ENGL 430: AMERICAN LITEARTURE TO 1810

RALPH BAUER
2115 Susquehanna Hall
Department of English
University of Maryland,
College Park, MD 20742

Phone: (301) 405 3797
E-Mail: bauerr@umd.edu
website: "http://www.mith2.umd.edu/fellows/bauer/home.html"

RESPONSE TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS POETESS SOR FILOTEA DE LA CRUZ

My most illustrious senora, dear lady. It has not been my will, my poor health, or my justifiable apprehension that for so many days delayed my response. How could I write, considering that at my very first step my clumsy pen encountered two obstructions in its path? The first (and, for me, the most uncompromising) is to know how to reply to your most learned, most prudent, most holy, and most loving letter. For I recall that when Saint Thomas, the Angelic Doctor of Scholasticism, was asked about his silence regarding his teacher Albertus Magnus, he replied that he had not spoken because he knew no words worthy of Albertus. With so much greater reason, must not I too be silent? Not, like the Saint, out of humility, but because in reality I know nothing I can say that is worthy of you. The second obstruction is to know how to express my appreciation for a favor as unexpected as extreme, for having my scribblings printed, a gift so immeasurable as to sur- pass my most ambitious aspiration, my most fervent desire, which even as a person of reason never entered my thoughts. Yours was a kindness, finally, of such magnitude that words can- not express my gratitude, a kindness exceeding the bounds of ap- preciation, as great as it was unexpected-which is as Quintilian said: aspirations engender minor glory; benefices, major. To such a degree as to impose silence on the receiver.

When the blessedly sterile-than she might miraculously be- come fecund-Mother of John the Baptist saw in her house such an extraordinary visitor as the Mother of the Word, her reason be- came clouded and her speech deserted her; and thus, in the place of thanks, she burst out with doubts and questions: And whence is to me [that the mother of my Lord should come to me?]' And whence cometh such a thing to me? And so also it fell to Saul when he found himself the chosen, the anointed, King of Israel: Am I not a son of Jemini, of the least tribe of Israel, and my kin- dred the last among all the families of the tribe of Benjamin? Why. then hast thou spoken this word to me?z And thus say I, most hon- orable lady. Why do I receive such favor? By chance, am I other than an humble nun, the lowliest creature of the world, the most unworthy to occupy your attention? "Wherefore then speakest thou so to me?" "And whence is this to me?"

Nor to the first obstruction do I have any response other than I am little worthy of your eyes; nor to the second, other than won- der, in the stead of thanks, saying that I am not capable of thank- ing you for the smallest part of that which I owe you. This is not pretended modesty, lady, but the simplest truth issuing from the depths of my heart, that when the letter which with propriety you called Atenagorica reached my hands, in print, I burst into tears of confusion (withal, that tears do not come easily to me) because it seemed to me that your favor was but a remonstrance God made against the wrong I have committed, and that in the same way He corrects others with punishment He wishes to subject me with benefices, with this special favor for which I know myself to be His debtor as for an infinitude of others from His boundless kindness. I looked upon this favor as a particular way to shame ,and confound me, it being the most exquisite means of castiga- tion, that of causing me, by my own intellect, to be the judge who pronounces sentence and who denounces my ingratitude. And thus, when here in my solitude I think on these things, I am wont to say: Blessed art Thou, oh Lord, for Thou hast not chosen to place, in the hands of others my judgment, nor yet in mine, but hast reserved that to Thy own, and freed me from myself, and from the necessity to sit in judgment on myself, which judgment, forced from my own intellect, could be no less than condemna- tion, but Thou hast reserved me to Thy mercy, because Thou lovest me more than I can love myself.

I beg you, lady, to forgive this digression to which I was drawn by the power of truth, and, if I am to confess all the truth, I shall confess that I cast about for some manner by which I might flee the difficulty of a reply, and was sorely tempted to take refuge in silence. But as silence is a negative thing, though it explains a great deal through the very stress of not explaining, we must assign some meaning to it that we may understand what the silence is in- tended to say, for if not, silence will say nothing, as that is its very office: to say nothing. The holy Chosen Vessel, Saint Paul, having been caught up into paradise, and having heard the arcane secrets of God, heard secret words, which it is not granted to man to ut- ter.' He does not say what he heard, he says that he cannot say it. So that of things one cannot say, it is needful to say at least that they cannot be said, so that it may be understood that not speak- ing is not the same as having nothing to say, but rather being un- able to express the many things there are to say. Saint John says that if all the marvels our Redeemer wrought "were written every one, the world itself, I think, would not be able to contain the books that should be written."' And Vieyra says on this point that in this single phrase the Evangelist said more than in all else he wrote; and this same Lusitanian Phoenix speaks well (but when does he not speak well, even when it is not well he speak?) because in those words Saint John said everything left unsaid and expressed all that was left to be expressed. And thus I, lady, shall respond only that I do not know how to respond; I shall thank you in saying only that I am incapable of thanking you; and I shall say, through the indication of what I leave to silence, that it is only with the confidence of one who is favored and with the protection of one who is honorable that I presume to address your magnifi- cence, and if this be folly, be forgiving of it, for folly may be good fortune, and in this manner I shall provide further occasion for your benignity and you will better shape my appreciation.

Because he was halting of speech, Moses thought himself un- worthy to speak with Pharaoh, but after he found himself highly favored of God, and thus inspired, he not only spoke with God Almighty but dared ask the impossible: shew me thy face.5 In this same manner, lady, and in view of how you favor me, I no longer see as impossible the obstructions I posed in the beginning: for who was it who had my letter printed unbeknownst to me? Who entitled it, who bore the cost, who honored it, it being so unwor- thy in itself, and in its author? What will such a person not do, not pardon? What would he fail to do, or fail to pardon? And thus, based on the supposition that I speak under the safe-conduct of your favor, and with the assurance of your benignity and with the knowledge that like a second Ahasuerus you have offered to me to kiss the top of the golden scepter of your affection as a sign of conceding to me your benevolent license to speak and offer judg- ments in your exalted presence, I say to you that I have taken to heart your most holy admonition that I apply myself to the study of the Sacred Books, which, though it comes in the guise of coun- sel, will have for me the authority of a precept, but with the not insignificant consolation that even before your counsel I was dis- posed to obey your pastoral suggestion, as your direction, which may be inferred from the premise and arguments of my Letter. For I know well that your most sensible warning is not directed against it, but rather against those worldly matters of which I have written. And thus I had hoped with the Letter to make amends for any lack of application you may (with great reason) have inferred from others of my writings; and, speaking more particularly, I confess to you with all the candor of which you are deserving, and with the truth and clarity which are the natural custom in me, that my not having written often of sacred matters was not caused by disaffection or by want of application, but by the abundant fear and reverence due those Sacred Letters, know- ing myself incapable of their comprehension and unworthy of their employment. Always resounding in my ears, with no little horror, I hear God's threat and prohibition to sinners like myself. Why dost thou declare my justices, and take my covenant in thy mouth ?6 This question, as well as the knowledge that even learned men are forbidden to read the Canticle of Canticles until they have passed thirty years of age, or even Genesis-the latter for its obscurity, the former in order that the sweetness of those epitha- lamia not serve as occasion for imprudent youth to transmute their meaning into carnal emotion, as borne out by my exalted Father Saint Jerome, who ordered that these be the last verses to be studied, and for the same reason: And finally, one may read without peril the Song of Songs, for if it is read early one may suf- fer harm through not understanding those Epithalamia of the spir- itual wedding which is expressed in carnal terms. And Seneca says: In the early years the faith is dim. For how then would I have dared take in my unworthy hands these verses, defying gender, age, and, above all, custom? And thus I confess that many times this fear has plucked my pen from my hand and has turned my thoughts back toward the very same reason from which they had wished to be born: which obstacle did not impinge upon profane matters, for a heresy against art is not punished by the Holy Of- fice but by the judicious with derision, and by critics with cen- sure, and censure, just or unjust, is not to be feared, as it does not forbid the taking of communion or hearing of mass, and offers me little or no cause for anxiety, because in the opinion of those who defame my art, I have neither the obligation to know nor the ap- titude to triumph. If, then, I err, I suffer neither blame nor dis- credit: I suffer no blame, as I have no obligation; no discredit, as I have no possibility of triumphing-and no one is obliged to do the impossible. And, in truth, I have written nothing except when compelled and constrained, and then only to give pleasure to oth- ers; not alone without pleasure of my own, but with absolute re- pugnance, for I have never deemed myself one who has any worth in letters or the wit necessity demands of one who would write; and thus my customary response to those who press me, above all in sacred matters, is, what capacity of reason have I? what appli- cation? what resources? what rudimentary knowledge of such matters beyond that of the most superficial scholarly degrees? Leave these matters to those who understand them; I wish no quarrel with the Holy Office, for I am ignorant, and I tremble that I may express some proposition that will cause offense or twist the true meaning of some scripture. I do not study to write, even less to teach-which in one like myself were unseemly pride-but only to the end that if I study, I will be ignorant of less. This is my response, and these are my feelings.

