To all lovers of unfamiliar quotations, aphorisms, great thoughts and
intellectual gems, I would heartily recommend a heavy volume recently
published in Brussels and entitled _Pensées sur la Science, la Guerre et
sur des sujets très variés_. The book contains some twelve or thirteen
thousand quotations, selected from a treasure of one hundred and
twenty-three thousand great thoughts gleaned and garnered by the
industry of Dr. Maurice Legat—an industry which will be appreciated at
its value by any one who has ever made an attempt to compile a
commonplace book or private anthology of his own. The almost intolerable
labour of copying out extracts can only be avoided by the drastic use of
the scissors; and there are few who can afford the luxury of mutilating
their copies of the best authors.
For some days I made Dr. Legat’s book my _livre de chevet_. But I had
very soon to give up reading it at night, for I found that the Great
often said things so peculiar that I was kept awake in the effort to
discover their meaning. Why, for example, should it be categorically
stated by Lamennais that “si les animaux connaissaient Dieu, ils
parleraient”? What could Cardinal Maury have meant when he said,
“L’éloquence, compagne ordinaire de la liberté [astonishing
generalization!], est inconnue en Angleterre”? These were mysteries
insoluble enough to counteract the soporific effects of such profound
truths as this, discovered, apparently, in 1846 by Monsieur C. H. D.
Duponchel, “Le plus sage mortel est sujet à l’erreur.”
Dr. Legat has found some pleasing quotations on the subject of England
and the English. His selection proves with what fatal ease even the most
intelligent minds are lured into making generalizations about national
character, and how grotesque those generalizations always are.
Montesquieu informs us that “dès que sa fortune se délabre, un anglais
tue ou se fait voleur.” Of the better half of this potential murderer
and robber Balzac says, “La femme anglaise est une pauvre créature
verteuse par force, prête à se dépraver.” “La vanité est l’âme de toute
société anglaise,” says Lamartine. Ledru-Rollin is of opinion that all
the riches of England are “des dépouilles volées aux tombeaux.”
The Goncourts risk a characteristically dashing generalization on the
national characters of England and France: “L’Anglais, filou comme
peuple, est honnête comme individu. Il est le contraire du Français,
honnête comme peuple, et filou comme individu.” If one is going to make
a comparison Voltaire’s is more satisfactory because less pretentious.
Strange are the ways of you Englishmen,
qui, des mêmes couteaux,
Coupez la tête au roi et la queue aux chevaux.
Nous Français, plus humains, laissons aux rois leurs têtes,
Et la queue à nos bêtes.
It is unfortunate that history should have vitiated the truth of this
pithy and pregnant statement.
But the bright spots in this enormous tome are rare. After turning over
a few hundred pages one is compelled, albeit reluctantly, to admit that
the Great Thought or Maxim is nearly the most boring form of literature
that exists. Others, it seems, have anticipated me in this grand
discovery. “Las de m’ennuyer des pensées des autres,” says d’Alembert,
“j’ai voulu leur donner les miennes; mais je puis me flatter de leur
avoir rendu tout l’ennui que j’avais reçu d’eux.” Almost next to
d’Alembert’s statement I find this confession from the pen of J. Roux
(1834-1906): “Emettre des pensées, voilà ma consolation, mon délice, ma
vie!” Happy Monsieur Roux!
Turning dissatisfied from Dr. Legat’s anthology of thought, I happened
upon the second number of _Proverbe_, a monthly review, four pages in
length, directed by M. Paul Eluard and counting among its contributors
Tristan Tzara of _Dada_ fame, Messrs. Soupault, Breton and Aragon, the
directors of _Littérature_, M. Picabia, M. Ribemont-Dessaignes and
others of the same kidney. Here, on the front page of the March number
of _Proverbe_, I found the very comment on Great Thoughts for which I
had, in my dissatisfaction, been looking. The following six maxims are
printed one below the other: the first of them is a quotation from the
_Intransigeant_; the other five appear to be the work of M. Tzara, who
appends a footnote to this effect: “Je m’appelle dorénavant
exclusivement Monsieur Paul Bourget.” Here they are:
Il faut violer les règles, oui, mais pour les violer il faut les
connaître.
Il faut régler la connaissance, oui, mais pour la régler il faut la
violer.
Il faut connaître les viols, oui, mais pour les connaître il faut les
régler.
Il faut connaître les règles, oui, mais pour les connaître il faut les
violer.
Il faut régler les viols, oui, mais pour les régler il faut les
connaître.
Il faut violer la connaissance, oui, mais pour la violer il faut la
régler.
It is to be hoped that Dr. Legat will find room for at least a selection
of these profound thoughts in the next edition of his book. “LE passé et
LA pensée n’existent pas,” affirms M. Raymond Duncan on another page of
_Proverbe_. It is precisely after taking too large a dose of “Pensées
sur la Science, la Guerre et sur des sujets très variés” that one half
wishes the statement were in fact true.