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    have been an exuberant layer ; according to his own account he was almost a Rousseau in the precocity and variety of his passions . Later , he took the taint that corrupted the Court of Francis the First ; he gambled , gave way . to the wildest licence , made himself ridiculous by the fanciful variety of his costume , and yet was sublimel y pure in comparison with the generations that followed . Here is a sketch in Lower-Roman colours : — It is impossible to paint , except for a secret gallery , copies of the manners of a penod when . it seems to have been tie custom for ladies to overwhelm their lovers , otherwise coy , with presents ; when an Italian prince marvelled to receive a young girl in marriage from France uncorrupteJ ; when that strange instrument , so ludicrously exhibited at the Museum of Cluny , waa publicly bought at the fair of St . Germain by liusbands forced to leave their wives unguarded , until lovers threatened to murder the dealer if he did not decamp ; and when men-servants dressed and undressed their noble mistresses , put on their stockings , and handed them their chemises . The records we have of the mingled naivete and coarseness of that age are

    astonishing . It was firmly believed by many that a magician once , to please Francis I ., made the toilettes of all the ladies of that prince ' s court invisible or transparent . Impassioned lovers , when they bought silk stockings , used to go to their mistresses and beg them to wear them for a few days before they put them om The court transacted its affairs quite in a family way . Mademoiselle de Limeuil wrote a clever satire when she came to court to attend on the queen , and was whipped with two accomplices for her impertinence . At this time the French ladies had not yet acquired their reputation for elegance and taste in dress . They were taught the art of the toilette by the Queen of Navarre , who carried out the views of her sagacious mother . Indeed , as soon as the influence of Catherine de Medici began to be felt in reality , the corruption of France increased , but became more gorgeous and refined . There was then a perfect fury for adornments and costumes ; and , as an historian naively remarks , ' modesty suffered . ' 1 should think so , when at the banquet of Plessis-les-Tours , given by Henry III ., all the ladies were dressed as men , in green silk ; and at one immediately following , given by the Queen-Mother at Chenon « eaux , they served at table almost without any dresses at all !

    It is more pleasant to watch the growth of Montaigne ' s heroic friendship with Estienne de la Boetie , a sentiment that influenced bis life , his mind , his-works , and became the admiration of his posterity . Such passages are rare , even in the biographies of the most illustrious men . We agree-with Mr . St . John , that some account of La Boetie was essential to a Life of Montaigne ; certainly no personage mentioned in the history of literature has been more elaborately caricatured ; few deserve better to be justly known than the eloquent Sarladais . We shall await with curiosity Dr . PayenV reply to Mr . St . John ' s chapter , headed ' Two Ingenious Writers contrasted ; « Vindeed , a reply be possible . The famous treatise against despotism—which -we would gladly see republished in England—is thus estimated : —

    I need scarcely enter into any criticism of the literary character of the Treatise . By common consent , it is classed now among the masterpieces of the French language . No one denies it to be full of eloquent amplifications and fiery apostrophes , of sentences , of images , of turns of phraseology that render it a marvel , no matter at what age written . Its influence has been great , especially on the style of republican writers in troublous times . There are passages in Milton ' s prose works which would seem written under that inspiration , if Milton , equally imbued with classical literature , and more copious , more enthusiastic , more republican still , did not rather naturally fall into the same tone . We find reminiscences of La BoStie in Rousseau , in Lamennais , in all who have had occasion to attack Monarchy .

    On English readers , who neglect to carry back their imaginations three centuries , and into another country , his tone sometimes produces an unpleasant effect . Misled by the name of the office of our chief magistrate , against whom boys of sixteen , less cultivated than La BoStie , perhaps now imitatively declaim , they are offended by this terrific attack on Monarchy ; which is , of course , as inapplicable to any part of our institutions as a diatribe against an elector of Hanover would be if applied to an elector of Westminster . La Boetie was Montaigne ' s friend . His associates , of course , were numerous . He could not live in Paris without being fascinated by the fame

    of Ronsard , at whose feet a king had , in a j > oem , laid a crown ; and there are grounds for assuming that Montaigne , introduced by Pibrac , attended the Academy ot Poets established by Baif ; he was personally acquainted with Tasso , with Catherine de Medici , and with the three kings , her sons , and lived long enough in brilliant circles to be disgusted with them . In 1571 , retiring to a learned solitude at his chateau , he explored all living literature ; and taking advantage of this event , his biographer devotes a most interesting chapter to the Chateau de Montaigne , especially the Tower : —

