445.--Weakness is more hostile to virtue than vice.
446.--What makes the grief of shame and jealousy so acute is that vanity
cannot aid us in enduring them.
447.--Propriety is the least of all laws, but the most obeyed.
[Honour has its supreme laws, to which education is bound to
conform....Those things which honour forbids are more rigorously
forbidden when the laws do not concur in the prohibition, and those
it commands are more strongly insisted upon when they happen not to be
commanded by law.--Montesquieu, {The Spirit Of Laws, }b. 4, c. ii.]
448.--A well-trained mind has less difficulty in submitting to than in
guiding an ill-trained mind.
449.--When fortune surprises us by giving us some great office without
having gradually led us to expect it, or without having raised our
hopes, it is well nigh impossible to occupy it well, and to appear
worthy to fill it.
450.--Our pride is often increased by what we retrench from our other
faults.
["The loss of sensual pleasures was supplied and compensated by
spiritual pride."--Gibbon. Decline And Fall, chap. xv.]
451.--No fools so wearisome as those who have some wit.
452.--No one believes that in every respect he is behind the man he
considers the ablest in the world.
453.--In great matters we should not try so much to create opportunities
as to utilise those that offer themselves.
[Yet Lord Bacon says "A wise man will make more opportunities than he
finds."--Essays, {(1625), "Of Ceremonies and Respects"}]
454.--There are few occasions when we should make a bad bargain by
giving up the good on condition that no ill was said of us.
455.--However disposed the world may be to judge wrongly, it far oftener
favours false merit than does justice to true.
456.--Sometimes we meet a fool with wit, never one with discretion.
457.--We should gain more by letting the world see what we are than by
trying to seem what we are not.
458.--Our enemies come nearer the truth in the opinions they form of us
than we do in our opinion of ourselves.
459.--There are many remedies to cure love, yet none are infallible.
460.--It would be well for us if we knew all our passions make us do.
461.--Age is a tyrant who forbids at the penalty of life all the
pleasures of youth.
462.--The same pride which makes us blame faults from which we believe
ourselves free causes us to despise the good qualities we have not.
463.--There is often more pride than goodness in our grief for our
enemies' miseries; it is to show how superior we are to them, that we
bestow on them the sign of our compassion.
464.--There exists an excess of good and evil which surpasses our
comprehension.
465.--Innocence is most fortunate if it finds the same protection as
crime.
466.--Of all the violent passions the one that becomes a woman best is
love.
467.--Vanity makes us sin more against our taste than reason.
468.--Some bad qualities form great talents.
469.--We never desire earnestly what we desire in reason.
470.--All our qualities are uncertain and doubtful, both the good as
well as the bad, and nearly all are creatures of opportunities.
471.--In their first passion women love their lovers, in all the others
they love love.
["In her first passion woman loves her lover, In all her others what
she loves is love." {--Lord Byron, }Don Juan, Canto iii., stanza 3. "We
truly love once, the first time; the subsequent passions are more or
less involuntary." La Bruyere: Du Coeur.]
472.--Pride as the other passions has its follies. We are ashamed to own
we are jealous, and yet we plume ourselves in having been and being able
to be so.
473.--However rare true love is, true friendship is rarer.
["It is more common to see perfect love than real friendship."--La
Bruyere. Du Coeur.]
474.--There are few women whose charm survives their beauty.
475.--The desire to be pitied or to be admired often forms the greater
part of our confidence.
476.--Our envy always lasts longer than the happiness of those we envy.
477.--The same firmness that enables us to resist love enables us to
make our resistance durable and lasting. So weak persons who are always
excited by passions are seldom really possessed of any.
478.--Fancy does not enable us to invent so many different
contradictions as there are by nature in every heart.
479.--It is only people who possess firmness who can possess true
gentleness. In those who appear gentle it is generally only weakness,
which is readily converted into harshness.
480.--Timidity is a fault which is dangerous to blame in those we desire
to cure of it.
481.--Nothing is rarer than true good nature, those who think they have
it are generally only pliant or weak.
482.--The mind attaches itself by idleness and habit to whatever is easy
or pleasant. This habit always places bounds to our knowledge, and no
one has ever yet taken the pains to enlarge and expand his mind to the
full extent of its capacities.
483.--Usually we are more satirical from vanity than malice.
484.--When the heart is still disturbed by the relics of a passion it is
proner to take up a new one than when wholly cured.
485.--Those who have had great passions often find all their lives made
miserable in being cured of them.
486.--More persons exist without self-love than without envy.
["I do not believe that there is a human creature in his senses arrived
at maturity, that at some time or other has not been carried away by
this passion (envy) in good earnest, and yet I never met with any who
dared own he was guilty of it, but in jest."--Mandeville: Fable Of The
Bees; Remark N.]
487.--We have more idleness in the mind than in the body.
488.--The calm or disturbance of our mind does not depend so much on
what we regard as the more important things of life, as in a judicious
or injudicious arrangement of the little things of daily occurrence.
489.--However wicked men may be, they do not dare openly to appear the
enemies of virtue, and when they desire to persecute her they either
pretend to believe her false or attribute crimes to her.
490.--We often go from love to ambition, but we never return from
ambition to love.
["Men commence by love, finish by ambition, and do not find a quieter
seat while they remain there."--La Bruyere: Du Coeur.]
491.--Extreme avarice is nearly always mistaken, there is no passion
which is oftener further away from its mark, nor upon which the present
has so much power to the prejudice of the future.
492.--Avarice often produces opposite results: there are an infinite
number of persons who sacrifice their property to doubtful and distant
expectations, others mistake great future advantages for small present
interests.
[Aime Martin says, "The author here confuses greediness, the desire
and avarice--passions which probably have a common origin, but produce
different results. The greedy man is nearly always desirous to possess,
and often foregoes great future advantages for small present interests.
The avaricious man, on the other hand, mistakes present advantages for
the great expectations of the future. Both desire to possess and
enjoy. But the miser possesses and enjoys nothing but the pleasure of
possessing; he risks nothing, gives nothing, hopes nothing, his life is
centred in his strong box, beyond that he has no want."]
493.--It appears that men do not find they have enough faults, as they
increase the number by certain peculiar qualities that they affect to
assume, and which they cultivate with so great assiduity that at length
they become natural faults, which they can no longer correct.
494.--What makes us see that men know their faults better than we
imagine, is that they are never wrong when they speak of their conduct;
the same self-love that usually blinds them enlightens them, and gives
them such true views as to make them suppress or disguise the smallest
thing that might be censured.
495.--Young men entering life should be either shy or bold; a solemn and
sedate manner usually degenerates into impertinence.
496.--Quarrels would not last long if the fault was only on one side.
497.--It is valueless to a woman to be young unless pretty, or to be
pretty unless young.
498.--Some persons are so frivolous and fickle that they are as far
removed from real defects as from substantial qualities.
499.--We do not usually reckon a woman's first flirtation until she has
had a second.
500.--Some people are so self-occupied that when in love they find a
mode by which to be engrossed with the passion without being so with the
person they love.
501.--Love, though so very agreeable, pleases more by its ways than by
itself.
502.--A little wit with good sense bores less in the long run than much
wit with ill nature.
503.--Jealousy is the worst of all evils, yet the one that is least
pitied by those who cause it.
504.--Thus having treated of the hollowness of so many apparent virtues,
it is but just to say something on the hollowness of the contempt for
death. I allude to that contempt of death which the heathen boasted they
derived from their unaided understanding, without the hope of a future
state. There is a difference between meeting death with courage and
despising it. The first is common enough, the last I think always
feigned. Yet everything that could be has been written to persuade us
that death is no evil, and the weakest of men, equally with the bravest,
have given many noble examples on which to found such an opinion, still
I do not think that any man of good sense has ever yet believed in it.
And the pains we take to persuade others as well as ourselves amply show
that the task is far from easy. For many reasons we may be disgusted
with life, but for none may we despise it. Not even those who commit
suicide regard it as a light matter, and are as much alarmed and
startled as the rest of the world if death meets them in a different
way than the one they have selected. The difference we observe in the
courage of so great a number of brave men, is from meeting death in a
way different from what they imagined, when it shows itself nearer
at one time than at another. Thus it ultimately happens that having
despised death when they were ignorant of it, they dread it when they
become acquainted with it. If we could avoid seeing it with all its
surroundings, we might perhaps believe that it was not the greatest of
evils. The wisest and bravest are those who take the best means to avoid
reflecting on it, as every man who sees it in its real light regards
it as dreadful. The necessity of dying created all the constancy of
philosophers. They thought it but right to go with a good grace when
they could not avoid going, and being unable to prolong their lives
indefinitely, nothing remained but to build an immortal reputation, and
to save from the general wreck all that could be saved. To put a good
face upon it, let it suffice, not to say all that we think to ourselves,
but rely more on our nature than on our fallible reason, which might
make us think we could approach death with indifference. The glory of
dying with courage, the hope of being regretted, the desire to leave
behind us a good reputation, the assurance of being enfranchised from
the miseries of life and being no longer dependent on the wiles of
fortune, are resources which should not be passed over. But we must not
regard them as infallible. They should affect us in the same proportion
as a single shelter affects those who in war storm a fortress. At a
distance they think it may afford cover, but when near they find it
only a feeble protection. It is only deceiving ourselves to imagine
that death, when near, will seem the same as at a distance, or that our
feelings, which are merely weaknesses, are naturally so strong that they
will not suffer in an attack of the rudest of trials. It is equally as
absurd to try the effect of self-esteem and to think it will enable us
to count as naught what will of necessity destroy it. And the mind in
which we trust to find so many resources will be far too weak in the
struggle to persuade us in the way we wish. For it is this which betrays
us so frequently, and which, instead of filling us with contempt of
death, serves but to show us all that is frightful and fearful. The most
it can do for us is to persuade us to avert our gaze and fix it on other
objects. Cato and Brutus each selected noble ones. A lackey sometime
ago contented himself by dancing on the scaffold when he was about to be
broken on the wheel. So however diverse the motives they but realize the
same result. For the rest it is a fact that whatever difference there
may be between the peer and the peasant, we have constantly seen both
the one and the other meet death with the same composure. Still there
is always this difference, that the contempt the peer shows for death is
but the love of fame which hides death from his sight; in the peasant it
is but the result of his limited vision that hides from him the extent
of the evil, end leaves him free to reflect on other things.
