THE RELATIONS OF BELLES-LETTRES 541 



individuals, for very different are our wants. But we have a longing 

 for beauty; we all crave the uplift that comes from contemplation 

 of the ideal. 



You will recall how a chanson de geste concerning Charlemagne and 

 Roland and Oliver and those who fell at Ronceval stimulated the 

 host of William the Conqueror at the Battle of Hastings. It helped 

 to make them brave. You will recall how Wolf e repeated Gray's Elegy 

 beneath the battlements of Quebec the night before the memorable 

 struggle of Abraham's Heights. It helped to make him calm. You 

 will recall how Robert Bruce sat all day long at the difficult pass of 

 Loch Lomond and read aloud to his followers the Old French story of 

 Ferumbras, and how the Lord gave his assailants might in their peril. 

 It helped to hold their courage at the sticking point. You will recall, 

 perhaps, the fascinating picture of the British king Bademagus in 

 his chair of ivory, and how he heard the minstrel harp of Orpheus so 

 sweetly that he was moved with great emotion and no one dared 

 speak a word. It distracted him from his grief. You will recall the 

 scene of the old Norse monarch Sverrir on his deathbed, as he lis- 

 tened with glad eagerness to the heroic sagas of his ancestors and 

 kin, recited one after another to animate his heart. Thus he was 

 strengthened for his approaching end. 



There is, in truth, no circumstance in which literature will not 

 serve, whether it be to increase joy or diminish sorrow, to heighten 

 courage or evoke tenderness, to stimulate in action or soothe in re- 

 pose, to give one in life wisdom and in death serenity. Literature is 

 the consolation as well as the inspiration of humanity, an eternal 

 spring of refreshment which never is far off, the water-brook for 

 which the soul of every life-traveler panteth, like the hart, when he 

 is will-of-his-way. 



How, then, will the course of literature be guided aright? What is, 

 or should be, the purpose of literary criticism, the role of professors 

 of belles-lettres? 



We have at Harvard a chair of belles-lettres, which since the death 

 of James Russell Lowell has had no occupant. Why for these thirteen 

 years past has it remained vacant? Ask this question of the members 

 of the Corporation, and they will probably give as a chief reason that 

 they know of no one quite fitted for the place. And in this opinion 

 they seem to be right. In truth, it is not by learning or fidelity that 

 one can gain the power to occupy suitably any such chair. One 

 does not fit one's self apparently, but is fitted by nature, or fate, 

 or God, or whatever one may term the hidden power that rules our 

 being, to sit in this high seat, this " siege perilous." and not be con- 

 founded. For ideally the professor of belles-lettres should be the 

 qualified spokesman of vital literary opinion, as the poet-laureate of 

 Britain should utter in convincing phrase the deep emotions of his 



