelf, apprehenſive that ſome fe⯑males might be ſtartled at his mode of handling his ſubject, introduces an apology, which it may be proper to tranſlate, with ſome abridgment, both for his ſake and my own.—"Let no one," ſays St. Baſil, ‘ob⯑ject to this diſcourſe, as improper for the modeſty of a virgin, from its diſcuſſing too deeply the formation of man; for, in the firſt place, there is no mature vir⯑gin ſo ſilly as to be ignorant of any thing belonging to him out of whoſe ſide ſhe was taken. Her very limbs, without in⯑ſtruction, are all acquainted with the va⯑rious purpoſes of nature; and her lips know their office in affairs of love ^*. [208] We, therefore, are not to be accuſed, if on this occaſion we have unfolded ſuch matters as are by no means unknown to virgins, though regarded by them with a neceſſary ſilence. And ſecondly, If they are really ignorant of man's nature, leſt this ignorance ſhould itſelf be an intro⯑duction to ſin, we are juſtified in explain⯑ing to them that nature, for their own ſecurity.’ —The ſaint, having expatiated on all the rigid duties of monaſtic virginity, addreſſes the biſhop, to whom his diſcourſe is inſcribed; and concludes by obſerving, that continence is the only effectual cauſtic to fear and deſtroy the multiplying hydra of licentious deſire.

CHAP. VI. On St. Gregory Nazianzen, and his Poem in Praiſe of Virginity.—On ſome Latin Poets of the dark Ages, who have written on the ſame Subject.

THE next holy encomiaſt of virginity may undoubtedly be conſidered as the moſt extraordinary perſon that ever re⯑flected luſtre on the annals of the church; for he united two characters in himſelf, which ſome moroſe critics of modern times have ſuppoſed incompatible, and was both a ſaint and a poet. I mean the illuſtrious Gregory Nazianzen, the friend of the great St. Baſil; whoſe epitaph he has written, in ſome of the moſt affectionate and pathetic verſes that friendſhip ever inſpired; a com⯑poſition that does the more honour to this canonized poet, as Baſil had mortified his ingenuous pride, by placing him in the [210] wretched and obſcure biſhopric of Saſima; which he afterwards exchanged for the epiſ⯑copal throne of Conſtantinople, an irkſome though ſplendid elevation; from whence he retired, in the year 381, to poetical ſolitude in the wilds of Cappadocia, where he cloſed his remarkable life, in 389, at the age of ſixty-two.

Among the various productions of this ſainted bard, we have a panegyric on vir⯑ginity, containing about ſeven hundred verſes. A ſlight ſketch of this poem will, I truſt, be amuſing to my fair and curious readers. It opens with an air of triumph:

The poet proceeds to deſcant on the heavenly powers, and to celebrate the vir⯑ginity of the angels. He then touches on the evils that ariſe from the fleſh, giving a ſhort account of the firſt formation of man, and the incarnation of Chriſt; he conſiders our Saviour as coming to inſtruct the world in the principles and practice of true virgi⯑nity, "a condition," ſays the poetical ſaint, ‘as much ſuperior to marriage as heaven is to earth, and a Divinity to a mortal.’

After thus magnifying the merits of con⯑tinence, the poet indulges himſelf in bold and ſpirited perſonification. He introduces Marriage and Celibacy pleading in oppo⯑ſition [212] to each other;—Marriage ſpeaks firſt, and the poet ſeems to act fairly, by throwing into this harangue many forcible arguments in its favour; but, as I am un⯑willing to treſpaſs on the patience of my readers, and apprehend that ſome of them may not reliſh a very prolix ſpecimen from the poetry of a ſaint, I ſhall only tranſlate the verſes in which Virginity is introduced as replying to Marriage, and a few of the moſt ſtriking paſſages in her ſpeech.

With this vindication of her own hal⯑lowed dignity, Virginity begins her reply; profeſſing to diſregard the opinions of men, ſhe declares that ſhe would not conde⯑ſcend to anſwer her antagoniſt, did ſhe not tremble

On this conſideration ſhe enters on a long attempt to refute all the arguments which had been alledged by Marriage, her perſuaſive opponent. She begins, by a ſubtle diſtinction, to invalidate the plea of utility and delight ariſing from the pro⯑duction of children: ſhe affirms, that parents are parents only of the bodies, not the minds, of their offspring; and, as a proof of this, ſhe aſſerts, that they only la⯑ment the bodily infirmities, and not the mental diſorders, of their progeny.

