CHAPTER XII

THE END OF THE YEAR

December 30th, P.M.

I was in bed, and hardly recovered from the delirious fever which had kept me for so long between life and death. My weakened brain was making efforts to recover its activity; my thoughts, like rays of light struggling through the clouds, were still confused and imperfect; at times I felt a return of the dizziness which made a chaos of all my ideas, and I floated, so to speak, between alternate fits of mental wandering and consciousness.

Sometimes everything seemed plain to me, like the prospect which, from the top of some high mountain, opens before us in clear weather. We distinguish water, woods, villages, cattle, even the cottage perched on the edge of the ravine; then suddenly there comes a gust of wind laden with mist, and all is confused and indistinct.

Thus, yielding to the oscillations of a half-recovered reason, I allowed my mind to follow its various impulses without troubling myself to separate the real from the imaginary; I glided softly from one to the other, and my dreams and waking thoughts succeeded closely upon one another.

Now, while my mind is wandering in this unsettled state, see, underneath the clock which measures the hours with its loud ticking, a female figure appears before me!

At first sight I saw enough to satisfy me that she was not a daughter of Eve. In her eye was the last flash of an expiring star, and her face had the pallor of an heroic death-struggle. She was dressed in a drapery of a thousand changing colors of the brightest and the most sombre hues, and held a withered garland in her hand.

After having contemplated her for some moments, I asked her name, and what brought her into my attic. Her eyes, which were following the movements of the clock, turned toward me, and she replied:

"You see in me the year which is just drawing to its end; I come to receive your thanks and your farewell."

I raised myself on my elbow in surprise, which soon gave place to bitter resentment.

"Ah! you want thanks," cried I; "but first let me know what for?

"When I welcomed your coming, I was still young and vigorous: you have taken from me each day some little of my strength, and you have ended by inflicting an illness upon me; already, thanks to you, my blood is less warm, my muscles less firm, and my feet less agile than before! You have planted the germs of infirmity in my bosom; there, where the summer flowers of life were growing, you have wickedly sown the nettles of old age!

"And, as if it were not enough to weaken my body, you have also diminished the powers of my soul; you have extinguished her enthusiasm; she is become more sluggish and more timid. Formerly her eyes took in the whole of mankind in their generous survey; but you have made her nearsighted, and now she hardly sees beyond herself! That is what you have done for my spiritual being: then as to my outward existence, see to what grief, neglect, and misery you have reduced it! For the many days that the fever has kept me chained to this bed, who has taken care of this home in which I placed all my joy? Shall I not find my closets empty, my bookcase, stripped, all my poor treasures lost through negligence or dishonesty? Where are the plants I cultivated, the birds I fed? All are gone! my attic is despoiled, silent and solitary! As it is only for the last few moments that I have returned to a consciousness of what surrounds me, I am even ignorant who has nursed me during my long illness! Doubtless some hireling, who will leave when all my means of recompense are exhausted! And what will my masters, for whom I am bound to work, have said to my absence? At this time of the year, when business is most pressing, can they have done without me, will they even have tried to do so? Perhaps I am already superseded in the humble situation by which I earned my daily bread! And it is thou-thou alone, wicked daughter of Time--who hast brought all these misfortunes upon me: strength, health, comfort, work--thou hast taken all from me. I have only received outrage and loss from thee, and yet thou darest to claim my gratitude!"

"Ah! die then, since thy day is come; but die despised and cursed; and may I write on thy tomb the epitaph the Arabian poet inscribed upon that of a king:

"'Rejoice, thou passer-by: he whom we have buried here cannot live again.'"

.......................

I was wakened by a hand taking mine; and opening my eyes, I recognized the doctor.

After having felt my pulse, he nodded his head, sat down at the foot of the bed, and looked at me, rubbing his nose with his snuffbox. I have since learned that this was a sign of satisfaction with the doctor.

"Well! so we wanted old snub-nose to carry us off?" said M. Lambert, in his half-joking, half-scolding way. "What the deuce of a hurry we were in! It was necessary to hold you back with both arms at least!"

