when attained, it has many charms for the reader.* "The writing in aphorisms," as Bacon observes, (Adv. of Learn.,) "hath may excellent virtues whereto the writing in method doth not approach. For first, it trieth the writer whether he be superficial or solid; for aphorisms, except they be ridiculous, cannot be made but of the pith and heart of sciences; for discourse of illustration is cut off; recitals of example are cut off; discourse of connection and order is cut off; descriptions of practice are cut off: so there remaineth nothing to fill the aphorisms but some good quantity of observation: and therefore no man can suffice, nor in reason will attempt, to write aphorisms, but he that is sound and grounded. But in method

Tantum series juncturaque pollet,

Tantum de medio sumptis accedit honoris,

as a man shall make a great show of an art, which, if it were disjointed, would come to little. Secondly, methods are more fit to win consent or belief, but less fit to point to action; for they carry a kind of demonstration in orb or circle, one part illuminating another, and therefore satisfy; but particulars being dispersed, do best agree with dispersed directions. And lastly, aphorisms representing a knowledge broken, do invite men to inquire further;

* M. Villemain, in his "Eloge de Montaigne," seems to insinuate that La Rochefoucauld may have been indebted to Montaigne for the idea of the style of the "Maxims :" Dans ce genre j'oserai dire qu'il (Montaigne) a donné le plus heureux modèles d'un style dont La Rochefoucauld passe ordinairement pour le premier inventeur." La Rochefoucauld was probably under many obligations in other respects to Montaigne; but it seems difficult to select two writers more dissimilar in their mode of expressing themselves than the rambling, gossiping Montaigne and the precise, sententious La Rochefoucauld.

whereas methods, carrying the show of a total, do secure men, as if they were at furthest."

A principal cause of the attractiveness of this mode of writing lies in the necessarily epigrammatic turn of the sentences, which constantly arrests the attention; and while it stimulates the reader's reflection, renders the point of the observation more palpable and more easy to be retained in the memory. It is, besides, no mean advantage to be spared the exertion of wading through and deciding upon the successive stages, each perhaps admitting of discussion, of a tedious and involved argument, and to be presented at once with ready-made conclusions. Notwithstanding Bacon's second remark on aphorisms, it seems questionable whether the mind is not more disposed to assent to a proposition when clearly and boldly announced on the ipse dixit of a writer, than when arrived at as the termination of a chain of reasoning. Where so much proof is required, men are apt to think much doubt exists; and a simple enunciation of a truth is, on this account perhaps, the more imposing from our not being admitted, as it were, behind the scenes, and allowed to inspect the machinery which has produced the result. There is, besides, a yearning after infallibility to a greater or less degree latent in every human heart, that derives a momentary gratification from the oracular nature of these declarations of truth, which seem to be exempt from the faults and shortcomings of human reason, and to spring, with all the precision of instinct, full grown to light, like Minerva from the head of Jupiter.*

The chief, perhaps the only serious, defect incidental to this mode of composition, is the constantly recurring temptation to sacrifice the strict truth to the point of the maxim.

*See Aristot. Rhet. book ii. c. 21.

For the sake of rendering the turn of expression more smart and epigrammatic, truth is sometimes distorted, sometimes laid down in such general and unqualified terms as sober reason would not warrant. La Rochefoucauld is by no means free from this fault, which perhaps is inseparable from the species of composition we are considering, and may be regarded as the price we pay for its other advantages.

But while the style of the "Maxims" has been almost universally admired, the peculiar views of morals they present have been the subject of much cavil. The author is generally considered as a principal supporter of the selfish school of moralists; and, indeed, the popular opinion of the "Maxims" seems to be summed up in Voltaire's remark, that there is but one truth running through the book; that "self-love is the motive of every action." Bishop Butler's observations are to the same effect, (Pref. to Sermons :) "There is a strange affectation in some people of explaining away all particular affections, and representing the whole of life as nothing but one continued exercise of self-love. Hence arises that surprising confusion and perplexity in the Epicureans of old, Hobbes, the author of 'Reflections, &c. Morales,' and this whole set of writers, of calling actions interested which are done in contradiction of the most manifest known interest, merely for the gratification of a present passion. Now all this confusion might be avoided by stating to ourselves wherein the idea of self-love consists, as distinguished from all particular movements towards particular external objects, the appetites of sense, resentment, compassion, curiosity, ambition, and the rest. When this is done, if the words 'selfish' and 'interested' cannot be parted with, but must be applied to every thing, yet to avoid such total confusion of all language, let the

distinction be made by epithets, and the first may be called cool or settled selfishness, and the other passionate or sensual selfishness. But the most natural way of speaking plainly is, to call the first only self-love, and the actions proceeding from it, interested; and to say of the latter, that they are not love to ourselves, but movements towards somewhat external, honor, power, the harm or good of another, and that the pursuit of these external objects, so far as it proceeds from these movements, (for it may proceed from self-love,) is no otherwise interested than as every action of every creature must from the nature of the thing be; for no one can act but from a desire, or choice, or preference of his own.' The confusion of language complained of by Butler, has certainly been the cause of much misapprehension on this subject; but it does not appear right to charge La Rochefoucauld with this ambiguity; on the contrary, it will be evident to any attentive reader of the "Maxims" that "self-love" and "interest" are clearly distinguished from each other. If it were not so, and La Rochefoucauld considered interest to be man's only motive, Maxims 415, that "Men more easily surrender their interests than their tastes," and 512, that "There are more people without interest than without envy," would involve palpable absurdities, In fact, "self-love" and "interest," in the "Maxims," stand to each other in their real relation of a whole and one of its parts.

With regard to the question whether La Rochefoucauld meant to represent self-love, in its more extended sense, as the motive of all human actions, it seems not altogether fair to charge him with the inculcation of any particular theory or system, in the same manner as if the maxims were formal deductions from a regularly reasoned treatise, instead of being, as they are, unconnected observations on

mankind and their actions. If he had, however, any regular design, it was not so much to point out self-love as the primum mobile, but rather to expose the hypocrisy and pretence so current in the world under the name of virtue. This will be apparent from the heading he prefixed to the work, "Our virtues are generally only disguised vices," and from the commencement of the last maxim, "After having spoken of the falsity of so many apparent virtues," &c. The key of his system (if he had one) would seem to lie in the maxim, that "Truth does not do so much good, as its appearances do evil, in the world." The assumption of the name of virtue is prejudicial in many ways. It operates suicidally on the morals of the actor, because a long course of imposition on others invariably ends in self-deceit; "We are so much accustomed to disguise ourselves to others," as our Author remarks, "that at length we disguise ourselves to ourselves." The history of the world is full of examples of men whose career is represented in these words. But this assumption is still more pernicious to the interests of virtue itself. To use a common illustration, nothing depreciates a sound coinage more than the existence of well-executed counterfeits. Nothing tends so much to disgust men with goodness, as the hollowness and artificiality of what is palmed on them for goodness. Repeatedly disappointed in their search for the reality, they are led to doubt its existence, and it is this feeling which is embodied in the bitter exclamation of the despairing Roman :—“ Virtue, I have worshipped thee as a real good, but at length I find thee an empty name."

If the maxims can aid men to distinguish the true from the false, the sterling from the alloy, they are so far from injuring the cause of virtue that they obviously render it a most important service. It will readily be admitted also,