fait sur les vices de l'humanité, et combien il est pénible aux hommes d'être constans, généreux, fidèles, d'être touchés d'une amitié plus forte que leur intérêt. Comme il connaît leur portée, il n'exige point d'eux qu'ils pénètrent les corps, qu'ils volent dans l'air, qu'ils aient de l'équité. Il peut haïr les hommes en général, où il y a si peu de vertu; mais il excuse les particuliers, il les aime même par des motifs plus relevés, et il s'étudie à mériter le moins qu'il se peut une pareille indulgence."* It might be sufficient, therefore, to say that the maxims are only uncharitable in appearance; but that, in reality, by increasing our knowledge of human nature, they tend to render us more indulgent to human weakness; that, however charity may suffer in theory from a low idea being entertained of human nature, it gains infinitely in practice from the avoidance of that soured and despairing temper which is caused by the reaction from overstrained hopes and enthusiastic imaginations of good: but it may be further remarked, that whoever uses the maxims merely for the object of making uncharitable remarks on the conduct of others, has studied them to little purpose. It is his own heart that they should teach him most to reflect upon. In his preface to the edition of 1665, Segrais says, "The best method that the reader can adopt, is at once to be convinced that not one of the maxims is applicable to himself in particular, and that he alone is excepted, although they appear to be generally applicable; then I will answer for it, he will be one of the first to

"He whose opinion of mankind is not too elevated, will always be the most benevolent, because the most indulgent to the errors incidental to human perfection; to place our nature in too flattering a view is only to court disappointment and end in misanthropy.”—BULWER LYTTON.

subscribe to their correctness, and to reflect credit on the human heart." The recommendation contained in this remark, may be sufficiently palatable to disguise the sneer which it involves; but it would seem more honest, and in the end more salutary, to reverse the advice, and to recommend the reader to consider each maxim as applicable to himself only, and in no way to his neighbors. He will thus avoid any breaches of charity, and be led to the true utility of the maxims, namely, the aid they give to the extirpation of the dangerous habit of self-deceit, the habit of all others the most fatal to virtue. They can hardly fail to open the eyes of men to the various and singular modes in which self-delusion operates, the readiness with which it glosses over error, the acuteness with which it discovers excuses applicable only to itself, nay, the perverse subtlety with which it would palm off its very errors as instances of virtue. No man who is thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the maxims, can pretend to that degree of mental obliquity which looks for illustrations of their working solely in the conduct of others.

Should it still be considered that La Rochefoucauld presents us with too low a view of human nature to serve the purposes of morality, it should be remembered, in his defence as an author, that the times in which he lived, and the political and moral state of the society of his day, are known to have closely corresponded with the general picture he has offered us, and in this respect may be said to afford him a complete justification.* Another circumstance for

*The writer whom La Rochefoucauld most frequently reminds us of is Tacitus, and this coincidence may suggest a strong similarity in the state of society at the respective periods which the two authors had in view.

which due allowance should be made, has been already hinted at, namely, that the mode of composition in detached maxims, to be at all effective, requires a generality of expression greater than is strictly warranted by reason, or is, perhaps, really intended by the author. Neither is it fair, as before remarked, to charge La Rochefoucauld with any deliberate system of vilifying human nature, or with any theory destructive to morality. Like Montaigne, he might plead, that he was not so much an instructor as an observer:-"Others form man; I only report him."

Controversy apart, there are many of the "Maxims," the profundity of which will at once be admitted, and which have been enrolled as axioms in moral science; and of all it may be safely pronounced, that there is sufficient truth in them to make the work of the utmost value in its true character,—that of a record of moral observations; not so much in themselves representing a theory of morals, as hereafter to be used as the basis of new discoveries, and, in the end of a scientific moral system. 66 As young men," to use the words of Bacon, "when they knit and shape perfectly, do seldom grow to a further stature, so knowledge, while it is in aphorisms and observations, is in growth; but when it once is comprehended in exact methods, it may, perchance, be further polished and illustrated and accommodated for use and practice, but it increaseth no more in bulk and substance."

PORTRAIT

OF

THE DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD,

DRAWN BY HIMSELF.

(First Published in 1658.)

I AM of a middling size, active and well proportioned. My complexion is dark, but sufficiently uniform; forehead high and tolerably large; eyes black, small and deep set, and eyebrows black and thick, but well arched. I should have some difficulty in describing my nose, for it is neither flat, aquiline, large, nor pointed; at least, I think not: as far as I know, it is rather large than small, and extends a trifle too low. My mouth is large; the lips sufficiently red in general, and neither well nor badly shaped. My teeth are white and tolerably even. I have been sometimes told that I have rather too much chin. I have just been examining myself in the glass to ascertain the fact; and I have not been able to make up my mind about it. As to the shape of my face, it is either square or oval; but which, it would be very difficult for me to say. My hair is black, curling naturally, and, moreover, thick enough and long enough to give me some pretensions to a fine head. In my countenance there is something sorrowful and proud, which gives many people an idea that I am contemptuous, although I am far from being so. My gestures are easy, indeed rather too much so; producing a great degree of action in discourse.

This, I confess candidly, is what I think of my outward man; and what I have said of myself will not, I consider, be found different from the reality. I shall endeavor to finish my portrait with the same fidelity; for I have studied myself sufficiently to be well acquainted with myself, and I shall not want assurance enough to speak openly of any good qualities I may have, nor sincerity enough frankly to acknowledge my faults. First, then, as to my temper: I am of a melancholy cast; so much so that, in the course of three or four years, I have not been seen to laugh above three or four times. It seems to me, however, that ny melancholy would be quite supportable, and even agreeable, if it only proceeded from my constitution; but there are so many other causes which fill my imagination with strange ideas, and take possession of my mind in so singular a manner, that the greater part of my time I remain in a kind of dream, without uttering a syllable, or else I attach no meaning to what I do say. I am very reserved with strangers; and I am not extremely open even with the generality of those I do know. It is a fault, I acknowledge; and I will do every thing to correct it. But, as a certain sombre cast of countenance contributes to make me seem more reserved than I really am, and as it is not in our power to get rid of a disagreeable look proceeding from the natural disposition of the features, I conceive that, even after I shall have corrected myself within, the same bad marks will, nevertheless, be always apparent outside.

I am clever; and I make no scruple of declaring it; for why should I be delicate thereon? Going about the bush and softening down so much the assertion of the qualities we possess is, in my way of thinking, hiding a little vanity under the mask of modesty, and slyly endeavoring to make ourselves appear to have more merit than the world has