Letter VIII

Paris, May 28, 1656

SIR,
You did not suppose that anybody would have the curiosity to
know who we were; but it seems there are people who are trying to make
it out, though they are not very happy in their conjectures. Some take
me for a doctor of the Sorbonne; others ascribe my letters to four
or five persons, who, like me, are neither priests nor Churchmen.
All these false surmises convince me that I have succeeded pretty well
in my object, which was to conceal myself from all but yourself and
the worthy monk, who still continues to bear with my visits, while I
still contrive, though with considerable difficulty, to bear with
his conversations. I am obliged, however, to restrain myself; for,
were he to discover how much I am shocked at his communications, he
would discontinue them and thus put it out of my power to fulfil the
promise I gave you, of making you acquainted with their morality.
You ought to think a great deal of the violence which I thus do to
my own feelings. It is no easy matter, I can assure you, to stand
still and see the whole system of Christian ethics undermined by
such a set of monstrous principles, without daring to put in a word of
flat contradiction against them. But, after having borne so much for
your satisfaction, I am resolved I shall burst out for my own
satisfaction in the end, when his stock of information has been
exhausted. Meanwhile, I shall repress my feelings as much as I
possibly can for I find that the more I hold my tongue, he is the more
communicative. The last time I saw him, he told me so many things that
I shall have some difficulty in repeating them all. On the point of
restitution you will find they have some most convenient principles.
For, however the good monk palliates his maxims, those which I am
about to lay before you really go to sanction corrupt judges, usurers,
bankrupts, thieves, prostitutes and sorcerers- all of whom are most
liberally absolved from the obligation of restoring their ill-gotten
gains. It was thus the monk resumed the conversation:

"At the commencement of our interviews, I engaged to explain to
you the maxims of our authors for all ranks and classes; and you
have already seen those that relate to beneficiaries, to priests, to
monks, to domestics, and to gentlemen. Let us now take a cursory
glance at the remaining, and begin with the judges.

"Now I am going to tell you one of the most important and
advantageous maxims which our fathers have laid down in their
favour. Its author is the learned Castro Palao, one of our
four-and-twenty elders. His words are: 'May a judge, in a question
of right and wrong, pronounce according to a probable opinion, in
preference to the more probable opinion? He may, even though it should
be contrary to his own judgement- imo contra propriam opinionem.'"

"Well, father," cried I, "that is a very fair commencement! The
judges, surely, are greatly obliged to you; and I am surprised that
they should be so hostile, as we have sometimes observed, to your
probabilities, seeing these are so favourable to them. For it would
appear from this that you give them the same power over men's fortunes
as you have given to yourselves over their consciences."

"You perceive we are far from being actuated by self-interest,"
returned he; "we have had no other end in view than the repose of
their consciences; and to the same useful purpose has our great Molina
devoted his attention, in regard to the presents which may be made
them. To remove any scruples which they might entertain in accepting
of these on certain occasions, he has been at the pains to draw out
a list of all those cases in which bribes may be taken with a good
conscience, provided, at least, there be no special law forbidding
them. He says: 'Judges may receive presents from parties when they are
given them either for friendship's sake, or in gratitude for some
former act of justice, or to induce them to give justice in future, or
to oblige them to pay particular attention to their case, or to engage
them to despatch it promptly.' The learned Escobar delivers himself to
the same effect: 'If there be a number of persons, none of whom have
more right than another to have their causes disposed of, will the
judge who accepts of something from one of them, on condition-
expacto- of taking up his cause first, be guilty of sin? Certainly
not, according to Layman; for, in common equity, he does no injury
to the rest by granting to one, in consideration of his present,
what he was at liberty to grant to any of them he pleased; and
besides, being under an equal obligation to them all in respect of
their right, he becomes more obliged to the individual who furnished
the donation, who thereby acquired for himself a preference above
the rest- a preference which seems capable of a pecuniary valuation-
quae obligatio videtur pretio aestimabilis.'"

"May it please your reverence," said I, "after such a
permission, I am surprised that the first magistrates of the kingdom
should know no better. For the first president has actually carried an
order in Parliament to prevent certain clerks of court from taking
money for that very sort of preference- a sign that he is far from
thinking it allowable in judges; and everybody has applauded this as a
reform of great benefit to all parties."

The worthy monk was surprised at this piece of intelligence, and
replied: "Are you sure of that? I heard nothing about it. Our opinion,
recollect, is only probable; the contrary is probable also."