THE FIRST SUPPLEMENT
[The following reflections are extracted from the first two editions
of La Rochefoucauld, having been suppressed by the author in succeeding
issues.]
I.--Self-love is the love of self, and of all things for self. It
makes men self-worshippers, and if fortune permits them, causes them to
tyrannize over others; it is never quiet when out of itself, and only
rests upon other subjects as a bee upon flowers, to extract from them
its proper food. Nothing is so headstrong as its desires, nothing so
well concealed as its designs, nothing so skilful as its management;
its suppleness is beyond description; its changes surpass those of the
metamorphoses, its refinements those of chemistry. We can neither plumb
the depths nor pierce the shades of its recesses. Therein it is hidden
from the most far-seeing eyes, therein it takes a thousand imperceptible
folds. There it is often to itself invisible; it there conceives, there
nourishes and rears, without being aware of it, numberless loves and
hatreds, some so monstrous that when they are brought to light it
disowns them, and cannot resolve to avow them. In the night which covers
it are born the ridiculous persuasions it has of itself, thence come its
errors, its ignorance, its silly mistakes; thence it is led to believe
that its passions which sleep are dead, and to think that it has lost
all appetite for that of which it is sated. But this thick darkness
which conceals it from itself does not hinder it from seeing that
perfectly which is out of itself; and in this it resembles our eyes
which behold all, and yet cannot set their own forms. In fact, in great
concerns and important matters when the violence of its desires
summons all its attention, it sees, feels, hears, imagines, suspects,
penetrates, divines all: so that we might think that each of its
passions had a magic power proper to it. Nothing is so close and strong
as its attachments, which, in sight of the extreme misfortunes which
threaten it, it vainly attempts to break. Yet sometimes it effects that
without trouble and quickly, which it failed to do with its whole power
and in the course of years, whence we may fairly conclude that it is
by itself that its desires are inflamed, rather than by the beauty and
merit of its objects, that its own taste embellishes and heightens them;
that it is itself the game it pursues, and that it follows eagerly
when it runs after that upon which itself is eager. It is made up of
contraries. It is imperious and obedient, sincere and false, piteous
and cruel, timid and bold. It has different desires according to the
diversity of temperaments, which turn and fix it sometimes upon riches,
sometimes on pleasures. It changes according to our age, our fortunes,
and our hopes; it is quite indifferent whether it has many or one,
because it can split itself into many portions, and unite in one as
it pleases. It is inconstant, and besides the changes which arise
from strange causes it has an infinity born of itself, and of its own
substance. It is inconstant through inconstancy, of lightness, love,
novelty, lassitude and distaste. It is capricious, and one sees it
sometimes work with intense eagerness and with incredible labour to
obtain things of little use to it which are even hurtful, but which it
pursues because it wishes for them. It is silly, and often throws its
whole application on the utmost frivolities. It finds all its pleasure
in the dullest matters, and places its pride in the most contemptible.
It is seen in all states of life, and in all conditions; it lives
everywhere and upon everything; it subsists on nothing; it accommodates
itself either to things or to the want of them; it goes over to
those who are at war with it, enters into their designs, and, this is
wonderful, it, with them, hates even itself; it conspires for its own
loss, it works towards its own ruin--in fact, caring only to exist, and
providing that it may be, it will be its own enemy! We must therefore
not be surprised if it is sometimes united to the rudest austerity, and
if it enters so boldly into partnership to destroy her, because when it
is rooted out in one place it re-establishes itself in another. When it
fancies that it abandons its pleasure it merely changes or suspends its
enjoyment. When even it is conquered in its full flight, we find that
it triumphs in its own defeat. Here then is the picture of self-love
whereof the whole of our life is but one long agitation. The sea is its
living image; and in the flux and reflux of its continuous waves there
is a faithful expression of the stormy succession of its thoughts and of
its eternal motion. (Edition of 1665, No. 1.)
II.--Passions are only the different degrees of the heat or coldness of
the blood. (1665, No. 13.)
III.--Moderation in good fortune is but apprehension of the shame which
follows upon haughtiness, or a fear of losing what we have. (1665, No.
18.)
IV.--Moderation is like temperance in eating; we could eat more but we
fear to make ourselves ill. (1665, No. 21.)
V.--Everybody finds that to abuse in another which he finds worthy of
abuse in himself. (1665, No. 33.)
VI.--Pride, as if tired of its artifices and its different
metamorphoses, after having solely filled the divers parts of the comedy
of life, exhibits itself with its natural face, and is discovered by
haughtiness; so much so that we may truly say that haughtiness is but
the flash and open declaration of pride. (1665, No. 37.)
VII.--One kind of happiness is to know exactly at what point to be
miserable. (1665, No. 53.)
VIII.--When we do not find peace of mind (REPOS) in ourselves it is
useless to seek it elsewhere. (1665, No. 53.)
IX.--One should be able to answer for one's fortune, so as to be able to
answer for what we shall do. (1665, No. 70.)
X.--Love is to the soul of him who loves, what the soul is to the body
which it animates. (1665, No. 77.)
XI.--As one is never at liberty to love or to cease from loving, the
lover cannot with justice complain of the inconstancy of his mistress,
nor she of the fickleness of her lover. (1665, No. 81.)
XII.--Justice in those judges who are moderate is but a love of their
place. (1665, No. 89.)
XIII.--When we are tired of loving we are quite content if our mistress
should become faithless, to loose us from our fidelity. (1665, No. 85.)
XIV.--The first impulse of joy which we feel at the happiness of our
friends arises neither from our natural goodness nor from friendship;
it is the result of self-love, which flatters us with being lucky in our
own turn, or in reaping something from the good fortune of our friends.
(1665, No. 97.)
XV.--In the adversity of our best friends we always find something which
is not wholly displeasing to us. (1665, No. 99.)
[This gave occasion to Swift's celebrated "Verses on his own Death."
The four first are quoted opposite the title, then follow these lines:--
"This maxim more than all the rest, Is thought too base for human
breast; In all distresses of our friends, We first consult our private
ends; While nature kindly bent to ease us, Points out some circumstance
to please us."
See also Chesterfield's defence of this in his 129th letter; "they who
know the deception and wickedness of the human heart will not be either
romantic or blind enough to deny what Rochefoucauld and Swift have
affirmed as a general truth."]
XVI.--How shall we hope that another person will keep our secret if we
do not keep it ourselves. (1665, No. 100.)
XVII.--As if it was not sufficient that self-love should have the power
to change itself, it has added that of changing other objects, and
this it does in a very astonishing manner; for not only does it so well
disguise them that it is itself deceived, but it even changes the state
and nature of things. Thus, when a female is adverse to us, and she
turns her hate and persecution against us, self-love pronounces on her
actions with all the severity of justice; it exaggerates the faults till
they are enormous, and looks at her good qualities in so disadvantageous
a light that they become more displeasing than her faults. If however
the same female becomes favourable to us, or certain of our interests
reconcile her to us, our sole self interest gives her back the lustre
which our hatred deprived her of. The bad qualities become effaced,
the good ones appear with a redoubled advantage; we even summon all our
indulgence to justify the war she has made upon us. Now although all
passions prove this truth, that of love exhibits it most clearly; for we
may see a lover moved with rage by the neglect or the infidelity of her
whom he loves, and meditating the utmost vengeance that his passion can
inspire. Nevertheless as soon as the sight of his beloved has calmed the
fury of his movements, his passion holds that beauty innocent; he only
accuses himself, he condemns his condemnations, and by the miraculous
power of selflove, he whitens the blackest actions of his mistress, and
takes from her all crime to lay it on himself.
{No date or number is given for this maxim}
XVIII.--There are none who press so heavily on others as the lazy ones,
when they have satisfied their idleness, and wish to appear industrious.
(1666, No. 91.)
XIX.--The blindness of men is the most dangerous effect of their pride;
it seems to nourish and augment it, it deprives us of knowledge of
remedies which can solace our miseries and can cure our faults. (1665,
No. 102.)
XX.--One has never less reason than when one despairs of finding it in
others. (1665, No. 103.)
XXI.--Philosophers, and Seneca above all, have not diminished crimes by
their precepts; they have only used them in the building up of pride.
(1665, No. 105.)
XXII.--It is a proof of little friendship not to perceive the growing
coolness of that of our friends. (1666, No. 97.)
XXIII.--The most wise may be so in indifferent and ordinary matters, but
they are seldom so in their most serious affairs. (1665, No. 132.)
