François, duc de La Rochefoucauld (1613–1680). Moral Maxims and Reflections. 1912.
The Preface to the ReaderT
I shall at present content my self to remark Two Things; First, That by the Word Interest, our Author does not always understand what we commonly call Worldly Interest, which has the Pursuit of Wealth for its only Object, but an Interest of Honour and Glory. My Second Remark is, (and ’tis in a manner the Foundation of all these Refactions) That the judicious Person who made them, only considers Mankind in the present deplorable State of Nature, as ’tis overrun with Ignorance, and corrupted by Sin; and therefore whatever he says of that infinite Number of Defects that are to be found in their apparent Vertues, does not in the least concern those happy but few Favourites whom Heaven is pleased to preserve from them by a particular Grace.
To remove the Prejudices which some well meaning People have entertained against these Maxims, I thought it convenient to insert the following Letter, which lately fell into my Hands, and was written since the First Edition of this Manuscript; and now at this Juncture, when every Reader takes the freedom to pass his own Judgment upon them; it comes out very seasonably to clear the principal Difficulties that may be urged against these Reflections, as also to explain the true Sentiments of our Author. This, at least, it has performed, it has abundantly demonstrated them to contain nothing but a pure Abridgment of Morality, conformable to several Fathers of the Church, and that the Person who writ them, had a great deal of reason to believe, that he could not well miss his Way, in following such experienced and disinterested Guides. And lastly, that he had full Liberty to speak of Man, after the very same manner as the Fathers had done before him.
Now, after all, if the Veneration which is due to these illustrious Lights of the Church, be not sufficient to stop the Mouths of the Criticks, but they are resolved, in opposition to good Manners and Sense, to condemn the Opinion of these Great Men in condemning this Book; I would advise the Reader not to be influenced by such partial Judges, nor suffer himself to be determined by the first Motions he finds arise in his Heart; but to take all imaginable Care, that Self-Love shall have no share in the Judgment which he passes upon them. For if he suffers himself to be directed by so corrupt a Counsellor, it is not to be supposed that he will shew any great Favour to these Maxims. As they particularly charge Self-Love with debauching the Reason, that powerful Seducer, will be sure, by Way of Requital, to prepossess the Mind against them. Upon this Score the Reader ought to take care, that this Prevention or Prejudice shall not justifie the Truth of them, and to perswade himself that nothing can so effectually establish the Truth of these Reflections, as that Heat or Subtilty he expresses in combating them. But as it will be a difficult Matter to perswade every sensible Man, that he cannot condemn them out of any other Motive than that of Interest disguised, of Pride, and Self-Love; the best Way the Reader can take, in my Opinion, is to satisfie himself, that none of these Maxims concern Him in particular, and that He alone is excepted from them, although they seem to be general. After he has done this, I dare answer for him, that he will be the first Man that shall subscribe to the Truth of them, and, what is more, believe that they are of mighty Benefit to the World, in discovering all the Follies and Foibles of Mankind.
As for what regards the Order of these Reflections, the Reader will at first view discover, that as they are all upon different Matters, it was in a manner impossible to place them in an exact Method: And tho’ there are several upon the same Subject, it was not judged proper to place them always one after another, for fear of disgusting the Reader, who is generally best entertained with an agreeable Variety.
The Second Objection you told me of, and which has a great deal of affinity with the former, is, That these Reflections pass in the World, rather from the Subtilties of an austere Censor, who puts an ill Construction upon the most indifferent Actions, than for solid Truths. You tell me, That some of your Friends have assured you, with all the imaginable Appearances of Sincerity, that they knew by their own Experience, that a Man does sometimes do Good, without having any other View or Prospect, than that of Good; nay, sometimes without any View at all, either for Good or Evil, but by a natural Integrity of Mind, which inclined him to what is Good, without his own thinking of it. I wish it were in my Power to believe these Gentlemen upon their Word, and that it were true that Humane Nature has none but reasonable Motions, and that all our Actions were naturally vertuous. But, Sir, how shall we reconcile the Testimony of your Friends, to the Sentiments of the greatest Fathers of the Church, who have assured us, That all our Vertues, without the Assistance of Faith, are only Imperfections; that our Will was born blind; that its Desires were blind, its Conduct still more blind, and that it was no wonder if a Man under so much blindness, was in a perpetual State of wandring. Nor is this all, for they proceed to talk in a higher Strain, and tell us, that in such a Condition, the Prudence of Man does not penetrate into future Things, and appoints nothing, but as it has a relation to Pride; that his Temperance moderates no Excesses, but those that his Pride condemned before; that his Constancy no farther supports its self under the Pressure of Calamities, than as it is encouraged by his Pride; and lastly, that all his Vertues, with that exterior Pomp of Merit, which makes them be admired, had no other End but this Admiration, the Love of