It would, I now perceive, be necessary to have inhabited France for
several years past, with the determined intention of observing this
great empire solely in that single point of view, to be able to keep
my word in a manner worthy of you and of the subject. It would be
necessary to write a large volume of rational things; and, in a
letter, I ought to relate them with conciseness and truth; draw
sketches with rapidity, but clearness; in short, express positive
results, without deviating from abstractions and generalities, since
you require from me, on this subject, no more than a letter, and not
a book.
I come to the point. I shall consider literature in a double sense.
First, the thing in itself; then, its connexions with the sciences,
and the men who govern. In England, it has been thought, or at least
insinuated in some of the papers and periodical publications, that
literature had been totally annihilated in France within the last
twelve years. This is a mistake: its aberrations have been taken for
eclipses. It has followed the revolution through all its phases.
Under the Constituent Assembly, the literary genius of the French was
turned towards politics and eloquence. There remain valuable
monuments of the fleeting existence of that assembly. MIRABEAU,
BARNAVE, CAZALÈS, MAURY, and thirty other capital writers, attest
this truth. Nothing fell from their lips or their pen that did not
hear at the same time the stamp of philosophy and literature.
Under the Legislative Assembly and the Convention, the establishments
of the empire of letters were little respected. Literati themselves
became victims of the political collisions of their country; but
literature was constantly cultivated under several forms. Those who
shewed themselves its oppressors, were obliged to assume the refined
language which it alone can supply, and that, at the very time when
they declared war against it.
Under the Directorial government, France, overwhelmed by the weight
of her long misfortunes, first cast her eye on the construction of a
new edifice, dedicated to human knowledge in general, under the name
of _National Institute_. Literature there collected its remains, and
those who cultivate it, as members of this establishment, are not
unworthy of their office. Such as are not admitted into this society,
notwithstanding all the claims the most generally acknowledged, owe
this omission to moral or political causes only, on which I could not
touch, without occupying myself about persons rather than the thing
itself.
The French revolution, which has levelled so many gigantic fortunes,
is said (by its advocates) to have really spread a degree of comfort
among the inferior classes. Indeed, if there are in France, as may be
supposed, much fewer persons rolling in riches, there are, I am
informed, much fewer pining in indigence. This observation, admitting
it to be strictly true, may, with great propriety, be applied to
French literature. France no longer has a VOLTAIRE or a ROUSSEAU, to
wield the sceptre of the literary world; but she has a number of
literary degrees of public interest or simple amusement, which are
perfectly well filled. Few literati are without employ, and still
fewer are beneath their functions. The place of member of the
Institute is a real public function remunerated by the State. It is
to this cause, and to a few others, which will occur to you
beforehand, that we must attribute the character of gravity which
literature begins to assume in this country. The prudery of the
school of DORAT would here be hissed. Here, people will not quarrel
with the Graces; but they will no longer make any sacrifice to them
at the expense of common sense.
In this literary republic still exist, as you may well conceive, the
same passions, the same littleness, the same intrigues as formerly
for arriving at celebrity, and keeping in that envied sphere; but all
this makes much less noise at the present juncture. It is this which
has induced the belief that literature had diminished its intensity,
both in form and object: that is another mistake. The French literati
are mostly a noisy class, who love to make themselves conspicuous,
even by the clashing of their pretensions; but, to the great regret
of several among them, people in this country now attach a rational
importance only to their quarrels, which formerly attracted universal
attention. The revolution has been so great an event; it has
overthrown such great interests; that no one here can any longer
flatter himself with exciting a personal interest, except by
performing the greatest actions.
I must also make a decisive confession on this matter, and
acknowledge that literature, which formerly held the first degree in
the scale of the moral riches of this nation, is likely to decline in
priority and influence. The sciences have claimed and obtained in the
public mind a superiority resulting from the very nature of their
object; I mean utility. The title of _savant_ is not more brilliant
than formerly; but it is more imposing; it leads to consequence, to
superior employments, and, above all, to riches. The sciences have
done so much for this people during their revolution, that, whether
through instinct, or premeditated gratitude, they have declared their
partiality towards the _savans_, or men of science, to the detriment
of the mere literati. The sciences are nearly allied both to pride
and national interest; while literature concerns only the vanity and
interest of a few individuals. This difference must have been felt,
and of itself alone have fixed the esteem of the public, and
graduated their suffrages according to the merit of the objects.
Regard being had to their specific importance, I foresee that this
natural classification will be attended with happy consequences, both
for sciences and literature.
