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Updated: May 4, 2025
To Rev. Henry W. Bellows. SHEFFIELD, Feb. My DEAR FRIEND, In the first place, La Bruyere was the name of the French satirist that I could not remember the other day. In the second place, I have a letter from Mr. Lowell, inviting me to deliver the second course of lectures, and the time fixed upon is the winter after next; I can't be prepared by next winter.
There were portraits of every grade of excellence and every variety of people, until they culminated, some years later in "Les Caracteres" of La Bruyere, who dropped personalities and gave them the form of permanent types.
A plane sank, turning and twisting, to earth. 'Hun! said Archie, who had his glasses on it. Almost immediately another followed. This time the pilot recovered himself, while still a thousand feet from the ground, and started gliding for the enemy lines. Then he wavered, plunged sickeningly, and fell headlong into the wood behind La Bruyere.
La Bruyère, who wrote a whole book without making any transitions, would have passed without effort from the establishment of Pusey, Scott & Co. to the coach-factory of McLear & Kendall. It should be premised that coach-building is another of the very special successes of Wilmington.
Moreover, she has that charming spirit of friendliness and communication which distinguished La Bruyère, a philosopher "always accessible, even in his deepest studies, who tells you to come in, for you bring him something more precious than gold or silver, if it is the opportunity of obliging you."
But this drunken woman had none the less uttered a prophetic word; it was the grain of sand on which, later, he was to be shipwrecked. "All passions," says La Bruyere, "all passions are deceitful; they disguise themselves as much as possible from the public eye; they hide from themselves. There is no vice which has not a counterfeit resemblance to some virtue, and which does not profit by it."
Commentators have expended endless ingenuity in conjecturing what were the reasons which induced him to enslave himself. A careful study of his great book must add to our amazement. No one ever locked himself up in prison with an exacter appreciation of the discomforts of captivity. La Bruyère has some remarks about freedom, which plunge us in bewilderment.
We have to think of our delicate and timid La Bruyère now for years the powerless plaything of this "unnatural son, cruel father, terrible husband, detestable master, pernicious neighbour, without affection, without friends." But after two centuries of canonization of the Condés, it has now become the fashion to denigrate them to an equal excess.
Such collections, said La Bruyère, are like a picture-gallery with a strong smell of leather: the owner is most polite in showing off 'the gold leaves, Etruscan bindings, and fine editions'; 'we thank him for his kindness, but care as little as himself to visit the tan-yard which he calls his library. We must not forget the financier Bretonvilliers, who about the year 1657 determined to become a bibliophile, and so far succeeded that some of his local books on Lorraine were purchased for the National Library.
He bought for old Clemence and little Rosalie two shares in Government stock of 1,500 francs each. That cost him 70,000 francs, almost the sum that Paul de Lavardens, in his first year of liberty in Paris, spent for Mademoiselle Lise Bruyere, of the Palais Royal Theatre.
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