vain Glory, and the Interest of Pride. One might find almost an infinite number of Authorities upon this Opinion, but if I should once begin to cite them regularly to you, the effect wou’d be, that I should give my self a little more trouble, and that you wou’d not receive more Pleasure by it. For this Consideration, I think, the best way both for you and me, will be to give you an Abridgment of all this Controversie, done by an excellent Poet of our Time, in the Compass of Six Verses. The Third Objection which lies upon me to answer, is, That abundance of People complain of the great Obscurity in the Sense, as also in the Expression of the Reflections. You need not be informed, Sir, that Obscurity is not always the Author’s Fault. Reflections, or if you please, Maxims and Sentences, as the World has been pleased to call these, ought to be writ in a succinct close Stile, such as hinders a Man from giving that Perspicuity in his Writings, which is to be desired. They are like the first Sketches of a Picture, where an ingenious Eye will easily remark all the Perfection of Art, and the Beauty of the Painter’s Design. But then this Beauty is not understood by all the World, and altho’ the lineaments are not set out in their proper Colours, yet for all that, they discover a masterly Hand. For this Reason the Reader ought to penetrate into the Sense and Force of the Words, the Mind ought to run over the whole Extent of their Signification, before it sits down and proceeds to Judgment. The Fourth Objection, unless I am mistaken, was this, That the Maxims, for the most part, are too general. You have been told, That ’tis a Piece of Injustice to fix the Defects of particular Men upon the whole Race. Besides the Account I have received from you of the different Opinions you have heard upon this Subject, I know what uses to be generally objected to those Persons, who discover and condemn Vices. Their censure is called the Portraiture of the Painter; ’tis urged against them, that they resemble People troubled with the Yellow-Jaundice, who see every Thing yellow, because they are so themselves. Now if it were true, that a Man cannot censure the Corruption of the Heart in general, without finding more of it in himself than another does; we ought then to take it for granted, that those Philosophers, whose Apophthegms have been delivered down to us by Diogenes Laertius, were the greatest Debauchees of their Times. We ought to attack the Memory of Cato, and believe he was the most profligate wretch in Rome, because he censured the Vices of the Republick. If this be the Case, I dare swear for the Author of the Reflections, whoever he is, that he will not be much troubled at the ill Nature of his Adversaries, since, the Business of Religion excepted, he will scarce be taken either for a better or a wiser Man than Cato. As for what regards his Expression, which some Persons pretend is too general, I can only say this, that it is a difficult Matter to avoid it in Sentences, without robbing them of all their Salt, their Force and Spirit. Nor is this all; for common Conversation teaches us, that even where general Expressions are used, we take them in a limited Sense, with such and such Restrictions, and this without any body’s interposing to instruct us. As for Example, when we hear a Man say, All Paris went to meet the King, or, All the Court was at the Play, every one knows, that it only signifies the greatest Part. If you are of Opinion, that these Reasons are not sufficient to stop the Mouths of the Criticks, you need only tell them, that, when Gentlemen are so easily scandalized at the Terms of a general Censure, ’tis because it touches them after too lively a manner, in the most sensible Part of their Hearts. ’Tis indeed very certain, that You and I are acquainted with several Persons of great Worth and Honour, who are not in the least offended at the Freedom of these Reflections. I mean those, that have a mortal Aversion to Hypocrisie, and who make no Scruple at all to confess both what they feel in themselves, and what they observe in others. But few People are capable of thinking of them aright, or that will put themselves to the severe Expence of doing it. And if by meer Accident they do, Self-Flattery still attends them, and so hinders the Operation of the Physick. Let me intreat you to call to mind after what manner our Friend Guarini treats these empty Pretenders. Others are at their Liberty to take the Reflections after what manner they please. As for my self, I look upon them to be a true and handsom Representation of all the Infirmities of your impudent Pretender to Wisdom. I fancy that in every Stroke the Love of Truth pulls off his Mask, and shews him as he is in his proper Colours. I consider them as the Instructions of an able Master, who was perfectly versed in the Art of knowing Men, who dexterously lays open all the several Parts they play upon the Theatre of the World, and who not only bids us mind the several Characters of the Persons upon the Stage, but lifts up a Corner of the Curtain, and satisfies us, that this Lover and that King in a Tragedy, are the very numerical Actors, that play the Mountebank and the Merry-Andrew in a Farce. I freely own to you, that I have read nothing in this Age, that gives me a greater Contempt for Man, or makes me more sensible of my own Vanity. I fancy, that as often as I open the Book, I find something that resembles the secret Movements of my Heart, I inquire into myself, to examine whether he speaks the Truth, and I find that generally he tells both me and others more than they saw. At first I am somewhat displeased with him, I sometimes blush to see how exactly he has divined, but after I have with some Violence to my Nature read Him, I perceive that if I don’t from thence learn to become more