Letters on Art and Literature by François Mauriac

Author:François Mauriac [Mauriac, Francois]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Philosophical Library
Published: 2013-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

VI

TO A “ROUND TABLE” SUBSCRIBER

Dear Subscriber,

I do not claim to speak in the name of the “Round Table”; we are not a school, and there are no masters or disciples among us. But after eighteen months of existence our review has come to a turning-point, and I have to ask myself this question: “Does it have a reason for its existence? Does it fill a need?” I should like to make a genuine effort at offering a clear statement as to its “general policy” as I see it. But do we really have one?

When we began putting out the “Round Table,” our plan was not over-ambitious. We were not aiming to change the world. What were we actually trying to do? First, to provide, on a modest scale, what seemed to be lacking elsewhere; second, to rally to our banners all French writers worthy of the name whom the sinister events of our more recent history had torn apart. It seems to me that up to a certain point we have succeeded, and without stirring up too much controversy. The few wolves who howled were not themselves too convinced. They felt, as we do, that the spirit breathes where it wishes, that Vercors does not suffice for everything, that no one has the right to impoverish the French literary heritage, or to deprive it of the names and works that are its glory. None of us has disowned what at one time he believed to be true. We have forced no one to proclaim his errors. The fact that some names appear together in our table of contents does not carry over into life, nor does it mean that in political or ideological matters yesterday’s adversaries are reconciled; but none of those who write for us considers himself so perfect that he cannot permit his name to appear on the review’s cover along with the names of other writers of whose conduct he has only recently had occasion to disapprove.

Thus the “Round Table,” in a France more divided than it ever was before, offers to minds of good faith a common meeting ground where, by mutual agreement, each one lays down his arms, or at least those of his arms which are poisoned by political hatred. We again create the possibility of exchange of thought and discussion. Shall we succeed in rebuilding a compass such as “La Nouvelle Revue Frangaise” was up until 1940, where the qualified representatives of all literary generations voiced their thoughts? Of that we are not too sure. The France of 1949 is not only divided against itself, since the great catastrophe of the enemy occupation; the different philosophies, like the different political parties, today have mouthpieces that are filled with arrogance. Each one claims to officiate on his own account and wants to set up his own little church; I mean his own personal review. At the outset, we had hoped to have a meeting of three generations. Malraux and Camus were to have been the chosen delegates for the people of their age.

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