louis lambert-第15节

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face　beamed　with　all　the　charms　of　love；　produced　such　a　terrible
effect　on　Lambert's　soul　and　senses；　that　he　was　obliged　to　leave　the
theatre。　If　he　had　not　been　controlled　by　some　remaining　glimmer　of
reason；　which　was　not　wholly　extinguished　by　this　first　fever　of
burning　passion；　he　might　perhaps　have　yielded　to　the　most
irresistible　desire　that　came　over　him　to　kill　the　young　man　on　whom
the　lady's　looks　beamed。　Was　not　this　a　reversion；　in　the　heart　of　the
Paris　world；　to　the　savage　passion　that　regards　women　as　its　prey；　an
effect　of　animal　instinct　combining　with　the　almost　luminous　flashes
of　a　soul　crushed　under　the　weight　of　thought？　In　short；　was　it　not
the　prick　of　the　penknife　so　vividly　imagined　by　the　boy；　felt　by　the
man　as　the　thunderbolt　of　his　most　vital　cravingfor　love？

And　now；　here　is　the　letter　that　depicts　the　state　of　his　mind　as　it
was　struck　by　the　spectacle　of　Parisian　civilization。　His　feelings；
perpetually　wounded　no　doubt　in　that　whirlpool　of　self…interest；　must
always　have　suffered　there；　he　probably　had　no　friend　to　comfort　him；
no　enemy　to　give　tone　to　this　life。　Compelled　to　live　in　himself
alone；　having　no　one　to　share　his　subtle　raptures；　he　may　have　hoped
to　solve　the　problem　of　his　destiny　by　a　life　of　ecstasy；　adopting　an
almost　vegetative　attitude；　like　an　anchorite　of　the　early　Church；　and
abdicating　the　empire　of　the　intellectual　world。

This　letter　seems　to　hint　at　such　a　scheme；　which　is　a　temptation　to
all　lofty　souls　at　periods　of　social　reform。　But　is　not　this　purpose；
in　some　cases；　the　result　of　a　vocation？　Do　not　some　of　them　endeavor
to　concentrate　their　powers　by　long　silence；　so　as　to　emerge　fully
capable　of　governing　the　world　by　word　or　by　deed？　Louis　must；
assuredly；　have　found　much　bitterness　in　his　intercourse　with　men；　or
have　striven　hard　with　Society　in　terrible　irony；　without　extracting
anything　from　it；　before　uttering　so　strident　a　cry；　and　expressing；
poor　fellow；　the　desire　which　satiety　of　power　and　of　all　earthly
things　has　led　even　monarchs　to　indulge！

And　perhaps；　too；　he　went　back　to　solitude　to　carry　out　some　great
work　that　was　floating　inchoate　in　his　brain。　We　would　gladly　believe
it　as　we　read　this　fragment　of　his　thoughts；　betraying　the　struggle　of
his　soul　at　the　time　when　youth　was　ending　and　the　terrible　power　of
production　was　coming　into　being；　to　which　we　might　have　owed　the
works　of　the　man。

This　letter　connects　itself　with　the　adventure　at　the　theatre。　The
incident　and　the　letter　throw　light　on　each　other；　body　and　soul　were
tuned　to　the　same　pitch。　This　tempest　of　doubts　and　asseverations；　of
clouds　and　of　lightnings　that　flash　before　the　thunder；　ending　by　a
starved　yearning　for　heavenly　illumination；　throws　such　a　light　on　the
third　phase　of　his　education　as　enables　us　to　understand　it　perfectly。
As　we　read　these　lines；　written　at　chance　moments；　taken　up　when　the
vicissitudes　of　life　in　Paris　allowed；　may　we　not　fancy　that　we　see　an
oak　at　that　stage　of　its　growth　when　its　inner　expansion　bursts　the
tender　green　bark；　covering　it　with　wrinkles　and　cracks；　when　its
majestic　stature　is　in　preparationif　indeed　the　lightnings　of　heaven
and　the　axe　of　man　shall　spare　it？

This　letter；　then；　will　close；　alike　for　the　poet　and　the　philosopher；
this　portentous　childhood　and　unappreciated　youth。　It　finishes　off　the
outline　of　this　nature　in　its　germ。　Philosophers　will　regret　the
foliage　frost…nipped　in　the　bud；　but　they　will；　perhaps；　find　the
flowers　expanding　in　regions　far　above　the　highest　places　of　the
earth。



〃PARIS；　September…October　1819。

　　〃DEAR　UNCLE；I　shall　soon　be　leaving　this　part　of　the　world；
　　where　I　could　never　bear　to　live。　I　find　no　one　here　who　likes
　　what　I　like；　who　works　at　my　work；　or　is　amazed　at　what　amazes　me。
　　Thrown　back　on　myself；　I　eat　my　heart　out　in　misery。　My　long　and
　　patient　study　of　Society　here　has　brought　me　to　melancholy
　　conclusions；　in　which　doubt　predominates。

　　〃Here；　money　is　the　mainspring　of　everything。　Money　is
　　indispensable；　even　for　going　without　money。　But　though　that　dross
　　is　necessary　to　any　one　who　wishes　to　think　in　peace；　I　have　not
　　courage　enough　to　make　it　the　sole　motive　power　of　my　thoughts。　To
　　make　a　fortune；　I　must　take　up　a　profession；　in　two　words；　I　must；
　　by　acquiring　some　privilege　of　position　or　of　self…advertisement；　
　　either　legal　or　ingeniously　contrived；　purchase　the　right　of
　　taking　day　by　day　out　of　somebody　else's　purse　a　certain　sum
　　which；　by　the　end　of　the　year；　would　amount　to　a　small　capital；
　　and　this；　in　twenty　years；　would　hardly　secure　an　income　of　four
　　or　five　thousand　francs　to　a　man　who　deals　honestly。　An　advocate；
　　a　notary；　a　merchant；　any　recognized　professional；　has　earned　a
　　living　for　his　later　days　in　the　course　of　fifteen　or　sixteen
　　years　after　ending　his　apprenticeship。