I have never written of my own choice, but at the urging of oth- ers, to whom with reason I might say, You have compelled me .7 But one truth I shall not deny (first, because it is well-known to all, and second, because although it has not worked in my favor, God has granted me the mercy of loving truth above all else), which is that from the moment I was first illuminated by the light of reason, my inclination toward letters has been so vehement, so overpowering, that not even the admonitions of others-and I have suffered many-nor my own meditations-and they have not been few-have been sufficient to cause me to forswear this natural impulse that God placed in me: the Lord God knows why, and for what purpose. And He knows that I have prayed that He dim the light of my reason, leaving only that which is needed to keep His Law, for there are those who would say that all else is unwanted in a woman, and there are even those who would hold that such knowledge does injury. And my Holy Father knows too that as I have been unable to achieve this (my prayer has not been answered), I have sought to veil the light of my reason- along with my name-and to offer it up only to Him who be- stowed it upon me, and He knows that none other was the cause for my entering into Religion, notwithstanding that the spiritual exercises and company of a community were repugnant to the freedom and quiet I desired for my studious endeavors. And later, in that community, the Lord God knows-and, in the world, only the one who must know-how diligently I sought to ob- scure my name, and how this was not permitted, saying it was temptation: and so it would have been. If it were in my power, lady, to repay you in some part what I owe you, it might be done by telling you this thing which has never before passed my lips, except to be spoken to the one who should hear it. It is my hope that by having opened wide to you the doors of my heart, by hav- ing made patent to you its most deeply-hidden secrets, you will deem my confidence not unworthy of the debt I owe to your most august person and to your most uncommon favors.

Continuing the narration of my inclinations, of which I wish to give you a thorough account, I will tell you that I was not yet three years old when my mother determined to send one of my elder sisters to learn to read at a school for girls we call the Ami- gas. Affection, and mischief, caused me to follow her, and when I observed how she was being taught her lessons I was so inflamed with the desire to know how to read, that deceiving-for so I knew it to be-the mistress, I told her that my mother had meant for me to have lessons too. She did not believe it, as it was little to be believed, but, to humor me, she acceded. I continued to go there, and she continued to teach me, but now, as experience had disabused her, with all seriousness; and I learned so quickly that before my mother knew of it I could already read, for my teacher had kept it from her in order to reveal the surprise and reap the re- ward at one and the same time. And I, you may be sure, kept the secret, fearing that I would be whipped for having acted without permission. The woman who taught me, may God bless and keep her, is still alive and can bear witness to all I say.

I also remember that in those days, my tastes being those com- mon to that age, I abstained from eating cheese because I had heard that it made one slow of wits, for in me the desire for learn- ing was stronger than the desire for eating-as powerful as that is in children. When later, being six or seven, and having learned how to read and write, along with all the other skills of needle- work and household arts that girls learn, it came to my attention that in Mexico City there were Schools, and a University, in which one studied the sciences. The moment I heard this, I began to plague my mother with insistent and importunate pleas: she should dress me in boy's clothing and send me to Mexico City to live with relatives, to study and be tutored at the University. She would not permit it, and she was wise, but I assuaged my disap- pointment by reading the many and varied books belonging to my grandfather, and there were not enough punishments, nor reprimands, to prevent me from reading: so that when I came to the city many marveled, not so much at my natural wit, as at my memory, and at the amount of learning I had mastered at an age when many have scarcely learned to speak well.

I began to study Latin grammar-in all, I believe, I had no more than twenty lessons-and so intense was my concern that though among women (especially a woman in the flower of her youth) the natural adornment of one's hair is held in such high es- teem, I cut off mine to the breadth of some four to six fingers, measuring the place it had reached, and imposing upon myself the condition that if by the time it had again grown to that length I had not learned such and such a thing I had set for myself to learn while my hair was growing, I would again cut it off as punishment for being so slow-witted. And it did happen that my hair grew out and still I had not learned what I had set for myself-because my hair grew quickly and I learned slowly-and in fact I did cut it in punishment for such stupidity: for there seemed to me no cause for a head to be adorned with hair and naked of learning-which was the more desired embellishment. And so I entered the reli- gious order, knowing that life there entailed certain conditions (I refer to superficial, and not fundamental, regards) most repugnant to my nature; but given the total antipathy I felt for marriage, I deemed convent life the least unsuitable and the most honorable I could elect if I were to insure my salvation. Working against that end, first (as, finally, the most important) was the matter of all the trivial aspects of my nature that nourished my pride, such as wishing to live alone, and wishing to have no obligatory occupa- tion that would inhibit the freedom of my studies, nor the sounds of a community that would intrude upon the peaceful silence of my books. These desires caused me to falter some while in my de- cision, until certain learned persons enlightened me, explaining that they were temptation, and, with divine favor, I overcame them, and took upon myself the state which now so unworthily I hold. I believed that I was fleeing from myself, but-wretch that I am!-I brought with me my worst enemy, my inclination, which I do not know whether to consider a gift or a punishment from Heaven, for once dimmed and encumbered by the many ac- tivities common to Religion, that inclination exploded in me like gunpowder, proving how.privation is the source of appetite.

I turned again (which is badly put, for ,I never ceased), I contin- ued, then, in my studious endeavour (which for me was respite during those moments not occupied by my duties) of reading and more reading, of study and more study, with no teachers but my books. Thus I learned how difficult it,is to study those soulless letters; lacking a human voice or the explication of a teacher. But I suffered this labor happily for my love of learning. Oh, had it only been for love of God, which were proper, how worthwhile it would have been! I strove mightily to elevate these studies, to dedicate them to His service, as the goal to which I aspired was to study Theology-it seeming to me debilitating for a Catholic not to know everything in this life of the Divine Mysteries that can be learned through natural means-and, being a nun and not a layper- son, it was seemly that I profess my vows to learning through ec- clesiastical channels; and especially, being a daughter of a Saint Jerome and a Saint Paula, it was essential that such erudite parents not be shamed by a witless daughter. This is the argument I pro- posed to myself, and it seemed to me well-reasoned. It was, however (and this cannot be denied) merely glorification and ap- probation of my inclination, and enjoyment of it offered as justi- fication.