    There are two stories of the tower , which is round and massive like a dungeon , and attached to a square tower , smaller , but of about equal height . On the ground-floor , which Montaigne counts as a atory , we find the chapel alluded to in the Essays . There we are shown the altar , and an aperture communicating -with a recess on the firat-flooT , -where Montaigne , according to local tradition , used sometimes to sit and bear mans ; perhaps with a Seneca slily in his hand , or a nightcap on his head . On the summit of the building may still be seen the little chamber where hung a huge bell , which every day , morning and evening , used to ring the Ave Maria with such violence that the tower itself woe astonished ;* yet Montaigne by degrees got accustomed to it , and was no- more kept awake than by the sermons of his chaplain—if he had one , and did not rather depend upon some neighbour or chance passenger for spiritual food . Perhaps there was no other chapel for his retainers and farmers in the district . Here were composed the Essays : —

    The Essays bear many marks of having been written , by a country gentleman . The murmur from the farmyard sometimes resounds through Montaigne ' s sentences : and breezes from orchard , and hill , and valley , fan our etieeka as we flutter his leaves . He is no minute describor : he does not paint the roughness « s of tree bark or count the veins of a leaf ; but the masses around cast impressions into his mind which he reproduces . " When I dance , I dance , " says he ; explaining how each pursuit absorbed him in its turn . " When I slumber , I slumber ; and when I stroll alone beneath the branches of a fair orchard , if I allow my thoughts to commune awhile with things remote and foreign , some other while I recal them to rny stroll , to the orchard , to the sweetness of the solitude , and to myself . " This fair orchard belonged to him and still exUts behind the chateau , gently spread on the eastern slope of the hill . All kia illustrations of a similar kind scorn gathered under the shadow of his castle , on the day he uses thorn . They are like fresh-picked flowers , which have not yet felt the "warmth , of the bosom , on which they glow . He finds them in every corner of the valley : We do not advance in this life , wo are carried along , like trifles floating on a ^ waw V n lapsing gently , mow hurrying Tapidly , » s the water ia lively or slow . " He 10 evidentl y down on the banks of the Didoire , which indeed , when I lust ruffled

    its grassy banks , creating an image to flit by me through those solitudes—for our minds are the tombs from which ghosts come out to haunt the world—was here whirl ing autumn leaves along ia a narrow bed , there allowing them to rest in tiny reaches " But he goes further , and notices the progress which the Dordogne is making in eatin ~ away its banks , so as to carry off many houses by the foundations . This * and the destruction of his brother ' s estate in Medoc by the sea , enabled him to understand th supposed disappearance of the Atlantis . His wife and children supply materials for two chapters ; then come household experiences—very characteristic ; next , neighbours and friendsthen , books in the Essayist ' s library . It is particularly interesting to trace the studies of such a man , and wander over the fields whicn were his literary pastures : — ' ' . ,

    Montaigne , like Shakspeare , and Butler , and Milton , owed debts , even in matters that appear most personal , on every side . Not only classical , but Italian and French poetry , furnished him with colours , which he used without scruple . There have been earnest , self-sacrificing men , who have disdained this process , fancying that they were bound to get their silk out of their own entrails , and that mulberry-trees were made for nothing . But it has been followed by all great national writers , and it is necessary to point out that it was followed especially by Montaigne . The Essayist read poetry , be says , for pleasure only ; but other books for intellectual ^ profit , too , as Plutarch aad Seneca . Both these Moralists had that notable convenience for him , that they wrote in a broken manner , and did not require any obstinate reading . The 'Opuscules' of Plutarch , and the « E pistles' of Seneca , hes considered the finest and most profitable part of their -writings . Their instruction is the cream of philosophy , and is presented in a simple and pertinent fashion . Plutarch is more uniform and constant ; Seneca more undulating and diverse . This one troubles himself , and makes violent efforts , to arm virtue against weakness , fear , and the vicious appetites . The other seems not to estimate the danger so greatly , aad disdains to hurry his step and take up a posture of defence . Plutarch has Platonic

