The "Characters" of Jean de La Bruyère

by Jean de La Bruyère

(9.) Even in the most remote antiquity, and in all ages, war has existed, and has always filled the world with widows and orphans, drained families of heirs, and destroyed several brothers in one and the same battle. Young Soyecourt![490] I mourn your loss, your modesty, your intelligence, already so developed, so clear, lofty, and communicative; I bewail that untimely death which carried you off, as well as your intrepid brother, and removed you from a court where you had barely time to show yourself; such a misfortune is not uncommon, but nevertheless should be deplored! In every age men have agreed to destroy, burn, kill, and slaughter one another, for some piece of land more or less; and to accomplish this with the greater certainty and ingenuity, they have invented beautiful rules, which they call “strategy.” When any one brings these rules into practice, glory and the highest honours are his reward, whilst every age improves on the method of destroying one another reciprocally. An injustice committed by the first men was the primary occasion for wars, and made the people feel the necessity of giving themselves masters to settle their rights and pretensions. If each man could have been satisfied with his own property and had not infringed on that of his neighbours, the world would have enjoyed uninterrupted peace and liberty.

(10.) They who sit peaceably by their own firesides among their friends, and in the midst of a large town, where there is nothing to fear either for their wealth or their lives, breathe fire and sword, busy themselves with wars, destructions, conflagrations, and massacres, cannot bear patiently that armies are in the field and do not meet; or, if in sight, that they do not engage; or, if they engage, that the fight was not more sanguinary, and that there were scarcely ten thousand men killed on the spot. They are sometimes so infatuated as to forget their dearest interests, their repose and security, for the sake of change, and from a liking for novelty and extraordinary events; some of them would even be satisfied with seeing the enemy at the very gates of Dijon or Corbie,[491] with beholding chains stretched across the streets and barricades thrown up, for the satisfaction of hearing and of communicating the news.

(11.) Demophilus, on my right, is full of lamentations, and exclaims, “Everything is lost; we are on the brink of ruin; how can we resist such a powerful and general league?[492] What can we do, I dare not say to vanquish, but to make head by ourselves against so many and such powerful enemies? There never was anything like it as long as the monarchy has existed! A hero, an Achilles, would have to succumb! Besides,” adds he, “we have committed some very serious blunders; I know what I am talking about, for I have been a soldier myself; I have seen some battles, and have learned a good deal from studying history.” Then he falls to admiring Olivier le Daim and Jacques Cœur,[493] who, according to him, were men after his own heart, and ministers indeed. He retails his news, which is sure to be the most melancholy and disadvantageous that could be invented. Now a party of our soldiers has fallen into an ambush, and are cut to pieces; presently some of our troops, shut up in a castle, surrender at discretion, and are all put to the sword. Should you tell him that such a report is incorrect, and wants confirmation, he will not listen to you, but affirms that a general has been killed, and though it is certain that he has only been slightly wounded, and you tell him so, he deplores his death, is sorry for the widow, the children, and the State, and is even sorry for himself, for he has lost a good friend and an influential person. He tells you the German horse are invincible, and turns pale if you but name the Imperial cuirassiers.[494] “If we attack such a place,” continues he, “we shall be obliged to raise the siege; we shall have to remain on the defensive without engaging in action, or if we do fight, we shall certainly be beaten, and then the enemy will be upon the frontiers.” Demophilus gives them wings, and brings them presently into the heart of the kingdom; he fancies he already hears the alarm-bells ring in the towns, and thinks of his property and his estate; he does not know where to take his money, his movables, and his family, and whether to escape to the Swiss Cantons or to Venice.

