where he spent a great portion of his time. In one of his letters to
Vice-Chancellor Seld, he described the beauties of this retreat with
much delicacy and vigor--"I am really not as badly off here," said he,
"as I should be in the Indies. I am in sweet places where I have wished
for you a thousand times, for I am certain that you would think them
appropriate for philosophy and worthy the habitation of the Muses.
Here are beautiful mountains, high as heaven, fertile on all their sides,
wreathed with vineyards, and rich with every fruit; here are rivers
flowing through charming valleys, the waters clear as crystal, filled
with trout, breaking into numberless cascades. Here are umbrageous
groves, fertile fields, lovely meadows; on the one aide great warmth,
on the other aide delectable coolness, despite the summer's heat. Nor is
there any lack of good company, friends, and relations, with, as you well
know, the very best wines in the world."

Thus it is obvious that the Cardinal was no ascetic. His hermitage
contained other appliances save those for study and devotion. His
retired life was, in fact, that of a voluptuary. His brother,
Chantonnay, reproached him with the sumptuousness and disorder of his
establishment. He lived in "good and joyous cheer." He professed to be
thoroughly satisfied with the course things had taken, knowing that God
was above all, and would take care of all. He avowed his determination
to extract pleasure and profit even from the ill will of his adversaries.
"Behold my philosophy," he cried, "to live joyously as possible, laughing
at the world, at passionate people, and at all their calumnies."
It is evident that his philosophy, if it had any real existence,
was sufficiently Epicurean. It was, however, mainly compounded of
pretence, like his whole nature and his whole life. Notwithstanding
the mountains high as heaven, the cool grottos, the trout, and the best
Burgundy wines in the world, concerning which he descanted so eloquently,