"Then you had given me up, doctor?" asked I, rather alarmed.

"Not at all," replied the old physician. "We can't give up what we have not got; and I make it a rule never to have any hope. We are but instruments in the hands of Providence, and each of us should say, with Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!"'

"May He be blessed then, as well as you," cried I; "and may my health come back with the new year!"

M. Lambert shrugged his shoulders.

"Begin by asking yourself for it," resumed he, bluntly. "God has given it you, and it is your own sense, and not chance, that must keep it for you. One would think, to hear people talk, that sickness comes upon us like the rain or the sunshine, without one having a word to say in the matter. Before we complain of being ill we should prove that we deserve to be well."

I was about to smile, but the doctor looked angry.

"Ah! you think that I am joking," resumed he, raising his voice; "but tell me, then, which of us gives his health the same attention that he gives to his business? Do you economize your strength as you economize your money? Do you avoid excess and imprudence in the one case with the same care as extravagance or foolish speculations in the other? Do you keep as regular accounts of your mode of living as you do of your income? Do you consider every evening what has been wholesome or unwholesome for you, with the same care that you bring to the examination of your expenditure? You may smile; but have you not brought this illness on yourself by a thousand indiscretions?"

I began to protest against this, and asked him to point out these indiscretions. The old doctor spread out his fingers, and began to reckon upon them one by one.

"Primo," cried he, "want of exercise. You live here like a mouse in a cheese, without air, motion, or change. Consequently, the blood circulates badly, the fluids thicken, the muscles, being inactive, do not claim their share of nutrition, the stomach flags, and the brain grows weary.

"Secundo. Irregular food. Caprice is your cook; your stomach a slave who must accept what you give it, but who presently takes a sullen revenge, like all slaves.

"Tertio. Sitting up late. Instead of using the night for sleep, you spend it in reading; your bedstead is a bookcase, your pillows a desk! At the time when the wearied brain asks for rest, you lead it through these nocturnal orgies, and you are surprised to find it the worse for them the next day.

"Quarto. Luxurious habits. Shut up in your attic, you insensibly surround yourself with a thousand effeminate indulgences. You must have list for your door, a blind for your window, a carpet for your feet, an easy-chair stuffed with wool for your back, your fire lit at the first sign of cold, and a shade to your lamp; and thanks to all these precautions, the least draught makes you catch cold, common chairs give you no rest, and you must wear spectacles to support the light of day. You have thought you were acquiring comforts, and you have only contracted infirmities.

"Quinto"

"Ah! enough, enough, doctor!" cried I. "Pray, do not carry your examination farther; do not attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures."

The old doctor rubbed his nose with his snuffbox.

"You see," said he, more gently, and rising at the same time, "you would escape from the truth. You shrink from inquiry--a proof that you are guilty. 'Habemus confitentem reum'! But at least, my friend, do not go on laying the blame on Time, like an old woman."

Thereupon he again felt my pulse, and took his leave, declaring that his function was at an end, and that the rest depended upon myself.

When the doctor was gone, I set about reflecting upon what he had said.

Although his words were too sweeping, they were not the less true in the main. How often we accuse chance of an illness, the origin of which we should seek in ourselves! Perhaps it would have been wiser to let him finish the examination he had begun.

But is there not another of more importance--that which concerns the health of the soul? Am I so sure of having neglected no means of preserving that during the year which is now ending? Have I, as one of God's soldiers upon earth, kept my courage and my arms efficient? Shall I be ready for the great review of souls which must pass before Him WHO IS in the dark valley of Jehoshaphat?

Darest thou examine thyself, O my soul! and see how often thou hast erred?

