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Reflections; Or Sentences and Moral Maxims

F >> Francois Duc De La Rochefoucauld >> Reflections; Or Sentences and Moral Maxims




“Few books,” says Mr. Hallam, “have been more
highly extolled, or more severely blamed, than the
maxims of the Duke of Rochefoucauld, and that not
only here, but also in France.” Rousseau speaks of it
as, “a sad and melancholy book,” though he goes on
to say “it is usually so in youth when we do not like
seeing man as he is.” Voltaire says of it, in the words
above quoted, “One of the works which most contri-
buted to form the taste of the (French) nation, and
to give it a spirit of justness and precision, was the
collection of the maxims of Francois Duc de la Roche-
foucauld, though there is scarcely more than one
truth running through the book--that ‘self-love is the
motive of everything’--yet this thought is presented
under so many varied aspects that it is nearly always
striking. It is not so much a book as it is materials
for ornamenting a book. This little collection was
read with avidity, it taught people to think, and to
comprise their thoughts in a lively, precise, and delicate
turn of expression. This was a merit which, before
him, no one in Europe had attained since the revival
of letters.”

Dr. Johnson speaks of it as “the only book written
by a man of fashion, of which professed authors need
be jealous.”

Lord Chesterfield, in his letters to his son, says,
“Till you come to know mankind by your experience,
I know no thing nor no man that can in the mean-
time bring you so well acquainted with them as Le
Duc de la Rochefoucauld. His little book of maxims,
which I would advise you to look into for some
moments at least every day of your life, is, I fear, too
like and too exact a picture of human nature. I own
it seems to degrade it, but yet my experience does not
convince me that it degrades it unjustly.”

Bishop Butler, on the other hand, blames the book
in no measured terms. “There is a strange affecta-
tion,” says the bishop, “in some people of explaining
away all particular affection, and representing the
whole life as nothing but one continued exercise
of self-love. Hence arise that surprising confusion
and perplexity in the Epicureans of old, Hobbes, the
author of 'Reflexions Morales,' and the whole set
of writers, of calling actions interested which are
done of the most manifest known interest, merely for
the gratification of a present passion.”

The judgment the reader will be most inclined to
adopt will perhaps be either that of Mr. Hallam, “Con-
cise and energetic in expression, reduced to those
short aphorisms which leave much to the reader's
acuteness and yet save his labour, not often obscure,
and never wearisome, an evident generalisation of
long experience, without pedantry, without method,
without deductive reasonings, yet wearing an appear-
ance at least of profundity; they delight the intelli-
gent though indolent man of the world, and must be
read with some admiration by the philosopher . . . .
yet they bear witness to the contracted observation
and the precipitate inferences which an intercourse
with a single class of society scarcely fails to generate.”
Or that of Addison, who speaks of Rochefoucauld
“as the great philosopher for administering consola-
tion to the idle, the curious, and the worthless part of
mankind.”

We are fortunately in possession of materials such
as rarely exist to enable us to form a judgment of
Rochefoucauld's character. We have, with a vanity
that could only exist in a Frenchman, a description
or portrait of himself, of his own painting, and one of
those inimitable living sketches in which his great
enemy, Cardinal De Retz, makes all the chief actors in
the court of the regency of Anne of Austria pass
across the stage before us.

We will first look on the portrait Rochefoucauld has
left us of himself: “I am,” says he, “of a medium height,
active, and well-proportioned. My complexion dark,
but uniform, a high forehead; and of moderate height,
black eyes, small, deep set, eyebrows black and thick
but well placed. I am rather embarrassed in talking of
my nose, for it is neither flat nor aquiline, nor large;
nor pointed: but I believe, as far as I can say, it is too
large than too small, and comes down just a trifle too
low. I have a large mouth, lips generally red enough,
neither shaped well nor badly. I have white teeth,
and fairly even. I have been told I have a little too
much chin. I have just looked at myself in the
glass to ascertain the fact, and I do not know how to
decide. As to the shape of my face, it is either
square or oval, but which I should find it very diffi-
cult to say. I have black hair, which curls by nature,
and thick and long enough to entitle me to lay claim
to a fine head. I have in my countenance somewhat
of grief and pride, which gives many people an
idea I despise them, although I am not at all given to
do so. My gestures are very free, rather inclined to
be too much so, for in speaking they make me use too
much action. Such, candidly, I believe I am in out-
ward appearance, and I believe it will be found that
what I have said above of myself is not far from
the real case. I shall use the same truthfulness in
the remainder of my picture, for I have studied my-
self sufficiently to know myself well; and I will lack
neither boldness to speak as freely as I can of my
good qualities, nor sincerity to freely avow that I
have faults.