This ſatirical reflection on parental folly hardly affords ſufficient ground for the infe⯑rence which the fair pleader wiſhes to draw from it; but Virginity begins to argue with [215] more ſound reaſon, and with more poetical ſpirit alſo, when ſhe exclaims,

Having thus ſhewn the uncertainty of thoſe parental delights, on which Marriage appeared to pride itſelf, Virginity proceeds to a magnificent encomium on her own ſuperior pleaſures, her own beauty and ex⯑cellence as the chaſte ſpouſe of Chriſt. She then enumerates all the miſeries that can ariſe from the various incidents of married life. She concludes her oration by exhorting all who regard her to perſevere in a ſingle ſtate, and to place themſelves in Paradiſe by the merits of chaſtity.

The poet declares, that thoſe who heard the two pleaders, beſtowed the palm on Virginity. He concludes his poem, how⯑ever, in a manner much more candid than we might have expected from one paſſage [217] of it, in which Chriſt is ſaid to have been born of a virgin, that marriage might ſink to the ground ^*; for, in the three laſt verſes of this ſingular compoſition, he introduces our Saviour acting as a kind of moderator be⯑tween the diſputants, by ſeating Marriage on his left hand, and Virginity on his right.

It is not in this panegyric alone that our poetical ſaint has expreſſed his affection to virginity: he has written poems of admo⯑nition to virgins, containing many hundred verſes. The points he chiefly recommends are, plainneſs of apparel, and a diſpoſition to ſolitude and ſilence. He encourages his diſ⯑ciples to triumph over all the licentious paſſions, by reminding them of the ſucceſs with which human reſolution has ſubdued the moſt furious of the ſavage beaſts; as an example of this, he affirms, that he has ſeen a man riding a lion like a horſe, and a bear [218] appearing to fly by the art of his con⯑ductor ^*.

The orations of this illuſtrious father contain alſo many proofs of his inceſſant attention to the intereſts of virginity; but the tender compaſſion with which he conſi⯑dered the ſufferings of the ſiſterhood, under the apoſtate Julian, ſeems to have rendered him too credulous. In his firſt invective againſt that deluded monarch, he gives an account of ſome outrages inflicted on Chriſ⯑tian virgins, too horrid to be related in this work, and, I am perſuaded, too ſavage to be true.

When we reflect on the warm heart and the elegant genius of this holy bard, we cannot but regret that he did not live in a period more propitious to the cultivation and the diſplay of his many amiable talents.

As I have devoted this chapter to a poe⯑tical encomiaſt of chaſtity, I ſhall here [219] break through the chronological line which I intended to obſerve, for the ſake of exhi⯑biting, in one point of view, the little group of poets who ſucceſſively celebrated this maidenly perfection.

Be not alarmed, my good reader; I mean not to trouble thee with a long hiſtory of all the woeful verſe, which the idle monks have ſcribbled on the continence of every ſainted abbeſs; for though their fictions are often bold, their poetry is ſeldom enter⯑taining.

Allow me, however, to terminate this volume with a brief account of the moſt remarkable characters in the monaſtic quire of chaſte and pious bards, who re-echoed, through the dark ages, the inceſſant praiſe of virginity.

The firſt of theſe, both in perſonal rank and in point of time, is Sextus Alcimus Avitus, nephew to the unfortunate emperor of that name. The poet became arch⯑biſhop of Vienna, and, after acting a very buſy and important part in the Chriſtian [220] world, died, with a great reputation for ſanctity, in the year 525. This venerable bard has addreſſed to his ſiſter Fuſcina a poetical exhortation to monaſtic virginity; a ſtate to which, he tells us, many females of his family had been devoted. He excites the young Fuſcina to the virtues, that may become her religious character, by various examples; and, to teach her a brave con⯑tempt for unmerited calumny, he relates the following very ſingular anecdote; which I have ſelected, as the only amuſing paſſage in his long compoſition:

