stion of character; professional "preoccupation
with little things" is not enough to change natural disposition in this
respect. "Ce bon monsieur Du Cange," as the Benedictines said, was
modest to excess. "Nothing more is required," says he, in speaking of
his labours, "but eyes and fingers in order to do as much and more;" he
never blamed any one, on principle. "If I study it is for the pleasure
of studying, and not to give pain to any one else, any more than to
myself."[126] It is, however, true that most scholars have no
compunction in exposing each other's mistakes, and that their austere
zeal sometimes finds expression in harsh and overbearing language.
Barring the harshness they are quite right. Like physicians, chemists,
and other members of learned and scientific professions, they have a
keen appreciation of the value of scientific truth, and it is for this
reason that they make a point of calling offenders to account. They are
thus enabled to bar the door against the tribe of incapables and
charlatans who once infested their profession.

Among the youths who propose to devote themselves to the study of
history there are some in whom the commercial spirit and vulgar ambition
are stronger than the love of science. These are apt to say to
themselves: "Historical work, if it is to be done according to the rules
of method, requires an infinite amount of labour and caution. But do we
not see historical writings whose authors have more or less seriously
violated the rules? Are these authors thought any the less of on this
account? Is it always the most conscientious writer who enjoys the
highest consideration? Cannot tact supply the place of knowledge?" If
tact really could supply the place of knowledge, then, as it is easier
to do bad work than good, and as the important thing with these people
is success, they might be tempted to conclude that it does not matter
how badly they work as long as they succeed. Why should not things go in
these matters as they do in life, where it is not necessarily the best
men that get on best? Well, it is due to the pitiless severity of the
critics that calculations of this kind would be as disastrous as they
are despicable.

Towards the end of the Second Empire there was in France no enlightened
public opinion on the subject of historical work. Bad books of
historical erudition were published with impunity, and sometimes even
procured undeserved rewards for their authors. It was the