First, thou hast erred through pride! for I have not duly valued the lowly. I have drunk too deeply of the intoxicating wines of genius, and have found no relish in pure water. I have disdained those words which had no other beauty than their sincerity; I have ceased to love men solely because they are men--I have loved them for their endowments; I have contracted the world within the narrow compass of a pantheon, and my sympathy has been awakened by admiration only. The vulgar crowd, which I ought to have followed with a friendly eye because it is composed of my brothers in hope or grief, I have let pass by with as much indifference as if it were a flock of sheep. I am indignant with him who rolls in riches and despises the man poor in worldly wealth; and yet, vain of my trifling knowledge, I despise him who is poor in mind--I scorn the poverty of intellect as others do that of dress; I take credit for a gift which I did not bestow on myself, and turn the favor of fortune into a weapon with which to attack others.

Ah! if, in the worst days of revolutions, ignorance has revolted and raised a cry of hatred against genius, the fault is not alone in the envious malice of ignorance, but comes in part, too, from the contemptuous pride of knowledge.

Alas! I have too completely forgotten the fable of the two sons of the magician of Bagdad.

One of them, struck by an irrevocable decree of destiny, was born blind, while the other enjoyed all the delights of sight. The latter, proud of his own advantages, laughed at his brother's blindness, and disdained him as a companion. One morning the blind boy wished to go out with him.

"To what purpose," said he, "since the gods have put nothing in common between us? For me creation is a stage, where a thousand charming scenes and wonderful actors appear in succession; for you it is only an obscure abyss, at the bottom of which you hear the confused murmur of an invisible world. Continue then alone in your darkness, and leave the pleasures of light to those upon whom the day-star shines."

With these words he went away, and his brother, left alone, began to cry bitterly. His father, who heard him, immediately ran to him, and tried to console him by promising to give him whatever he desired.

"Can you give me sight?" asked the child.

"Fate does not permit it," said the magician.

"Then," cried the blind boy, eagerly, "I ask you to put out the sun!"

Who knows whether my pride has not provoked the same wish on the part of some one of my brothers who does not see?

But how much oftener have I erred through levity and want of thought! How many resolutions have I taken at random! how many judgments have I pronounced for the sake of a witticism! how many mischiefs have I not done without any sense of my responsibility! The greater part of men harm one another for the sake of doing something. We laugh at the honor of one, and compromise the reputation of another, like an idle man who saunters along a hedgerow, breaking the young branches and destroying the most beautiful flowers.

And, nevertheless, it is by this very thoughtlessness that the fame of some men is created. It rises gradually, like one of those mysterious mounds in barbarous countries, to which a stone is added by every passerby; each one brings something at random, and adds it as he passes, without being able himself to see whether he is raising a pedestal or a gibbet. Who will dare look behind him, to see his rash judgments held up there to view?

Some time ago I was walking along the edge of the green mound on which the Montmartre telegraph stands. Below me, along one of the zigzag paths which wind up the hill, a man and a girl were coming up, and arrested my attention. The man wore a shaggy coat, which gave him some resemblance to a wild beast; and he held a thick stick in his hand, with which he described various strange figures in the air. He spoke very loud, and in a voice which seemed to me convulsed with passion. He raised his eyes every now and then with an expression of savage harshness, and it appeared to me that he was reproaching and threatening the girl, and that she was listening to him with a submissiveness which touched my heart. Two or three times she ventured a few words, doubtless in the attempt to justify herself; but the man in the greatcoat began again immediately with his loud and angry voice, his savage looks, and his threatening evolutions in the air. I followed him with my eyes, vainly endeavoring to catch a word as he passed, until he disappeared behind the hill.

I had evidently just seen one of those domestic tyrants whose sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims, and who, though they have the power to become the beneficent gods of a family, choose rather to be their tormentors.

I cursed the unknown savage in my heart, and I felt indignant that these crimes against the sacred peace of home could not be punished as they deserve, when I heard his voice approaching nearer. He had turned the path, and soon appeared before me at the top of the slope.

The first glance, and his first words, explained everything to me: in place of what I had taken for the furious tones and terrible looks of an angry man, and the attitude of a frightened victim, I had before me only an honest citizen, who squinted and stuttered, but who was explaining the management of silkworms to his attentive daughter.