[225]The ſingular adventure of this female abbot will, I think, induce my reader to wiſh for a few more particulars relating to ſo intereſting a perſonage; and, by the aid of that pious and gallant hiſtorian of holy virgins, Arthur du Monſtier, I am enabled to add, that Eugenia was the daughter of Philip, a Roman of high rank, who was praefect of Alexandria in the reign of Com⯑modus. She was diſtinguiſhed by her per⯑ſonal beauty, and adorned with every men⯑tal accompliſhment: her application to li⯑terature was great; her memory uncommon⯑ly retentive; and ſhe was equally eloquent in the Greek and Latin language. With theſe attractions, at the age of fifteen ſhe was demanded in marriage by Aquilius, the ſon of Aquilius the conſul; but the young Eugenia, being converted to Chriſtianity, made her eſcape privately from her heathen parents, and, diſguiſing herſelf in the habit of a man, took refuge in a religious houſe, not far from Alexandria. Here ſhe met with the remarkable occurrences recorded [226] in the poetry of Avitus. It is ſaid that ſhe converted both her parents to her new re⯑ligion; that her father ſuffered martyr⯑dom; and that Eugenia herſelf, returning to Rome with her mother, whoſe name was Claudia, experienced the ſame fate, in the reign of Gallienus.—Such is the account given of Eugenia in the curious work of Du Monſtier, intitled, Sacrum Gynecaeum, a pious biographical treaſure, containing all the ſanctified females of the Chriſtian world. Her merits are celebrated by almoſt every writer who has touched upon the Catholic virgins; and her name is mentioned with honour by two ſucceeding Latin poets, of whom I am now to ſpeak.

The firſt of theſe is Venantius Fortu⯑natus, a poet on whoſe hiſtory I enter the more willingly, as it is connected with that of a fair lady, who, if ſhe were an Old Maid, as ſome of her biographers have aſ⯑ſerted, was undoubtedly among the moſt remarkable of the ſiſterhood, being at once a queen and a ſaint, a virgin and a wife. [227] This ſingular perſonage was the lovely prin⯑ceſs Radegunda; who, being taken pri⯑ſoner in her infancy by Clotaire, king of the Franks, was married in Soiſſons, at the age of fifteen, and in the year 538, to that ſavage hero, the deſtroyer of her father's kingdom, and the aſſaſſin of her brother. This unfortunate princeſs is univerſally de⯑ſcribed as a model of beauty; but her per⯑ſonal charms were ſurpaſſed by her piety. She wore an under veſt of hair-cloth, and loaded her delicate body with a chain of iron. Du Monſtier affirms, that although ſhe lived a few years with the king her huſ⯑band, ſhe obtained from that amorous mo⯑narch the privilege of remaining a virgin. The more modern author of that amuſing book, intitled "Anecdotes of the Queens of France ^*", is inclined to prove the falſhood of this problematical fact, by the expreſ⯑ſions of her firſt biographers, who deſcribe [228] her as riſing early from the bed of the king. But without venturing to decide on ſo nice a queſtion, I ſhall proceed in the more cer⯑tain hiſtory of Radegunda.—After reſiding three years with Clotaire, ſhe obtained his permiſſion to retire; and, founding an abbey at Poitiers, ſhe enjoyed in it all the tran⯑quil pleaſures of religious retirement. She poſſeſſed an affection for literature; and ſhe was happy in the ſociety of two the moſt eminent authors of that age, Gregory biſhop of Tours, the hiſtorian, and Fortunatus the poet, who had the honour of being ſecretary to the pious Radegunda, and was promoted to the biſhopric of Poitiers.

Fortunatus was an Italian, of an elegant mind and inſinuating manners: it was pro⯑bably to flatter the chaſte fancy of his royal miſtreſs, that he compoſed his ſingular poem "On a celeſtial Synod, and the Virtue of Virginity ^*." This performance opens [229] with a full convocation of all the eminent heavenly virgins and martyrs; when they are aſſembled before the throne of God, the voice of the Divinity announces his de⯑ſign of rewarding the pious and chaſte paſ⯑ſion of an earthly maiden, and deſcribes the holy tenderneſs and ardour with which ſhe panted for a celeſtial ſpouſe. The verſes that include this deſcription are re⯑markably ſpirited and elegant, for the age in which they were compoſed:—the maiden is repreſented as thus venting the fond enthu⯑ſiaſm of her ſoul:

Having proclaimed the merits of this chaſte and ſervent devotee, the ſacred voice de⯑clares, that ſhe ſhall poſſeſs the ſanctity ſhe deſires; and her name is inrolled in the eternal regiſter ^*. The poet proceeds to tell, how the newly-conſecrated virgin is de⯑corated [231] with all the jewels of heaven; he affirms, however, that the chaſte and humble virtues are her beſt ornaments: he magni⯑fies the excellence of virginity compared to the miſeries of a married life; and he con⯑cludes with a prayer, addreſſing the whole poem to the chaſte and pious Agnes, whom his royal miſtreſs Radegunda had raiſed to the dignity of abbeſs, in the religious houſe which ſhe herſelf had founded. Perhaps it may be a groundleſs conjecture, but I am inclined to believe that Fortunatus com⯑poſed this poem with infinite art, intending an oblique and concealed compliment to the problematical virginity of Radegunda her⯑ſelf, though in the cloſe he addreſſes himſelf to Agnes as the virgin, who had thus made a kind of holiday in heaven. My conjec⯑ture ariſes from the following remarkable circumſtances:—In the long deſcription of this celeſtial ceremony, the name of this vir⯑gin, ſo intereſting to all the powers of hea⯑ven, is not once mentioned, although it is ſaid to be inſcribed in the eternal volume. [232] This ſingular omiſſion perſuades me, that the poet wiſhed to compliment ſome lady as a virgin of uncommon ſanctity, whom he did not think it prudent to name. His cold manner of addreſſing the poem to Agnes, appears to me as a kind of maſk to his real intention. Beſides, there are ſome paſſages, in his enthuſiaſtic deſcription of the chaſte female ſo highly honoured by Heaven, which do not agree with the condition of Agnes, and may be applied with an elegant pro⯑priety to his royal miſtreſs Radegunda. Af⯑ter deſcribing this anonymous virgin as de⯑corated with a long catalogue of celeſtial jewels, the poet exclaims:

There is alſo another poem of Fortuna⯑tus, expreſsly on the virtues of Radegunda, [233] in which, after having compared her to the moſt celebrated of the holy virgins, for charity and abſtinence, for devotion and fortitude, he adds,

Such are the grounds of my conjecture: whether Radegunda was in truth an Old Maid, and whether her ingenious ſecretary intended to pay her an oblique compli⯑ment for the peculiar delicacy with which ſhe has been ſuppoſed to acquire and ſup⯑port that venerable character, are points which I muſt now leave to the diſcuſſion of the curious. However great the chaſtity of this pious queen might be, it has not eſ⯑caped detraction; and our poet himſelf has been ſuſpected of poſſeſſing too lively an intereſt in her heart. Some late biogra⯑phers of the fair royal ſaint have conſi⯑dered [234] this calumny as the immediate ſug⯑geſtion of the devil, provoked by the pecu⯑liar purity of Radegunda; but it appears to have ariſen rather from the careleſſneſs of ſome early writers, who, finding in the po⯑ems of Fortunatus, that he had been accuſed of being a little too fond of the abovemen⯑tioned Agnes, made a miſtake in their ac⯑count of this matter, and transferred his ſuppoſed affection from the abbeſs to the queen. The truth ſeems to be, that Fortu⯑natus lived in a very pleaſing and innocent familiarity with theſe two pious ladies. They amuſed themſelves in ſending little preſents of ſweetmeats, and other monaſtic delicacies, to their ingenious friend. He acknowledged their favours with poetical gallantry. The extempore verſes which he compoſed on ſuch occaſions are printed with his poems; they do honour to the ten⯑derneſs of his heart, and the elegance of his genius; but though they often breathe the warm ſpirit of affection, they are far from throwing any ſtain on the purity of his mo⯑rals. [235] His royal miſtreſs is ſaid, by the authors of the Literary Hiſtory of France, to have ended her life in 587: our poet died in 609, and his feſtival is yet celebrated at Poitiers, on the 14th of December.

The following pious herald of chaſtity in the dark ages was an illuſtrious character of our own country. I mean the great Aldhelm, biſhop of Shireburn in Dorſet⯑ſhire, during the Saxon heptarchy. This canonized bard was not only diſtinguiſhed by peculiar ſanctity, but excelled in the ſiſter arts of poetry and muſic, and has been celebrated as the perſon who introduced Latin verſe into England.

