be of service to his
fellow men? Remember the fate of most of the philosophers who have
preached to them wisdom. Homer, who clothes it in such noble verse,
asked for alms all his life. Socrates, whose conversation and example
gave such admirable lessons to the Athenians, was sentenced by them to
be poisoned. His sublime disciple, Plato was delivered over to slavery
by the order of the very prince who protected him; and, before them,
Pythagoras, whose humanity extended even to animals, was burned alive
by the Crotoniates. What do I say?--many even of these illustrious names
have descended to us disfigured by some traits of satire by which
they became characterized, human ingratitude taking pleasure in thus
recognising them; and if, in the crowd, the glory of some names is come
down to us without spot or blemish, we shall find that they who have
borne them have lived far from the society of their contemporaries;
like those statues which are found entire beneath the soil in Greece
and Italy, and which, by being hidden in the bosom of the earth, have
escaped uninjured, from the fury of the barbarians.

You see, then, that to acquire the glory which a turbulent literary
career can give you, you must not only be virtuous, but ready, if
necessary, to sacrifice life itself. But, after all, do not fancy that
the great in France trouble themselves about such glory as this. Little
do they care for literary men, whose knowledge brings them neither
honours, nor power, nor even admission at court. Persecution, it
is true, is rarely practised in this age, because it is habitually
indifferent to every thing except wealth and luxury; but knowledge and
virtue no longer lead to distinction, since every thing in the state
is to be purchased with money. Formerly, men of letters were certain
of reward by some place in the church, the magistracy, or the
administration; now they are considered good for nothing but to write
books. But this fruit of their minds, little valued by the world at
large, is still worthy of its celestial origin. For these books
is reserved the privilege of shedding lustre on obscure virtue, of
consoling the unhappy, of enlightening nations, and of telling the truth
even to kings. This is, unquestionably, the most august commission with
which Heaven can honour a mortal upon this earth. Where is the author
who would not be consoled for the injustice or contempt of those who are
the dispensers of the ordinary gifts of fo