But Basilides, on my left, raises suddenly an army of three hundred thousand men, and will not abate a single troop; he has a list of all the squadrons, battalions, generals, and officers, not omitting the artillery and baggage. All these troops are at his entire disposal; some he sends into Germany, others into Flanders, reserves a certain number for the Alps, a smaller quantity for the Pyrenees, and conveys the rest beyond seas; he knows their marches, he can tell what they will do, and what they will not do; you would think he had the Kingʼs ear, or was the ministerʼs confidant. If the enemies are beaten,[495] and lose about nine or ten thousand men, he positively avers it was thirty, neither more nor less; for his numbers are always as settled and certain as if he had the best intelligence. Tell him in the morning we have lost a paltry village, he not only puts off a dinner to which the day before he had invited his friends, but does not take any dinner himself on that day; and if he eats a supper it is without appetite. If we besiege a town strong through its natural position, and regularly fortified,[496] well stored with provisions and ammunition, defended by a good garrison, commanded by a brave general, he tells you the town has its weak spots, which are badly fortified, is in want of powder, has a governor who lacks experience, and will capitulate eight days after the trenches are opened. Another time he runs himself quite out of breath, and after he has recovered himself a little he exclaims, “I have some important news for you; our enemies are beaten and totally routed; the general and principal officers, or at least the greater part of them, are all killed, or have perished. What a tremendous slaughter! We certainly have been very lucky!” Then he sits down and takes a rest, after having told us the news, which only wants a trifle more confirmation; for it is certain there has been no battle at all. He assures us further that some prince, dreading our arms, has abandoned the League and left his confederates in the lurch, and that a second is inclined to follow his example; he believes firmly, with the populace, that a third is dead,[497] and names you the place where he is buried; and even when the common people[498] are undeceived, he offers to lay a wager it is true. He knows for a fact that T. K. L. is very successful against the Emperor,[499] that the Grand Turk[500] is making formidable preparations, and will not hear of peace; and that the Vizier will once more show himself before Vienna.[501] He claps his hands and is as delighted as if there were not the smallest doubt about it. The triple alliance[502] is a Cerberus[503] with him, and the enemy only so many monsters to be knocked on the head. He talks of nothing but laurels, palm-branches, triumphs, and trophies; in conversation he speaks of “our august hero, our mighty potentate, our invincible monarch,” and whatever you do, you will not get him to say simply, “The King has a great many enemies; they are powerful, united, and exasperated; he has conquered them, and I hope he will always do so.” This style, too bold and decisive for Demophilus, is not sufficiently pompous or grandiloquent for Basilides; his head is full of other expressions; he is planning inscriptions for triumphal arches and pyramids to adorn the capital when the conqueror will enter it; and as soon as he hears that the armies are in sight of each other, or that a town is invested, he has his clothes hung out and aired, so that they should be ready when a Te Deum is sung in the cathedral.[504]

(12.) A business which has to be discussed by the plenipotentiaries or by the diplomatic agents of crowned heads and republics must needs be unusually intricate and difficult if its conclusion requires a longer time than the settling of the preliminaries, nay, even than the mere regulating of ranks, precedences, and other ceremonies.