His poetical talents were great indeed, for the period in which he flouriſhed; and he exerted them in a compoſition of heroic verſe, extolling the moſt eminent votaries of virginity, both male and female. In the latter catalogue the following are his he⯑roines—the Virgin Mary, and the Saints Caecilia, Agatha, Lucia, Juſtina, Eugenia, Agnes, Thecla, Eulalia, Scholaſtica, Con⯑ſtantina, [236] Euſtochium, Demetrias, Anaſta⯑ſia, Rufina Secunda, Anatolia, Victoria.

As a ſpecimen of Aldhelm's poetry, I ſhall ſelect his verſes on Caecilia, whoſe ta⯑lents have rendered her the moſt intereſting of female ſaints.

Such is Aldhelm's panegyric on the ce⯑lebrated St. Caecilia; and, as it may amuſe the curious to compare this mitred bard with our old poet Chaucer, who has told the ſame marvellous ſtory, I ſhall inſert in a note a few lines from the latter ^*.

[239]The poem of the Saxon biſhop is to be conſidered only as a kind of ſupplement to his elaborate treatiſe in proſe on the ſame intereſting topic. The author of Aldhelm's Life in the Biographia Britannica has, by truſting to the authority of Bede, com⯑mitted a miſtake in his account of theſe ſe⯑parate performances, which he repreſents as a ſingle work of verſe and proſe intermixed. [240] They are not only diſtinct productions, but have been publiſhed apart. It appears that the proſaic eſſay was firſt written, as in the cloſe of it the author intimates his de⯑ſign of handling the ſame delicate ſubject once more, in verſe.

[241]As this chapter is already longer than I intended, I ſhall only ſelect one paſſage from his proſaic treatiſe, exhibiting a moſt ſin⯑gular ſcale of virtue (if I may uſe ſuch an expreſſion) by which human merit was meaſured in the age of this accompliſhed ſaint. "^* It is recorded," ſays Aldhelm, ‘in a certain volume, from the narration of an angel, how virginity, chaſtity, and wedlock, differ from each other, and mark, in three degrees, the quality or worthineſs of life; how, according to the [242] angel's diſcrimination, virginity is gold, chaſtity ſilver, and wedlock braſs; how virginity is wealth, chaſtity a competence, and wedlock poverty; how virginity is peace, chaſtity redemption, and wedlock captivity; how virginity is the ſun, chaſ⯑tity the moon, and wedlock darkneſs; how virginity is day, chaſtity the dawn, and wedlock night.’

The ingenious prelate continues to illuſ⯑trate this angelical diviſion of human me⯑rits by many more metaphors of equal force, and then tells us the preciſe meaning of theſe three ſignificant terms—a neceſſary explanation, as, without it, a modern reader would be little able to underſtand the ano⯑nymous angel thus quoted by Aldhelm! "Virginity," ſays the good biſhop, ‘is a voluntary attachment to a ſingle life; chaſtity is that ſtate of purity obſerved by thoſe who, after the ceremony of marriage, ſeparate, and abſtain from ma⯑trimonial intercourſe, for the ſake of heaven, deſpiſing that ordinary wed⯑lock [243] by which children are lawfully produced.’

This very curious triple eſtimate of hu⯑man merit occurs alſo in the poem on vir⯑ginity; and, as that poem is extremely ſcarce, I ſhall tranſcribe the verſes.

Such was the doctrine of the famous Aldhelm, which throws a conſiderable light on the practices of the times in which he lived, when the great purpoſe of marriage was often defeated, as in the caſe of King Edward the Confeſſor, by a vain pretenſion to ſuperior ſanctity. This poetical prelate was ſo paſſionate an admirer of pure virgi⯑nity, that he put his own continence to many ſingular and dangerous trials. It is related by his elegant and affectionate bio⯑grapher, William of Malmſbury, that Ald⯑helm did not, like other prieſts, avoid the company of women, but often detained ſome virgin by his ſide, both ſitting and lying, and, while he held her in his em⯑braces, repeated his whole pſalter, to the confuſion of the devil ^*.

[245]However this conduct might encreaſe the veneration which was paid to this ex⯑traordinary ſaint, I cannot help condemn⯑ing it as an inſtance of cruelty and in⯑juſtice.

Great as his exultation and triumph might be, on thus deriding the devil, as his biographer expreſſes it, by a marvellous diſplay of his own ſubdued deſires, he had certainly no right to ſport ſo wantonly with the paſſions of thoſe religious Old Maids (for they could hardly be young ones) whom he thus made the uneaſy inſtruments of his own chaſte reputation.