I turned homeward, smiling at my mistake; but before I reached my faubourg I saw a crowd running, I heard calls for help, and every finger pointed in the same direction to a distant column of flame. A manufactory had taken fire, and everybody was rushing forward to assist in extinguishing it.

I hesitated. Night was coming on; I felt tired; a favorite book was awaiting me; I thought there would be no want of help, and I went on my way.

Just before I had erred from want of consideration; now it was from selfishness and cowardice.

But what! have I not on a thousand other occasions forgotten the duties which bind us to our fellowmen? Is this the first time I have avoided paying society what I owe it? Have I not always behaved to my companions with injustice, and like the lion? Have I not claimed successively every share? If any one is so ill-advised as to ask me to return some little portion, I get provoked, I am angry, I try to escape from it by every means. How many times, when I have perceived a beggar sitting huddled up at the end of the street, have I not gone out of my way, for fear that compassion would impoverish me by forcing me to be charitable! How often have I doubted the misfortunes of others, that I might with justice harden my heart against them.

With what satisfaction have I sometimes verified the vices of the poor man, in order to show that his misery is the punishment he deserves!

Oh! let us not go farther--let us not go farther! I interrupted the doctor's examination, but how much sadder is this one! We pity the diseases of the body; we shudder at those of the soul.

I was happily disturbed in my reverie by my neighbor, the old soldier.

Now I think of it, I seem always to have seen, during my fever, the figure of this good old man, sometimes leaning against my bed, and sometimes sitting at his table, surrounded by his sheets of pasteboard.

He has just come in with his glue-pot, his quire of green paper, and his great scissors. I called him by his name; he uttered a joyful exclamation, and came near me.

"Well! so the bullet is found again!" cried he, taking my two hands into the maimed one which was left him; "it has not been without trouble, I can tell you; the campaign has been long enough to win two clasps in. I have seen no few fellows with the fever batter windmills during my hospital days: at Leipsic, I had a neighbor who fancied a chimney was on fire in his stomach, and who was always calling for the fire-engines; but the third day it all went out of itself. But with you it has lasted twenty-eight days--as long as one of the Little Corporal's campaigns."

"I am not mistaken then; you were near me?"

"Well! I had only to cross the passage. This left hand has not made you a bad nurse for want of the right; but, bah! you did not know what hand gave you drink, and it did not prevent that beggar of a fever from being drowned--for all the world like Poniatowski in the Elster."

The old soldier began to laugh, and I, feeling too much affected to speak, pressed his hand against my breast. He saw my emotion, and hastened to put an end to it.

"By-the-bye, you know that from to-day you have a right to draw your rations again," resumed he gayly; "four meals, like the German meinherrs--nothing more! The doctor is your house steward."

"We must find the cook, too," replied I, with a smile.

"She is found," said the veteran.

"Who is she?"

"Genevieve."

"The fruit-woman?"

"While I am talking she is cooking for you, neighbor; and do not fear her sparing either butter or trouble. As long as life and death were fighting for you, the honest woman passed her time in going up and down stairs to learn which way the battle went. And, stay, I am sure this is she."

In fact we heard steps in the passage, and he went to open the door.

"Oh, well!" continued he, "it is Mother Millot, our portress, another of your good friends, neighbor, and whose poultices I recommend to you. Come in, Mother Millot--come in; we are quite bonny boys this morning, and ready to step a minuet if we had our dancing-shoes."

The portress came in, quite delighted. She brought my linen, washed and mended by herself, with a little bottle of Spanish wine, the gift of her sailor son, and kept for great occasions. I would have thanked her, but the good woman imposed silence upon me, under the pretext that the doctor had forbidden me to speak. I saw her arrange everything in my drawers, the neat appearance of which struck me; an attentive hand had evidently been there, and day by day put straight the unavoidable disorder consequent on sickness.

As she finished, Genevieve arrived with my dinner; she was followed by Mother Denis, the milk-woman over the way, who had learned, at the same time, the danger I had been in, and that I was now beginning to be convalescent. The good Savoyard brought me a new-laid egg, which she herself wished to see me eat.