　　〃But　I　have　never　felt　fit　for　work　of　this　kind。　I　prefer　thought
　　to　action；　an　idea　to　a　transaction；　contemplation　to　activity。　I
　　am　absolutely　devoid　of　the　constant　attention　indispensable　to
　　the　making　of　a　fortune。　Any　mercantile　venture；　any　need　for
　　using　other　people's　money　would　bring　me　to　grief；　and　I　should
　　be　ruined。　Though　I　have　nothing；　at　least　at　the　moment；　I　owe
　　nothing。　The　man　who　gives　his　life　to　the　achievement　of　great
　　things　in　the　sphere　of　intellect；　needs　very　little；　still；
　　though　twenty　sous　a　day　would　be　enough；　I　do　not　possess　that
　　small　income　for　my　laborious　idleness。　When　I　wish　to　cogitate；
　　want　drives　me　out　of　the　sanctuary　where　my　mind　has　its　being。
　　What　is　to　become　of　me？

　　〃I　am　not　frightened　at　poverty。　If　it　were　not　that　beggars　are
　　imprisoned；　branded；　scorned；　I　would　beg；　to　enable　me　to　solve
　　at　my　leisure　the　problems　that　haunt　me。　Still；　this　sublime
　　resignation；　by　which　I　might　emancipate　my　mind；　through
　　abstracting　it　from　the　body；　would　not　serve　my　end。　I　should
　　still　need　money　to　devote　myself　to　certain　experiments。　But　for
　　that；　I　would　accept　the　outward　indigence　of　a　sage　possessed　of
　　both　heaven　and　heart。　A　man　need　only　never　stoop；　to　remain
　　lofty　in　poverty。　He　who　struggles　and　endures；　while　marching　on
　　to　a　glorious　end；　presents　a　noble　spectacle；　but　who　can　have
　　the　strength　to　fight　here？　We　can　climb　cliffs；　but　it　is
　　unendurable　to　remain　for　ever　tramping　the　mud。　Everything　here
　　checks　the　flight　of　the　spirit　that　strives　towards　the　future。

　　〃I　should　not　be　afraid　of　myself　in　a　desert　cave；　I　am　afraid　of
　　myself　here。　In　the　desert　I　should　be　alone　with　myself；
　　undisturbed；　here　man　has　a　thousand　wants　which　drag　him　down。
　　You　go　out　walking；　absorbed　in　dreams；　the　voice　of　the　beggar
　　asking　an　alms　brings　you　back　to　this　world　of　hunger　and　thirst。
　　You　need　money　only　to　take　a　walk。　Your　organs　of　sense；
　　perpetually　wearied　by　trifles；　never　get　any　rest。　The　poet's
　　sensitive　nerves　are　perpetually　shocked；　and　what　ought　to　be　his
　　glory　becomes　his　torment；　his　imagination　is　his　cruelest　enemy。
　　The　injured　workman；　the　poor　mother　in　childbed；　the　prostitute
　　who　has　fallen　ill；　the　foundling；　the　infirm　and　agedeven　vice
　　and　crime　here　find　a　refuge　and　charity；　but　the　world　is
　　merciless　to　the　inventor；　to　the　man　who　thinks。　Here　everything
　　must　show　an　immediate　and　practical　result。　Fruitless　attempts
　　are　mocked　at；　though　they　may　lead　to　the　greatest　discoveries；
　　the　deep　and　untiring　study　that　demands　long　concentrations　of
　　every　faculty　is　not　valued　here。　The　State　might　pay　talent　as　it
　　pays　the　bayonet；　but　it　is　afraid　of　being　taken　in　by　mere
　　cleverness；　as　if　genius　could　be　counterfeited　for　any　length　of
　　time。

　　〃Ah；　my　dear　uncle；　when　monastic　solitude　was　destroyed；　uprooted
　　from　its　home　at　the　foot　of　mountains；　under　green　and　silent　
　　shade；　asylums　ought　to　have　been　provided　for　those　suffering
　　souls　who；　by　an　idea；　promote　the　progress　of　nations　or　prepare
　　some　new　and　fruitful　development　of　science。

〃September　20th。

　　〃The　love　of　study　brought　me　hither；　as　you　know。　I　have　met
　　really　learned　men；　amazing　for　the　most　part；　but　the　lack　of
　　unity　in　scientific　work　almost　nullifies　their　efforts。　There　is
　　no　Head　of　instruction　or　of　scientific　research。　At　the　Museum　a
　　professor　argues　to　prove　that　another　in　the　Rue　Saint…Jacques
　　talks　nonsense。　The　lecturer　at　the　College　of　Medicine　abuses　him
　　of　the　College　de　France。　When　I　first　arrived；　I　went　to　hear　an
　　old　Academician　who　taught　five　hundred　youths　that　Corneille　was
　　a　haughty　and　powerful　genius；　Racine；　elegiac　and　graceful；
　　Moliere；　inimitable；　Voltaire；　supremely　witty；　Bossuet　and
　　Pascal；　incomparable　in　argument。　A　professor　of　philosophy　may
　　make　a　name　by　explaining　how　Plato　is　Platonic。　Another
　　discourses　on　the　history　of　words；　without　troubling　himself
　　about　ideas。　One　explains　Aeschylus；　another　tells　you　that
　　communes　were　communes；　and　neither　more　nor　less。　These　original
　　and　brilliant　discoveries；　diluted　to　last　several　hours；
　　constitute　the　higher　education　which　is