    opinions , gentle and accommodated to Civil Society , the other has Stoical and Epicurean opinions , further removed from common use , but in Montaigne ' s opinion more adapted to private use , and firmer . " It appears in Seneca , that he gives way a little to the tyranny of the emperors of liis time ( for I hold it as certain that it was bv a forced judgment that he condemned the cause of those generous murderers of Caesar ) , whilst Plutarch is free everywhere . Seneca is full of points and sallies ; Plutarch o ' t things . The former warms us and moves us more ; the latter gives more content , and repays us best . He leads , whilst the other pushes . " Elsewhere Montaigne says that his Essays are built up with the spoils cf Plutarch and Seneca . Never was author so scrupulous in acknowledging his general obligations to others as Montaigne . Indeed he far exaggerates them . He rarely , however , gives references , and sometimes melts extracts so > completely into his own speculations that we are not aware they are not original . Writers have been accused of plagiarising the Essays , who have merely imitated tie ancients .

    This _ quotation is but a fragment , separated from an elab orate account of Montaigne ' s researches among books . To an analysis of the Essays , Mr . St . John adds : — An endeavour to sketch some of the chief features of the Essays in a way suited to the undidactic character of this work has led me into a desultory chapter . It would , however , be difficult to describe so varied and complicated a work in a manner moro connected . If my account be incomplete , it suggests at any rate the idea of incompleteness ; and if an apparent contradiction sometimes occurs , it is because Montaigne is full of contradictions , which can be explained in only one way . "If I paint myself diversely , " he says , "it is because I see myself diversely . " How imprison a judgment of such a man ' s productions in a few even and consistent sentences ? Those

    who have endeavoured to do so , have generally be « n content to take a portion of Montaigne for Montaigne himself . For my part , I feel an uncertainty about some of his doctrines , which I should with regret see displaced by absolute conviction . When a definite critical conviction is formed , it is often put aside and allowed to grow rusty . Doubt keeps the mind active . —Was , then , the Essayist an absolute unbeliever , hiding behind the mask of false piety ; or was he half a Christian , half a Pagan—an admirer sometimes of the Apostate Julian , sometimes a worshipper of * Truth itself ?* Both opinions , as the Jesuits say , are probable ; and 1 often feel inclined to lean towards the one , often towards the other . Morally and philosophically , however , it is a venturesome task to judge any man in the last resort ; and , after some years' communion with a professed doubter , I have learned to doubt my infallibility as a critic .

    We must remember , finally , that Montaigne would not say " I am ignorant , " or "I doubt ; " for this was affirmation ; but adopted ais his device the interrogation , QUK SgAY-JB ? And with this perpetual question on his lips he passed through life . The story of his travels is delightful . Montaigne had a rare way of describing his own peregrinations , and his choicest passages intersperse Mr . St . John ' s narration . The biography contains so much that is new and informing , that it is impossible to do more than indicate its general characteristics . We hav « described the basis upon which Mr . St . John has built , and the proportions of his work ; more , it is not for us to say , except , perhaps , that this is obviously the book upon which he has bestowed the chief thought and labour of fifteen years .

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    NEW NOVELS . White Lies . A Story . By Charles Reade . 3 vols . ^ ( Triibner and Co . )—A favourite authoress , we believe , wrote a story entitled White Lies . Mr . Reade ' s belongs to a different class . It is based upon French materials , and sprinkled with French idioms ; the names of places and persons are French , while the characters and conversations are such as tire generally found in three volumes , published originally in a penny journal , this tale seems to have been written down to an imaginary level upon which the author supposed that the intellects and sympathies of his readers would range . The idea was a mistake : —we believe it was a failure . White Lies was not popular in competition with its predecessors in the same series . It is now presented , in a shape more conventional , to the circulating-library

    reader . The narrative is of the last century , the chief locality is a chateau in Brittany ; the principal persomiges are Madame de Bcaurepnire , her daughters Laure and Josephine , Jacinth a a maid , St . Aubin a friend of the family , a hero or two of iron fabric , and lovers proper for each of the damsels . These gentry become involved in misfortunes , and a long history unwinds in order to make them all happy again . In the first vohimo , many chapters pass without the slightest dramatic action ; they arc made up almost wholly of description , ejaculation , and dialogue ; in the second the narrative moves with more spirit ; in the third , although interrupted by large digressive passages , it becomes comparativel y interesting . Strictly speaking , however , White Lies is excessively bare of incident , and this , wo are afraid ,

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    1192 THE LEADER , [ No , 403 , December 12 / 1857 .

• Citation
  • Leader (1850-1860), Dec. 12, 1857, page 1192, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2221/page/16/