says: 'There are some thoroughly excellent people who cannot get
rid of their _ennui_ except at the expense of society.' But such a mood
is not common. He is usually grave, and not seldom profoundly weighty,
delicate without being weak, and subtle without obscurity; as for
example:

'People teach children to fear and obey; the avarice, pride, or timidity
of the fathers, instructs the children in economy, arrogance, or
submission. We stir them up to be yet more and more copyists, which they
are only too disposed to be, as it is; nobody thinks of making them
original, hardy, independent.'

'If instead of dulling the vivacity of children, people did their best
to raise the impulsiveness and movement of their characters, what might
we not expect from a fine natural temper?'

Again: 'The moderation of the weak is mediocrity.'

'What is arrogance in the weak is elevation in the strong; as the
strength of a sick man is frenzy, and that of a whole man is vigour.'

'To speak imprudently and to speak boldly are nearly always the same
thing. But we may speak without prudence, and still speak what is right;
and it is a mistake to fancy that a man has a shallow intelligence,
because the boldness of his character or the liveliness of his temper
may have drawn from him, in spite of himself, some dangerous truth.'

'It is a great sign of mediocrity always to praise moderately.'

* * * * *

Vauvenargues has a saying to the effect that men very often, without
thinking of it, form an idea of their face and expression from the
ruling sentiment of which they are conscious in themselves at the time.
He hints that this is perhaps the reason why a coxcomb always believes
himself to be handsome.[54] And in a letter to Mirabeau, he describes
pleasantly how sometimes in moments of distraction he pictures himself
with an air of loftiness, of majesty, of penetration, according to the
idea that is occupying his mind, and how if by chance he sees his face
in the mirror, he is nearly as much amazed as if he saw a Cyclops or a
Tartar.[55] Yet his nature, if we may trust the portrait, revealed
itself in his face; it is one of the most delightful to look upon, even
in the cold inarticulateness of an engraving, that the gallery of fair
souls contains for us. We may read the beauty of his character in the
soft strength of the brow, the meditative lines of mouth and chin, above
all, the striking clearness, the self-co