I have been enabled to observe that very few men of science are
unacquainted with the literature of their country, whether for
seeking in it pleasing relaxation, or for borrowing from it a magic
style, a fluent elocution, a harmony, a pomp of expression, with
which the most abstract meditations can no longer dispense to be
received favourably by philosophers and men of taste. Very few
literati, on the other hand, are unacquainted with philosophy and the
sciences, and, above all, with natural knowledge; whether not to be
too much in arrear with the age in which they live, and which
evidently inclines to the study of Nature, or to give more colour and
consistence to their thoughts, by multiplying their degrees of
comparison with the eternal type of all that is great and fertile.
It has been so often repeated that HOMER, OSSIAN, and MILTON, knew
every thing known in their times; that they were at once the greatest
natural philosophers and the best moralists of their age, that this
truth has made an impression on most of the adepts in literature; and
as the impulse is given, and the education of the present day by the
retrenchment of several unnecessary pursuits, has left, in the mind
of the rising generation, vacancies fit to be filled by a great
variety of useful acquirements, it appears to me demonstrated, on
following analogy, and the gradations of human improvement, that the
sciences, philosophy, and literature will some day have in France but
one common domain, as they there have at present, with the arts, only
one central point of junction.
The French government has flattered the literati and artists, by
calling them in great numbers round it and its ministers, either to
give their advice in matters of taste, or to serve as a decoration to
its power, and an additional lustre to the crown of glory with which
it is endeavouring to encircle itself; but, in general, the palpable,
substantial, and solid distinctions have been reserved for men of
science, chymists, naturalists, and mathematicians: they have seats
in the Senate, in the Tribunate, in the Council of State, and in all
the Administrations; while LAHARPE, the veteran of French literature,
is not even a member of the Institute, and is reduced to give
lessons, which are, undoubtedly, not only very interesting to the
public, but also very profitable to himself, and produce him as much
money, at least, as his knowledge has acquired him reputation.
It results from what I have said, that French literature has not
experienced any apparent injury from the revolutionary storm: it has
only changed its direction and means: it has still remaining talents
which have served their time, talents in their maturity, and talents
in a state of probation, and of much promise.
Persons of reflection entertain great hopes from the violent shock
given to men's minds by the revolution; from that silent inquietude
still working in their hearts; from that sap, full of life,
circulating with rapidity through this body politic. "The factions
are muzzled," say they; "but the factious spirit still ferments under
the curb of power; if means can be found to force it to evaporate on
objects which belong to the domain of illusion and sensibility, the
result will prove a great blessing to France, by carrying back to the
arts and to literature, and even to commerce, that exuberance of heat
and activity which can no longer be employed without danger on
political subjects."
The same men, whom I have just pointed out, affirm that England
herself will feel, in her literary and scientific system, a salutary
concussion from the direction given here to the public mind. They
expect with impatience that the British government will engage in
some great measure of public utility, in order that the rivalship
subsisting between the two nations on political and military points,
which have no longer any object, may soon become, in France, the most
active and most powerful vehicle for different parts of her interior
improvement.
Of all kinds of literature, _Epic Poetry_ is the only one in which
France has not obtained such success as to place her on a level with
TASSO and MILTON. To make amends, her poets have followed with
advantage the steps of ARIOSTO, without being able to surpass him.
From this school have issued two modern epic poems: _La guerre des
dieux payens contre les dieux chretiens_, by PARNY and _La conquête
de Naples_, by GUDIN. The former is distinguished by an easy
versification, and an imagination jocose and fertile, though,
certainly, far too licentious. Educated in the school of DORAT, he
possesses his redundance and grace, without his fatuity. His elegies
are worthy of TIBULLUS; and his fugitive pieces are at once dictated
by wit and sentiment: thus it was that CHAULIEU wrote, but with more
negligence. The latter has thought to compensate for the energy and
grace that should give life to his subject (which he considers only
in a playful and satirical light), by a truly tiresome multitude of
incidents. Conceive three huge volumes in octavo, for a poem which
required but one of a moderate size, and, in them, a versification
frequently negligent. These are two serious faults, which the French
will not readily overlook. No where are critics more severe, on the
one hand, against redundance that is steril, and on the other,
respecting the essential composition of verse, which ought always to
flow with grace, even when under restraint. Catholicism, however, has
no more reason to be pleased with the loose scenes presented in this
work, than christianity, in general, has with the licentious pictures
of PARNY; but GUDIN is far less dangerous to Rome, because he will be
less read.