“In the first place, to speak of my temper. I am
melancholy, and I have hardly been seen for the last
three or four years to laugh above three or four times.
It seems to me that my melancholy would be even
endurable and pleasant if I had none but what be-
longed to me constitutionally; but it arises from so
many other causes, fills my imagination in such a
way, and possesses my mind so strongly that for the
greater part of my time I remain without speaking a
word, or give no meaning to what I say. I am ex-
tremely reserved to those I do not know, and I am
not very open with the greater part of those I do. It
is a fault I know well, and I should neglect no means
to correct myself of it; but as a certain gloomy air
I have tends to make me seem more reserved than
I am in fact, and as it is not in our power to rid
ourselves of a bad expression that arises from a natu-
ral conformation of features, I think that even when
I have cured myself internally, externally some bad
expression will always remain.

“I have ability. I have no hesitation in saying it,
as for what purpose should I pretend otherwise. So
great circumvention, and so great depreciation, in
speaking of the gifts one has, seems to me to hide a
little vanity under an apparent modesty, and craftily
to try to make others believe in greater virtues than
are imputed to us. On my part I am content not to
be considered better-looking than I am, nor of a bet-
ter temper than I describe, nor more witty and clever
than I am. Once more, I have ability, but a mind
spoilt by melancholy, for though I know my own
language tolerably well, and have a good memory, a
mode of thought not particularly confused, I yet have
so great a mixture of discontent that I often say what
I have to say very badly.

“The conversation of gentlemen is one of the plea-
sures that most amuses me. I like it to be serious
and morality to form the substance of it. Yet I
also know how to enjoy it when trifling; and if I do
not make many witty speeches, it is not because I do
not appreciate the value of trifles well said, and that
I do not find great amusement in that manner of rail-
lery in which certain prompt and ready-witted per-
sons excel so well. I write well in prose; I do well
in verse; and if I was envious of the glory that
springs from that quarter, I think with a little labour
I could acquire some reputation. I like reading, in
general; but that in which one finds something to
polish the wit and strengthen the soul is what I like
best. But, above all, I have the greatest pleasure in
reading with an intelligent person, for then we reflect
constantly upon what we read, and the observations
we make form the most pleasant and useful form of
conversation there is.

“I am a fair critic of the works in verse and prose
that are shown me; but perhaps I speak my opinion
with almost too great freedom. Another fault in
me is that I have sometimes a spirit of delicacy far
too scrupulous, and a spirit of criticism far too severe.
I do not dislike an argument, and I often of my own
free will engage in one; but I generally back my
opinion with too much warmth, and sometimes, when
the wrong side is advocated against me, from the
strength of my zeal for reason, I become a little un-
reasonable myself.

“I have virtuous sentiments, good inclinations, and
so strong a desire to be a wholly good man that my
friend cannot afford me a greater pleasure than can-
didly to show me my faults. Those who know me
most intimately, and those who have the goodness
sometimes to give me the above advice, know that I
always receive it with all the joy that could be ex-
pected, and with all reverence of mind that could be
desired.

“I have all the passions pretty mildly, and pretty
well under control. I am hardly ever seen in a rage,
and I never hated any one. I am not, however, in-
capable of avenging myself if I have been offended,
or if my honour demanded I should resent an insult
put upon me; on the contrary, I feel clear that duty
would so well discharge the office of hatred in me
that I should follow my revenge with even greater
keenness than other people.

“Ambition does not weary me. I fear but few
things, and I do not fear death in the least. I am but
little given to pity, and I could wish I was not so at
all. Though there is nothing I would not do to com-
fort an afflicted person, and I really believe that one
should do all one can to show great sympathy to him
for his misfortune, for miserable people are so foolish
that this does them the greatest good in the world;
yet I also hold that we should be content with ex-
pressing sympathy, and carefully avoid having any.
It is a passion that is wholly worthless in a well-regu-
lated mind, which only serves to weaken the heart,
and which should be left to ordinary persons, who, as
they never do anything from reason, have need of
passions to stimulate their actions.