wise, I learn this at least, that I have no Pretence to aspire to that Title. And lastly, I learn from the true Representation he gives me of my self, not sottishly to fall into an Admiration of those Vertues, the very Splendor of which offends our Eye-sight. Hypocrites indeed pass their Time but very ill in reading a Book of this Character, and those are the only Persons in the World that will raise a Noise and Clamour about it. Let me therefore conjure you, dear Sir, to give no heed to those that vent their Malice against it, and to rest assured, that the true reason of their Indignation is to see those Mysteries revealed, which, if it lay in their Power, they wou’d carefully conceal both from others and themselves. And now, Sir, whereas it was my Intention to send you a Letter, I find my self insensibly engaged to write a tedious Discourse. Call it as you please, either a Discourse or a Letter, it signifies not much, provided ’tis so happy as to give you some Satisfaction, and that you will do me the Honour to believe, that I am, with all imaginable Respect,
S I R,
I Am not able positively to tell you, Whether all these Moral Reflections were writ by Monsieur De—— altho’ the Stile and Manner of them seem to resemble his. But give me leave, Sir, to tell you, that upon these Occasions, I generally disengage my self from popular Reports, and ’tis enough to make me believe, that they do not belong to him, because the publick Opinion has father’d them upon him. Thus I have fairly and ingenuously answered your First Question. And as for the rest, if you had not an absolute Authority over me, which I must never dispute, I should wave a farther Examination of them. For a Man so highly prepossess’d, as I am, in his Esteem for this Work, has not that Liberty to judge truly of it, as is requisite. Nevertheless, since you have been pleased to order it so, I will frankly give you my Opinion, without any Design to set up for a Maker of Dissertations, or concerning my self with the Person who is supposed to have writ this Book. ’Tis easie to discover, at first Sight, that it was never designed to visit the World, but only writ for the Satisfaction of a Person, who, in my Opinion, does not aspire to the Glory of being an Author. And if it should happen to belong to Monsieur De——, I can assure you, that his Reputation is established in the World by so many better Titles, that he wou’d be no less disturb’d to hear that these Reflections are made publick, than he was when the Memoirs that were attributed to him were printed. But, Sir, you need not be informed, what a Propensity there is, in this Age, to publish all manner of Novelties, and especially those that go under any celebrated Name, which, of it self, is sufficient to recommend them to the World. This you know is an undoubted Truth, Names alone set a Price upon Things with those People, that are not in a Capacity of finding out their Intrinsic Value. The true Merit of these Reflections is understood but by a very few People, tho’ ’tis certain that abundance of presuming Wou’d be Wits pretend to give you their Opinions of them. As for my self, I don’t pretend to have Delicacy and Penetration enough to form a true Judgment of them. I say Delicacy and Penetration, because, to qualifie a Man for such a Province, he must be Master both of one and the other. And tho’ it were possible for me to flatter my self, that I possessed both these Qualities, I am inclined to believe, that I should find but very few Passages in these Reflections to amend. I can there discover nothing but a happy Force and Spirit, Thoughts truly elevated and Bold, a noble Turn of Expression, accompanied with a certain Air of Quality, that does not belong to all that have Vanity enough to set up for Authors. I own indeed there is not that Order and Art in them which one would desire, and that a learned Man, who enjoyed a greater share of Leisure than our Author’s Affairs seem to allow him, wou’d have thrown him into a better Method. But a Man who purely writes for himself, and to divert his Mind after the Fatigue of other Business, who sets down his Thoughts just as they come into his Head, does not so religiously observe the Niceties of Rules, as They who make a Profession and Business of Writing, and hope to get Reputation by their Pens. Nevertheless, this Irregularity has its peculiar Graces, and such Graces too as Art can never imitate. I don’t know whether you will agree with me in this Point; but tho’ I am sure of incurring the Indignation of the Criticks by what I am going to say, yet I cannot forbear to affirm to you, that as long as I live, I shall make no scruple to prefer the easie negligent Stile of Persons of Condition, which has Wit and Spirit in it, to the slavish Regularity of a Doctor, that never conversed with any thing but his Books. The more easie and negligent he appeared in whatever he said or did, the more agreeably was it received for its natural and simple Air. I borrow this Passage out of Tacitus, and have set down the Latin below, that if you are so minded, you may read it; and tho’ I am sensible how great a Master you are of that Language, yet since this Discourse may possibly reach other Hands, that are utterly unacquainted with it, I shall follow the same Conduct, whenever I have any Occasion to make Citations. Now, Sir, is it not an unquestionable Truth, that this Justness and Affectation, which is sought after with so much Study, always carries a certain Stiffness and Constraint that displeases us? And that the Gentlemen who are such Slaves to Rules, have none of those Beauties, where Art disguises it self under the Appearances of Nature; that happy Talent of writing easily and nobly; or, in fine, that which Tasso says of the Palace of Armida,
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