Benjamin Constant

Benjamin: from a very early age the boy poured forth poems, translations and
astonishingly witty and mature letters addressed to his relatives. In 1779 when he
composed his first piece of any real significance, Les Chevaliers. Roman héroïque par
H...B...C...De R... [The Knights. An Heroic Romance by H...B...C...De R...], he wrote
on the back of the fly-leaf an ‘Epître à Monsieur Juste Constant’, ‘Epistle to Monsieur
Juste Constant’:

Dear Father, I have been told that fathers find their sons’ writings

excellent even though they are often only a collection of literary

reminiscences that have been thrown together without art. To prove

such a rumour is false, I am honoured to present you with this

work. I am sure that even though I composed it you will not find

that it is any good and you will not even have the patience to read

it.^69

The romance, which is indeed reminiscent of the Chanson de Roland,

Ariosto and other sources, is unfinished, and the dedication may not have

been as disingenuous as it appears. Benjamin may indeed have feared that
it might not come up to his father’s high standards and have been unable

to continue. In the event such fears were groundless. Juste obviously

found the romance’s vein of self-mockery to his liking and had it lavishly

bound.
According to Ma Vie, so convinced was Juste de Constant of his son’s abilities and
promise that the following year he took him to Oxford where he intended him to
matriculate at the exceptionally early age of 13. The truth of the matter, however, seems
to be that Juste’s relationship with his mother, ‘la Générale’, had now reached a nadir:
harsh words had been exchanged over Benjamin’s upbringing and Juste wished to put
himself and his son beyond her reach for a while. He wrote a very revealing letter to his
brother Samuel from Oxford on 10 July 1780, first published by C.P.Courtney in 1985,
which says as much about Juste himself as it does about his mother and Benjamin:

I have been here for about three weeks. Quite apart from other

reasons I have, I thought it was the best I could do to complete his

study of languages. There are no distractions here: we see only

people who are hard at work and whose diligence is always

rewarded. Up to now I have had reason to be pleased that I chose to

come here, however expensive it may have been. I think my son

will make progress and that he will soon understand English. He

works a great deal and with relish. I assure you, my dear Brother,

that you judge the boy too favourably. He no longer shows any

signs of having retained the promise he once had that he would

distinguish himself academically. His boisterousness was taking

over from his intellect and, as he was allowed a great deal of

The grief that does not speak 35