Yet, I say, they will complain, murmur and lament, and cannot be persuaded that they are not troubled by an evil spirit—a belief frequent among the common people in Germany, says Rodericus. Those most severely affected, for he distinguishes three degrees of this disease in women, are in despair, convinced that they have been cursed or bewitched; and in the extremity of their derangement, weary of life, some attempt to kill themselves. Some think they see visions and converse with spirits and devils, or that they will surely be damned. They fear treachery, imminent danger and the like; they will not speak or answer any question, but are almost distracted, mad or insensible for the time, in fits. This continues according to the severity of their condition, as the internal humour is intensified or diminished, or as it is aggravated by external objects and disturbances, solitude, idleness and the like.

Many other maladies befall young women from that single cause specified above: many dreadful diseases. I will not so much as mention their names. Melancholy alone is the subject of my present discussion, from which I will not depart. The various treatments for this infirmity—diet, which must be very sparing, bloodletting, medicines, internal and external remedies—are set out at length and in great variety by Rodericus à Castro, Sennertus and Mercatus, for anyone who wishes to make use of them as occasion requires.

But the best and surest remedy of all is to see them suitably settled and married to good husbands in due time: “hence those tears.” That is the primary cause, and this the ready cure: to satisfy their desires. I do not write this to defend any wanton, idle flirt, any lustful or frivolous women, who are often too forward, unruly and ready to throw themselves away on the next man who comes along, without care, deliberation, caution or judgment.

If religion, sound discipline, decent upbringing, wholesome exhortation, fair promises, reputation and the loss of a good name cannot restrain and deter such women—things that must have great influence on chaste and sober unmarried women—labour and exercise, a strict diet, severity and threats may be more appropriately used, and can themselves moderate and redirect an ill-disposed temperament.

For you will seldom see a hired servant or poor maid, even an older one, who is kept hard at work and bodily labour, or a rough country girl, troubled in this way. Rather, it is unmarried women of noble birth, delicate gentlewomen, those who are solitary and idle, live at ease without activity or employment, and eat well in great houses and convivial company; perhaps ill-disposed by nature and unwilling to resist, discontented in other ways, weak in judgment, strong in body and subject to passions. “Older unmarried women,” says Mercatus, “barren women and widows are generally melancholic.” These, for the most part, are the people affected and prone to this disease.

I do not so much pity those who may be relieved in other ways, but those alone who, through a powerful temperament and inborn constitution, are violently swept away by this torrent of internal humours. Though personally very modest, sober, religious, virtuous and well disposed—as many unmarried women in such distress are—they cannot resist. These troubles will appear; this disorder will take hold and show itself plainly, and cannot otherwise be helped.

But where am I? Into what subject have I rushed? What have I to do with nuns, unmarried women, virgins and widows? I am a bachelor myself and lead a monastic life in a college: “I am certainly a fool to have said these things.” I confess it is improper; and as the virgin Pallas blushed and turned her face away when Jupiter happened to speak of love in her presence, “I will restrain myself.” Though my subject necessarily requires it, I will say no more.

And yet I must and will say something more, add a word or two “on behalf of virgins and widows,” in favour of all such distressed people, out of compassion for their present condition. As I cannot help grieving for the misfortune of those who suffer from this infirmity and have no help, so I must denounce those at fault, its all-too-obvious causes. I must bitterly condemn those tyrannical sham statesmen, superstitious orders, rash vows, hard-hearted parents, guardians, unnatural friends and relatives—call them what you will—those careless and unfeeling overseers who, from worldly considerations, greed, utter negligence and their own private interests, “while all goes well with them meanwhile,” can so harshly reject, stubbornly neglect and impiously despise, without remorse or pity, the tears, sighs, groans and grievous miseries of the poor souls committed to their care.

How odious and abominable are these superstitious and rash vows of papist monasteries: to bind and force men and women to vow virginity and lead a single life against the laws of nature, contrary to religion, good government and humanity; to starve them, do violence to them and suppress the vigour of youth through rigorous statutes, severe laws and empty arguments; to deny them that towards which their inborn constitution so fiercely inclines and urgently drives them, sometimes hurling them headlong and leading them irresistibly, to the harm of their souls’ welfare and the sound condition of body and mind. All this for base and private interests: to maintain their gross superstition and enrich themselves and their territories, as they falsely suppose, by preventing certain marriages, so that the world may not fill with beggars or their parishes be burdened with orphans. Stupid politicians! “Can such outrages be committed?” Ought matters to be handled in this way?

“Better to marry than to burn,” says the Apostle, but they think otherwise. They will use every means to put out a fire in their neighbour’s house, yet will take no notice of the fire of lust that breaks out in such lamentable flames. Often their own flesh and blood, their very children, will rage and burn in this way, and they refuse to see it. “It is wretched,” says Augustine, “not to pity oneself”; and meanwhile they are wretched who cannot take pity on themselves, care for the common good of all, and “consequently” their own welfare.

Let them consider what fearful maladies, dreadful diseases and grave harms come to both sexes through this enforced continence. It troubles me to think of, much more to recount, those frequent abortions and murders of infants in their nunneries—read Chemnitz and others—their notorious fornications, those sexual libertines, women who have sex with women, flute girls and the like; those rapes, incests, adulteries, masturbations, sodomies and buggeries of monks and friars. See Bale’s visitation of abbeys, Mercurialis, Rodericus à Castro, Peter Forestus and various physicians. I know their usual defences and excuses for these things; “but let statesmen, physicians and theologians look to them.” I shall deal with them more suitably elsewhere.

Lest you should happen to think me the champion of that widow or this virgin, I shall add no further word.