XXIV.--The most subtle folly grows out of the most subtle wisdom. (1665,
No. 134.)
XXV.--Sobriety is the love of health, or an incapacity to eat much.
(1665, No. 135.)
XXVI.--We never forget things so well as when we are tired of talking of
them. (1665, No. 144.)
XXVII.--The praise bestowed upon us is at least useful in rooting us in
the practice of virtue. (1665, No. 155.)
XXVIII.--Self-love takes care to prevent him whom we flatter from being
him who most flatters us. (1665, No. 157.)
XXIX.--Men only blame vice and praise virtue from interest. (1665, No.
151.)
XXX.--We make no difference in the kinds of anger, although there is
that which is light and almost innocent, which arises from warmth of
complexion, temperament, and another very criminal, which is, to speak
properly, the fury of pride. (1665, No. 159.)
XXXI.--Great souls are not those who have fewer passions and more
virtues than the common, but those only who have greater designs. (1665,
No. 161.)
XXXII.--Kings do with men as with pieces of money; they make them bear
what value they will, and one is forced to receive them according to
their currency value, and not at their true worth. (1665, No. 165.)
[See Burns{, For A' That An A' That}-- "The rank is but the guinea's
stamp, {The} man's {the gowd} for a' that." Also Farquhar and other
parallel passages pointed out in Familiar Words.]
XXXIII.--Natural ferocity makes fewer people cruel than self-love.
(1665, No. 174.)
XXXIV.--One may say of all our virtues as an Italian poet says of the
propriety of women, that it is often merely the art of appearing chaste.
(1665, No. 176.)
XXXV.--There are crimes which become innocent and even glorious by their
brilliancy,* their number, or their excess; thus it happens that public
robbery is called financial skill, and the unjust capture of provinces
is called a conquest. (1665, No. 192.)
*Some crimes may be excused by their brilliancy, such as
those of Jael, of Deborah, of Brutus, and of Charlotte
Corday--further than this the maxim is satire.
XXXVI.--One never finds in man good or evil in excess. (1665, No. 201.)
XXXVII.--Those who are incapable of committing great crimes do not
easily suspect others. (1665, No. {2}08.)
{The text incorrectly numbers this maxim as 508. It is 208.}
XXXVIII.--The pomp of funerals concerns rather the vanity of the living,
than the honour of the dead. (1665, No. 213.)
XXXIX.--Whatever variety and change appears in the world, we may remark
a secret chain, and a regulated order of all time by Providence, which
makes everything follow in due rank and fall into its destined course.
(1665, No. 225.)
XL.--Intrepidity should sustain the heart in conspiracies in place of
valour which alone furnishes all the firmness which is necessary for the
perils of war. (1665, No. 231.)
XLI.--Those who wish to define victory by her birth will be tempted to
imitate the poets, and to call her the Daughter of Heaven, since they
cannot find her origin on earth. Truly she is produced from an infinity
of actions, which instead of wishing to beget her, only look to the
particular interests of their masters, since all those who compose an
army, in aiming at their own rise and glory, produce a good so great and
general. (1665, No. 232.)
XLII.--That man who has never been in danger cannot answer for his
courage. (1665, No. 236.)
XLIII.--We more often place bounds on our gratitude than on our desires
and our hopes. (1665, No. 241.)
XLIV.--Imitation is always unhappy, for all which is counterfeit
displeases by the very things which charm us when they are original
(Naturelles). (1665, No. 245.)
XLV.--We do not regret the loss of our friends according to their
merits, but according to OUR wants, and the opinion with which we
believed we had impressed them of our worth. (1665, No. 248.)
XLVI.--It is very hard to separate the general goodness spread all over
the world from great cleverness. (1665, No. 252.)
XLVII.--For us to be always good, others should believe that they cannot
behave wickedly to us with impunity. (1665, No. 254.)
XLVIII.--A confidence in being able to please is often an infallible
means of being displeasing. (1665, No. 256.)
XLIX.--The confidence we have in ourselves arises in a great measure
from that that we have in others. (1665, No. 258.)
L.--There is a general revolution which changes the tastes of the mind
as well as the fortunes of the world. (1665, No. 250.)
LI.--Truth is foundation and the reason of the perfection of beauty, for
of whatever stature a thing may be, it cannot be beautiful and perfect
unless it be truly that she should be, and possess truly all that she
should have (1665, No. 260.)
[Beauty is truth, truth beauty.{--John Keats, "Ode on a a Grecian Urn,"
(1820), Stanza 5}]
LII.--There are fine things which are more brilliant when unfinished
than when finished too much. (1665, No. 262.)
LIII.--Magnanimity is a noble effort of pride which makes a man master
of himself, to make him master of all things. (1665, No. 271.)
LIV.--Luxury and too refined a policy in states are a sure presage of
their fall, because all parties looking after their own interest turn
away from the public good. (1665, No. 282.)
LV.--Of all passions that which is least known to us is idleness; she
is the most ardent and evil of all, although her violence may be
insensible, and the evils she causes concealed; if we consider her
power attentively we shall find that in all encounters she makes herself
mistress of our sentiments, our interests, and our pleasures; like the
(fabled) Remora, she can stop the greatest vessels, she is a hidden
rock, more dangerous in the most important matters than sudden squalls
and the most violent tempests. The repose of idleness is a magic charm
which suddenly suspends the most ardent pursuits and the most obstinate
resolutions. In fact to give a true notion of this passion we must add
that idleness, like a beatitude of the soul, consoles us for all losses
and fills the vacancy of all our wants. (1665, No. 290.)
LVI.--We are very fond of reading others' characters, but we do not like
to be read ourselves. (1665, No. 296.)
LVII.--What a tiresome malady is that which forces one to preserve your
health by a severe regimen. (Ibid, No. 298.)
LVIII.--It is much easier to take love when one is free, than to get rid
of it after having taken it. (1665, No. 300.)
LIX.--Women for the most part surrender themselves more from weakness
than from passion. Whence it is that bold and pushing men succeed better
than others, although they are not so loveable. (1665, No. 301.)
LX.--Not to love is in love, an infallible means of being beloved.
(1665, No. 302.)
LXI.--The sincerity which lovers and mistresses ask that both should
know when they cease to love each other, arises much less from a wish
to be warned of the cessation of love, than from a desire to be assured
that they are beloved although no one denies it. (1665, No. 303.)
LXII.--The most just comparison of love is that of a fever, and we have
no power over either, as to its violence or its duration. (1665, No.
305.)
LXIII.--The greatest skill of the least skilful is to know how to submit
to the direction of another. (1665, No. 309.)
LXIV.--We always fear to see those whom we love when we have been
flirting with others. (16{74}, No. 372.)
LXV.--We ought to console ourselves for our faults when we have strength
enough to own them. (16{74}, No. 375.)
{The date of the previous two maxims is incorrectly cited as 1665 in
the text. I found this date immediately suspect because the translators'
introduction states that the 1665 edition only had 316 maxims. In fact,
the two maxims only appeared in the fourth of the first five editions
(1674).}
SECOND SUPPLEMENT.
REFLECTIONS, EXTRACTED FROM MS. LETTERS IN THE ROYAL LIBRARY.*
*A La Bibliotheque Du Roi, it is difficult at present (June
1871) to assign a name to the magnificent collection of
books in Paris, the property of the nation.
LXVI.--Interest is the soul of self-love, in as much as when the body
deprived of its soul is without sight, feeling or knowledge, without
thought or movement, so self-love, riven so to speak from its interest,
neither sees, nor hears, nor smells, nor moves; thus it is that the same
man who will run over land and sea for his own interest becomes suddenly
paralyzed when engaged for that of others; from this arises that sudden
dulness and, as it were, death, with which we afflict those to whom we
speak of our own matters; from this also their sudden resurrection when
in our narrative we relate something concerning them; from this we find
in our conversations and business that a man becomes dull or bright
just as his own interest is near to him or distant from him. (Letter To
Madame De Sable, Ms., Fol. 211.)
LXVII.--Why we cry out so much against maxims which lay bare the heart
of man, is because we fear that our own heart shall be laid bare. (Maxim
103, MS., fol. 310.*)
*The reader will recognise in these extracts portions of the
Maxims previously given, sometimes the author has carefully
polished them; at other times the words are identical. Our
numbers will indicate where they are to be found in the
foregoing collection.
LXVIII.--Hope and fear are inseparable. (To Madame De Sable, Ms., Fol.
222, MAX. 168.)
LXIX.--It is a common thing to hazard life to escape dishonour;
but, when this is done, the actor takes very little pain to make the
enterprise succeed in which he is engaged, and certain it is that they
who hazard their lives to take a city or to conquer a province are
better officers, have more merit, and wider and more useful, views than
they who merely expose themselves to vindicate their honour; it is very
common to find people of the latter class, very rare to find those of
the former. (Letter To M. Esprit, Ms., Fol. 173, MAX. 219.)
LXX.--The taste changes, but the will remains the same. (To Madame De
Sable, Fol. 223, Max. 252.)
LXXI.--The power which women whom we love have over us is greater than
that which we have over ourselves. (To The Same, Ms., Fol. 211, Max.
259)
LXXII.--That which makes us believe so easily that others have defects
is that we all so easily believe what we wish. (To The Same, Ms., Fol.
223, Max. 397.)