"To tell you the truth, father," said I, "people think that the
first president has acted more than probably well, and that he has
thus put a stop to a course of public corruption which has been too
long winked at."

"I am not far from being of the same mind," returned he; "but
let us waive that point, and say no more about the judges."

"You are quite right, sir," said I; "indeed, they are not half
thankful enough for all you have done for them."

"That is not my reason," said the father; "but there is so much to
be said on all the different classes that we must study brevity on
each of them. Let us now say a word or two about men of business.
You are aware that our great difficulty with these gentlemen is to
keep them from usury- an object to accomplish which our fathers have
been at particular pains; for they hold this vice in such abhorrence
that Escobar declares 'it is heresy to say that usury is no sin';
and Father Bauny has filled several pages of his Summary of Sins
with the pains and penalties due to usurers. He declares them
'infamous during their life, and unworthy of sepulture after their
death.'"

"O dear! " cried I, "I had no idea he was so severe."

"He can be severe enough when there is occasion for it," said
the monk; "but then this learned casuist, having observed that some
are allured into usury merely from the love of gain, remarks in the
same place that 'he would confer no small obligation on society,
who, while he guarded it against the evil effects of usury, and of the
sin which gives birth to it, would suggest a method by which one's
money might secure as large, if not a larger profit, in some honest
and lawful employment than he could derive from usurious dealings."

"Undoubtedly, father, there would be no more usurers after that."

"Accordingly," continued he, "our casuist has suggested 'a general
method for all sorts of persons- gentlemen, presidents,
councillors,' &c.; and a very simple process it is, consisting only in
the use of certain words which must be pronounced by the person in the
act of lending his money; after which he may take his interest for
it without fear of being a usurer, which he certainly would be on
any other plan."

"And pray what may those mysterious words be, father?"

"I will give you them exactly in his own words," said the
father; "for he has written his Summary in French, you know, 'that
it may be understood by everybody,' as he says in the preface: 'The
person from whom the loan is asked must answer, then, in this
manner: I have got no money to lend, I have got a little, however,
to lay out for an honest and lawful profit. If you are anxious to have
the sum you mention in order to make something of it by your industry,
dividing the profit and loss between us, I may perhaps be able to
accommodate you. But now I think of it, as it may be a matter of
difficulty to agree about the profit, if you will secure me a
certain portion of it, and give me so much for my principal, so that
it incur no risk, we may come to terms much sooner, and you shall
touch the cash immediately.' Is not that an easy plan for gaining
money without sin? And has not Father Bauny good reason for concluding
with these words: 'Such, in my opinion, is an excellent plan by
which a great many people, who now provoke the just indignation of God
by their usuries, extortions, and illicit bargains, might save
themselves, in the way of making good, honest, and legitimate
profits'?"

"O sir!" I exclaimed, "what potent words these must be!
Doubtless they must possess some latent virtue to chase away the demon
of usury which I know nothing of, for, in my poor judgement, I
always thought that that vice consisted in recovering more money
that what was lent."

"You know little about it indeed," he replied. "Usury, according
to our fathers, consists in little more than the intention of taking
the interest as usurious. Escobar, accordingly, shows you how you
may avoid usury by a simple shift of the intention. 'It would be
downright usury,' says he 'to take interest from the borrower, if we
should exact it as due in point of justice; but if only exacted as due
in point of gratitude, it is not usury. Again, it is not lawful to
have directly the intention of profiting by the money lent; but to
claim it through the medium of the benevolence of the borrower-
media benevolentia- is not usury.' These are subtle methods; but, to
my mind, the best of them all (for we have a great choice of them)
is that of the Mohatra bargain."

"The Mohatra, father!"

"You are not acquainted with it, I see," returned he. "The name is
the only strange thing about it. Escobar will explain it to you:
'The Mohatra bargain is effected by the needy person purchasing some
goods at a high price and on credit, in order to sell them over again,
at the same time and to the same merchant, for ready money and at a
cheap rate.' This is what we call the Mohatra- a sort of bargain,
you perceive, by which a person receives a certain sum of ready
money by becoming bound to pay more."

"But, sir, I really think nobody but Escobar has employed such a
term as that; is it to be found in any other book?"