And so I continued, as I have said, directing the course of my studies toward, the peak of Sacred Theology, it seeming necessary to me, in order to scale those heights, to climb the steps of the hu- man sciences and arts; for how could one undertake the study of the Queen of Sciences if first one had not come to know her ser- vants? How, without Logic, could I be apprised of the general and specific way in which the Holy Scripture is written? How, without Rhetoric, could I understand its figures, its tropes, its lo- cutions? How, without Physics, so many innate questions con- cerning the nature of animals, their sacrifices, wherein exist so many symbols, many already declared, many still to be discov- ered? How should I know whether Saul's being refreshed by the sound of David's harp was due to the virtue and natural power of Music, or to a transcendent power God wished to place in David? How, without Arithmetic, could one understand, the computa- tions of the years, days, months, hours, those mysterious weeks communicated by Gabriel to Daniel, and others for whose under- standing one must know the nature, concordance, and properties of numbers? How, without Geometry, could one measure the Holy Arc of the Covenant and the Holy City of Jerusalem, whose mysterious measures are foursquare in all their dimensions, as well as the miraculous proportions of all their parts? How, with- out Architecture, could one know the great Temple of Solomon, of which God Himself was the Author who conceived the dispo- sition and the design, and the Wise King but the overseer who ex- ecuted it, of which temple there was no foundation without mystery no column without symbolism, no cornice without allu- sion, no architrave without significance; and similarly others of its parts, of which the least fillet was never intended solely for the service and complement of Art, but as symbol of greater things? How, without great knowledge of the laws and parts of which History is comprised, could one understand historical Books? Or those recapitulations in which many times what happened first is seen in the narrated account to have happened later? How, with- out great learning in Canon and Civil Law, could one understand Legal Books? How, without great erudition, could one apprehend the secular histories of which the Holy Scripture makes mention, such as the many customs of the Gentiles, their many rites, their many ways of speaking? How without the abundant laws and lessons of the Holy Fathers could one understand the obscure les- son of the Prophets? And without being expert in Music, how could one understand the exquisite precision of the musical pro- portions that grace so many Scriptures, particularly those in which Abraham beseeches God in defense of the Cities, asking whether He would spare the place were there but fifty just men therein; and then Abraham reduced that number to five less than fifty, forty-five, which is a ninth, and is as Mi to Re; then to forty, which is a tone, and is as Re to MI; from forty to thirty, which is a diatessaron, the interval of the perfect fourth; from thirty to twenty, which is the perfect fifth, and from twenty to ten, which is the octave, the diapason; and as there are no further harmonic proportions, made no further reductions. How might one under- stand this without Music? And there in the Book of Job, God says to job: Shalt thou be able to join together the shining stars the Pleiades, or canst thou stop the turning about of Arcturus? Canst thou bring forth the day star in its time and make the evening star to rise upon the children of the earth?' Which message, without knowledge of Astrology, would be impossible to apprehend. And not only these noble sciences; there is no applied art that is not mentioned. And, finally, in consideration of the Book that com- prises all books, and the Soience in which all sciences are em- braced, and for whose comprehension all sciences serve, and even after knowing them all (which we now see is not easy, nor even possible), there is one condition that takes precedence over all the rest, which is uninterrupted prayer and purity of life, that one may entreat of God that purgation of spirit and illumination of mind necessary for the understanding of such elevated matters: and if that be lacking, none of the aforesaid will have been of any purpose.

Of the Angelic Doctor Saint Thomas the Church affirms: When reading the most difficult passages of the Holy Scripture, he joined fast with prayer. And he was wont to say to his companion Brother Reginald that all be knew derived not so much from study or his own labor as from the grace of God. How then should I- so lacking in virtue and so poorly read-find courage to write? But as I had acquired the rudiments of learning, I continued to study ceaselessly divers subjects, having for none any particular inclination, but for all in general; and having studied some more than others was not owing to preference, but to the chance that more books on certain subjects had fallen into my hands, causing the election of them through no discretion of my own. And as I was not directed by preference, nor, forced by the need to fulfill certain scholarly requirements, constrained by time in the pursuit of any subject, I found myself free to study numerous topics at the same time, or to leave some for others; although in this scheme some order was observed, for some I deigned study and others diversion, and in the latter I found respite from the former. From which it follows that though I have studied many things I know nothing, as some have inhibited the learning of others. I speak specifically of the practical aspect of those arts that allow practice, because it is clear that when the pen moves the compass must lie idle, and while the harp is played the organ is stilled, et sic de caeteris. And because much practice is required of one who would acquire facility, none who divides his interest among vari- ous exercises may reach perfection. Whereas in the formal and theoretical arts the contrary is true, and I would hope to persuade all with my experience, which is that one need not inhibit the other, but, in fact, each may illuminate and open the way to oth- ers, by nature of their variations and their hidden links, which were placed in this universal chain by the wisdom of their Author in such a way that they conform and are joined together with ad- mirable unity and harmony. This is the very chain the ancients be- lieved did issue from the mouth of Jupiter, from which were suspended all things linked one with another, as is demonstrated by the Reverend Father Athanasius Kircher in his curious book, De Magnate.' All things issue from God, Who is at once the cen- ter and the circumference from which and in which all lines begin and end.

I myself can affirm that what I have not understood in an au- thor in one branch of knowledge I may understand in a second in a branch that seems remote from the first. And authors, in their elucidation, may suggest metaphorical examples in other arts: as when logicians say that to prove whether parts are equal, the mean is to the extremes as a determined measure to two equidis- tant bodies; or in stating how the argument of the logician moves, in the manner of a straight line, along the shortest route, while that of the rhetorician moves, as a curve, by the longest, but that both finally arrive at the same point. And similarly, as it is when they say that the Expositors are like an open hand, and the Scholastics like a closed fist. And thus it is no apology, nor do I offer it as such, to say that I have studied many subjects, seeing that each augments the other; but that I have not profited is the fault of my own ineptitude and the inadequacy of my intelligence, not the fault of the variety. But what may be offered as exonera- tion is that I undertook this great task without benefit of teacher, or fellow students with whom to confer and discuss, having for a master no other than a mute book, and for a colleague, an insen- tient inkwell; and in the stead of explication and exercise, many obstructions, not merely those of my religious obligations (for it is already known how useful and advantageous is the time em- ployed in them), rather, all the attendant details of living in a com- munity: how I might be reading, and those in the adjoining cell would wish to play their instruments, and sing; how I might be studying, and two servants who had quarreled would select me to judge their dispute; or how I might be writing, and a friend come to visit me, doing me no favor but with the best of will, at which time one must not only accept the inconvenience, but be grateful for the hurt. And such occurrences are the normal state of affairs, for as the times I set apart for study are those remaining after the ordinary duties of the community are fulfilled, they are the same moments available to my sisters, in which they may come to in- terrupt my labor; and only those who have experience of such a community will know how true this is, and how it is only the strength of my vocation that allows me happiness; that, and the great love existing between me and my beloved sisters, for as love is union, it knows no extremes of distance.

With this I confess how interminable has been my labor; and how I am unable to say what I have with envy heard others state-that they have not been plagued by the thirst for knowl- edge: blessed are they. For me, not the knowing (for still I do not know), merely the desiring to know, has been such torment that I can say, as has my Father Saint Jerome (although not with his ac- complishment) ... my conscience is witness to what effort I have expended, what difficulties I have suffered, how many times I have despaired, how often I have ceased my labors and turned to them again, driven by the hunger for knowledge; my conscience is witness, and that of those who have lived beside me. With the ex- ception of the companions and witnesses (for I have been denied even this consolation), I can attest to the truth of these words. And to the fact that even so, my dark inclination has been so great that it has conquered all else!

It has been my fortune that, among other benefices, I owe to God a most tender and affable nature, and because of it my sisters (who being good women do not take note of my faults) hold me in great affection, and take pleasure in my company; and knowing this, and moved by the great love I hold for them-having greater reason than they-I enjoy even more their company. Thus I was wont in our rare idle moments to visit among them, offering them consolation and entertaining myself in their conversation. I could not help but note, however, that in these times I was neglecting my study, and I made a vow not to enter any cell unless obliged by obedience or charity; for without such a compelling con- straint-the constraint of mere intention not being sufficient- my love would be more powerful than my will. I would (knowing well my frailty) make this vow for the period of a few weeks, or a month, and when that time had expired, I would allow myself a brief respite of a day or two before renewing it, using that time not so much for rest (for not studying has never been restful for me) as to assure that I not be deemed cold, remote, or ungrateful in the little-deserved affection of my dearest sisters.

.-In this practice one may recognize the strength of my inclina- tion. I give thanks to God, Who willed that such an ungovernable force be turned toward letters and not to some other vice. From this it may also be inferred how obdurately against the current my poor studies have sailed (more accurately, have foundered). For still to be related is the most arduous of my difficulties-those mentioned until now, either compulsory or fortuitous, being merely tangential-and still unreported the more-directly aimed slings and arrows that have acted to impede and prevent the exer- cise of my study. Who would have doubted, having witnessed such general approbation, that I sailed before the wind across calm seas, amid the laurels of widespread acclaim. But our Lord God knows that it has not been so; He knows how from amongst the blossoms of this very acclaim emerged such a number of aroused vipers, hissing their emulation and their persecution, that one could not count them. But the most noxious, those who most deeply wounded me, have not been those who persecuted me with open loathing and malice, but rather those who in loving me and desiring my well-being (and who are deserving of God's blessing for their good intent) have mortified and tormented me more than those others with their abhorrence. "Such studies are not in conformity with sacred innocence; surely she will be lost; surely she will, by cause of her very perspicacity and acuity, grow heady at such exalted heights." How was I to endure? An un- common sort of martyrdom in which I was both martyr and exe- cutioner.

