A Jacques Barzun Reader: Selections from His Works

A Jacques Barzun Reader: Selections from His Works

by Jacques Barzun


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Throughout his career Jacques Barzun, author of the New York Times bestseller and National Book Award Finalist From Dawn to Decadence, has always been known as a witty and graceful essayist, one who combines a depth of knowledge and a rare facility with words.

Now Michael Murray has carefully selected eighty of Barzun's most inventive, accomplished, and insightful essays, and compiled them in one impressive volume. With subjects ranging from history to baseball to crime novels, A Jacques Barzun Reader is a feast for any reader.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780060935429
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date: 07/08/2003
Series: Perennial Classics Series
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 640
Sales rank: 362,236
Product dimensions: 5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 1.02(d)

About the Author

Born in France in 1907, Jacques Barzun came to the United States in 1920. After graduating from Columbia College, he joined the faculty of the university, becoming Seth Low Professor of History and, for a decade, Dean of Faculties and Provost. The author of some thirty books, including the New York Times bestseller From Dawn to Decadence, he received the Gold Medal for Criticism from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, of which he was twice president. He lived in San Antonio, Texas, before passing away at age 104.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Toward a Fateful Serenity

The will is free, but who can account for his own acts and opinions without invoking inþuences and accidents? Would I have devoted my life to reading and teaching history, would I feel so keenly the passing of an era -- Þve hundred years of high creation going down in confusion; would I, instead of repining, cultivate and recommend a spirited pessimism if I had not had, at a particular time and place, a vivid sight of an earlier world, soon followed by its collapse in wretchedness and folly?

Growing up before the First World War in an artistic milieu in Paris and also a conventional one in Grenoble, furnished the mind of the child I remember with two main perceptions. One was that making works of art by exerting genius was the usual occupation of adults; the other was that such a life was hedged about by traditions, manners, and prosperity.

Needless to say, neither of these notions was explicit -- or abstract as in the retelling. But faith in their reality encouraged a precocious interest in all subjects, persons, ideas, and words half-understood. The joy of being was the joy of being there: the zest for life was tied to the spectacle of good things being done with conÞdent energy.

The outbreak of war in August 1914 and the nightmare that ensued put an end to all innocent joys and assumptions. The word Never took on dreadful force. News of death in every message or greeting, knowledge that cousins, uncles, friends, teachers, and Þgures known by repute would not be seenagain; encounters at home and in the street or schoolyard with the maimed, shell-shocked, or gassed, caused a permanent muting of the spirit. This emotional darkness in daylight was punctuated by the hysterical outbursts of suddenly grief-stricken women and the belief of some in "communications from the dead" that sounded grimly absurd even to a child.

Throughout, poisoning all other sentiments, was the continual outpouring of public hatred. By the age of ten -- as I was later told -- my words and attitudes betrayed suicidal thoughts; it appeared that I was "ashamed" to be still alive. Steps were taken: before the end of the school term in 1918 I was bundled off to the seashore, away from "events," including the bombardment of Paris by Big Bertha and the scurrying to cellars during air raids.

With beach life and surrender to a great lassitude, calm slowly returned, helped out by reading adventure stories. But it was not Gulliver and Robinson Crusoe alone who restored the will to live: it was also Hamlet. I had taken him off the shelf in Paris, not in secret but unnoticed, and I brought him away with me. The opening scene promised a good ghost story.

As I read on, I discovered that the rotten state of Denmark was the state that had overtaken my world: hatred,suspicion (spies were seen everywhere), murderous fury, unending qui vive. It contradicted all the assurances of the catechism. But what could be reinvigorating about Hamlet? Well, to begin with, his skill in warding off menaces from all sides; he was the equal of Crusoe in survival. And especially comforting was his ability to overcome his doubts in the terrible murkiness of his situation. His death at the end was a þuke, not a failure; Fortinbras said what a good king he would have made "had he been put on."

Thus were the trials of my young life made coherent in a view of Hamlet I have never found reason to alter. My bewilderment and pain were transmuted by a story into a kind of armor. Later reverses of fortune could bruise but not wound.

In any age, life confronts all but the most obtuse with a set of impossible demands: it is an action to be performed without rehearsal or respite; it is a confused spectacle to be sorted out and charted; it is a mystery, not indeed to be solved, but to be restated according to some vision, however imperfect. These demands bear down with redoubled force in times of decay and deconstruction, because guiding customs and conventions are in disarray. At Þrst, this loosening of rules looks like liberation, but it is illusory. A permissive society acts liberal or malignant erratically; seeing which, generous youth turns cynic or rebel on principle.