LXXIII.--I am perfectly aware that good sense and fine wit are tedious
to every age, but tastes are not always the same, and what is good
at one time will not seem so at another. This makes me think that few
persons know how to be old. (To The Same, Fol. 202, Max. 423.)
LXXIV.--God has permitted, to punish man for his original sin, that he
should be so fond of his self-love, that he should be tormented by it in
all the actions of his life. (Ms., Fol. 310, Max. 494.)
LXXV.--And so far it seems to me the philosophy of a lacquey can go; I
believe that all gaity in that state of life is very doubtful indeed.
(To Madame De Sable, Fol. 161, Max. 504.)
[In the maxim cited the author relates how a footman about to be broken
on the wheel danced on the scaffold. He seems to think that in his day
the life of such servants was so miserable that their merriment was very
doubtful.]
THIRD SUPPLEMENT
[The fifty following Maxims are taken from the Sixth Edition of the
Pensees De La Rochefoucauld, published by Claude Barbin, in 1693, more
than twelve years after the death of the author (17th May, 1680). The
reader will find some repetitions, but also some very valuable maxims.]
LXXVI.--Many persons wish to be devout; but no one wishes to be humble.
LXXVII.--The labour of the body frees us from the pains of the mind, and
thus makes the poor happy.
LXXVIII.--True penitential sorrows (mortifications) are those which are
not known, vanity renders the others easy enough.
LXXIX.--Humility is the altar upon which God wishes that we should offer
him his sacrifices.
LXXX.--Few things are needed to make a wise man happy; nothing can make
a fool content; that is why most men are miserable.
LXXXI.--We trouble ourselves less to become happy, than to make others
believe we are so.
LXXXII.--It is more easy to extinguish the first desire than to satisfy
those which follow.
LXXXIII.--Wisdom is to the soul what health is to the body.
LXXXIV.--The great ones of the earth can neither command health of body
nor repose of mind, and they buy always at too dear a price the good
they can acquire.
LXXXV.--Before strongly desiring anything we should examine what
happiness he has who possesses it.
LXXXVI.--A true friend is the greatest of all goods, and that of which
we think least of acquiring.
LXXXVII.--Lovers do not wish to see the faults of their mistresses until
their enchantment is at an end.
LXXXVIII.--Prudence and love are not made for each other; in the ratio
that love increases, prudence diminishes.
LXXXIX.--It is sometimes pleasing to a husband to have a jealous wife;
he hears her always speaking of the beloved object.
XC.--How much is a woman to be pitied who is at the same time possessed
of virtue and love!
XCI.--The wise man finds it better not to enter the encounter than to
conquer.
[Somewhat similar to Goldsmith's sage-- "Who quits {a} world where
strong temptations try, And since 'tis hard to co{mbat}, learns to
fly."]
XCII.--It is more necessary to study men than books.
["The proper study of mankind is man."--Pope {Essay On Man, (1733),
Epistle II, line 2}.]
XCIII.--Good and evil ordinarily come to those who have most of one or
the other.
XCIV.--The accent and character of one's native country dwells in the
mind and heart as on the tongue. (Repitition Of Maxim 342.)
XCV.--The greater part of men have qualities which, like those of
plants, are discovered by chance. (Repitition Of Maxim 344.)
XCVI.--A good woman is a hidden treasure; he who discovers her will do
well not to boast about it. (See Maxim 368.)
XCVII.--Most women do not weep for the loss of a lover to show that they
have been loved so much as to show that they are worth being loved. (See
Maxim 362.)
XCVIII.--There are many virtuous women who are weary of the part they
have played. (See Maxim 367.)
XCIX.--If we think we love for love's sake we are much mistaken. (See
Maxim 374.)
C.--The restraint we lay upon ourselves to be constant, is not much
better than an inconstancy. (See Maxim 369, 381.)
CI.--There are those who avoid our jealousy, of whom we ought to be
jealous. (See Maxim 359.)
CII.--Jealousy is always born with love, but does not always die with
it. (See Maxim 361.)
CIII.--When we love too much it is difficult to discover when we have
ceased to be beloved.
CIV.--We know very well that we should not talk about our wives, but we
do not remember that it is not so well to speak of ourselves. (See Maxim
364.)
CV.--Chance makes us known to others and to ourselves. (See Maxim 345.)
CVI.--We find very few people of good sense, except those who are of our
own opinion. (See Maxim 347.)
CVII.--We commonly praise the good hearts of those who admire us. (See
Maxim 356.)
CVIII.--Man only blames himself in order that he may be praised.
CIX.--Little minds are wounded by the smallest things. (See Maxim 357.)
CX.--There are certain faults which placed in a good light please more
than perfection itself. (See Maxim 354.)
CXI.--That which makes us so bitter against those who do us a shrewd
turn, is because they think themselves more clever than we are. (See
Maxim 350.)
CXII.--We are always bored by those whom we bore. (See Maxim 352.)
CXIII.--The harm that others do us is often less than that we do
ourselves. (See Maxim 363.)
CXIV.--It is never more difficult to speak well than when we are ashamed
of being silent.
CXV.--Those faults are always pardonable that we have the courage to
avow.
CXVI.--The greatest fault of penetration is not that it goes to the
bottom of a matter--but beyond it. (See Maxim 377.)
CXVII.--We give advice, but we cannot give the wisdom to profit by it.
(See Maxim 378.)
CXVIII.--When our merit declines, our taste declines also. (See Maxim
379.)
CXIX.--Fortune discovers our vices and our virtues, as the light makes
objects plain to the sight. (See Maxim 380.)
CXX.--Our actions are like rhymed verse-ends (Bouts-Rimes) which
everyone turns as he pleases. (See Maxim 382.)
CXXI.--There is nothing more natural, nor more deceptive, than to
believe that we are beloved.
CXXII.--We would rather see those to whom we have done a benefit, than
those who have done us one.
CXXIII.--It is more difficult to hide the opinions we have than to feign
those which we have not.
CXXIV.--Renewed friendships require more care than those that have never
been broken.
CXXV.--A man to whom no one is pleasing is much more unhappy than one
who pleases nobody.
REFLECTIONS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, BY THE DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
I. On Confidence.
Though sincerity and confidence have many points of resemblance, they
have yet many points of difference.
Sincerity is an openness of heart, which shows us what we are, a love
of truth, a dislike to deception, a wish to compensate our faults and to
lessen them by the merit of confessing them.
Confidence leaves us less liberty, its rules are stricter, it requires
more prudence and reticence, and we are not always free to give it. It
relates not only to ourselves, since our interests are often mixed
up with those of others; it requires great delicacy not to expose
our friends in exposing ourselves, not to draw upon their goodness to
enhance the value of what we give.
Confidence always pleases those who receive it. It is a tribute we pay
to their merit, a deposit we commit to their trust, a pledge which
gives them a claim upon us, a kind of dependence to which we voluntarily
submit. I do not wish from what I have said to depreciate confidence,
so necessary to man. It is in society the link between acquaintance and
friendship. I only wish to state its limits to make it true and real.
I would that it was always sincere, always discreet, and that it had
neither weakness nor interest. I know it is hard to place proper limits
on being taken into all our friends' confidence, and taking them into
all ours.
Most frequently we make confidants from vanity, a love of talking, a
wish to win the confidence of others, and make an exchange of secrets.
Some may have a motive for confiding in us, towards whom we have no
motive for confiding. With them we discharge the obligation in keeping
their secrets and trusting them with small confidences.
Others whose fidelity we know trust nothing to us, but we confide in
them by choice and inclination.
We should hide from them nothing that concerns us, we should always show
them with equal truth, our virtues and our vices, without exaggerating
the one or diminishing the other. We should make it a rule never to
have half confidences. They always embarrass those who give them, and
dissatisfy those who receive them. They shed an uncertain light on what
we want hidden, increase curiosity, entitling the recipients to know
more, giving them leave to consider themselves free to talk of what they
have guessed. It is far safer and more honest to tell nothing than to be
silent when we have begun to tell. There are other rules to be observed
in matters confided to us, all are important, to all prudence and trust
are essential.
Everyone agrees that a secret should be kept intact, but everyone does
not agree as to the nature and importance of secresy. Too often we
consult ourselves as to what we should say, what we should leave unsaid.
There are few permanent secrets, and the scruple against revealing them
will not last for ever.
With those friends whose truth we know we have the closest intimacy.
They have always spoken unreservedly to us, we should always do the same
to them. They know our habits and connexions, and see too clearly not
to perceive the slightest change. They may have elsewhere learnt what we
have promised not to tell. It is not in our power to tell them what has
been entrusted to us, though it might tend to their interest to know it.
We feel as confident of them as of ourselves, and we are reduced to the
hard fate of losing their friendship, which is dear to us, or of being
faithless as regards a secret. This is doubtless the hardest test of
fidelity, but it should not move an honest man; it is then that he can
sacrifice himself to others. His first duty is to rigidly keep his trust
in its entirety. He should not only control and guard his and his voice,
but even his lighter talk, so that nothing be seen in his conversation
or manner that could direct the curiosity of others towards that which
he wishes to conceal.
We have often need of strength and prudence wherewith to oppose the
exigencies of most of our friends who make a claim on our confidence,
and seek to know all about us. We should never allow them to acquire
this unexceptionable right. There are accidents and circumstances which
do not fall in their cognizance; if they complain, we should endure
their complaints and excuse ourselves with gentleness, but if they are
still unreasonable, we should sacrifice their friendship to our duty,
and choose between two inevitable evils, the one reparable, the other
irreparable.