And as for my (in me, twice hapless) facility in making verses, even though they be sacred verses, what sorrows have I not suf- fered? What sorrows not ceased to suffer? Be assured, lady, it is often that I have meditated on how one who distinguishes him- self-or one on whom God chooses to confer distinction, for it is only He who may do so-is received as a common enemy, be- cause it seems to some that he usurps the applause they deserve, or that he dams up the admiration to which they aspired, and so they persecute that person.

That politically barbaric law of Athens by which any person who excelled by cause of his natural gifts and virtues was exiled from his Republic in order that he not threaten the public free- dom still endures, is still observed in our day, although not for the reasons held by the Athenians. Those reasons have been replaced by another, no less efficient though not as well founded, seeming, rather, a maxim more appropriate to that impious Machiavelli- which is to abhor one who excels, because he deprives others of regard. And thus it happens, and thus it has always happened.

For if not, what was the cause of the rage and loathing the Phar- isees directed against Christ, there being so many reasons to love Him? If we behold His presence, what is more to be loved than that Divine beauty? What more powerful to stir one's heart? For if ordinary human beauty holds sway over strength of will, and is able to subdue it with tender and enticing vehemence, what power would Divine beauty exert, with all its prerogatives and sovereign endowments? What might move, what affect, what not move and not affect, such incomprehensible beauty, that beau- teous face through which, as through a polished crystal, were dif- fused the rays of Divinity? What would not be moved by that semblance which beyond incomparable human perfections re- vealed Divine illuminations? If the visage of Moses, merely from conversation with God, caused men to fear to come near him, how much finer must be the face of God-made-flesh? And among other virtues, what more to be loved than that celestial modesty? That sweetness and kindness disseminating mercy in every move- ment? That profound humility and gentleness? Those words of eternal life and eternal wisdom? How therefore is it possible that such beauty did not stir their souls, that they did not follow after Him, enamored and enlightened?

The Holy Mother, my Mother Teresa, says that when she be- held the beauty of Christ, never again was she inclined toward any human creature, for she saw nothing that was not ugliness compared to such beauty. How was it then that in men it engen- dered such contrary reactions? For although they were uncouth and vile and had no knowledge or appreciation of His perfections, not even as they might profit from them, how was it they were not moved by the many advantages of such benefices as He per- formed for them, healing the sick, resurrecting the, dead, restoring those possessed of the devil? How was it they did not love Him? But God is witness that it was for these very acts they did not love Him, that they despised Him. As they themselves testified.

They gather together in their council and say: What do we? for this man doth many miracles.'° Can this be cause? If they had said: here is an evil-doer, a transgressor of the law, a rabble-rouser who with deceit stirs up the populace, they would have lied-as they did indeed lie when they spoke these things. But there were more apposite reasons for effecting what they desired, which was to take His life; and to give as reason that he had performed won- drous deeds seems not befitting learned men, for such were the Pharisees. Thus it is that in the heat of passion learned men erupt with such irrelevancies; for we know it as truth that only for this reason was it determined that Christ should die. Oh, men, if men you may be called, being so like to brutes, what is the cause of so cruel a determination? Their only response is that "this man doth many miracles." May God forgive them. Then is performing sig- nal deeds cause enough that one should die? This "he doth many miracles" evokes the root of Jesse, who standeth for an ensign of the people," and that and for a sign which shall be contradicted. 1s He is a sign? Then He shall die. He excels? Then He shall suffer, for that is the reward for one who excels.

Often on the crest of temples are placed as adornment figures of the winds and of fame, and to defend them from the birds, they are covered with iron barbs; this appears to be in defense, but is in truth obligatory propriety: the figure thus elevated cannot avoid becoming the target of those barbs; there on high is found the an- imosity of the air, on high, the ferocity of the elements, on high is unleashed the anger of the thunderbolt, on high stands the target for slings and arrows. Oh unhappy eminence, exposed to such uncounted perils. Oh sign, become the target of envy and the butt of contradiction. Whatever eminence, whether that of dignity, no- bility, riches, beauty, or science, must suffer this burden; but the eminence that undergoes the most severe attack is that of reason. First, because it is the most defenseless, for riches and power strike out against those who dare attack them; but not so reason, for while it is the greater it is more modest and long-suffering, and defends itself less. Second, as Gracian stated so eruditely, favors in man's reason are favors in his nature. For no other cause except that the angel is superior in reason is the angel above man; for no other cause does man stand above the beast but by his reason; and thus, as no one wishes to be lower than another, neither does he confess that another is superior in reason, as reason is a conse- quence of being superior. One will abide, and will confess that an- other is nobler than he, that another is richer, more handsome, and even that he is more learned, but that another is richer in rea- son scarcely any will confess: Rare is he who will concede genius. That is why the assault against this virtue works to such profit.

When the soldiers mocked, made entertainment and diversion of our Lord Jesus Christ, they brought Him a worn purple gar- ment and a hollow reed, and a crown of thorns to crown Him King of Fools. But though the reed and the purple were an af- front, they did not cause suffering. Why does only the crown give pain? Is it not enough that like the other emblems the crown was a symbol of ridicule and ignominy, as that was its intent? No. Be- cause the sacred head of Christ and His divine intellect were the depository of wisdom, and the world is not satisfied for wisdom to be the object of mere ridicule, it must also be done injury and harm. A head that is a storehouse of wisdom can expect nothing but a crown of thorns. What garland may human wisdom expect when it is known what was bestowed on that divine wisdom? Ro- man pride crowned the many achievements of their Captains with many crowns: he who defended the city received the civic crown; he who fought his way into the hostile camp received the camp crown; he who scaled the wall, the mural; he who liberated a be- sieged city, or any army besieged either in the field or in their en- campment, received the obsidional, the siege, crown; other feats were crowned with naval, ovation, or triumphal crowns, as de- scribed by Pliny and Aulus Gellius. Observing so many and var- ied crowns, I debated as to which Christ's crown must have been, and determined that it was the siege crown, for (as well you know lady) that was the most honored crown and was called obsidional after obsidio, which means siege; which crown was made not from gold, or silver, but from the leaves and grasses flourishing on the field where the feat was achieved. And as the heroic feat of Christ was to break the siege of the Prince of Darkness, who had laid siege to all the earth, as is told in the Book of job, quoting Satan: I have gone round about the earth, and walked through it," and as St. Peter says: As a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour. 14 And our Master came and caused him to lift the siege: Now shall the prince of this world be cast out." So the sol- diers crowned Him not with gold or silver but with the natural fruit of the world, which was the field of battle-and which, after the curse Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee,11 pro- duced only thorns-and thus it was a most fitting crown for the courageous and wise Conqueror, with which His mother Syria- ***[37]*** than envy witness miracles. In all the above, most honored lady, I do not wish to say (nor is such folly to be found in me) that I have been persecuted for my wisdom, but merely for my love of wis- dom and letters, having achieved neither one nor the other.

At one time even the Prince of the Apostles was very far from wisdom, as is emphasized in that But Peter followed afar o ff22 Very distant from the laurels of a learned man is one so little in his judgment that he was Not knowing what he said .23 And being questioned on his mastery of wisdom, he himself was witness that he had not achieved the first measure: But he denied him, saying: Woman, I know him not.24 And what becomes of him? We find that having this reputation of ignorance, he did not enjoy its good fortune, but, rather, the affliction of being taken for wise. And why? There was no other motive but: This man also was with him .25 He was fond of wisdom, it filled his heart, he followed af- ter it, he prided himself as a pursuer and lover of wisdom; and al- though he followed from so afar off that he neither understood nor achieved it, his love for it was sufficient that he incur its tor- ments. And there was present that soldier to cause him distress, and a certain maid-servant to cause him grief. I confess that I find myself very distant from the goals of wisdom, for all that I have desired to follow it, even from afar off. But in this I have been brought closer to the fire of persecution, to the crucible of tor- ment, and to such lengths that they have asked that study be for- bidden to me.