It was necessary to relate minutely all my illness to her. At every detail she uttered loud exclamations; then, when the portress warned her to be less noisy, she excused herself in a whisper. They made a circle around me to see me eat my dinner; each mouthful I took was accompanied by their expressions of satisfaction and thankfulness. Never had the King of France, when he dined in public, excited such admiration among the spectators.

As they were taking the dinner away, my colleague, the old cashier, entered in his turn.

I could not prevent my heart beating as I recognized him. How would the heads of the firm look upon my absence, and what did he come to tell me?

I waited with inexpressible anxiety for him to speak; but he sat down by me, took my hand, and began rejoicing over my recovery, without saying a word about our masters. I could not endure this uncertainty any longer.

"And the Messieurs Durmer," asked I, hesitatingly, "how have they taken--the interruption to my work?"

"There has been no interruption," replied the old clerk, quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Each one in the office took a share of your duty; all has gone on as usual, and the Messieurs Durmer have perceived no difference."

This was too much. After so many instances of affection, this filled up the measure. I could not restrain my tears.

Thus the few services I had been able to do for others had been acknowledged by them a hundredfold! I had sown a little seed, and every grain had fallen on good ground, and brought forth a whole sheaf. Ah! this completes the lesson the doctor gave me. If it is true that the diseases, whether of the mind or body, are the fruit of our follies and our vices, sympathy and affection are also the rewards of our having done our duty. Every one of us, with God's help, and within the narrow limits of human capability, himself makes his own disposition, character, and permanent condition.

Everybody is gone; the old soldier has brought me back my flowers and my birds, and they are my only companions. The setting sun reddens my half-closed curtains with its last rays. My brain is clear, and my heart lighter. A thin mist floats before my eyes, and I feel myself in that happy state which precedes a refreshing sleep.

Yonder, opposite the bed, the pale goddess in her drapery of a thousand changing colors, and with her withered garland, again appears before me; but this time I hold out my hand to her with a grateful smile.

"Adieu, beloved year! whom I but now unjustly accused. That which I have suffered must not be laid to thee; for thou wast but a tract through which God had marked out my road--a ground where I had reaped the harvest I had sown. I will love thee, thou wayside shelter, for those hours of happiness thou hast seen me enjoy; I will love thee even for the suffering thou hast seen me endure. Neither happiness nor suffering came from thee; but thou hast been the scene for them. Descend again then, in peace, into eternity, and be blest, thou who hast left me experience in the place of youth, sweet memories instead of past time, and gratitude as payment for good offices."

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!' Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face Contemptuous pride of knowledge Death, that faithful friend of the wretched Houses are vessels which take mere passengers I make it a rule never to have any hope Ignorant of what there is to wish for Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance More stir than work Nothing is dishonorable which is useful Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims The happiness of the wise man costs but little We do not understand that others may live on their own account What have you done with the days God granted you You may know the game by the lair

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FROM THE ENTIRE "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER:

Always to mistake feeling for evidence Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!' Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures Brought them up to poverty But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!" Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeeping Contemptuous pride of knowledge Death, that faithful friend of the wretched Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns Did not think the world was so great Do they understand what makes them so gay? Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness Every one keeps his holidays in his own way Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought Favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know" Fear of losing a moment from business Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent Fortune sells what we believe she gives Her kindness, which never sleeps Houses are vessels which take mere passengers Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply I make it a rule never to have any hope Ignorant of what there is to wish for Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance Make himself a name: he becomes public property Moderation is the great social virtue More stir than work My patronage has become her property No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give Not desirous to teach goodness Nothing is dishonorable which is useful Our tempers are like an opera-glass Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress Power of necessity Prisoners of work Progress can never be forced on without danger Question is not to discover what will suit us Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims The happiness of the wise man costs but little The man in power gives up his peace Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils We do not understand that others may live on their own account We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty What have you done with the days God granted you What a small dwelling joy can live You may know the game by the lair