"How little you do know of what is going on, to be sure!" cried
the father. "Why, the last work on theological morality, printed at
Paris this very year, speaks of the Mohatra, and learnedly, too. It is
called Epilogus Summarum, and is an abridgment of all the summaries of
divinity- extracted from Suarez, Sanchez, Lessius, Fagundez,
Hurtado, and other celebrated casuists, as the title bears. There
you will find it said, on p. 54, that 'the Mohatra bargain takes place
when a man who has occasion for twenty pistoles purchases from a
merchant goods to the amount of thirty pistoles, payable within a
year, and sells them back to him on the spot for twenty pistoles ready
money.' This shows you that the Mohatra is not such an unheard-of term
as you supposed."

"But, father, is that sort of bargain lawful?"

"Escobar," replied he, "tells us in the same place that there
are laws which prohibit it under very severe penalties."

"It is useless, then, I suppose?"

"Not at all; Escobar, in the same passage, suggests expedients for
making it lawful: 'It is so, even though the principal intention
both of the buyer and seller is to make money by the transaction,
provided the seller, in disposing of the goods, does not exceed
their highest price, and in re-purchasing them does not go below their
lowest price, and that no previous bargain has been made, expressly or
otherwise.' Lessius, however, maintains that 'even though the merchant
has sold his goods, with the intention of re-purchasing them at the
lowest price, he is not bound to make restitution of the profit thus
acquired, unless, perhaps, as an act of charity, in the case of the
person from whom it had been exacted being in poor circumstances,
and not even then, if he cannot do it without inconvenience- si
commode non potest.' This is the utmost length to which they could
go."

"Indeed, sir," said I, "any further indulgence would, I should
think, be rather too much."

"Oh, our fathers know very well when it is time for them to stop!"
cried the monk. "So much, then, for the utility of the Mohatra. I
might have mentioned several other methods, but these may suffice; and
I have now to say a little in regard to those who are in embarrassed
circumstances. Our casuists have sought to relieve them, according
to their condition of life. For, if they have not enough of property
for a decent maintenance, and at the same time for paying their debts,
they permit them to secure a portion by making a bankruptcy with their
creditors. This has been decided by Lessius, and confirmed by Escobar,
as follows: 'May a person who turns bankrupt, with a good conscience
keep back as much of his personal estate as may be necessary to
maintain his family in a respectable way- ne indecore vivat? I hold,
with Lessius, that he may, even though he may have acquired his wealth
unjustly and by notorious crimes- ex injustilia et notorio delicto;
only, in this case, he is not at liberty to retain so large an
amount as he otherwise might.'"

"Indeed, father! what a strange sort of charity is this, to
allow property to remain in the hands of the man who has acquired it
by rapine, to support him in his extravagance rather than go into
the hands of his creditors, to whom it legitimately belongs!"

"It is impossible to please everybody," replied the father; "and
we have made it our particular study to relieve these unfortunate
people. This partiality to the poor has induced our great Vasquez,
cited by Castro Palao, to say that 'if one saw a thief going to rob
a poor man, it would be lawful to divert him from his purpose by
pointing out to him some rich individual, whom he might rob in place
of the other.' If you have not access to Vasquez or Castro Palao,
you will find the same thing in your copy of Escobar; for, as you
are aware, his work is little more than a compilation from twenty-four
of the most celebrated of our fathers. You will find it in his
treatise, entitled The Practice of our Society, in the Matter of
Charity towards our Neighbours."

"A very singular kind of charity this," I observed, "to save one
man from suffering loss, by inflicting it upon another! But I
suppose that, to complete the charity, the charitable adviser would be
bound in conscience to restore to the rich man the sum which he had
made him lose?"

"Not at all, sir," returned the monk; "for he did not rob the man-
he only advised the other to do it. But only attend to this notable
decision of Father Bauny, on a case which will still more astonish
you, and in which you would suppose there was a much stronger
obligation to make restitution. Here are his identical words: 'A
person asks a soldier to beat his neighbour, or to set fire to the
barn of a man that has injured him. The question is whether, in the
essence of the soldier, the person who employed him to commit these
outrages is bound to make reparation out of his own pocket for the
damage that has followed? My opinion is that he is not. For none can
be held bound to restitution, where there has been no violation of
justice; and is justice violated by asking another to do us a
favour? As to the nature of the request which he made, he is at
liberty either to acknowledge or deny it; to whatever side he may
incline, it is a matter of mere choice; nothing obliges him to it,
unless it may be the goodness, gentleness, and easiness of his
disposition. If the soldier, therefore, makes no reparation for the
mischief he has done, it ought not to be exacted from him at whose
request he injured the innocent.'"