In ſpeaking of the moſt eminent poets, who amuſed the dark ages by celebrating the wonderful virgins of that period, I ought not to omit the venerable Bede. He has enlivened his eccleſiaſtical hiſtory, [246] by inſerting a poetical panegyric on the chaſte Aedilthryda, a lady who choſe to fly from the bed and throne of her huſband Ecfrid, king of Northumberland, for the ſake of preſerving her virginity in a cloiſter. For this pious exploit ſhe is extolled in the higheſt terms by the holy bard; who, in ſinging her praiſes, ſeems to felicitate him⯑ſelf, with a gallant complacency, that he is ſuperior to Virgil in the happy choice of his ſubject ^*. It is, however, remarkable, that the greateſt poet of our country has mentioned this obſtinate royal virgin in terms of indignation and reproach. Mil⯑ton, in his Hiſtory of England, has conde⯑ſcended to relate the adventure of this pious fugitive, in the following language:— ‘Another adverſity befel Ecfrid in his fa⯑mily, by means of Ethildrith his wife, [247] king Anna's daughter, who, having taken him for her huſband, and profeſſing to love him above all other men, perſiſted twelve years in the obſtinate refuſal of his bed, thereby thinking to live the purer life; ſo perverſely then was chaſtity inſtructed againſt the apoſtle's rule: at length obtaining of him, with much im⯑portunity, her departure, ſhe veiled her⯑ſelf a nun, then, made abbeſs of Ely, died ſeven years after the peſtilence; and might with better warrant have kept faithfully her undertaken wedlock, though now canonized St. Audrey of Ely^*.’

Milton has not deigned to enter into a very whimſical part of this lady's hiſtory; but a monaſtic hiſtorian informs us, that her huſband, repenting of the indulgence he had granted to her, and inflamed with new deſire, determined to force her from her religious retreat, and to conſummate his [248] marriage: ſhe eſcaped both from his love and his reſentment, by a ſeries of the moſt extraordinary miracles, which the curious reader may find very circumſtantially re⯑lated in the firſt volume of Dugdale's Mo⯑naſticon. After ſuſtaining great hardſhips, ſhe is ſaid to have expired a perfect virgin, in the year 679; and the miracles diſplayed at her tomb were not inferior to thoſe by which her life was diſtinguiſhed.

I cannot cloſe the volume without la⯑menting the ſufferings of the fair ſex in the ages of ignorance and ſuperſtition. When all the ſaints of the time moſt zealouſly aſſerted, that it was meritorious in a married woman to remain a virgin, domeſtic life muſt have been frequently embittered by tragi-comical contention; and, perhaps, the mind of many a well-meaning woman has been half diſ⯑tracted by the ſtruggle, which ſuch doctrine may have produced, between tenderneſs and devotion. It may, however, afford us ſome conſolation to reflect, that whenever theſe good ladies were miſled by the prieſt⯑hood [249] into a painful ſacrifice of innocent de⯑light, their pride was inceſſantly gratified by the pious honours that were laviſhed upon their rigid virginity: yet their paſſion for ſuch honours was ſometimes repreſſed by the ſtronger feelings of perſonal vanity, as we may collect from a ludicrous miracle related by Gregory of Tours. That hiſ⯑torian gives us a circumſtantial account of a noble and pious pair, who, being married in their youth, paſſed through life together with this extraordinary continence, at the particular requeſt of the lady. She hap⯑pened to die firſt, and, as her good man at⯑tended her funeral, he exclaimed, while the body was ſinking into the grave, ‘I thank thee, eternal God, that as I received this treaſure from thee, ſo I return it imma⯑culate to thy goodneſs.’ Upon this the dead lady ſaid with a ſmile, ‘Why do you mention matters on which you are not interrogated ^*?’ —The ſequel of the mi⯑racle [250] is not leſs ſtriking. The huſband died ſoon afterwards, and though he was buried in a tomb not contiguous to that of his wife, it was obſerved, the next day, that their ſepulchres were united. The devout hiſtorian ſeems to conſider theſe incidents as proofs of the moſt ſignal chaſtity; but they may with as much reaſon be alledged as proofs, that the ſpotleſs lady, who had ſo ſtrongly petitioned her huſband to releaſe her from the duties of a wife, did not reliſh his public declaration that ſhe died an Old Maid.