le," to whom we owe some
picturesque impressions of La Bruyere at this time of social
obscurity, was one of the pseudonyms of Bonaventure
d'Argonne, whose real name appears to have been Noel
Argonne. He was a Carthusian who dabbled in literature, and
who towards the close of his career compiled a volume of
"Melanges," containing anecdotes which are often spiteful,
but sometimes useful to the historian of literature. He
seems to have visited La Bruyere in the days of his
comparative poverty, when his mother kept home for the whole
family, first in the Rue Chapon, and later in the Rue des
Grands Augustins.]

When he is on the point of entering his fortieth year, La Bruyere
suddenly breaks out of the cloud which encompasses him, and is
revealed as professor of history to the Duke of Bourbon, and resident
in the household of the great Prince de Conde. There is no evidence to
show how Bossuet, then Bishop of Meaux, and the most influential man
of intellect in France, became acquainted with the discreet and
obscure treasurer of finances; but it is evident that he was struck by
the vast learning and intelligence of this silent, smiling anchorite.
Fontenelle tells us that Bossuet, who had been tutor to the Dauphin,
"made a practice of supplying to the princes such persons, meritorious
in letters, as they had need of." In 1684, then, we know not why nor
how, Bossuet recommended La Bruyere as tutor to the House of Conde. It
is a matter of ceaseless wonderment, however, that the philosopher
accepted and retained the post. He possessed a sufficient though a
modest competence already, and he exchanged a life of complete
independence for a most painful and trying servitude, hung up between
the insolence of those above and the impertinence of those below him.
The situation of La Bruyere in the Maison de Conde was like that of
Fanny Burney at the court of George III., only worse. Commentators
have expended endless ingenuity in conjecturing what were the reasons
which induced him to enslave himself.

A careful study of his great book must add to our amazement. No one
ever locked himself up in prison with an exacter appreciation of the
discomforts of captivity. La Bruyere has some remarks about freedom,
which plunge us in bewilderment. "Liberty," he says, "is not laziness:
it is a free use of one's time; it is having the choice of one's own
work and exercise. To be free, in a word