II. On Difference of Character.
Although all the qualities of mind may be united in a great genius,
yet there are some which are special and peculiar to him; his views are
unlimited; he always acts uniformly and with the same activity; he sees
distant objects as if present; he comprehends and grasps the greatest,
sees and notices the smallest matters; his thoughts are elevated, broad,
just and intelligible. Nothing escapes his observation, and he often
finds truth in spite of the obscurity that hides her from others.
A lofty mind always thinks nobly, it easily creates vivid, agreeable,
and natural fancies, places them in their best light, clothes them with
all appropriate adornments, studies others' tastes, and clears away from
its own thoughts all that is useless and disagreeable.
A clever, pliant, winning mind knows how to avoid and overcome
difficulties. Bending easily to what it wants, it understands the
inclination and temper it is dealing with, and by managing their
interests it advances and establishes its own.
A well regulated mind sees all things as they should be seen, appraises
them at their proper value, turns them to its own advantage, and adheres
firmly to its own opinions as it knows all their force and weight.
A difference exists between a working mind and a business-like mind. We
can undertake business without turning it to our own interest. Some are
clever only in what does not concern them, and the reverse in all that
does. There are others again whose cleverness is limited to their own
business, and who know how to turn everything to their own advantage.
It is possible to have a serious turn of mind, and yet to talk
pleasantly and cheerfully. This class of mind is suited to all persons
in all times of life. Young persons have usually a cheerful and
satirical turn, untempered by seriousness, thus often making themselves
disagreeable.
No part is easier to play than that of being always pleasant; and the
applause we sometimes receive in censuring others is not worth being
exposed to the chance of offending them when they are out of temper.
Satire is at once the most agreeable and most dangerous of mental
qualities. It always pleases when it is refined, but we always fear
those who use it too much, yet satire should be allowed when unmixed
with spite, and when the person satirised can join in the satire.
It is unfortunate to have a satirical turn without affecting to be
pleased or without loving to jest. It requires much adroitness to
continue satirical without falling into one of these extremes.
Raillery is a kind of mirth which takes possession of the imagination,
and shows every object in an absurd light; wit combines more or less
softness or harshness.
There is a kind of refined and flattering raillery that only hits the
faults that persons admit, which understands how to hide the praise it
gives under the appearance of blame, and shows the good while feigning a
wish to hide it.
An acute mind and a cunning mind are very dissimilar. The first always
pleases; it is unfettered, it perceives the most delicate and sees the
most imperceptible matters. A cunning spirit never goes straight, it
endeavours to secure its object by byeways and short cuts. This conduct
is soon found out, it always gives rise to distrust and never reaches
greatness.
There is a difference between an ardent and a brilliant mind, a fiery
spirit travels further and faster, while a brilliant mind is sparkling,
attractive, accurate.
Gentleness of mind is an easy and accommodating manner which always
pleases when not insipid.
A mind full of details devotes itself to the management and regulation
of the smallest particulars it meets with. This distinction is usually
limited to little matters, yet it is not absolutely incompatible with
greatness, and when these two qualities are united in the same mind they
raise it infinitely above others.
The expression "Bel Esprit" is much perverted, for all that one can say
of the different kinds of mind meet together in the "Bel Esprit." Yet as
the epithet is bestowed on an infinite number of bad poets and tedious
authors, it is more often used to ridicule than to praise.
There are yet many other epithets for the mind which mean the same
thing, the difference lies in the tone and manner of saying them, but
as tones and manner cannot appear in writing I shall not go into
distinctions I cannot explain. Custom explains this in saying that a
man has wit, has much wit, that he is a great wit; there are tones and
manners which make all the difference between phrases which seem all
alike on paper, and yet express a different order of mind.
So we say that a man has only one kind of wit, that he has several, that
he has every variety of wit.
One can be a fool with much wit, and one need not be a fool even with
very little wit.
To have much mind is a doubtful expression. It may mean every class of
mind that can be mentioned, it may mean none in particular. It may mean
that he talks sensibly while he acts foolishly. We may have a mind, but
a narrow one. A mind may be fitted for some things, not for others. We
may have a large measure of mind fitted for nothing, and one is often
inconvenienced with much mind; still of this kind of mind we may say
that it is sometimes pleasing in society.
Though the gifts of the mind are infinite, they can, it seems to me, be
thus classified.
There are some so beautiful that everyone can see and feel their beauty.
There are some lovely, it is true, but which are wearisome.
There are some which are lovely, which all the world admire, but without
knowing why.
There are some so refined and delicate that few are capable even of
remarking all their beauties.
There are others which, though imperfect, yet are produced with such
skill, and sustained and managed with such sense and grace, that they
even deserve to be admired.
III. On Taste.
Some persons have more wit than taste, others have more taste than wit.
There is greater vanity and caprice in taste than in wit.
The word taste has different meanings, which it is easy to mistake.
There is a difference between the taste which in certain objects has
an attraction for us, and the taste that makes us understand and
distinguish the qualities we judge by.
We may like a comedy without having a sufficiently fine and delicate
taste to criticise it accurately. Some tastes lead us imperceptibly to
objects, from which others carry us away by their force or intensity.
Some persons have bad taste in everything, others have bad taste only
in some things, but a correct and good taste in matters within their
capacity. Some have peculiar taste, which they know to be bad, but which
they still follow. Some have a doubtful taste, and let chance decide,
their indecision makes them change, and they are affected with pleasure
or weariness on their friends' judgment. Others are always prejudiced,
they are the slaves of their tastes, which they adhere to in everything.
Some know what is good, and are horrified at what is not; their opinions
are clear and true, and they find the reason for their taste in their
mind and understanding.
Some have a species of instinct (the source of which they are ignorant
of), and decide all questions that come before them by its aid, and
always decide rightly.
These follow their taste more than their intelligence, because they
do not permit their temper and self-love to prevail over their natural
discernment. All they do is in harmony, all is in the same spirit.
This harmony makes them decide correctly on matters, and form a correct
estimate of their value. But speaking generally there are few who have
a taste fixed and independent of that of their friends, they follow
example and fashion which generally form the standard of taste.
In all the diversities of taste that we discern, it is very rare and
almost impossible to meet with that sort of good taste that knows how to
set a price on the particular, and yet understands the right value that
should be placed on all. Our knowledge is too limited, and that correct
discernment of good qualities which goes to form a correct judgment
is too seldom to be met with except in regard to matters that do not
concern us.
As regards ourselves our taste has not this all-important discernment.
Preoccupation, trouble, all that concern us, present it to us in another
aspect. We do not see with the same eyes what does and what does not
relate to us. Our taste is guided by the bent of our self-love and
temper, which supplies us with new views which we adapt to an infinite
number of changes and uncertainties. Our taste is no longer our own,
we cease to control it, without our consent it changes, and the same
objects appear to us in such divers aspects that ultimately we fail to
perceive what we have seen and heard.
IV. On Society.
In speaking of society my plan is not to speak of friendship, for,
though they have some connection, they are yet very different. The
former has more in it of greatness and humility, and the greatest merit
of the latter is to resemble the former.
For the present I shall speak of that particular kind of intercourse
that gentlemen should have with each other. It would be idle to show how
far society is essential to men: all seek for it, and all find it, but
few adopt the method of making it pleasant and lasting.
Everyone seeks to find his pleasure and his advantage at the expense of
others. We prefer ourselves always to those with whom we intend to
live, and they almost always perceive the preference. It is this which
disturbs and destroys society. We should discover a means to hide this
love of selection since it is too ingrained in us to be in our power to
destroy. We should make our pleasure that of other persons, to humour,
never to wound their self-love.
The mind has a great part to do in so great a work, but it is not merely
sufficient for us to guide it in the different courses it should hold.
The agreement we meet between minds would not keep society together for
long if she was not governed and sustained by good sense, temper, and by
the consideration which ought to exist between persons who have to live
together.
It sometimes happens that persons opposite in temper and mind become
united. They doubtless hold together for different reasons, which cannot
last for long. Society may subsist between those who are our inferiors
by birth or by personal qualities, but those who have these advantages
should not abuse them. They should seldom let it be perceived that they
serve to instruct others. They should let their conduct show that
they, too, have need to be guided and led by reason, and accommodate
themselves as far as possible to the feeling and the interests of the
others.
To make society pleasant, it is essential that each should retain
his freedom of action. A man should not see himself, or he should see
himself without dependence, and at the same time amuse himself. He
should have the power of separating himself without that separation
bringing any change on the society. He should have the power to pass by
one and the other, if he does not wish to expose himself to occasional
embarrassments; and he should remember that he is often bored when he
believes he has not the power even to bore. He should share in what he
believes to be the amusement of persons with whom he wishes to live, but
he should not always be liable to the trouble of providing them.
Complaisance is essential in society, but it should have its limits,
it becomes a slavery when it is extreme. We should so render a free
consent, that in following the opinion of our friends they should
believe that they follow ours.
We should readily excuse our friends when their faults are born with
them, and they are less than their good qualities. We should often avoid
to show what they have said, and what they have left unsaid. We should
try to make them perceive their faults, so as to give them the merit of
correcting them.
There is a kind of politeness which is necessary in the intercourse
among gentlemen, it makes them comprehend badinage, and it keeps
them from using and employing certain figures of speech, too rude
and unrefined, which are often used thoughtlessly when we hold to our
opinion with too much warmth.