This sentence had very nearly broken up the whole conversation,
for I was on the point of bursting into a laugh at the idea of the
goodness and gentleness of a burner of barns, and at these strange
sophisms which would exempt from the duty of restitution the principal
and real incendiary, whom the civil magistrate would not exempt from
the halter. But, had I not restrained myself, the worthy monk, who was
perfectly serious, would have been displeased; he proceeded,
therefore, without any alteration of countenance, in his observations.

"From such a mass of evidence, you ought to be satisfied now of
the futility of your objections; but we are losing sight of our
subject. To revert, then, to the succour which our fathers apply to
persons in straitened circumstances, Lessius, among others,
maintains that 'it is lawful to steal, not only in a case of extreme
necessity, but even where the necessity is grave, though not
extreme.'"

"This is somewhat startling, father," said I. "There are very
few people in this world who do not consider their cases of
necessity to be grave ones, and to whom, accordingly, you would not
give the right of stealing with a good conscience. And, though you
should restrict the permission to those only who are really and
truly in that condition, you open the door to an infinite number of
petty larcenies which the magistrates would punish in spite of your
grave necessity, and which you ought to repress on a higher principle-
you who are bound by your office to be the conservators, not of
justice only, but of charity between man and man, a grace which this
permission would destroy. For after all, now, is it not a violation of
the law of charity, and of our duty to our neighbour, to deprive a man
of his property in order to turn it to our own advantage? Such, at
least, is the way I have been taught to think hitherto."

"That will not always hold true," replied the monk; "for our great
Molina has taught us that 'the rule of charity does not bind us to
deprive ourselves of a profit, in order thereby to save our
neighbour from a corresponding loss.' He advances this in
corroboration of what he had undertaken to prove- 'that one is not
bound in conscience to restore the goods which another had put into
his hands in order to cheat his creditors.' Lessius holds the same
opinion, on the same ground. Allow me to say, sir, that you have too
little compassion for people in distress. Our fathers have had more
charity than that comes to: they render ample justice to the poor,
as well as the rich; and, I may add, to sinners as well as saints.
For, though far from having any predilection for criminals, they do
not scruple to teach that the property gained by crime may be lawfully
retained. 'No person,' says Lessius, speaking generally, 'is bound,
either by the law of nature or by positive laws (that is, by any law),
to make restitution of what has been gained by committing a criminal
action, such as adultery, even though that action is contrary to
justice.' For, as Escobar comments on this writer, 'though the
property which a woman acquires by adultery is certainly gained in
an illicit way, yet once acquired, the possession of it is lawful-
quamvis mulier illicite acquisat, licite tamen retinet acquisita.'
It is on this principle that the most celebrated of our writers have
formally decided that the bribe received by a judge from one of the
parties who has a bad case, in order to procure an unjust decision
in his favour, the money got by a soldier for killing a man, or the
emoluments gained by infamous crimes, may be legitimately retained.
Escobar, who has collected this from a number of our authors, lays
down this general rule on the point that 'the means acquired by
infamous courses, such as murder, unjust decisions, profligacy, &c.,
are legitimately possessed, and none are obliged to restore them.'
And, further, 'they may dispose of what they have received for
homicide, profligacy, &c., as they please; for the possession is just,
and they have acquired a propriety in the fruits of their iniquity.'"

"My dear father," cried I, "this is a mode of acquisition which
I never heard of before; and I question much if the law will hold it
good, or if it will consider assassination, injustice, and adultery,
as giving valid titles to property."

"I do not know what your law-books may say on the point," returned
the monk; "but I know well that our books, which are the genuine rules
for conscience, bear me out in what I say. It is true they make one
exception, in which restitution is positively enjoined; that is, in
the case of any receiving money from those who have no right to
dispose of their property such as minors and monks. 'Unless,' says the
great Molina, 'a woman has received money from one who cannot dispose'
of it, such as a monk or a minor- nisi mulier accepisset ab eo qui
alienare non potest, ut a religioso et filio familias. In this case
she must give back the money.' And so says Escobar."

"May it please your reverence," said I, "the monks, I see, are
more highly favoured in this way than other people."

