fferings of the country folks, and conceived the
idea of contrasting them with the sketch of a court-ninny. "Gold
glitters," say you, "upon the clothes of Philemon; it glitters as well as
the tradesman's. He is dressed in the finest stuffs; are they a whit the
less so when displayed in the shops and by the piece? Nay; but the
embroidery and the ornaments add magnificence thereto; then I give the
workman credit for his work. If you ask him the time, he pulls out a
watch which is a masterpiece; his sword-guard is an onyx; he has on his
finger a large diamond which he flashes into all eyes, and which is
perfection; he lacks none of those curious trifles which are worn about
one as much for show as for use; and he does not stint himself either of
all sorts of adornment befitting a young man who has married an old
millionnaire. You really pique my curiosity: I positively must see such
precious articles as those. Send me that coat and those jewels of
Philemon's; you can keep the person. Thou'rt wrong, Philemon, if, with
that splendid carriage, and that large number of rascals behind thee, and
those six animals to draw thee, thou thiukest thou art thought more of.
We take off all those appendages which are extraneous to thee to get at
thyself, who art but a ninny."

More earnest and less bitter than La Rochefoucauld, and as brilliant and
as firm as Cardinal de Retz, La Bruyere was a more sincere believer than
either. "I feel that there is a God, and I do not feel that there is
none; that is enough for me; the reasoning of the world is useless to me.
I conclude that God exists. Are men good enough, faithful enough,
equitable enough to deserve all our confidence, and not make us wish
at least for the existence of God, to whom we may appeal from their
judgments and have recourse when we are persecuted or betrayed?" A very
strong reason and of potent logic, naturally imprinted upon an upright
spirit and a sensible mind, irresistibly convinced, both of them, that
justice alone can govern the world.

La Bruyere had just been admitted into the French Academy, in 1693. In
his admission speech he spoke in praise of the living, Bossuet, Fenelon,
Racine, La Fontaine; it was not as yet the practice. Those who were not
praised felt angry, and the journals of the time bitterly attacked the
new academician. He was hurt, and withdrew almost entirely from the
world. Four days before his death, however, "he was in company. All at