The intercourse of gentlemen cannot subsist without a certain kind of
confidence; this should be equal on both sides. Each should have an
appearance of sincerity and of discretion which never causes the fear of
anything imprudent being said.
There should be some variety in wit. Those who have only one kind of
wit cannot please for long unless they can take different roads, and not
both use the same talents, thus adding to the pleasure of society, and
keeping the same harmony that different voices and different instruments
should observe in music; and as it is detrimental to the quiet of
society, that many persons should have the same interests, it is yet as
necessary for it that their interests should not be different.
We should anticipate what can please our friends, find out how to be
useful to them so as to exempt them from annoyance, and when we cannot
avert evils, seem to participate in them, insensibly obliterate without
attempting to destroy them at a blow, and place agreeable objects in
their place, or at least such as will interest them. We should talk of
subjects that concern them, but only so far as they like, and we
should take great care where we draw the line. There is a species of
politeness, and we may say a similar species of humanity, which does not
enter too quickly into the recesses of the heart. It often takes pains
to allow us to see all that our friends know, while they have still the
advantage of not knowing to the full when we have penetrated the depth
of the heart.
Thus the intercourse between gentlemen at once gives them familiarity
and furnishes them with an infinite number of subjects on which to talk
freely.
Few persons have sufficient tact and good sense fairly to appreciate
many matters that are essential to maintain society. We desire to
turn away at a certain point, but we do not want to be mixed up in
everything, and we fear to know all kinds of truth.
As we should stand at a certain distance to view objects, so we should
also stand at a distance to observe society; each has its proper point
of view from which it should be regarded. It is quite right that it
should not be looked at too closely, for there is hardly a man who in
all matters allows himself to be seen as he really is.
V. On Conversation.
The reason why so few persons are agreeable in conversation is that each
thinks more of what he desires to say, than of what the others say, and
that we make bad listeners when we want to speak.
Yet it is necessary to listen to those who talk, we should give them the
time they want, and let them say even senseless things; never contradict
or interrupt them; on the contrary, we should enter into their mind and
taste, illustrate their meaning, praise anything they say that deserves
praise, and let them see we praise more from our choice than from
agreement with them.
To please others we should talk on subjects they like and that interest
them, avoid disputes upon indifferent matters, seldom ask questions, and
never let them see that we pretend to be better informed than they are.
We should talk in a more or less serious manner, and upon more or less
abstruse subjects, according to the temper and understanding of the
persons we talk with, and readily give them the advantage of deciding
without obliging them to answer when they are not anxious to talk.
After having in this way fulfilled the duties of politeness, we can
speak our opinions to our listeners when we find an opportunity without
a sign of presumption or opinionatedness. Above all things we should
avoid often talking of ourselves and giving ourselves as an example;
nothing is more tiresome than a man who quotes himself for everything.
We cannot give too great study to find out the manner and the capacity
of those with whom we talk, so as to join in the conversation of those
who have more than ourselves without hurting by this preference the
wishes or interests of others.
Then we should modestly use all the modes abovementioned to show our
thoughts to them, and make them, if possible, believe that we take our
ideas from them.
We should never say anything with an air of authority, nor show
any superiority of mind. We should avoid far-fetched expressions,
expressions hard or forced, and never let the words be grander than the
matter.
It is not wrong to retain our opinions if they are reasonable, but we
should yield to reason, wherever she appears and from whatever side
she comes, she alone should govern our opinions, we should follow her
without opposing the opinions of others, and without seeming to ignore
what they say.
It is dangerous to seek to be always the leader of the conversation, and
to push a good argument too hard, when we have found one. Civility often
hides half its understanding, and when it meets with an opinionated man
who defends the bad side, spares him the disgrace of giving way.
We are sure to displease when we speak too long and too often of one
subject, and when we try to turn the conversation upon subjects that we
think more instructive than others, we should enter indifferently upon
every subject that is agreeable to others, stopping where they wish, and
avoiding all they do not agree with.
Every kind of conversation, however witty it may be, is not equally
fitted for all clever persons; we should select what is to their taste
and suitable to their condition, their sex, their talents, and also
choose the time to say it.
We should observe the place, the occasion, the temper in which we find
the person who listens to us, for if there is much art in speaking to
the purpose, there is no less in knowing when to be silent. There is
an eloquent silence which serves to approve or to condemn, there is a
silence of discretion and of respect. In a word, there is a tone, an
air, a manner, which renders everything in conversation agreeable or
disagreeable, refined or vulgar.
But it is given to few persons to keep this secret well. Those who lay
down rules too often break them, and the safest we are able to give is
to listen much, to speak little, and to say nothing that will ever give
ground for regret.
VI. Falsehood.
We are false in different ways. There are some men who are false from
wishing always to appear what they are not. There are some who have
better faith, who are born false, who deceive themselves, and who never
see themselves as they really are; to some is given a true understanding
and a false taste, others have a false understanding and some
correctness in taste; there are some who have not any falsity either in
taste or mind. These last are very rare, for to speak generally, there
is no one who has not some falseness in some corner of his mind or his
taste.
What makes this falseness so universal, is that as our qualities are
uncertain and confused, so too, are our tastes; we do not see things
exactly as they are, we value them more or less than they are worth,
and do not bring them into unison with ourselves in a manner which suits
them or suits our condition or qualities.
This mistake gives rise to an infinite number of falsities in the taste
and in the mind. Our self-love is flattered by all that presents itself
to us under the guise of good.
But as there are many kinds of good which affect our vanity and our
temper, so they are often followed from custom or advantage. We follow
because the others follow, without considering that the same feeling
ought not to be equally embarrassing to all kinds of persons, and that
it should attach itself more or less firmly, according as persons agree
more or less with those who follow them.
We dread still more to show falseness in taste than in mind. Gentleness
should approve without prejudice what deserves to be approved, follow
what deserves to be followed, and take offence at nothing. But there
should be great distinction and great accuracy. We should distinguish
between what is good in the abstract and what is good for ourselves, and
always follow in reason the natural inclination which carries us towards
matters that please us.
If men only wished to excel by the help of their own talents, and in
following their duty, there would be nothing false in their taste or in
their conduct. They would show what they were, they would judge matters
by their lights, and they would attract by their reason. There would be
a discernment in their views, in their sentiments, their taste would
be true, it would come to them direct, and not from others, they would
follow from choice and not from habit or chance. If we are false in
admiring what should not be admired, it is oftener from envy that we
affix a value to qualities which are good in themselves, but which do
not become us. A magistrate is false when he flatters himself he is
brave, and that he will be able to be bold in certain cases. He should
be as firm and stedfast in a plot which ought to be stifled without fear
of being false, as he would be false and absurd in fighting a duel about
it.
A woman may like science, but all sciences are not suitable for her, and
the doctrines of certain sciences never become her, and when applied by
her are always false.
We should allow reason and good sense to fix the value of things, they
should determine our taste and give things the merit they deserve, and
the importance it is fitting we should give them. But nearly all men are
deceived in the price and in the value, and in these mistakes there is
always a kind of falseness.
VII. On Air and Manner.
There is an air which belongs to the figure and talents of each
individual; we always lose it when we abandon it to assume another.
We should try to find out what air is natural to us and never abandon
it, but make it as perfect as we can. This is the reason that the
majority of children please. It is because they are wrapt up in the air
and manner nature has given them, and are ignorant of any other. They
are changed and corrupted when they quit infancy, they think they should
imitate what they see, and they are not altogether able to imitate it.
In this imitation there is always something of falsity and uncertainty.
They have nothing settled in their manner and opinions. Instead of being
in reality what they want to appear, they seek to appear what they are
not.
All men want to be different, and to be greater than they are; they seek
for an air other than their own, and a mind different from what
they possess; they take their style and manner at chance. They make
experiments upon themselves without considering that what suits one
person will not suit everyone, that there is no universal rule for taste
or manners, and that there are no good copies.
Few men, nevertheless, can have unison in many matters without being
a copy of each other, if each follow his natural turn of mind. But in
general a person will not wholly follow it. He loves to imitate. We
often imitate the same person without perceiving it, and we neglect our
own good qualities for the good qualities of others, which generally do
not suit us.
I do not pretend, from what I say, that each should so wrap himself up
in himself as not to be able to follow example, or to add to his own,
useful and serviceable habits, which nature has not given him. Arts and
sciences may be proper for the greater part of those who are capable for
them. Good manners and politeness are proper for all the world. But, yet
acquired qualities should always have a certain agreement and a certain
union with our own natural qualities, which they imperceptibly extend
and increase. We are elevated to a rank and dignity above ourselves. We
are often engaged in a new profession for which nature has not adapted
us. All these conditions have each an air which belong to them, but
which does not always agree with our natural manner. This change of our
fortune often changes our air and our manners, and augments the air of
dignity, which is always false when it is too marked, and when it is not
united and amalgamated with that which nature has given us. We should
unite and blend them together, and thus render them such that they can
never be separated.
We should not speak of all subjects in one tone and in the same manner.
We do not march at the head of a regiment as we walk on a promenade;
and we should use the same style in which we should naturally speak of
different things in the same way, with the same difference as we should
walk, but always naturally, and as is suitable, either at the head of
a regiment or on a promenade. There are some who are not content to
abandon the air and manner natural to them to assume those of the rank
and dignities to which they have arrived. There are some who assume
prematurely the air of the dignities and rank to which they aspire.