Either option is almost certain to end in waste and regrets; and anyhow, disillusion should be a one-time misadventure, not a lifelong grievance. But to avoid resentment requires a clear alternative, some purpose to turn the aggressive reaction away from the self or from the image of the world as Grand Conspirator. The purpose I gradually fashioned took the form of a resolve to Þght the mechanical.

Such a struggle has nothing to do with the popular cursing of machinery. Machines are admirable and tyrannize only with the user's consent, absent-mindedness, or laziness. Yielding to the mechanical is still more culpable when it comes from ignoring the fact that Nature, which we are taught to see as a machine, contains the unmechanical mind of man -- which it is a disgrace and a danger to let lapse into automatism.

Where, then, is this enemy? Not where the machine gives relief from drudgery but where human judgment abdicates. Any ossiÞed institution -- almost every bureaucracy, public or private -- manifests the mechanical. So does race-thinking -- a verdict passed mechanically at a color-coded signal. Ideology is likewise an idea-machine, designed to spare the buyer all further thought. Again,"methods" substituted for reading books and judging art are a perversion of what belongs to science and engineering: "models," formulas, theories. Specialism too turns machine-like if it never transcends its single task. The smoothest machine-made product of the age is the organization man, for even the best organizing principle tends to corrupt, and the mechanical principle corrupts absolutely.

Language itself, the most þexible expression of mind, has succumbed...

A Jacques Barzun Reader. Copyright © by Jacques Barzun. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

Table of Contents

I.On a Pragmatic View of Life
Toward a Fateful Serenity3
II.On the Two Ways of Knowing: History and Science
The Search for Truths15
History as Counter-Method and Anti-Abstraction19
The Imagination of the Real26
Cultural History: A Synthesis27
Alfred North Whitehead34
William James: The Mind as Artist35
Thomas Beddoes, M.D.39
Science and Scientism49
Myths for Materialists69
III.On What Critics Argue About
Criticism: An Art or a Craft?79
The Scholar-Critic87
James Agate and His Nine Egos92
The Grand Pretense103
On Sentimentality107
Samuel Butler108
On Romanticism114
Dorothy Sayers116
John Jay Chapman120
Remembering Lionel Trilling129
IV.On Language and Style
Rhetoric--What It Is; Why Needed149
The Retort Circumstantial156
The Necessity of a Common Tongue160
The Word "Man"168
On Biography172
Venus at Large: Sexuality and the Limits of Literature175
V.On Some Classics
Swift, or Man's Capacity for Reason193
Why Diderot?203
William Hazlitt213
How the Romantics Invented Shakespeare216
Bernard Shaw231
Goethe's Faust235
When the Orient Was New: Byron, Kinglake, and Flaubert250
The Permanence of Oscar Wilde272
Bagehot as Historian284
Lincoln the Literary Artist293
The Reign of William and Henry304
VI.On Music and Design
Why Opera?323
Is Music Unspeakable?324
Music for Europe: A Travers Chants337
To Praise Varese354
Visual Evidence of a New Age362
Museum Piece 1967366
Why Art Must Be Challenged374
VII.On Teaching and Learning
The Art of Making Teachers387
Where the Educational Nonsense Comes From391
Occupational Disease: Verbal Inflation392
The Centrality of Reading396
The Tyranny of Testing401
History for Beginners404
Of What Use the Classics Today?412
The University's Primary Task423
The Scholar Is an Institution424
Exeunt the Humanities426
VIII.On America Past and Present
On Baseball437
Race: Fact or Fiction?443
Thoreau the Thorough Impressionist447
The Railroad465
The Great Switch470
Is Democratic Theory for Export?473
Administering and the Law488
The Three Enemies of Intellect492
An American Commencement509
IX.On France and the French
Paris in 1830519
Food for the NRF539
French and Its Vagaries545
Flaubert's Dictionary of Accepted Ideas553
X.On Crime, True and Make-Believe
The Aesthetics of the Criminous563
Rex Stout564
A Catalogue of Crime567
Why Read Crime Fiction?571
The Place and Point of "True Crime"578
Meditations on the Literature of Spying581
XI.A Miscellany
Ars Poetica597
Index of Names605

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