Several authors have devoted their labours to _Tragedy_, during the
course of the revolution. CHÉNIER has produced a whole theatre, which
will remain to posterity, notwithstanding his faults, as he has
contrived to cover them with beauties. ARNAULT and MERCIER of
Compiegne are two young authors that seem to have been educated in
the school of DUCIS, who is at this day the father of all the present
tragic writers. The pieces which they have produced have met with
some success, and are of considerable promise.
_Comedy_ lost a vigorous supporter under the tyranny of ROBESPIERRE.
This was FABRE D'EGLANTINE. That poet seldom failed of success, drew
none but bold characters, and placed himself, by his own merit,
between MOLIÈRE and DESTOUCHES. COLIN D'HARLEVILLE and LEGOUVÉ
produce agreeable pieces which succeed. They paint, with an easy and
graceful pencil, the absurdities and humours of society; but their
pieces are deficient in plot and action. FABRÉ D'EGLANTINE
pourtrayed, in striking colours, those frightful vices which are
beyond the reach of the law. His pieces are strongly woven and easily
unravelled. PICARD seems to have taken GOLDONI, the celebrated
Venetian comic writer, for his model. Like him, an excellent painter,
a writer by impulse, he produces, with wonderful fecundity, a number
of interesting comedies, which make the audience laugh till they shed
tears, and how and then give great lessons. PALISSOT, CAILHAVA, and
MERCIER are still living; but no longer produce any thing striking.
I shall say little of French eloquence. Under the new form of
government, orators have less opportunity and less scope for
displaying transscendant talents than during the first years of the
revolution. Two members of the government, CAMBACÉRÈS and LEBRUN,
have distinguished themselves in this career by close, logical
argument, bright conceptions, and discriminating genius. BENJAMIN
CONSTANT and GUINGUÉNÉ, members of the Tribunate, shewed themselves
to advantage last year, as I understand, in some productions full of
energy and wisdom. DEMEUNIER and BOISSI D'ANGLAS are already, in the
Tribunate, veterans of eloquence; but the man who unites, in this
respect, all the approbation of that body, and even of France, is
DAUNOU. In exterior means he is deficient; but his thoughts proceed
at once from a warm heart and an open mind, guided by a superior
genius; and his expressions manifest the source from which they flow.
Several capital works of the historic kind have made their appearance
in France within the last ten years; but, with the exception of those
of celebrated voyagers or travellers, such as LA PÉROUSE, BAUDIN,
SONNINI, LABILLARDIÈRE, OLIVIER, ANDRÉ MICHAUD, &c. those whose
object has been to treat of the arts, sciences, and manners of
Greece, such as the travels of Anacharsis, of Pythagoras, or of
Antenor; those whose subject has not been confined to France, such as
the _Précis de l'histoire générale_, by ANQUETIL; people ought to be
on their guard against the merit even of productions written
mediately or immediately on the revolution, its causes, and
consequences. The passions are not yet sufficiently calmed for us not
to suspect the spirit of party to interpose itself between men and
truth. The most splendid talents are frequently in this line only the
most faithless guide. It is affirmed, however, that there are a few
works which recommend themselves, by the most philosophic
impartiality; but none of these have as yet fallen under my
observation. A striking production is expected from the pen of the
celebrated VOLNEY. This is a _Tableau Physique des États Unis_; but
it is with regret I hear that its appearance is delayed by the
author's indisposition.
_Novels_ are born and die here, as among us, with astonishing
abundance. The rage for evocations and magic spectres begins to
diminish. The French assert that they have borrowed it from us, and
from the school of MRS. RADCLIFF, &c. &c. They also assert, that the
policy of the royalist-party was not unconnected with this
propagation of cavernous, cadaverous adventures, ideas, and
illusions, intended, they say, by the impression of a new moral
terror to infatuate their countrymen again with the dull and
soporific prestiges of popery. They see with joy that the taste for
pleasure has assumed the ascendency, at least in Paris, and that
novels in the English style no longer make any one tremble, at night
by the fireside, but the old beldams of the provincial departments.
The less important kinds of literature, such as the _Apologue_ or
_Moral Fable_, which is not at this day much in fashion; the
_Eclogue_ or _Idyl_, whose culture particularly belongs to agrestical
and picturesque regions; _Political Satire_, which is never more
refined than under the influence of arbitrary power; these kinds, to
which I might add the _Madrigal_ and _Epigram_, without being
altogether abandoned, are not generally enough cultivated here to
obtain special mention. I shall make an exception only in favour of
the pastoral poems of LECLERC (of Marne and Loire) of which I have
heard a very favourable account.
At the end of a revolution which has had periods so ensanguined,
_Romance_, (romantic poetry) must have been cultivated and held in
request. It has been so, especially by sentimental minds, and not a
little too through the spirit of party; this was likely to be the
case, since its most affecting characteristic is to mourn over tombs.