At one time this was achieved through the offices of a very saintly and ingenuous Abbess who believed that study was a thing of the Inquisition, who commanded me not to study. I obeyed her (the three some months her power to command, en- dured) in that I did not take up a book; but that I study not at all is not within my power to achieve, and this I could not obey, for though I did not study in books, I studied all the things that God had wrought, reading in them, as in writing and in books, all the workings of the universe. I looked on nothing without reflexion; I heard nothing without meditation, even in the most minute and imperfect things; because as there is no creature, however lowly, in which one cannot recognize that God made me, there is none that does not astound reason, if properly meditated on. Thus, I reiterate, I saw and admired all things; so that even the very per- sons with whom I spoke, and the things they said, were cause for a thousand meditations. Whence the variety of genius and wit, be- ing all of a single species? Which the temperaments and hidden qualities that occasioned such variety? If I saw a figure, I was for- ever combining the proportion of its lines and measuring it with my reason and reducing it to new proportions. Occasionally as I walked along the far wall of one of our dormitories (which is a most capacious room) I observed that though the lines of the two . sides were parallel and the ceiling perfectly level, in my sight they were distorted, the lines seeming to incline toward one another, the ceiling seeming lower in the distance than in proximity: from which I inferred that visual lines run straight but not parallel, forming a pyramidal figure. I pondered whether this might not be the reason that caused the ancients to question whether the world were spherical. Because, although it so seems, this could be a de- ception of vision, suggesting concavities where possibly none ex- isted.

This manner of reflection has always been my habit, and is quite beyond my will to control; on the contrary, I am wont to become vexed that my intellect makes me weary; and I believed that it was so with everyone, as well as making verses, until expe- rience taught me otherwise; and it is so strong in me this nature, or custom, that I look at nothing without giving it further exami- nation. Once in my presence two young girls were spinning a top and scarcely had I seen the motion and the figure described, when I began, out of this madness of mine, to meditate on the effortless motus of the spherical form, and how the impulse persisted even when free and independent of its cause-for the top continued to dance even at some distance from the child's hand, which was the causal force. And not content with this, I had flour brought and sprinkled about, so that as the top danced one might learn whether these were perfect circles it described with its movement; and I found that they were not, but, rather, spiral lines that lost their circularity as the impetus declined. Other girls sat playing at spillikins (surely the most frivolous game that children play); I walked closer to observe the figures they formed, and seeing that by chance three lay in a triangle, I set to joining one with another, recalling that this was said to be the form of the mysterious ring of Solomon,26 in which he was able to see the distant splendor and images of the Holy Trinity, by virtue of which the ring worked such prodigies and marvels. And the same shape was said to form David's harp, and that is why Saul was refreshed at its sound; and harps today largely conserve that shape.

And what shall I tell you, lady, of the natural secrets I have dis- covered while cooking? I see that an egg holds together and fries in butter or in oil, but, on the contrary, in syrup shrivels into shreds; observe that to keep sugar in a liquid state one need only add a drop or two of water in which a quince or other bitter fruit has been soaked; observe that the yolk and the white of one egg are so dissimilar that each with sugar produces a result not ob- tainable with both together. I do not wish to weary you with such inconsequential matters, and make mention of them only to give you full notice of my nature, for I believe they will be occasion for laughter. But, lady, as women, what wisdom may be ours if not the philosophies of the kitchen? Lupercio Leonardo spoke well when he said: how well one may philosophize when prepar- ing dinner .27 And I often say, when observing these trivial details: had Aristotle prepared victuals, he would have written more. And pursuing the manner of my cogitations, I tell you that this process is so continuous in me that I have no need for books. And on one occasion, when because of a grave upset of the stomach the physi- cians forbade me to study, I passed thus some days, but then I proposed that it would be less harmful if they allowed me books, because so vigorous and vehement were my cogitations that my spirit was consumed more greatly in a quarter of an hour than in four days' studying books. And thus they were persuaded to al- low me to read. And moreover, lady, not even have my dreams been excluded from this ceaseless agitation of my imagination; in- deed, in dreams it is wont to work more freely and less encum- bered, collating with greater clarity and calm the gleanings of the day, arguing and making verses, of which I could offer you an ex- tended catalogue, as well as of some arguments and inventions that I have better achieved sleeping than awake. I relinquish this subject in order not to tire you, for the above is sufficient to allow your discretion and acuity to penetrate perfectly and perceive my nature, as well as the beginnings, the methods, and the present state of my studies.

Even, lady, were these merits (and I see them celebrated as such in men), they would not have been so in me for I cannot but study. If they are fault, then, for the same reasons, I believe I have none. Nevertheless, I live always with so little confidence in my- self that neither in my study, nor in any other thing, do I trust my judgment; and thus I remit the decision to your sovereign genius, submitting myself to whatever sentence you may bestow, without controversy, without reluctance, for I have wished here only to present you with a simple narration of my inclination toward let- ters.

I confess, too, that though it is true, as I have stated, that I had no need of books, it is nonetheless also true that they have been no little inspiration, in divine as in human letters. Because I find a Debbora administering the law, both military and political, and governing a people among whom there were many learned men. I find a most wise Queen of Saba, so learned that she dares to chal- lenge with hard questions the wisdom of the greatest of all wise men, without being reprimanded for doing so, but, rather, as a consequence, to judge unbelievers. I see many and illustrious women; some blessed with the gift of prophecy, like Abigail; oth- ers of persuasion, like Esther; others with pity, like Rahab; others with perseverance, like Anna, the mother of Samuel; and an infi- nite number of others, with divers gifts and virtues.

If I again turn to the Gentiles, the first I encounter are the Sibyls, those women chosen by God to prophesy the principal mysteries of our Faith, and with learned and elegant verses that surpass admiration. I see adored as a goddess of the sciences a woman like Minerva, the daughter of the first Jupiter and mistress over all the wisdom of Athens. I see a Polla Argentaria, who helped Lucan, her husband, write his epic Pharsalia. I see the daughter of the divine Tiresias, more learned than her father. I see a Zenobia, Queen of the Palmyrans, as wise as she was valiant. An Arete, most learned daughter of Aristippus. A Nicostrata, framer of Latin verses and most erudite in Greek. An Aspasia of Miletus, who taught philosophy and rhetoric, and who was a teacher of the philosopher Pericles. An Hypatia, who taught astrology, and studied many years in Alexandria. A Leontium, a Greek woman, who questioned the philosopher Theophrastus, and convinced him. A Jucia, a Corinna, a Cornelia; and, finally, a great throng of women deserving to be named, some as Greeks, some as muses, some as seers; for all were nothing more than learned women, held, and celebrated-and venerated as well-as such by antiq- uity. Without mentioning an infinity of other women whose names fill books. For example, I find the Egyptian Catherine, studying and influencing the wisdom of all the wise men of Egypt. I see a Gertrude studying, writing, and teaching. And not to overlook examples close to home, I see my most holy mother Paula, learned in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and most able in in- terpreting the Scriptures. And what greater praise than, having as her chronicler a Jeronimus Maximus, that Saint scarcely found himself competent for his task, and says, with that weighty delib- eration and energetic precision with which he so well expressed himself: "If all the members of my body were tongues, they still would not be sufficient to proclaim the wisdom and virtue of Paula." Similarly praiseworthy was the widow Blesilla; also, the illustrious virgin Eustochium, both daughters of this same saint; especially the second, who, for her knowledge, was called the Prodigy of the World. The Roman Fabiola was most well-versed in the Holy Scripture. Proba Falconia, a Roman woman, wrote el- egant centos, containing verses from Virgil, about the mysteries of Our Holy Faith. It is well-known by all that Queen Isabella, wife of the tenth Alfonso, wrote about astrology. Many others I do not list, out of the desire not merely to transcribe what others have said (a vice I have always abominated); and many are flourishing today, as witness Christina Alexandra, Queen of Sweden, as learned as she is valiant and magnanimous, and the Most Honor- able Ladies, the Duquesa of Aveyro and the Condesa of Villaum- brosa.

