rs his eyes, his
rough voice softens, he presents his petition humbly, one would believe
him born as gentle as are (at that moment at least) the courtiers,
amongst whom he is even disconcerted; but Francois I. understands
physiognomy, he easily discovers in the lowered eyes, burning
nevertheless with sombre fire, in the strained facial muscles, in the
compressed lips, that this man is not so gentle as he is forced to
appear. This man follows him to Pavia, is taken with him, led to the
same prison in Madrid: Francois I.'s majesty no longer makes the same
impression on him; he grows familiar with the object of his respect. One
day when pulling off the king's boots, and pulling them off badly, the
king, embittered by his misfortune, gets angry; my man sends the king
about his business, and throws his boots out of the window.

Sixtus V. was born petulant, stubborn, haughty, impetuous, vindictive,
arrogant; this character seemed softened during the trials of his
novitiate. He begins to enjoy a certain credit in his order; he flies
into a passion with a guard, and batters him with his fist: he is
inquisitor at Venice; he performs his duties with insolence: behold him
cardinal, he is possessed _dalla rabbia papale_: this fury triumphs over
his nature; he buries his person and his character in obscurity; he apes
the humble and the dying man; he is elected Pope; this moment gives back
to the spring, which politics have bent, all its long curbed elasticity;
he is the haughtiest and most despotic of sovereigns.

_Naturam expella furca, tamen usque recurret._

(Hor. L. I., ep. x).

Drive away nature, it returns at the gallop.

(DESTOUCHES, _Glorieux_, Act 3, Sc. 5.)

Religion, morality put a brake on a nature's strength; they cannot
destroy it. The drunkard in a cloister, reduced to a half-setier of
cider at each meal, will no longer get drunk, but he will always like
wine.

Age enfeebles character; it is a tree that produces only degenerate
fruit, but the fruit is always of the same nature; it is knotted and
covered with moss, it becomes worm-eaten, but it is always oak or pear
tree. If one could change one's character, one would give oneself one,
one would be master of nature. Can one give oneself anything? do we not
receive everything? Try to animate an indolent man with a continued
activity; to freeze with apathy the boiling soul of an impetuous