How many lieutenant-generals assume to be marshals of France, how many
barristers vainly repeat the style of the Chancellor and how many female
citizens give themselves the airs of duchesses.
But what we are most often vexed at is that no one knows how to conform
his air and manners with his appearance, nor his style and words with
his thoughts and sentiments, that every one forgets himself and how far
he is insensibly removed from the truth. Nearly every one falls into
this fault in some way. No one has an ear sufficiently fine to mark
perfectly this kind of cadence.
Thousands of people with good qualities are displeasing; thousands
pleasing with far less abilities, and why? Because the first wish to
appear to be what they are not, the second are what they appear.
Some of the advantages or disadvantages that we have received from
nature please in proportion as we know the air, the style, the manner,
the sentiments that coincide with our condition and our appearance, and
displease in the proportion they are removed from that point.
INDEX
THE LETTER R PRECEDING A REFERENCE REFERS TO THE REFLECTIONS, THE ROMAN
NUMERALS REFER TO THE SUPPLEMENTS.
Ability, 162, 165, 199, 245, 283, 288. SEE Cleverness
------, Sovereign, 244.
Absence, 276.
Accent, country, 342, XCIV.
Accidents, 59, 310.
Acquaintances, 426. SEE FRIENDS.
Acknowledgements, 225.
Actions, 1, 7, 57, 58, 160, 161, 382, 409, CXX.
Actors, 256.
Admiration, 178, 294, 474.
Adroitness of mind, R.II.
Adversity, 25.
-------- of Friends, XV.
Advice, 110, 116, 283, 378, CXVII.
Affairs, 453, R II.
Affectation, 134, 493.
Affections, 232.
Afflictions, 233, 355, 362, 493, XCVII, XV.
Age, 222, 405, LXXIII. SEE Old Age.
Agreeableness, 255, R.V.
Agreement, 240.
Air, 399, 495, R.7.
-- Of a Citizen, 393.
Ambition, 24, 91, 246, 293, 490.
Anger, XXX.
Application, 41, 243.
Appearances, 64, 166, 199, 256, 302, 431, 457, R.VII.
----------, Conformity of Manners with, R.7.
Applause, 272.
Approbation, 51, 280.
Artifices, 117, 124, 125, 126, R.II.
Astonishment, 384.
Avarice, 167, 491, 492.
Ballads, 211.
Beauty, 240, 474, 497, LI.
------ of the Mind, R.II.
Bel esprit defined, R.II.
Benefits, 14, 298, 299, 301, CXXII.
Benefactors, 96, 317, CXXII.
Blame, CVIII.
Blindness, XIX.
Boasting, 141, 307.
Boredom, 141, 304, 352. SEE Ennui.
Bouts rimes, 382, CXX.
Bravery, 1, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 219, 220, 221, 365,
504. SEE Courage and Valour.
Brilliancy of Mind, R.II.
Brilliant things, LII.
Capacity, 375.
Caprice, 45.
Chance, 57, 344, XCV. SEE Fortune.
Character, LVI, R.II.
Chastity, 1. SEE Virtue of Women.
Cheating, 114, 127.
Circumstances, 59, 470.
Civility, 260.
Clemency, 15, 16.
Cleverness, 162, 269, 245, 399.
Coarseness, 372.
Comedy, 211, R.III.
Compassion, 463. SEE Pity.
Complaisance, 481, R.IV.
Conduct, 163, 227, 378, CXVII.
Confidants, whom we make, R.I.
Confidence, 239, 365, 475, XLIX, R.1, R.IV.
Confidence, difference from Sincerity
----------, defined, R.I.
Consolation, 325.
Constancy, 19, 20, 21, 175, 176, 420.
Contempt, 322.
-------- of Death, 504.
Contentment, LXXX.
Contradictions, 478.
Conversation, 139, 140, 142, 312, 313, 314, 364, 391,
421, CIV, R.V.
Copies, 133.
Coquetry, 241. SEE Flirtation.
Country Manner, 393.
------ Accent, 342.
Courage, 1, 214, 215, 216, 219, 221, XLII. SEE Bravery.
Covetousness, opposed to Reason, 469
Cowardice, 215, 480.
Cowards, 370.
Crimes, 183, 465, XXXV, XXXVII.
Cunning, 126, 129, 394, 407.
Curiosity, 173.
Danger, XLII.
Death, 21, 23, 26.
----, Contempt of, 504.
Deceit, 86, 117, 118, 124, 127, 129, 395, 434. SEE ALSO
Self-Deceit.
Deception, CXXI.
Decency, 447.
Defects, 31, 90, 493, LXXII. SEE Faults.
Delicacy, 128, R.II.
Dependency, result of Confidence, R.I.
Designs, 160, 161.
Desires, 439, 469, LXXXII, LXXXV.
Despicable Persons, 322.
Detail, Mind given to, R.II.
Details, 41, 106.
Devotion, 427.
Devotees, 427.
Devout, LXXVI.
Differences, 135.
Dignities, R.VII.
Discretion, R.V.
Disguise, 119, 246, 282.
Disgrace, 235, 412.
Dishonour, 326, LXIX.
Distrust, 84, 86, 335.
Divination, 425.
Doubt, 348.
Docility, R.IV.
Dupes, 87, 102.
Education, 261.
Elevation, 399, 400, 403.
Eloquence, 8, 249, 250.
Employments, 164, 419, 449.
Enemies, 114, 397, 458, 463.
Ennui, 122, 141, 304, 312, 352, CXII, R.II.
Envy, 27, 28, 280, 281, 328, 376, 433, 476, 486.
Epithets assigned to the Mind, R.II.
Esteem, 296.
Establish, 56, 280.
Evils, 121, 197, 269, 454, 464, XCIII.
Example, 230.
Exchange of secrets, R.I.
Experience, 405.
Expedients, 287.
Expression, refined, R.V.
Faculties of the Mind, 174.
Failings, 397, 403.
Falseness, R.VI.
--------, disguised, 282.
--------, kinds of, R.VI.
Familiarity, R.IV.
Fame, 157.
Farces, men compared to, 211.
Faults, 37, 112, 155, 184, 190, 194, 196, 251, 354, 365,
372, 397, 403, 411, 428, 493, 494, V, LXV, CX,
CXV.
Favourites, 55.
Fear, 370, LXVIII.
Feeling, 255.
Ferocity, XXXIII.
Fickleness, 179, 181, 498.
Fidelity, 247.
--------, hardest test of, R.I.
-------- in love, 331, 381, C.
Figure and air, R.VII.
Firmness, 19, 479.
Flattery, 123, 144, 152, 198, 320, 329.
Flirts, 406, 418.
Flirtation, 107, 241, 277, 332, 334, 349, 376, LXIV.
Follies, 156, 300, 408, 416.
Folly, 207, 208, 209, 210, 231, 300, 310, 311, 318,
XXIV.
Fools, 140, 210, 309, 318, 357, 414, 451, 456,
----, old, 444.
----, witty, 451, 456.
Force of Mind, 30, 42, 237.
Forgetfulness, XXVI.
Forgiveness, 330.
Fortitude, 19. SEE Bravery.
Fortune, 1, 17, 45, 52, 53, 58, 60, 61, 154, 212, 227, 323,
343, 380, 391, 392, 399, 403, 435, 449, IX., CXIX.
Friends, 84, 114, 179, 235, 279, 315, 319, 428.
------, adversity of, XV.
------, disgrace of, 235.
------, faults of, 428.
------, true ones, LXXXVI.
Friendship, 80, 81, 83, 376, 410, 427, 440, 441, 473,
XXII, CXXIV.
----------, defined, 83.
----------, women do not care for, 440.
----------, rarer than love, 473.
Funerals, XXXVIII.
Gallantry, 100. SEE Flirtation.
-------- of mind, 100.
Generosity, 246.
Genius, R.II.
Gentleness, R.VI.
Ghosts, 76.
Gifts of the mind, R.II.
Glory, 157, 198, 221, 268.
Good, 121, 185, 229, 238, 303, XCIII.
----, how to be, XLVII.
Goodness, 237, 275, 284, XLVI.
Good grace, 67, R.VII.
Good man, who is a, 206.
God nature, 481.
Good qualities, 29, 90, 337, 365, 397, 462.
Good sense, 67, 347, CVI.
Good taste, 258.
----------, rarity of, R.III.
----, women, 368, XCVI.
Government of others, 151.
Grace, 67.
Gracefulness, 240.
Gratitude, 223, 224, 225, 279, 298, 438, XLIII.
Gravity, 257.
Great men, what they cannot acquire, LXXXIV.
Great minds, 142.
Great names, 94.
Greediness, 66.
Habit, 426.
Happy, who are, 49.
Happiness, 48, 61, VII, LXXX, LXXXI.
hatred, 338.
Head, 102, 108.
Health, 188, LVII.
Heart, 98, 102, 103, 108, 478, 484.
Heroes, 24, 53, 185.
Honesty, 202, 206.
Honour, 270.
Hope, 168, LXVIII.
Humility, 254, 358, LXXVI, LXXIX
Humiliation, 272.
Humour, 47. SEE Temper.
Hypocrisy, 218.
-------- of afflictions, 233.
Idleness, 169, 266, 267, 398, 482, 487, XVIII., LV.
Ills, 174. SEE Evils.
Illusions, 123.
Imagination, 478.
