"I hope M. de Chateaubriand will pardon me, for having thus broke a lance with him, in honour of letters, and that he will excuse me if, in defiance of the usages of chivalry, I do not raise up the vizor of my casque."

To this Letter M. de Chateaubriand answered by the following Dissertation upon Men of Letters.

318

ON MEN OF LETTERS.

THE Defence of the Genius of Christianity* has been hitherto the only answer I have made to all the criticisms with which the world has thought proper to honour

I have the happiness, or the misfortune, to find my name brought forward pretty often, in polemical works, in pamphlets, in satires. When the criticism is just I correct myself, when it is jocose I laugh, when it is gross I forget it. A new antagonist has just entered the lists, calling himself a Bearnese Chevalier. It is singular that this Chevalier reproaches me with Gothic prejudices and a contempt of letters. I will acknowledge freely that I cannot think of the days of chivalry with calmness and indifference, and that when I hear of tournaments, of challenges, of strifes, of single combats, I am ready, like Don Quixote, to arm myself and run about the country as a champion for the redress of wrongs. I come then to answer the challenge of my adversary. I might, indeed, refuse to exchange the stroke of a lance with him since he has not declared his name, nor raised the vizor of his casque after the first thrust; but, in consideration of his having observed the other laws of the joust, religiously,

* The Editor hopes that the reader will not be sorry to find this Defence at the end of the present collection.

by carefully avoiding to strike at the head or the heart, I will consider him as a loyal knight and take up his gage.

And yet what is the subject of our quarrel. Are we about to fight, as, indeed, was by no means uncommon among the preux chevaliers, without knowing why? I am very ready to maintain that the lady of my heart is incomparably more beautiful than the mistress of my adversary; but how, if by chance we should both serve the same fair? This is in fact the case. I am in good truth of the same opinion with the Bearnese Chevalier, or rather my love is directed to the same object, and like him I am ready to prosecute, as a felon, any one who shall dare to make an attack on the Muses.

Let us change our language and come to the fact. I will venture to say that the critic who attacks me with so much taste, learning, and politeness, but perhaps with a little pique, has not understood my idea. When I object to kings intermeddling in the strifes of Parnassus, am I very much in the wrong. A king ought undoubtedly to love letters, even to cultivate them to a certain extent, and to protect them in his states. But is it But is it necessary that he should write books? Can the sovereign judge expose himself without inconvenience to be judged? Is it good that a monarch should, like an ordinary man, make the world acquainted with the exact measure of his talents, and throw himself upon the indulgence of his subjects in a preface? It seems to me that the Gods ought not to shew themselves so unmasked to mankind: Homer places a barrier of clouds at the gate of Olympus.

As to the other expression, that an author ought to be taken from the ordinary ranks of society, I ask pardon of my censor, but I did not mean to imply the sense in which he takes it. In the place where it is introduced it relates only to kings; it can relate only to kings. I am

not absurd enough to desire that letters should be abandoned exactly to the illiterate part of society; they do not belong exclusively to any particular class, they are the resource of all who think; they are not an attribute of rank but a distinction of mind. I am very well aware that Montaigne, Malherbe, Descartes, La Rochefoucault, Fénélon, Bossuet, La Bruyère, even Boileau, Montesquieu and Buffon belonged more or less to the ancient body of the nobility, either by the sword, or by the gown. I know well that a fine genius cannot dishonour an illustrious name; but, since my critic will force me to say it, I think there is far less danger in cultivating the Muses in an obscure station, than in an elevated one. The man who has nothing particularly to attract observation exposes little to the danger of shipwreck; if he do not succeed in letters, his mania of writing will not have deprived him of any real advantage, and his rank of author forgotten; nothing will be added to the natural obscurity which attended him in another career.

It is not the same with one who holds a distinguished place in the world, whether from his fortune, his dignity, or the recollections attached to his ancestors. Such a man would do well to balance for a long time before he enters the lists where a fall would be fatal. A moment of vanity may destroy the happiness of his whole life. When we have much to lose, we ought not to write, unless forced into it, as it were, by our genius, and awed by the presence of the god fera corda domans. A great talent is a great reason, and we may answer to all with glory. But if we do not feel in ourselves this mens divinior, let us take good heed against that itch which may seize us for writing.

Nor be, tho' strongly urg'd, the name in haste
Of honest man, which now you bear, laid down
While that of wretched author is embrac'd

Giv'n by a sordid printer's voice alone.

If I should catch some Duguesclin rhyming, without the consent of Apollo, some wretched poem, I should exclaim: "Sir Bertrand change your pen for the iron sword of the good Constable. When you shall be on the breach remember to invoke, like your ancestor, Our Lady of Guesclin. This is not the muse who sings towns taken, but who inspires the soul to take them.”

On the contrary, if a member of one of those families who make a figure in our history were to come before the world in an Essay full of strength, of fire, of solidity, do not fear that I should attempt to check and discourage him. Although his opinions should be directly in opposition to my own, though his book should wound not only my mind but my heart, I should see nothing but the talent displayed; I should be sensible to nothing but the merit of the work; I should gladly take the young writer by the hand and introduce him in his new career; my experience should point out to him the rock on which he might split, and like a good brother in arms I should rejoice at his success.

I hope that the Chevalier who attacks me will ap prove these sentiments; but that is not sufficient, I will not leave him in any doubt with respect to my modes of thinking on the subject of letters and of those who culti vate them. This will lead me into a discussion of some extent; may the interest which the subject involves obtain my pardon for being diffuse.

Ah, how could I calumniate letters !-I must be ungrateful indeed since they have formed the charm of my life. I have had my misfortunes like others; for we may say of chagrins amongst mankind what Lucretius says of

the torch of life:

Quasi cursores, vitai lampada tradunt.

But I have always found in study noble reasons which $s