One does not learn how to die by killing others. - François-Auguste-René de Chateaubriand

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.

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.

In living literature no person is a competent judge but of works written in his own language. I have expressed my opinion concerning a number of English writers; it is very possible that I may be mistaken, that my admiration and my censure may be equally misplaced, and that my conclusions may appear impertinent and ridiculous on the other side of the Channel.