“I love my friends; and I love them to such an
extent that I would not for a moment weigh my
interest against theirs. I condescend to them, I
patiently endure their bad temper. But, also, I do
not make much of their caresses, and I do not feel
great uneasiness in their absence.

“Naturally, I have but little curiosity about the
majority of things that stir up curiosity in other men.
I am very secret, and I have less difficulty than most
men in holding my tongue as to what is told me in
confidence. I am most particular as to my word, and
I would never fail, whatever might be the conse-
quence, to do what I had promised; and I have made
this an inflexible law during the whole of my life.

“I keep the most punctilious civility to women. I
do not believe I have ever said anything before them
which could cause them annoyance. When their
intellect is cultivated, I prefer their society to that of
men: one there finds a mildness one does not meet
with among ourselves, and it seems to me beyond this
that they express themselves with more neatness, and
give a more agreeable turn to the things they talk
about. As for flirtation, I formerly indulged in a little,
now I shall do so no more, though I am still young.
I have renounced all flirtation, and I am simply
astonished that there are still so many sensible people
who can occupy their time with it.

“I wholly approve of real loves; they indicate great-
ness of soul, and although, in the uneasiness they give
rise to, there is a something contrary to strict wisdom,
they fit in so well with the most severe virtue, that I
believe they cannot be censured with justice. To me
who have known all that is fine and grand in the lofty
aspirations of love, if I ever fall in love, it will as-
suredly be in love of that nature. But in accordance
with the present turn of my mind, I do not believe
that the knowledge I have of it will ever change from
my mind to my heart.”

Such is his own description of himself. Let us
now turn to the other picture, delineated by the man
who was his bitterest enemy, and whom (we say it
with regret) Rochefoucauld tried to murder.

Cardinal De Retz thus paints him:--
“In M. de la Rochefoucauld there was ever an
indescribable something. From his infancy he always
wanted to be mixed up with plots, at a time when he
could not understand even the smallest interests (which
has indeed never been his weak point,) or comprehend
greater ones, which in another sense has never been
his strong point. He was never fitted for any matter,
and I really cannot tell the reason. His glance was
not sufficiently wide, and he could not take in at once
all that lay in his sight, but his good sense, perfect in
theories, combined with his gentleness, his winning
ways, his pleasing manners, which are perfect, should
more than compensate for his lack of penetration.
He always had a natural irresoluteness, but I cannot
say to what this irresolution is to be attributed. It
could not arise in him from the wealth of his imagina-
tion, for that was anything but lively. I cannot put
it down to the barrenness of his judgment, for,
although he was not prompt in action, he had a good
store of reason. We see the effects of this irresolution,
although we cannot assign a cause for it. He was
never a general, though a great soldier; never, na-
turally, a good courtier, although he had always a good
idea of being so. He was never a good partizan,
although all his life engaged in intrigues. That air
of pride and timidity which your see in his private
life, is turned in business into an apologetic manner.
He always believed he had need of it; and this, com-
bined with his ‘Maxims,’ which show little faith in
virtue, and his habitual custom, to give up matters
with the same haste he undertook them, leads
me to the conclusion that he would have done far
better to have known his own mind, and have passed
himself off, as he could have done, for the most
polished courtier, the most agreeable man in private
life that had appeared in his century.”

It is but justice to the Cardinal to say, that the
Duc is not painted in such dark colours as we should
have expected, judging from what we know of the
character of De Retz. With his marvellous power of
depicting character, a power unrivalled, except by St.
Simon and perhaps by Lord Clarendon, we should
have expected the malignity of the priest would have
stamped the features of his great enemy with the
impress of infamy, and not have simply made him
appear a courtier, weak, insincere, and nothing more.
Though rather beyond our subject, the character of
Cardinal de Retz, as delineated by Mdme. Sévigné, in
one of her letters, will help us to form a true conclu-
sion on the different characters of the Duc and the
Cardinal. She says:--
“Paul de Gondi Cardinal de Retz possesses great
elevation of character, a certain extent of intellect, and
more of the ostentation than of the true greatness of
courage. He has an extraordinary memory, more
energy than polish in his words, an easy humour,
docility of character, and weakness in submitting to
the complaints and reproaches of his friends, a little
piety, some appearances of religion. He appears
ambitious without being really so. Vanity and those
who have guided him, have made him undertake great
things, almost all opposed to his profession. He ex-
cited the greatest troubles in the State without any
design of turning them to account, and far from
declaring himself the enemy of Cardinal Mazarin
with any view of occupying his place, he thought of
nothing but making himself an object of dread to
him, and flattering himself with the false vanity of
being his rival. He was clever enough, however, to
take advantage of the public calamities to get himself
made Cardinal. He endured his imprisonment with
firmness, and owed his liberty solely to his own
daring. In the obscurity of a life of wandering and
concealment, his indolence for many years supported
him with reputation. He preserved the Archbishopric
of Paris against the power of Cardinal Mazarin, but
after the death of that minister, he resigned it without
knowing what he was doing, and without making use
of the opportunity to promote the interests of him-
self and his friends. He has taken part in several
conclaves, and his conduct has always increased his
reputation.