"By no means," he replied; "have they not done as much generally
for all minors, in which class monks may be viewed as continuing all
their lives? It is barely an act of justice to make them an exception;
but with regard to all other people, there is no obligation whatever
to refund to them the money received from them for a criminal
action. For, as has been amply shown by Lessius, 'a wicked action
may have its price fixed in money, by calculating the advantage
received by the person who orders it to be done and the trouble
taken by him who carries it into execution; on which account the
latter is not bound to restore the money he got for the deed, whatever
that may have been- homicide, injustice, or a foul act' (for such
are the illustrations which he uniformly employs in this question);
'unless he obtained the money from those having no right to dispose of
their property. You may object, perhaps, that he who has obtained
money for a piece of wickedness is sinning and, therefore, ought
neither to receive nor retain it. But I reply that, after the thing is
done, there can be no sin either in giving or in receiving payment for
it.' The great Filiutius enters still more minutely into details,
remarking 'that a man is bound in conscience to vary his payments
for actions of this sort, according to the different conditions of the
individuals who commit them, and some may bring a higher price than
others.' This he confirms by very solid arguments."

He then pointed out to me, in his authors, some things of this
nature so indelicate that I should be ashamed to repeat them; and
indeed the monk himself, who is a good man, would have been
horrified at them himself, were it not for the profound respect
which he entertains for his fathers, and which makes him receive
with veneration everything that proceeds from them. Meanwhile, I
held my tongue, not so much with the view of allowing him to enlarge
on this matter as from pure astonishment at finding the books of men
in holy orders stuffed with sentiments at once so horrible, so
iniquitous, and so silly. He went on, therefore, without
interruption in his discourse, concluding as follows:

"From these premisses, our illustrious Molina decides the
following question (and after this, I think you will have got enough):
'If one has received money to perpetrate a wicked action, is he
obliged to restore it? We must distinguish here,' says this great man;
'if he has not done the deed, he must give back the cash; if he has,
he is under no such obligation!' Such are some of our principles
touching restitution. You have got a great deal of instruction to-day;
and I should like, now, to see what proficiency you have made. Come,
then, answer me this question: 'Is a judge, who has received a sum
of money from one of the parties before him, in order to pronounce a
judgement in his favour, obliged to make restitution?'"

"You were just telling me a little ago, father, that he was not."

"I told you no such thing," replied the father; "did I express
myself so generally? I told you he was not bound to make
restitution, provided he succeeded in gaining the cause for the
party who had the wrong side of the question. But if a man has justice
on his side, would you have him to purchase the success of his
cause, which is his legitimate right? You are very unconscionable.
Justice, look you, is a debt which the judge owes, and therefore he
cannot sell it; but he cannot be said to owe injustice, and
therefore he may lawfully receive money for it. All our leading
authors, accordingly, agree in teaching 'that though a judge is
bound to restore the money he had received for doing an act of
justice, unless it was given him out of mere generosity, he is not
obliged to restore what he has received from a man in whose favour
he has pronounced an unjust decision.'"

This preposterous decision fairly dumbfounded me, and, while I was
musing on its pernicious tendencies, the monk had prepared another
question for me. "Answer me again," said he, "with a little more
circumspection. Tell me now, 'if a man who deals in divination is
obliged to make restitution of the money he has acquired in the
exercise of his art?'"

"Just as you please, your reverence," said I.

"Eh! what!- just as I please! Indeed, but you are a pretty
scholar! It would seem, according to your way of talking, that the
truth depended on our will and pleasure. I see that, in the present
case, you would never find it out yourself: so I must send you to
Sanchez for a solution of the problem- no less a man than Sanchez.
In the first place, he makes a distinction between 'the case of the
diviner who has recourse to astrology and other natural means, and
that of another who employs the diabolical art. In the one case, he
says, the diviner is bound to make restitution; in the other he is
not.' Now, guess which of them is the party bound?"

"It is not difficult to find out that," said I.

"I see what you mean to say," he replied. "You think that he ought
to make restitution in the case of his having employed the agency of
demons. But you know nothing about it; it is just the reverse. 'If,'
says Sanchez, 'the sorcerer has not taken care and pains to
discover, by means of the devil, what he could not have known
otherwise, he must make restitution- si nullam operam apposuit ut arte
diaboli id sciret, but if he has been at that trouble, he is not
obliged.'"

"And why so, father?"

"Don't you See?" returned he. "It is because men may truly
divine by the aid of the devil, whereas astrology is a mere sham."

"But, sir, should the devil happen not to tell the truth (and he
is not much more to be trusted than astrology), the magician must, I
should think, for the same reason, be obliged to make restitution?"

