duous, which they call the science of public affairs and which they
(like physicians with medical science) alone have the right to practise.
They are not willing that an underling, a journalist for instance, or
lower than that, an artist, a cutter of images, should presume to slip
into their domain and speak out beside them. A poet, an artist, a writer
may be endowed with eminent faculties, they will agree to that; the
profession of such men presupposes it; but statesmen they cannot be.
Chateaubriand himself, though better placed than the rest of us to make
himself a niche in the Governmental Olympus, was turned out of doors one
morning by a concise little note, signed Joseph de Villele, dismissing
him, as was proper, to Rene, Atala, and other futilities.

I know that time and that tall posthumous daughter of ours whom we call
Posterity will some day do good justice and plead the right thing in the
right place. Towards the end of 2039, the world, if it deigns to last
till then, will know what Canalis, Joseph Bridau, Daniel d'Arthez,
Stidmann, and Leon de Lora were in 1839; whereas an infinitely small
number of persons will know that during the same period Monsieur le
Comte de l'Estorade was peer of France, and president of the Cour des
comptes; Monsieur le Comte de Rastignac minister of Public Works; and
his brother-in-law, Monsieur le Baron Martial de la Roche-Hugon was a
diplomat and Councillor of State employed on more or less extraordinary
services.

But while awaiting this tardy classification and distant reform, I think
it well to let our great governing class know from time to time
that unless their names are Richelieu or Colbert they are liable to
competition and are forced to accept it. So, with this aggravating
intention I begin to take pleasure in my enterprise; and if I am
elected, I shall, unless you assure me that I have mistaken de
l'Estorade's meaning, find occasion to let him and others of his kind
know that one can, if so disposed, climb over the walls of their little
parks and strut as their equals.

But how is it, my dear friend, that I rattle on about myself and say no
word about the sad emotions which must attend your return to France? How
can you bear them? And instead of endeavoring to lay them aside, I fear
you are willingly nursing them and taking a melancholy pleasure in their
revival. Dear friend, I say to you of these great sorrows what I said
just now of our governing class--we should con