Imitation, 230, XLIV, R.V.
Impertinence, 502.
Impossibilities, 30.
Incapacity, 126.
Inclination, 253, 390.
Inconsistency, 135.
Inconstancy, 181.
Inconvenience, 242.
Indifference, 172, XXIII.
Indiscretion, 429.
Indolence. SEE Idleness, and Laziness.
Infidelity, 359, 360, 381, 429.
Ingratitude, 96, 226, 306, 317.
Injuries, 14.
Injustice, 78.
Innocence, 465.
Instinct, 123.
Integrity, 170.
Interest, 39, 40, 66, 85, 172, 187, 232, 253, 305, 390.
Interests, 66.
Intrepidity, 217, XL.
Intrigue, 73.
Invention, 287.
Jealousy, 28, 32, 324, 336, 359, 361, 446, 503, CII.
Joy, XIV.
Judges, 268.
Judgment, 89, 97, 248.
-------- of the World, 212, 455.
Justice, 78, 458, XII.
Kindness, 14, 85.
Knowledge, 106.
Labour of Body, effect of, LXXVII.
Laments, 355.
Laziness, 367. SEE Idleness.
Leader, 43.
Levity, 179, 181.
Liberality, 167, 263.
Liberty in Society, R.IV.
Limits to Confidence, R.I.
Little Minds, 142.
Love, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 136, 259, 262,
274, 286, 296, 321, 335, 336, 348, 349, 351, 353,
361, 371, 374, 385, 395, 396, 402, 417, 418, 422,
430, 440, 441, 459, 466, 471, 473, 499, 500, 501,
X, XI, XIII, LVIII, LX, LXII, LXXXVIII,
XCIX, CIII, CXXI.
---- defined, 68.
----, Coldness in, LX.
----, Effect of absence on, 276.
---- akin to Hate, 111.
---- of Women, 466, 471, 499.
----, Novelty in, 274.
----, Infidelity in, LXIV.
----, Old age of, 430.
----, Cure for, 417, 459.
Loss of Friends, XLV.
Lovers, 312, 362, LXXXVII, XCVII.
Lunatic, 353.
Luxury, LIV.
Lying, 63.
Madmen, 353, 414.
Malady, LVII.
Magistrates, R.VI.
Magnanimity, 248, LIII.
---------- defined, 285.
Malice, 483.
Manners, R.VII.
Mankind, 436, XXXVI.
Marriages, 113.
Maxims, LXVII.
Mediocrity, 375.
Memory, 89, 313.
Men easier to know than Man, 436.
Merit, 50, 92, 95, 153, 156, 165, 166, 273, 291, 379,
401, 437, 455, CXVIII.
Mind, 101, 103, 265, 357, 448, 482, CIX.
Mind, Capacities of, R.II.
Miserable, 49.
Misfortunes, 19, 24, 174, 325.
---------- of Friends. XV.
---------- of Enemies, 463.
Mistaken people, 386.
Mistrust, 86.
Mockery, R.II.
Moderation, 17, 18, 293, 308, III, IV.
Money, Man compared to, XXXII.
Motives, 409.
Names, Great, 94.
Natural goodness, 275.
Natural, to be, 431.
------, always pleasing, R.VII.
Nature, 53, 153, 189, 365, 404.
Negotiations, 278.
Novelty in study, 178.
------ in love, 274.
------ in friendship, 426.
Obligations, 299, 317, 438. SEE Benefits and Gratitude.
Obstinacy, 234, 424.
-------- its cause, 265.
Occasions. SEE Opportunities.
Old Age, 109, 210, 418, 423, 430, 461.
Old Men, 93.
Openness of heart, R.1.
Opinions, 13, 234, CXXIII, R.V.
Opinionatedness, R.V.
Opportunities, 345, 453, CV.
Passions, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 122, 188, 266, 276, 404,
422, 443, 460, 471, 477, 484, 485, 486, 500, II.
Peace of Mind, VIII.
Penetration, 377, 425, CXVI.
Perfection, R.II.
Perseverance, 177.
Perspective, 104.
Persuasion, 8.
Philosophers, 46, 54, 504, XXI.
Philosophy, 22.
---------- of a Footman, 504, LXXV.
Pity, 264.
Pleasing, 413, CXXV.
--------, Mode of, XLVIII, R.V.
--------, Mind a, R.II.
Point of view, R.IV.
Politeness, 372, R.V.
Politeness of Mind, 99.
Praise, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 272, 356,
432, XXVII, CVII.
Preoccupation, 92, R.III.
Pride, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 228, 234, 239, 254, 267, 281,
450, 462, 463, 472, VI, XIX.
Princes, 15, 320.
Proceedings, 170.
Productions of the Mind, R.II.
Professions, 256.
Promises, 38.
Proportion, R.VI.
Propriety, 447.
-------- in Women, XXXIV.
Prosperity, 25.
Providence, XXXIX.
Prudence, 65, LXXXVIII, R.I.
Qualities, 29, 162, 397, 470, 498, R.VI, R.VII.
--------, Bad, 468.
--------, Good, 88, 337, 462.
--------, Great, 159, 433.
--------, of Mind, classified, R.II.
Quarrels, 496,
Quoting oneself, R.V.
Raillery, R.II, R.IV.
Rank, 401.
Reason, 42, 105, 325, 365, 467, 469, XX, R.VI.
Recollection in Memory{, 313}.
Reconciliation, 82.
Refinement, R.II.
Regret, 355.
Relapses, 193.
Remedies, 288.
-------- for love 459.
Remonstrances, 37.
Repentance, 180.
Repose, 268.
Reproaches, 148.
Reputation, 268, 412.
Resolution, L.
Revenge, 14.
Riches, 54.
Ridicule, 133, 134, 326, 418, 422.
Rules for Conversation, R.V.
Rusticity, 393.
Satire, 483, R.II, R.IV.
Sciences, R.VI.
Secrets, XVI, R.I.
------, How they should be kept, R.I.
Self-deceit, 115, 452.
Self-love, 2, 3, 4, 228, 236, 247, 261, 262, 339, 494, 500,
I, XVII, XXVIII, XXXIII, LXVI, LXXIV.
-------- in love, 262.
Self-satisfaction, 51.
Sensibility, 275.
Sensible People, 347, CVI.
Sentiment, 255, R.VI.
Severity of Women, 204, 333.
Shame, 213, 220.
Silence, 79, 137, 138, CXIV.
Silliness. SEE Folly.
Simplicity, 289.
Sincerity, 62, 316, 366, 383, 457.
--------, Difference between it and Confidence, R.I.
--------, defined, R.I.
-------- of Lovers, LXI.
Skill, LXIV.
Sobriety, XXV.
Society, 87, 201, R.IV.
------, Distinction between it and Friendship, R.IV.
Soul, 80, 188, 194.
Souls, Great, XXXI.
Sorrows, LXXVIII.
Stages of Life, 405.
Strength of mind, 19, 20, 21, 504.
Studies, why new ones are pleasing, 178.
------, what to study, XCII.
Subtilty, 128.
Sun, 26.
Talents, 468.
------, latent, 344, XCV.
Talkativeness, 314.
Taste, 13, 109, 252, 390, 467, CXX, R.III, R.VI.
----, good, 258, R.III.
----, cause of diversities in, R.III.
----, false, R.III.
Tears, 233, 373.
Temper, 47, 290, 292.
Temperament, 220, 222, 297, 346.
Times for speaking, R.V.
Timidity, 169, 480.
Titles, XXXII.
Tranquillity, 488.
Treachery, 120, 126.
Treason, 120.
Trickery, 86, 350, XCI. SEE Deceit.
Trifles, 41.
Truth, 64, LI.
Tyranny, R.I.
Understanding, 89.
Untruth, 63. SEE Lying.
Unhappy, CXXV.
Valour, 1, 213, 214, 215, 216. SEE Bravery and Courage.
Vanity, 137, 158, 200, 232, 388, 389, 443, 467, 483.
Variety of mind, R.IV.
Vice, 182, 186, 187, 189, 191, 192, 195, 218, 253, 273,
380, 442, 445, XXIX.
Violence, 363, 369, 466, CXIII.
Victory, XII.
Virtue, 1, 25, 169, 171, 182, 186, 187, 189, 200, 218,
253, 380, 388, 442, 445, 489, XXIX.
Virtue of Women, 1, 220, 367, XCVIII.
Vivacity, 416.
Weakness, 130, 445.
Wealth, Contempt of, 301.
Weariness. SEE Ennui.
Wicked people, 284.
Wife jealous sometimes desirable, LXXXIX.
Will, 30.
Wisdom, 132, 210, 231, 323, 444, LXXXIII.
Wise Man, who is a, 203, XCI.
Wishes, 295.
Wit, 199, 340, 413, 415, 421, 502.
Wives, 364, CIV.
Woman, 131, 204, 205, 220, 241, 277, 332, 333, 334,
340, 346, 362, 367, 368, 418, 429, 440, 466, 471,
474, LXX, XC.
Women, Severity of, 333.
----, Virtue of, 205, 220, XC.
----, Power of, LXXI.
Wonder, 384.
World, 201.
----, Judgment of, 268.
----, Approbation of, 201.
----, Establishment in, 56.
----, Praise and censure of, 454.
Young men, 378, 495.
Youth, 271, 341.
End of Project Gutenberg's Reflections, by Francois Duc De La Rochefoucauld