Memoirs from Beyond the Grave Quotes

“Spring, in Brittany, is milder than spring in Paris, and bursts into flower three weeks earlier. The five birds that herald its appearance—the swallow, the oriole, the cuckoo, the quail, and the nightingale—arrive with the breezes that refuge in the bays of the Armorican peninsula.[28] The earth is covered over with daisies, pansies, jonquils, daffodils, hyacinths, buttercups, and anemones, like the wastelands around San Giovanni of Laterano and the Holy Cross of Jerusalem in Rome. The clearings are feathered with tall and elegant ferns; the fields of gorse and broom blaze with flowers that one may take at first glance for golden butterflies. The hedges, along which strawberries, raspberries, and violets grow, are adorned with hawthorn, honeysuckle, and brambles whose brown, curving shoots burst forth with magnificent fruits and leaves. All the world teems with bees and birds; hives and nests interrupt the child’s every footstep. In certain sheltered spots, the myrtle and the rose-bay flourish in the open air, as in Greece; figs ripen, as in Provence; and every apple tree, bursting with carmine flowers, looks like the big bouquet of a village bride.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“This self-righteous arrogance led me to suppose that the religious mind suffered from a deficiency, which is exactly the deficiency suffered by the philosophical mind: a limited intelligence thinks it can see everything because it keeps its eyes open; a superior intelligence consents to close it eyes, for it perceives that everything is within.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“It is a long way from these strict parents to the child-spoilers of today.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Taken collectively, the people are a poet, at once author and ardent actor of the part they play, or the part they are made to play. Their excesses come not so much from instinctual or inborn cruelty as from the unpredictable delirium of a crowd intoxicated by spectacles,”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“What useless pageantry! No party ever believes in converting their opponent: neither liberty capitulating nor power abasing itself ever obtains mercy from its enemies.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“In the nation’s eyes, the Bastille was the trophy of its servitude; it seemed erected at the entryway to Paris, across from the sixteen pillars of Montfaucon, as a gallows on which liberties were hanged.* By razing this fortress of the State, the people thought to break the military yoke and thereby tacitly agreed to take the place of the army that they were disbanding. And we know what marvels were born when the people became soldiers.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Look around the forests where Washington’s sword once gleamed, and what do you find? Tombstones? No: a world! Washington left the United States as a trophy on his battleground. Bonaparte has nothing in common with this serious American.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Silence envelops Washington’s deeds. He moved cautiously; one could say that he felt charged with the liberty of future generations and feared compromising it. It was not his own destiny that this new species of hero carried; it was the destiny of his country.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Washington went to his grave before even the smallest bit of fame attached itself to my footsteps; I passed before him as the most anonymous entity. He was in all his glory, I in all my obscurity, and I doubt whether my name stayed more than a day in his memory. I am nevertheless happy that his gaze once fell upon me. I would feel warmed by it for the rest of my life. There is a virtue in the gaze of a great man.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Could Washington the Dictator be anything other than a rustic, prodding his oxen with a goad and steadily gripping the handle of his plow? But when I did go to him with my letter of introduction, I discovered the simplicity of an old Roman. A small house, which looked just the same as the neighboring houses, was the palace of the President of the United States.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“I can understand the cruel gaiety of Cervantes’s masterpiece only through a melancholy meditation: considering the whole of human existence, weighing good and evil, one might be tempted to wish for any accident that brings forgetfulness, as a means of escaping from oneself.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“The eighteenth century, a century of intellectual rather than material action, would not have succeeded in changing the laws so rapidly had it not stumbled on a suitable vehicle: the parliaments, and most notably the parliament of Paris, became the instruments of a philosophical system.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“In my eyes, murder will never be an object of admiration or an argument for freedom; I know of nothing more servile, more despicable, more cowardly, more narrow-minded than a terrorist.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Chateaubriand was attached to the past and its centuries-old traditions, but he was also a liberal, open to modernity: this is one thing that sets him apart in the history of ideas. He had been repulsed by the discourse and the violence of the French revolutionaries and was deeply impressed by the powerful composure of George Washington, “the representative of the needs, ideas, intelligence, and opinions of his epoch.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Men of the trident have some games handed down to them by their ancestors: when you cross the Line, you must be “baptized.” The same ceremony takes place in the Tropics as on the banks of Newfoundland, and, whatever the locale, the leader of the masquerade is always “the Old Man of the Tropics.” Tropical and dropsical are synonymous to sailors: the Old Man of the Tropics therefore has an enormous paunch. Even under the tropical sun, he is outfitted in all the sheepskins and fur coats that the crew can find. He sits crouching on the maintop, bellowing from time to time like a wild animal. Everyone stares up at him. Then he starts climbing down the shrouds, heavy as a bear and staggering like Silenus. When he lands on deck, he roars some more, leaps, seizes a pail, fills it with water from the sea, and pours it over the head of anyone who has never crossed the Line or reached the icy latitude. You may flee below deck, leap onto the hatches, or shinny up the masts, but Old Man Tropic is always after you. It all ends with the sailors getting a large sum of drink money.