"Not always," replied the monk: "Distinguo, as Sanchez says, here.
If the magician be ignorant of the diabolic art- si sit artis
diabolicae ignarus- he is bound to restore: but if he is an expert
sorcerer, and has done all in his power to arrive at the truth, the
obligation ceases; for the industry of such a magician may be
estimated at a certain sum of money.'"

"There is some sense in that," I said; "for this is an excellent
plan to induce sorcerers to aim at proficiency in their art, in the
hope of making an honest livelihood, as you would say, by faithfully
serving the public."

"You are making a jest of it, I suspect," said the father: "that
is very wrong. If you were to talk in that way in places where you
were not known, some people might take it amiss and charge you with
turning sacred subjects into ridicule."

"That, father, is a charge from which I could very easily
vindicate myself; for certain I am that whoever will be at the trouble
to examine the true meaning of my words will find my object to be
precisely the reverse; and perhaps, sir, before our conversations
are ended, I may find an opportunity of making this very amply
apparent."

"Ho, ho," cried the monk, "there is no laughing in your head now."

"I confess," said I, "that the suspicion that I intended to
laugh at things sacred would be as painful for me to incur as it would
be unjust in any to entertain it."

"I did not say it in earnest," returned the father; "but let us
speak more seriously."

"I am quite disposed to do so, if you prefer it; that depends upon
you, father. But I must say, that I have been astonished to see your
friends carrying their attentions to all sorts and conditions of men
so far as even to regulate the legitimate gains of sorcerers."

"One cannot write for too many people," said the monk, "nor be too
minute in particularising cases, nor repeat the same things too
often in different books. You may be convinced of this by the
following anecdote, which is related by one of the gravest of our
fathers, as you may well suppose, seeing he is our present Provincial-
the reverend Father Cellot: 'We know a person,' says he, 'who was
carrying a large sum of money' in his pocket to restore it, in
obedience to the orders of his confessor, and who, stepping into a
bookseller's shop by the way, inquired if there was anything new?-
numquid novi?- when the bookseller showed him a book on moral
theology, recently published; and turning over the leaves
carelessly, and without reflection, he lighted upon a passage
describing his own case, and saw that he was under no obligation to
make restitution: upon which, relieved from the burden of his
scruples, he returned home with a purse no less heavy, and a heart
much lighter, than when he left it- abjecta scrupuli sarcina,
retento auri pondere, levior domum repetiit.'

"Say, after hearing that, if it is useful or not to know our
maxims? Will you laugh at them now? or rather, are you not prepared to
join with Father Cellot in the pious reflection which he makes on
the blessedness of that incident? 'Accidents of that kind,' he
remarks, 'are, with God, the effect of his providence; with the
guardian angel, the effect of his good guidance; with the
individuals to whom they happen, the effect of their predestination.
From all eternity, God decided that the golden chain of their
salvation should depend on such and such an author, and not upon a
hundred others who say the same thing, because they never happen to
meet with them. Had that man not written, this man would not have been
saved. All, therefore, who find fault with the multitude of our
authors, we would beseech, in the bowels of Jesus Christ, to beware of
envying others those books which the eternal election of God and the
blood of Jesus Christ have purchased for them!' Such are the
eloquent terms in which this learned man proves successfully the
proposition which he had advanced, namely, 'How useful it must be to
have a great many writers on moral theology- quam utile sit de
theologia morali multos scribere!'"

"Father," said I, "I shall defer giving you my opinion of that
passage to another opportunity; in the meantime, I shall only say that
as your maxims are so useful, and as it is so important to publish
them, you ought to continue to give me further instruction in them.
For I can assure you that the person to whom I send them shows my
letters to a great many people. Not that we intend to avail
ourselves of them in our own case; but, indeed, we think it will be
useful for the world to be informed about them."

"Very well," rejoined the monk, "you see I do not conceal them;
and, in continuation, I am ready to furnish you, at our next
interview, with an account of the comforts and indulgences which our
fathers allow, with the view of rendering salvation easy, and devotion
agreeable; so that, in addition to what you have hitherto learned as
to particular conditions of men, you may learn what applies in general
to all classes, and thus you will have gone through a complete
course of instruction." So saying, the monk took his leave of me. I
am, &c.

P.S. I have always forgot to tell you that there are different
editions of Escobar. Should you think of purchasing him, I would
advise you to choose the Lyons edition, having on the title page the
device of a lamb lying on a book sealed with seven seals; or the
Brussels edition of 1651. Both of these are better and larger than the
previous editions published at Lyons in the years 1644 and 1646.