A minister or a plenipotentiary is a chameleon or a Proteus;[505] sometimes, like a practised gambler, he hides his temper and character, either to avoid any conjectures or guesses, or to prevent any part of his secret escaping through passion or weakness; and at other times he knows how to assume any character most suited to his designs, or which is required, as it may be his interest artfully to appear to other people as they think he really is. Thus when he intends to conceal that his master is very formidable or very weak, he is resolute and inflexible to prevent any large demands; or he is easygoing, so as to give others an opportunity of making some demands, and so secure the same liberty. At other times he is either diplomatic and disingenuous, so as to veil a truth whilst telling it, because it is of some importance to him to have it divulged but not believed; or else he is free and open, so that when he wishes to conceal what should not be known, people should nevertheless believe that he is acquainted with everything they wish to know, and be convinced that they have been told everything. In like manner he is fluent and verbose to excite others to talk, or prevent their saying what he does not wish or ought not to hear; to speak of many and various things which modify and destroy each other, and leave the mind hovering between confidence and distrust; to make amends for an expedient thoughtlessly proposed by suggesting another; or he is sedate and taciturn to induce others to talk, to listen for a long time, so that he may afterwards obtain the same favour himself, speak with authority and weight, and utter promises or threats which will influence people and produce a strong impression. He begins and speaks first, the better to discover the opposition and contradictions, the intrigues and cabals, of foreign ministers about some proposals he has made, to take his measures and reply to them; and at another meeting he speaks last, that he may be sure not to speak in vain, and to be exact, so as perfectly to be aware on what support he can reckon for his master and his allies, as well as to know what he ought to ask and what he can get. He knows how to be clear and explicit, or still better, how to be ambiguous and obscure, and to use words and phrases with a double meaning, which he can render more or less forcible as the occasion or his interest may require. He asks for a little because he will not grant much; he asks for much to make sure of a little. At first he insists upon getting a few trifling things, which he afterwards pretends to be of small value, so as not to prevent him for asking for one of greater value; he avoids, on the contrary, to gain at first an important point, if it is likely to prevent him from obtaining several others of less importance, but which, when united, exceed the other in value. His demands are extravagant, but he knows beforehand they will be denied, so he is provided with a convenient excuse for refusing those he knows will be made, and which he does not wish to grant; as industrious to aggravate the enormity of these demands, and to let his adversaries admit, if possible, that there may be reasons why they cannot agree, as to weaken those which they pretend to have for not granting him what he solicits so urgently; and as diligent in vaunting and in enlarging upon the little he has to offer as he is in despising openly the little they are willing to grant. He pretends to make some extraordinary proposals which beget distrust, and cause to be rejected what indeed, if accepted, could not be performed; this also serves to colour his exorbitant demands, and throws on his antagonists the responsibility of a refusal. He grants more than is asked, so as to get still more than he gives. You have to pray, entreat, and beseech him for a long time to obtain some trifling favour, so as to destroy all expectations and uproot all thoughts of asking anything more important of him; or, if he is persuaded to grant it, it is always on such conditions that he may share in its profits and advantages. He directly or indirectly espouses the interest of an ally, if he finds it at the same time conducive to the advancing of his own pretensions; he talks of nothing but peace and alliances, the public tranquillity and the public interests, and thinks, indeed, only of his own, or rather of his masterʼs and the Stateʼs he represents. Sometimes he reconciles some people who were opposed to one another, and sometimes he divides those who were united; he intimidates the powerful and encourages the weak; he draws several weak States into a league against a more powerful one, under the pretence of a balance of power, and then joins the former to turn the scale; but his protection and his alliance are always expensive. He knows how to interest those with whom he treats, and by a dexterous management and by shrewd and subtle subterfuges he makes them perceive what private advantage, profits, and honours they may derive through a certain pliability, which does not in the least clash with their instructions nor with the intentions of their masters. And in order not to be thought impregnable on his side, he betrays some anxiety to better his fortunes, and then receives some proposals which unveil to him the most secret intentions, the most profound designs, and the last resource of his opponents, and which he turns to his own advantage. If sometimes he is a loser by certain stipulations, which have at last been settled, he clamours loudly; and if he is not, he is still louder, and puts the losers on their justification and defence. His court has laid down rules of conduct for his guidance, all his measures are preconcerted, and his smallest advances arranged beforehand; and yet, whilst subjects of the greatest difficulty are treated and certain points are most strenuously contested, he behaves as if his yielding was voluntary, unexpected, and purely a condescension on his part; he dares even pledge his word that a certain proposal will be approved of, and that his master will not disavow his proceedings; he allows false reports to be spread concerning his instructions, which are represented as very limited, but he knows he has some private instructions which he never discloses until obliged to do so, and when it would damage him not to bring them forward. All his intrigues aim at something solid and substantial, for which he always is ready to sacrifice punctilios and imaginary points of honour. He possesses a great deal of coolness, is armed with courage and patience, and wearies and discourages others, but is never weary himself! He takes precautions and is hardened against all delays and procrastination, against all reproaches, suspicions, mistrust, difficulties, and obstacles, convinced that time and circumstances will influence the minds of his opponents, and accomplish the desired end. He goes so far as to pretend he has a secret purpose in breaking off the negotiations, while he passionately desires their continuance; but, on the contrary, when he has strict orders to do his utmost to break them off, he thinks the best way to effect it is to urge they should be continued and speedily despatched. If some important event happens, he affects either haughtiness or affability, as it may be to his advantage or prejudice; and if he is so perspicacious as to foresee it, he hurries it on or temporises according as the state for whom he labours dreads or desires it, and acts according to these emergencies. He shapes his actions to suit time, place, and opportunities, his own strength or weakness, the genius of the nation he has to deal with, and the mood and character of the personages with whom he is negotiating. All his designs and maxims, all the devices of his policy, tend only to prevent his being deceived, and to deceive others.[506]

(13.) The French nation require their sovereign to be grave in his deportment.[507]

(14.) One of the misfortunes of a prince is to be often overburdened with a secret of which the communication would be dangerous; he is fortunate if he can meet with a faithful confidant to whom he can unbosom himself.[508]

(15). A prince can get everything he wants except the pleasures of a private life: only the charms of friendship and the fidelity of his friends can console him for such a great loss.

(16.) A monarch who deservedly fills a throne finds it pleasant sometimes to be less grand, to quit the stage, to leave off the theatrical cloak and buskins,[509] and act a more familiar part with a confidant.