The venerable Doctor Arce (by his virtue and learning a wor- thy teacher of the Scriptures) in his scholarly Bibliorum raises this question: Is it permissible for women to dedicate themselves to the study of the Holy Scriptures, and to their interpretation? and he offers as negative arguments the opinions of many saints, espe- cially that of the Apostle: Let women keep silence in the churches; for it is not permitted them to speak, etc." He later cites other opinions and, from the same Apostle, verses from his letter to Ti- tus: The aged women in like manner, in holy attire ... teaching we 11,29 with interpretations by the Holy Fathers. Finally he re- solves, with all prudence, that teaching publicly from a University chair, or preaching from the pulpit, is not permissible for women; but that to study, write, and teach privately not only is permissi- ble, but most advantageous and useful. It is evident that this is not to be the case with all women, but with those to whom God may have granted special virtue and prudence, and who may be well advanced in learning, and having the essential talent and requisites for such a sacred calling. This view is indeed just, so much so that not only women, who are held to be so inept, but also men, who merely for being men believe they are wise, should be prohibited from interpreting the Sacred Word if they are not learned and vir- tuous and of gentle and well-inclined natures; that this is not so has been, I believe, at the root of so much sectarianism and so many heresies. For there are many who study but are ignorant, especially those who are in spirit arrogant, troubled, and proud, so eager for new interpretations of the Word (which itself rejects new interpretations) that merely for the sake of saying what no one else has said they speak a heresy, and even then are not con- tent. Of these the Holy Spirit says: For wisdom will not enter into a malicious soul.3° To such as these more harm results from know- ing than 'from ignorance. A wise man has said: he who does not know Latin is not a complete fool, but he who knows it is well qualified to be. And I would add that a fool may reach perfection (if ignorance may tolerate perfection) by having studied his tittle of philosophy and theology and by having some learning of tongues, by which he may be a fool in many sciences and lan- guages: a great fool cannot be contained solely in his mother tongue.

For such as these, I reiterate, study is harmful, because it is as if to place a sword in the hands of a madman; which, though a most noble instrument for defense, is in his hands his own death and that of many others. So were the Divine Scriptures in the posses- sion of the evil Pelagius and the intractable Arius, of the evil Luther, and the other heresiarchs like our own Doctor (who was neither ours nor a doctor) Cazalla. To these men, wisdom was harmful, although it is the greatest nourishment and the life of the soul; in the same way that in a stomach of sickly constitution and adulterated complexion, the finer the nourishment it receives, the more arid, fermented, and perverse are the humors it produces; thus these evil men: the more they study, the worse opinions they engender, their reason being obstructed with the very substance meant to nourish it, and they study much and digest little, ex- ceeding the limits of the vessel of their reason. Of which the Apostle says: For I say, by the grace that is given me, to all that are among you, not to be more wise than it bebovetb to be wise, but to be wise unto sobriety, and according as God bath divided to every one the measure of faith.II And in truth, the Apostle did not direct these words to women, but to men; and that keep silence is in- tended not only for women, but for all incompetents. If I desire to know as much, or more, than Aristotle or Saint Augustine, and if I have not the aptitude of Saint Augustine or Aristotle, though I study more than either, not only will I not achieve learning, but I will weaken and dull the workings of my feeble reason with the disproportionateness of the goal.

Oh, that each of us-1, being ignorant, the first-should take the measure of our talents before we study or, more important, write with the covetous ambition to equal and even surpass oth- ers, how little spirit we should have for it, and how many errors we should avoid, and how many tortured intellects of which we have experience, we should have had no experience! And I place my own ignorance in the forefront of all these, for if I knew all I should, I would not write. And I protest that I do so only to obey you; and with such apprehension that you owe me more that I have taken up my pen in fear than you would have owed had I presented you more perfect works. But it is well that they go to your correction. Cross them out, tear them up, reprove me, and I shall appreciate that more than all the vain applause others may offer. That just men shall correct me in mercy, and shall reprove me; but let not the oil of the sinner fatten my bead. 12

And returning again to our Arce, I say that in affirmation of his opinion he cites the words of my father, Saint Jerome: To Leta, Upon the Education of Her Daughter. Where he says: Accustom her tongue, still young, to the sweetness of the Psalms. Even the names through which little by little she will become accustomed to form her phrases should not be chosen by chance, but selected and repeated with care; the prophets must be included, of course, and the apostles, as well, and all the Patriarchs beginning with Adam and down to Matthew and Luke, so that as she practices other things she will be readying her memory for the future. Let your, daily task be taken from the flower of the Scriptures. And if this Saint desired that a young girl scarcely beginning to talk be edu- cated in this fashion, what would he desire for his nuns and his spiritual daughters? These beliefs are illustrated in the examples of the previously mentioned Eustochium and Fabiola, and Mar- cella, her sister, and Pacatula, and others whom the Saint honors in his epistles, exhorting them to this sacred exercise, as they are recognized in the epistle I cited, Let your daily task.'. . , which is affirmation of and agreement with the aged women ... teaching well of Saint Paul. My illustrious Father's Let your daily task ... makes clear that the teacher of the child is to be Leta herself, the child's mother.

Oh, how much injury might have been avoided in our land if our aged women had been learned, as was Leta, and had they known how to instruct as directed by Saint Paul and by my Fa- ther, Saint Jerome. And failing this, and because of the consider- able idleness to which our poor women have been relegated, if a father desires to provide his daughters with more than ordinary learning, he is forced by necessity, and by the absence of wise el- der women, to bring men to teach the skills of reading, writing, counting, the playing of musical instruments, and other accom- plishments, from which no little harm results, as is experienced every day in doleful examples of perilous association, because through the immediacy of contact and the intimacy born from the passage of time, what one may never have thought possible is eas- ily accomplished. For which reason many prefer to leave their daughters unpolished and uncultured rather than to expose them to such notorious peril as that of familiarity with men, which quandary could be prevented if there were learned elder women, as Saint Paul wished to see, and if the teaching were handed down from one to another, as is the custom with domestic crafts and all other traditional skills.

For what objection can there be that an older woman, learned in letters and in sacred conversation and customs, have in her charge the education of young girls? This would prevent these girls being lost either for lack of instruction or for hesitating to offer instruction through such dangerous means as male teachers, for even when there is no greater risk of indecency than to seat be- side a modest woman (who still may blush when her own father looks directly at her) a strange man who treats her as if he were a member of the household and with the authority of an intimate, the modesty demanded in interchange with men and in conversa- tion with them is sufficient reason that such an arrangement not be permitted. For I do not find that the custom of men teaching women is without its peril, lest it be in the severe tribunal of the confessional, or from the remote decency of the pulpit, or in the distant learning of books-never in the personal contact of imme- diacy. And the world knows this is true; and, notwithstanding, it is permitted solely from the want of learned elder women. Then is it not detrimental, the lack of such women? This question should be addressed by those who, bound to that Let women keep silence in the church, say that it is blasphemy for women to learn and teach, as if it were not the Apostle himself who said: The aged women ... teaching well. As well as the fact that this prohibition touches upon historical fact as reported by Eusebius: which is that in the early Church, women were charged with teaching the doctrine to one another in the temples and the sound of this teaching caused confusion as the Apostles were preaching and this is the reason they were ordered to be silent; and even today, while the homilist is preaching, one does not pray aloud.

Who will argue that for the comprehension of many Scriptures one must be familiar with the history, customs, ceremonies, proverbs, and even the manners of speaking of those times in which they were written, if one is to apprehend the references and allusions of more than a few passages of the Holy Word. And rend your heart and not your garments." Is this not a reference to the ceremony in which Hebrews rent their garments as a sign of grief, as did the evil pontiff when he said that Christ had blasphemed? In many scriptures the Apostle writes of succour for widows; did they not refer to the customs of those times? Does not the exam- ple of the valiant woman, Her husband is honourable in the gates, 34 allude to the fact that the tribunals of the judges were at the gates of the cities? That Dare terram Deo, give of your land to God, did that not mean to make some votive offering? And did they not call the public sinners hiemantes, those who endure the winter, because they made their penance in the open air instead of at a town gate as others did? And Christ's plaint to that Pharisee who had neither kissed him nor given him water for his feet, was that not because it was the Jews' usual custom to offer these acts of hospitality? And we find an infinite number of additional in- stances not only in the Divine Letters, but human as well, such as adorate purpuram, venerate the purple, which meant obey the King; manumittere eum, manumit them, alluding to the custom and ceremony of striking the slave with one's hand to signify his freedom. That intonuit coelum, heaven thundered, in Virgil, which alludes to the augury of thunder from the west, which was held to be good." Martial's to nunquam leporem edisti, you never ate hare, has not only the wit of ambiguity in its leporem, but, as well, the allusion to the reputed propensity of hares [to bless with beauty those who dine on them]. That proverb maleam legens, quae sunt domi obliviscere, to sail along the shore of Malia is to forget what one has at home, alludes to the great peril of the promontory of Laconia. That chaste matron's response to the un- wanted suit of her pretender: "the hinge-pins shall not be oiled for my sake, nor shall the torches blaze," meaning that she did not want to marry, alluded to the ceremony of anointing the door- ways with oils and lighting the nuptial torches in the wedding ceremony, as if now we would say, they shall not prepare the thir- teen coins for my dowry, nor shall the priest invoke the blessing. And thus it is with many comments of Virgil and Homer and all the poets and orators. In addition, how many are the difficulties found even in the grammar of the Holy Scripture, such as writing a plural for a singular, or changing from the second to third per- sons, as in the Psalms, Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth, for thy breasts are better than wine. 16 Or placing adjectives in the genitive instead of the accusative, as in Calicem salutaris accipiam, I will take the chalice of salvation. 17 Or to replace the feminine with the masculine, and, in contrast, to call any sin adultery.