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Although quick to become bored by everything, I am always patient with the smallest details: I am endowed with the fortitude to face every impediment and, even when I grow weary of my object, my persistence is always greater than my boredom. I have never abandoned any project worth the trouble of completing. There are many things in my life that I have pursued for fifteen or twenty years with as much ardor on the last day as the first. My supple intelligence has extended itself to secondary matters also. I was deft at chess, skilled at billiards, hunting, and fencing, and I was a passable draughtsman. I would have sung well, too, if my voice had been trained. All this, combined with my unusual education and my experience as a soldier and a traveler, explains why I have never been a pedant, nor ever displayed the dull conceit, awkwardness, and slovenliness of the literary men of the last century, nor the arrogant self-assurance, the vain and envious braggadocio, of the new authors.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“My mother, Apolline de Bedée, endowed with great wit and a prodigious imagination, was formed by reading Fénelon, Racine, and Madame de Sévigné. She was nourished on anecdotes of the Court of Louis XIV and knew all of Cyrus by heart. A small woman of large features, dark-haired and ugly, her elegant manners and lively disposition were at odds with my father’s rigidity and calm. Loving society as much as he loved solitude, as exuberant and animated as he was expressionless and cold, she possessed no taste not antagonistic to the tastes of her husband.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“These Memoirs have been composed at different dates and in different countries. For this reason, I have been obliged to add some prefatory passages which describe the places that I had before my eyes and the feelings that were in my heart when the thread of my narrative was resumed. The changing forms of my life are thus intermingled. It has sometimes happened that, in my moments of prosperity, I have had to speak of times when I was poor, and in my days of tribulation, to retrace days when I was happy. My childhood entering into my old age, the gravity of experience weighing on the lightness of youth, the rays of my sun mingling and merging together, from its dawn to its dusk, have produced in my stories a kind of confusion, or, if you will, a kind of ineffable unity.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Thus, in my rendering, Chateaubriand may occasionally sound like Cioran (who called him “a sonorous Pascal”), or Baudelaire (who called him “one of the surest and rarest masters”), or Proust (who compared his distinctive sentences to the barn owl’s distinctive cry), or Sebald (who so seamlessly integrated passages of the Memoirs into the penultimate chapter of The Rings of Saturn).”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“The Memoirs from Beyond the Grave have come to be considered a classic of French literature as much for the elegiac beauty of their language as for the way they capture an age. If they are the recollections of a sometime ambassador, a part-time politician, and a onetime celebrity, they are also the masterwork of an artist in consummate control of his prose. The person who writes that, on the day of his birth, his mother “inflicted” life on him, who makes up a meeting with George Washington and has the gall to declare that the first president “resembled his portraits,” has picked up the plume for more complicated reasons than the urge to compose a record of his times. The seductiveness of the Memoirs’ style—what Barthes calls the “vivid, sumptuous, desirable seal of Chateaubriand’s writing”—makes questions of factual authenticity seem piddling. The voice of the Memoirs is the voice of the private man behind the public façade, the grown-up boy who left home out of fear and in search of the Northwest Passage, the death-haunted exile, the solitary writer at his desk at night, who knew that he had to imagine himself and his world into being, as if everywhere were America, a second space and a dominion of dreams.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Non vedrò più la magnolia che destinava la sua rosa alla tomba della mia fanciulla della Florida, il pino di Gerusalemme e il cedro del Libano consacrati alla memoria di Gerolamo, l'alloro di Granada, il platano della Grecia, le querce dell'Armorica ai piedi dei quali dipinsi Blanca, cercai Cymodocée, immaginai Velléda. Questi alberi nacquero e crebbero insieme ai miei sogni: erano le mie amadriadi. Essi stanno per passare sotto un'altra autorità: il loro nuovo padrone li amerà come li amavo? Li lascerà seccare, forse li taglierà, non devo conservare nulla in questo mondo? Evocherò l'addio che dissi un tempo ai boschi di Combourg dicendo addio ai boschi di Aluny: tutti i miei giorni sono degli addii.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Mémoires d'outre-tombe, Tome 1: Livres I à XII

“Die Revolution hätte mich mitgerissen, hätte sie nicht mit Verbrechen begonnen: beim Anblick des ersten Kopfes auf der Spitze einer Pike zuckte ich zurück. Niemals wird für mich der Mord Gegenstand der Bewunderung und ein Argument für die Freiheit sein.”
― Francois-Rene Chateaubriand, Memoirs of Chateaubriand: From His Birth in 1768, Till His Return to France in 1800

“Our vanity sets too much importance on the role that we play in the world. The Parisian bourgeois laughs at the small-town bourgeois; the nobleman at Court mocks the provincial noble; the well-known man disdains the unknown man, forgetting that time will do equal justice to their various pretensions, and that they will all look equally ridiculous or trivial in the eyes of generations to come.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800

“Our vanity sets too much importance on the role that we play in the world. The Parisian bourgeois laughs at the small-town bourgeois; the nobleman at Court mocks the provincial noble; the well-known man mocks the unknown man, forgetting that time will do equal justice to their various pretensions, ant that they will all look equally ridiculous or trivial in the eyes of generations to come.”
― François-René de Chateaubriand, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave: 1768-1800