_Lyric poetry_ has been carried by LEBRUN, CHÉNIER, &c. to a height
worthy of JEAN BAPTISTE ROUSSEAU. The former, above all, will stand
his ground, by his weight, to the latest posterity; while hitherto
the lyric productions of CHÉNIER have not been able to dispense with
the charm of musical harmony. FONTANES, CUBIÈRES, PONS DE VERDUN,
BAOUR-LORNIAN, and DESPAZE are secondary geniuses, who do not make us
forget that DELISLE and the Chevalier BERTIN are still living; but
whose fugitive pieces sometimes display many charms.
When you shall be made acquainted that Paris, of all the cities in
the world, is that where the rage for dancing is the most
_nationalized_, where, from the gilded apartments of the most
fashionable quarters to the smoky chambers of the most obscure
suburbs, there are executed more capers in cadence, than in any other
place on earth, you will not be surprised if I reserve a special
article for one of the kinds of literature that bears the most
affinity to this distinctive diversion of the Parisian belles, which
has led MERCIER to say, that their city was the _guingette_ of
Europe; I mean _Song_. Perhaps, a subject new and curious to treat
on, would be the influence of vocal music on the French revolution.
Every one knows that this people marched to battle singing; but,
independently of the subject being above my abilities, it would carry
me too far beyond the limited plan which I have prescribed to myself.
Let it suffice for you to know, that there has existed in Paris a
sort of lyric manufactory, which, under the name of "_Diners du
vaudeville_" scrupulously performed, for several years, an engagement
to furnish, every month, a collection of songs very agreeable and
very captivating. These productions are pretty often full of
allusions, more or less veiled, to the political events of the
moment; seldom, however, have they been handled as very offensive
weapons against persons or institutions. The friends of mirth and
wine are seldom dark and dangerous politicians. This country
possesses a great number of them, who combine the talents required by
the gravest magistracy with all the levity of the most witty and most
cheerful _bon vivant_. I shall quote at random FRANÇOIS DE
NEUFCHÂTEAU, the two SÉGURS, PIIS, &c. &c. Others, such as BARRÉ,
DESFONTAINES, and RADET, confine themselves to their exclusive
functions of professed song-makers, and write only for the little
musical theatres, or for the leisure of their countrymen and their
evening-amusements.
It is impossible to terminate a sketch of the literature of France,
without saying a word of such of the _Journals_ as I have yet
perused, which are specially devoted to it. The _Mercure de France_
is one of those held in most esteem; and habit, as well as the spirit
of party, concurs in making the fortune of this journal. There exists
another, conducted by a member of the Institute, named POUGENS, under
the title of _Bibliothèque Française_, which is spoken of very
favourably. But that which appears every ten days, under the name of
_Décade Philosophique_, is the best production of the sort. A society
of literary men, prudent, well-informed, and warmly attached to their
country, are its authors, and deposit in it a well-digested analysis
of every thing new that appears in the arts, sciences, or literature.
Nevertheless, a labour so carefully performed, is perfectly
disinterested. This is the only enterprise of the kind that does not
afford a livelihood to its associates, and is supported by a zeal
altogether gratuitous.
Without seeking to blame or approve the title of this last-mentioned
journal, I shall only remark that the word _Décade_, coupled with the
word _Philosophique_, becomes in the eyes of many persons a double
cause of reprobation; and that, at this day, more than ever, those
two words are, in the opinion the most in fashion, marked by a
proscription that is reflected on every thing which belongs to the
science of philosophy.
This would be the moment to inquire into the secret or ostensible
causes which have led to the retrograde course that is to be remarked
in France in the ideas which have been hitherto reckoned as conducive
to the advancement of reason. This would be the moment to observe the
new government of France endeavouring to balance, the one by the
other, the opinions sprung from the Republic, and those daily
conjured up from the Monarchy; holding in _equilibrio_ two colours of
doctrines so diametrically opposite, and consequently two parties
equally dissatisfied at not being able to crush each other,
_neutralizing_ them, in short, by its immense influence in the
employment of their strength, when they bewilder or exhaust
themselves uselessly for its interests; but I could not touch on
these matters, without travelling out of the domain of literature,
which is the only one that is at present familiar to me, in order to
enter into yours, where you have not leisure to direct me; and you
may conceive with what an ill grace I should appear, in making before
you, in politics, excursions, which, probably, would have for me the
inconvenience of commanding great efforts, without leaving me the
hope of adding any thing to your stock of information.