All this demands more investigation than some believe, who strictly as grammarians, or, at most, employing the four principles of applied logic, attempt to interpret the Scriptures while clinging to that Let the women keep silence in the church, not knowing how it is to be interpreted. As well as that other verse, Let the women learn in silence." For this latter scripture works more to women's favor than their disfavor, as it commands them to learn; and it is only natural that they must maintain silence while they learn., And it is also written, Hear, oh Israel, and be silent. Which addresses the entire congregation of men and women, command- ing all to silence, because if one is to hear and learn, it is with good reason that he attend and be silent. And if it is not so, I would want these interpreters and expositors of Saint Paul to explain to me how they interpret that scripture, Let the women keep silence in the church. For either they must understand it to refer to the material church, that is the church of pulpits and cathedras, or to the spiritual, the community of the faithful, which is the Church. If they understand it to be the former, which, in my opinion, is its true interpretation, then we see that if in fact it is not permitted of women to read publicly in church, nor preach, why do they cen- sure those who study privately? And if they understand the latter, and wish that the prohibition of the Apostle be applied transcen- dentally-that not even in private are women to be permitted to write or study-how are we to view the fact that the Church per- mitted a Gertrude, a Santa Teresa, a Saint Birgitta, the Nun of Agreda, and so many others, to write? And if they say to me that these women were saints, they speak the truth; but this poses no obstacle to my argument. First, because Saint Paul's proposition is absolute, and encompasses all women not excepting saints, as Martha and Mary, Marcella, Mary mother of Jacob, and Salome, all were in their time, and many other zealous women of the early Church. But we see, too, that the Church allows women who are not saints to write, for the Nun of Agreda and Sor Maria de la An- tigua are not canonized, yet their writings are circulated. And when Santa Teresa and the others were writing, they were not as yet canonized. In which case, Saint Paul's prohibition was di- rected solely to the public office of the pulpit, for if the Apostle had forbidden women to write, the Church would not have al- lowed it. Now I do not make so bold as to teach-which in me would be excessively presumptuous-and as for writing, that re- quires a greater talent than mine, and serious reflection. As Saint Cyprian says: The things we write require most conscientious con- sideration. I have desired to study that I might be ignorant of less; for (according to Saint Augustine) some things are learned to be enacted and others only to be known: We learn some things to know them, others, to do them. Then, where is the offense to be found if even what is licit to women-which is to teach by writ- ing---I do not perform, as I know that I am lacking in means fol- lowing the counsel of Quintilian: Let each person learn not only from the precepts of others, but also let him reap counsel from his own nature.

If the offense is to be found in the Atenagorica letter, was that letter anything other than the simple expression of my feeling, written with the implicit permission of our Holy Mother Church? For if the Church, in her most sacred authority, does not . forbid it, why must others do so? That I proffered an opinion contrary to that of de Vieyra was audacious, but, as a Father, was it not audacious that he speak against the three Holy Fathers of the Church? My reason, such as it is, is it not as unfettered as his, as both issue from the same source? Is his opinion to be consid- ered as a revelation, as a principle of the Holy Faith, that we must accept blindly? Furthermore, I maintained at all times the respect due such a virtuous man, a respect in which his defender was sadly wanting, ignoring the phrase of Titus Lucius: Respect is companion to the arts. I did not touch a thread of the robes of the Society of Jesus; nor did I write for other than the consideration of the person who suggested that I write. And, according to Pliny, how different the condition of one who writes from that of one who merely speaks. Had I believed the letter was.to be published I would not have been so inattentive. If, as the censor says, the let- ter is heretical, why does he not denounce it? And with that he would be avenged, and I content, for, which is only seemly, I es- teem more highly my reputation as a Catholic and obedient daughter of the Holy Mother Church than all the approbation due a learned woman. If the letter is rash, and he does well to crit- icize it, then laugh, even if with the laugh of the rabbit, for I have not asked that he approve; as I was free to dissent from de Vieyra, so will anyone be free to oppose my opinion.
But how I have strayed, lady. None of this pertains here, nor is it intended for your ears, but as I was discussing my accusers I re- membered the words of one that recently have appeared, and, though my intent was to, speak in general, my pen, unbidden, slipped, and began to respond in particular. And so, returning to our Arce, he says that he knew in this city two nuns: one in the Convent of the Regina, who had so thoroughly committed the Breviary to memory that with the greatest promptitude and pro- priety she applied in her conversation its verses, psalms, and maxims of saintly homilies. The other, in the Convent of the Con- ception, was so accustomed to reading the Epistles of my Father Saint Jerome, and the Locutions of this Saint, that Arce says, It seemed I was listening to Saint Jerome himself, speaking in Span- ish. And of this latter woman he says that after her death he learned that she had translated these Epistles into the Spanish lan- guage. What a pity that such talents could not have been em- ployed in major studies with scientific principles. He does not give the name of either, although he offers these women as confirma- tion of his opinion, which is that not only is it licit, but most use- ful and essential for women to study the Holy Word, and even more essential for nuns; and that study is the very thing to which your wisdom exhorts me, and in which so many arguments concur.

Then if I turn my eyes to the oft-chastised faculty of making verses-which is in me so natural that I must discipline myself that even this letter not be written in that form-1 might cite those lines, All I wished to express took the form of verse. And see- ing that so many condemn and criticize this ability, I have consci- entiously sought to find what harm may be in it, and I have not found it, but, rather, I see verse acclaimed in the mouths of the Sibyls, sanctified in the pens of the Prophets, especially King David, of whom the exalted Expositor my beloved Father says (explicating the measure of his metres): in the manner of Horace and Pindar, now it hurries along in iambs, now it rings in alcaic, now swells in sapphic, then arrives in broken feet. The greater part of the Holy Books are in metre, as is the Book of Moses; and those of job (as Saint Isidore states in his Etymologiae) are in heroic verse. Solomon wrote the Canticle of Canticles in verse; and Jeremiah, his Lamentations. And so, says Cassiodorus: All poetic expression had as its source the Holy Scriptures. For not only does our Catholic Church not disdain verse, it employs verse in its hymns, and recites the lines of Saint Ambrose, Saint Thomas, Saint Isidore, and others. Saint Bonaventure was so taken with verse that he writes scarcely a page where it does not appear. It is readily apparent that Saint Paul had studied verse, for he quotes and translates verses of Aratus: For in him we live, and move, and are.39 And he quotes also that verse of Parmenides: The Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, slothful bellies .4° Saint Gregory Nazianzen argues in elegant verses the questions of mat- rimony and virginity. And, how should I tire? The Queen of Wis- dom, Our Lady, with Her sacred lips, intoned the Canticle of the Magnificat; and having brought forth this example, it would be offensive to add others that were profane, even those of the most serious and learned men, for this alone is more than sufficient confirmation; and even though Hebrew elegance could not be compressed into Latin measure, for which reason, although the sacred translator, more attentive to the importance of the mean- ing, omitted the verse, the Psalms retain the number and divisions of verses, and what harm is to be found in them? For misuse is not the blame of art, but rather of the evil teacher who perverts the arts, making of them the snare of the devil; and this occurs in all the arts and sciences.