“His natural bent is to indolence, nevertheless he
labours with activity in pressing business, and reposes
with indifference when it is concluded. He has great
presence of mind, and knows so well how to turn it to
his own advantage on all occasions presented him by
fortune, that it would seem as if he had foreseen and
desired them. He loves to narrate, and seeks to
dazzle all his listeners indifferently by his extraor-
dinary adventures, and his imagination often supplies
him with more than his memory. The generality of
his qualities are false, and what has most contributed
to his reputation is his power of throwing a good light
on his faults. He is insensible alike to hatred and to
friendship, whatever pains he may be at to appear
taken up with the one or the other. He is incapable
of envy or avarice, whether from virtue or from care-
lessness. He has borrowed more from his friends
than a private person could ever hope to be able to
repay; he has felt the vanity of acquiring so much on
credit, and of undertaking to discharge it. He has
neither taste nor refinement; he is amused by every-
thing and pleased by nothing. He avoids difficult
matters with considerable address, not allowing people
to penetrate the slight acquaintance he has with every-
thing. The retreat he has just made from the world
is the most brilliant and the most unreal action of his
life; it is a sacrifice he has made to his pride under
the pretence of devotion; he quits the court to which
he cannot attach himself, and retires from a world
which is retiring from him.”

The Maxims were first published in 1665, with a
preface by Segrais. This preface was omitted in the
subsequent editions. The first edition contained
316 maxims, counting the last upon death, which
was not numbered. The second in 1666 contained
only 102; the third in 1671, and the fourth in
1675, 413. In this last edition we first meet with
the introductory maxim, “Our virtues are gene-
rally but disguised vices.” The edition of 1678,
the fifth, increased the number to 504. This was
the last edition revised by the author, and pub-
lished in his lifetime. The text of that edition has
been used for the present translation. The next
edition, the sixth, was published in 1693, about
thirteen years after the author's death. This edition
included fifty new maxims, attributed by the editor
to Rochefoucauld. Most likely they were his writing,
as the fact was never denied by his family, through
whose permission they were published. They form
the third supplement to the translation. This sixth
edition was published by Claude Barbin, and the
French editions since that time have been too nu-
merous to be enumerated. The great popularity of
the Maxims is perhaps best shown from the numerous
translations that have been made of them. No less
than eight English translations, or so-called transla-
tions, have appeared; one American, a Swedish, and
a Spanish translation, an Italian imitation, with
parallel passages, and an English imitation by Hazlitt.
The titles of the English editions are as follows:--
i. Seneca Unmasked. By Mrs. Aphara Behn. Lon-
don, 1689. She calls the author the Duke of
Rushfucave.
ii. Moral Maxims and Reflections, in four parts. By
the Duke de la Rochefoucauld. Now made
English. London, 1694. 12 mo.
iii. Moral Maxims and Reflections of the Duke de
la Rochefoucauld. Newly made English. Lon-
don, 1706. 12 mo.
iv. Moral Maxims of the Duke de la Rochefoucauld.
Translated from the French. With notes. Lon-
don, 1749. 12 mo.
v. Maxims and Moral Reflections of the Duke de la
Rochefoucauld. Revised and improved. London,
1775. 8 vo.
vi. Maxims and Moral Reflections of the Duke de la
Rochefoucauld. A new edition, revised and im-
proved, by L. D. London, 1781. 8 vo.
vii. The Gentleman's Library. La Rochefoucauld's
Maxims and Moral Reflections. London, 1813.
12 mo.
viii.Moral Reflections, Sentences, and Maxims of
the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, newly translated
from the French; with an introduction and notes.
London, 1850. 16 mo.
ix. Maxims and Moral Reflections of the Duke de la
Rochefoucauld: with a Memoir by the Chevalier
de Chatelain. London, 1868. 12 mo.

