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,

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:

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.