And if the evil is attributed to the fact that a woman employs them, we have seen how many have done so in praiseworthy fash- ion; what then is the evil in my being a woman? I confess openly my own baseness and meanness, but I judge that no couplet of mine has been deemed indecent. Furthermore, I have never writ- ten of my own will, but under the pleas and injunctions of others; to such a degree that the only piece I remember having written for my own pleasure was a little trifle they called El sueno. That let- ter, lady, which you so greatly honored, I wrote more with re- pugnance than any other emotion; both by reason of the fact that it treated sacred matters, for which (as I have stated) I hold such reverent awe, and because it seems to wish to impugn, a practice for which I have natural aversion; and I believe that had I foreseen the blessed destiny to which it was fated-for like a second Moses - I had set it adrift, naked, on the waters of the Nile of silence, where you, a princess, found and cherished it-I believe, I reiter- ate, that had I known, the very hands of which it was born would have drowned it, out of the fear that these clumsy scribblings from my ignorance appear before the light of your great wisdom; by which one knows the munificence of your kindness, for your goodwill applauds precisely what your reason must wish to re- ject. For as fate cast it before your doors, so exposed, so or- phaned, that it fell to you even to give it a name, I must lament that among other deformities it also bears the blemish of haste, both because of the unrelenting ill-health I suffer, and for the pro- fusion of duties imposed on me by obedience, as well as the want of anyone to guide me in my writing and the need that it all come from my hand, and, finally, because the writing went against my nature and I wished only to keep my promise to one whom I could not disobey, I could not find the time to finish properly, and thus I failed to include whole treatises and many arguments that presented themselves to one, but which I omitted in order to put an end to the writing-many, that had I known the letter was to be printed, I would not have excluded, even if merely to satisfy some objections that have since arisen and which could have been refuted. But I shall not be so ill-mannered as to place such inde- cent objects before the purity of your eyes, for it is enough that my ignorance be an offense in your sight, without need of en- trusting to it the effronteries of others. But if in their audacity these latter should wing their way to you (and they are of such lit- tle weight that this will happen) then you will command what I am to do; for, if it does not run contrary to your will, my defense shall be not to take up my pen, for I deem that one affront need not occasion another, if one recognizes the error in the very place it lies concealed. As my Father Saint Jerome says, good discourse seeks not secret things, and Saint Ambrose, it is the nature of a guilty conscience to lie concealed. Nor do I consider that I have been impugned, for one statute of the Law states: An accusation will not endure unless nurtured by the person who brought it forth. What is a matter to be weighed is the effort spent in copy- ing the accusation. A strange madness, to expend more effort in denying acclaim than in earning it! I, lady, have chosen not to re- spond (although others did so without my knowledge); it suffices that I have seen certain treatises, among them, one so learned I send it to you so that reading it will compensate in part for the time you squandered on my writing. If, lady, you wish that I act contrary to what I have proposed here for your judgment and opinion, the merest indication of your desire will, as is seemly, countermand my inclination, which, as I have told you, is to be silent, for although Saint John Chrysostom says, those who slan- der must be refuted, and those who question, taught, I know also that Saint Gregory says, It is no less a victory to tolerate enemies than to overcome them. And that patience conquers by tolerating and triumphs by suffering. And if among the Roman Gentiles it was the custom when their captains were at the highest peak of glory-when returning triumphant from other nations, robed in purple and wreathed with laurel, crowned-but-conquered kings pulling their carriages in the stead of beasts, accompanied by the spoils of the riches of all the world, the conquering troops adorned with the insignia of their heroic feats, hearing the plau- dits of the people who showered them with titles of honor and renown such as Fathers of the Nation, Columns of the Empire, Walls of Rome, Shelter of the Republic, and other glorious names-a soldier went before these captains in this moment of the supreme apogee of glory and human happiness crying out in a loud voice to the conqueror (by his consent and order of the Sen- ate): Behold how you are mortal; behold how you have this or that defect, not excepting the most shameful, as happened in the triumph of Caesar, when the vilest soldiers clamored in his ear: Beware, Romans, for we bring you the bald adulterer. Which was done so that in the midst of such honor the conquerers not be swelled up with pride, and that the ballast of these insults act as counterweight to the bellying sails of such approbation, and that the ship of good judgment not founder amidst the winds of accla- mation. If this, I say, was the practice among Gentiles, who knew only the light of Natural Law, how much might we Catholics, un- der the injunction to love our enemies, achieve by tolerating them? And in my own behalf I can attest that calumny has often mortified me, but never harmed me, being that I hold as a great fool one who having occasion to receive credit suffers the diffi- culty and loses the credit, as it is with those who do not resign themselves to death, but, in the end, die anyway, their resistance not having prevented death, but merely deprived them of the credit of resignation and caused them to die badly when they might have died well. And thus, lady, I believe these experiences do more good than harm, and I hold as greater the jeopardy of ap- plause to human weakness, as we are wont to appropriate praise that is not our own, and must be ever watchful, and carry graven on our hearts those words of the Apostle: Or what bast thou that thou bast not received? And if thou bast received, why doest thou glory as if thou hadst not received it." so that these words serve as a shield to fend off the sharp barbs of commendations, which are as spears which when not attributed to God (whose they are), claim our lives and cause us to be thieves of God's honor and usurpers of the talents He bestowed on us and the gifts that He lent to us, for which we must give the most strict accounting. And thus, lady, I fear applause more than calumny, because the latter, with but the simple act of patience becomes gain, while the for- mer requires many acts of reflection and humility and proper recognition so that it not become harm. And I know and recog- nize that it is by special favor of God that I know this, as it enables me in either instance to act in accord with the words of Saint Augustine: One must believe neither the friend who praises nor the enemy who detracts. Although, most often I squander God's fa- vor, or vitiate with such defects and imperfections that I spoil what, being His, was good. And thus in what little of mine that has been printed, neither the use of my name, nor even consent for the printing, was given by my own counsel, but by the license of another who lies outside my domain, as was also true with the printing of the Atenagorica letter, and only a few Exercises of the Incarnation and Offerings of the Sorrows were printed for public devotions with my pleasure but without my name; of which I am sending some few copies that (if you so desire) you may distrib- ute them among our sisters, the nuns of that holy community, as well as in that city. I send but one copy of the Sorrows because the others have been exhausted and I could find no other copy. I wrote them long ago, solely for the devotions of my sisters, and later they were spread abroad; and their contents are dispropor- tionate as regards my unworthiness and my ignorance, and they profited that they touched on matters of our exalted Queen; for I cannot explain what it is that inflames the coldest heart when one refers to the Most Holy Mary. It is my only desire, esteemed lady, to remit to you works worthy of your virtue and wisdom; as the poet said:

Though strength may falter, good will must be praised.
In this, I believe, the gods will be content.

If ever I write again, my scribbling will always find its way to the haven of your holy feet and the certainty of your correction, for I have no other jewel with which to pay you, and, in the lament of Seneca, he who has once bestowed benefices has com- mitted himself to continue; and so you must be repaid out of your own munificence, for only in this way shall I with dignity be freed from debt and avoid that the words of that same Seneca come to pass: It is contemptible to be surpassed in benefices. For in his gal- lantry the generous creditor gives to the poor debtor the means to satisfy his debt. So God gave His gift to a world unable to repay Him: He gave His son that He be offered a recompense worthy of Him.

If, most venerable lady, the tone of this letter may not have seemed right and proper, I ask forgiveness for its homely famil- iarity, and the less than seemly respect in which by treating you as a nun, one of my sisters, I have lost sight of the remoteness of your most illustrious person; which, had I seen you without your veil, would never have occurred; but you in all your prudence and mercy will supplement or amend the language, and if you find un- suitable the Vos of the address I have employed, believing that for the reverence I owe you, Your Reverence seemed little reverent, modify it in whatever manner seems appropriate to your due, for I have not dared exceed the limits of your custom, nor transgress the boundary of your modesty.

And hold me in your grace, and entreat for me divine grace, of which the Lord God grant you large measure, and keep you, as I pray Him, and am needful. From this convent of our Father Saint Jerome in Mexico City, the first day of the month of March 4 six- teen hundred and ninety-one. Allow me to kiss your hand, your most favored Juana Ines de la Cruz