The perusal of the Maxims will suggest to every
reader to a greater or less degree, in accordance with
the extent of his reading, parallel passages, and simi-
lar ideas. Of ancient writers Rochefoucauld most
strongly reminds us of Tacitus; of modern writers, Ju-
nius most strongly reminds us of Rochefoucauld. Some
examples from both are given in the notes to this trans-
lation. It is curious to see how the expressions of the
bitterest writer of English political satire to a great ex-
tent express the same ideas as the great French satirist
of private life. Had space permitted the parallel
could have been drawn very closely, and much of the
invective of Junius traced to its source in Rochefou-
cauld.

One of the persons whom Rochefoucauld patronised
and protected, was the great French fabulist, La
Fontaine. This patronage was repaid by La Fontaine
giving, in one of his fables, “L'Homme et son Image,”
an elaborate defence of his patron. After there depict-
ing a man who fancied himself one of the most lovely
in the world, and who complained he always found
all mirrors untrustworthy, at last discovered his real
image reflected in the water. He thus applies his
fable:--
“Je parle à tous: et cette erreur extrême,
Est un mal que chacun se plait d'entretenir,
Notre âme, c'est cet homme amoureux de lui même,
Tant de miroirs, ce sont les sottises d'autrui.
Miroirs, de nos défauts les peintres légitimes,
Et quant au canal, c'est celui
Qui chacun sait, le livre des MAXIMES.”

It is just this: the book is a mirror in which we
all see ourselves. This has made it so unpopular. It
is too true. We dislike to be told of our faults,
while we only like to be told of our neighbour's.
Notwithstanding Rousseau's assertion, it is young
men, who, before they know their own faults
and only know their neighbours', that read and tho-
roughly appreciate Rochefoucauld.

After so many varied opinions he then pleases us more
and seems far truer than he is in reality, it is impossible
to give any general conclusion of such distinguished
writers on the subject. Each reader will form his own
opinion of the merits of the author and his book. To
some, both will seem deserving of the highest praise; to
others both will seem deserving of the highest censure.
The truest judgment as to the author will be found in
the remarks of a countryman of his own, as to the
book in the remarks of a countryman of ours.

As to the author, M. Sainte Beuve says:--“C'était un
misanthrope poli, insinuant, souriant, qui précédait
de bien peu et préparait avec charme l'autre MISAN-
THROPE.”

As to the book, Mr. Hallam says:--“Among the
books in ancient and modern times which record the
conclusions of observing men on the moral qualities
of their fellows, a high place should be reserved for
the Maxims of Rochefoucauld”.



REFLECTIONS; OR, SENTENCES AND MORAL MAXIMS


Our virtues are most frequently but vices disguised.

[This epigraph which is the key to the system
of La Rochefoucauld, is found in another form
as No. 179 of the maxims of the first edition, 1665, it is
omitted from the 2nd and 3rd, and reappears for the first
time in the 4th edition, in 1675, as at present, at the head
of the Reflections.--AIMÉ MARTIN. Its best answer is ar-
rived at by reversing the predicate and the subject, and
you at once form a contradictory maxim equally true, our
vices are most frequently but virtues disguised.]

1.--What we term virtue is often but a mass of
various actions and divers interests, which fortune, or
our own industry, manage to arrange; and it is not
always from valour or from chastity that men are
brave, and women chaste.

“Who combats bravely is not therefore brave,
He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave;
Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,
His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies.”
Pope, MORAL ESSAYS, Ep. i. line 115.

2.--Self-love is the greatest of flatterers.

3.--Whatever discoveries have been made in the
region of self-love, there remain many unexplored ter-
ritories there.

[This is the first hint of the system the author tries to
develope. He wishes to find in vice a motive for all our
actions, but this does not suffice him; he is obliged to call
other passions to the help of his system and to confound
pride, vanity, interest and egotism with self love. This
confusion destroys the unity of his principle.--AIMÉ
MARTIN.]

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