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FROM THE COMPLETE "IMMORTALS"

A uniform is the only garb which can hide poverty honorably A man may forgive, but he never forgets A mother's geese are always swans A queen's country is where her throne is A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree A terrible danger lurks in the knowledge of what is possible A cat is a very fine animal. It is a drawing-room tiger A familiarity which, had he known it, was not flattering A defensive attitude is never agreeable to a man A man weeps with difficulty before a woman A hero must be human. Napoleon was human A woman is frank when she does not lie uselessly A man's life belongs to his duty, and not to his happiness A man never should kneel unless sure of rising a conqueror Abundant details which he sometimes volunteered Accustomed to call its disguise virtue Accustomed to hide what I think Adieu, my son, I love you and I die Adopted fact is always better composed than the real one Advantage that a calm temper gives one over men Affectation of indifference Affection is catching Ah! the natural perversity of inanimate things All that a name is to a street--its honor, its spouse All that was illogical in our social code All that he said, I had already thought All that is not life, it is the noise of life All philosophy is akin to atheism All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft All defeats have their geneses Always to mistake feeling for evidence Always smiling condescendingly Always the first word which is the most difficult to say Ambiguity has no place, nor has compromise Ambition is the saddest of all hopes Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!' Amusements they offered were either wearisome or repugnant An hour of rest between two ordeals, a smile between two sobs Ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and gnawed by time And I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall then be grown up And they are shoulders which ought to be seen And when love is sure of itself and knows response Anonymous, that velvet mask of scandal-mongers Answer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes" Antagonism to plutocracy and hatred of aristocrats Anti-Semitism is making fearful progress everywhere Antipathy for her husband bordering upon aversion Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws Art is the chosen truth Artificialities of style of that period Artistic Truth, more lofty than the True As ignorant as a schoolmaster As free from prejudices as one may be, one always retains a few As Homer says, "smiling under tears" As we grow older we lay aside harsh judgments and sharp words As regards love, intention and deed are the same Assume with others the mien they wore toward him At every step the reality splashes you with mud Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures Attractions that difficulties give to pleasure Attractive abyss of drunkenness Bad to fear the opinion of people one despises Bathers, who exhibited themselves in all degrees of ugliness Because they moved, they thought they were progressing Because you weep, you fondly imagine yourself innocent Become corrupt, and you will cease to suffer Began to forget my own sorrow in my sympathy for her Believing that it is for virtue's sake alone such men love them Believing themselves irresistible Beware of disgust, it is an incurable evil Blow which annihilates our supreme illusion Break in his memory, like a book with several leaves torn out Brilliancy of a fortune too new Brought them up to poverty Bullets are not necessarily on the side of the right But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face But she thinks she is affording you pleasure But how avenge one's self on silence? But if this is our supreme farewell, do not tell me so! But she will give me nothing but money Came not in single spies, but in battalions Camors refused, hesitated, made objections, and consented Can any one prevent a gossip Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!" Chain so light yesterday, so heavy to-day Charm of that one day's rest and its solemnity Clashing knives and forks mark time Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeeping Cold silence, that negative force Conditions of blindness so voluntary that they become complicity Confidence in one's self is strength, but it is also weakness Confounding progress with discord, liberty with license Conscience is a bad weighing-machine Conscience is only an affair of environment and of education Consented to become a wife so as not to remain a maiden Consoled himself with one of the pious commonplaces Contempt for men is the beginning of wisdom Contemptuous pride of knowledge Contemptuous pity, both for my suspicions and the cause of them Contrive to use proud disdain as a shield Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed! Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent in prosperity Cried out, with the blunt candor of his age Curious to know her face of that day Dangers of liberty outweighed its benefits Dare now to be silent when I have told you these things Daylight is detrimental to them Death is more to be desired than a living distaste for life Death is not that last sleep Death, that faithful friend of the wretched Deeming every sort of occupation beneath him Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns Demanded of him imperatively--the time of day Deny the spirit of self-sacrifice Despair of a man sick of life, or the whim of a spoiled child Despotic tone which a woman assumes when sure of her empire Despotism natural to puissant personalities Determined to cultivate ability rather than scrupulousness Did not think the world was so great Difference which I find between Truth in art and the True in fac Disappointed her to escape the danger she had feared Disenchantment which follows possession Distrust first impulse Do you think that people have not talked about us? Do they understand what makes them so gay? Do they think they have invented what they see Do not seek too much Do not get angry. Rarely laugh, and never weep Does not wish one to treat it with either timidity or brutality Does one ever forget? Does one ever possess what one loves? Doubt, the greatest misery of love Dreaded the monotonous regularity of conjugal life Dreams, instead of living Dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed Dull hours spent in idle and diffuse conversation Duty, simply accepted and simply discharged Each was moved with self-pity Each had regained freedom, but he did not like to be alone Each one knows what the other is about to say Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness Efforts to arrange matters we succeed often only in disarranging Egotists and cowards always have a reason for everything Egyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and saltpetre Emotion when one does not share it Enough to be nobody's unless I belong to him Eternally condemned to kill each other in order to live Even those who do not love her desire to know her Every man is his own master in his choice of liaisons Every one keeps his holidays in his own way Every one is the best judge of his own affairs Every road leads to Rome--and one as surely as another Every cause that is in antagonism with its age commits suicide Everybody knows about that Everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation, and nullity Evident that the man was above his costume; a rare thing! Exaggerated dramatic pantomime Faces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought Favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know" Fawning duplicity Fear of losing a moment from business Felix culpa Find it more easy to make myself feared than loved Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent First impression is based upon a number of trifles Flayed and roasted alive by the critics Follow their thoughts instead of heeding objects Fool (there is no cure for that infirmity) Fool who destroys his own happiness For the rest of his life he would be the prisoner of his crime Force itself, that mistress of the world Force, which is the last word of the philosophy of life Foreigners are more Parisian than the Parisians themselves Forget a dream and accept a reality Fortunate enough to keep those one loves Fortune sells what we believe she gives Found nothing that answered to my indefinable expectations Fred's verses were not good, but they were full of dejection Frenchman has only one real luxury--his revolutions Friendship exists only in independence and a kind of equality Fringe which makes an unlovely border to the city Funeral processions are no longer permitted Galileo struck the earth, crying: "Nevertheless it moves!" Gave value to her affability by not squandering it God forgive the timid and the prattler! God may have sent him to purgatory just for form's sake God--or no principles! Good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularly Good form consists, above all things, in keeping silent Great interval between a dream and its execution Great sorrows neither accuse nor blaspheme--they listen Great difference between dearly and very much Grief itself was for her but a means of seducing Habit turns into a makeshift of attachment Had not been spoiled by Fortune's gifts Had not told all--one never does tell all Hang out the bush, but keep no tavern Happiness of being pursued Happiness exists only by snatches and lasts only a moment Happy men don't need company Happy is he who does not outlive his youth Hard that one can not live one's life over twice Hard workers are pitiful lovers Has as much sense as the handle of a basket Hatred of everything which is superior to myself Have never known in the morning what I would do in the evening Have not that pleasure, it is useless to incur the penalties He Would Have Been Forty Now He always loved to pass for being overwhelmed with work He almost regretted her He fixed the time mentally when he would speak He does not know the miseries of ambition and vanity He knew now the divine malady of love He lives only in the body He did not blush to be a man, and he spoke to men with force He was very unhappy at being misunderstood He lost his time, his money, his hair, his illusions He is charming, for one always feels in danger near him He does not bear ill-will to those whom he persecutes He could not imagine that often words are the same as actions He studied until the last moment He who is loved by a beautiful woman is sheltered from every blow He is not intelligent enough to doubt He led the brilliant and miserable existence of the unoccupied He did not sleep, so much the better! He would work more Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion Heed that you lose not in dignity what you gain in revenge Her husband had become quite bearable Her kindness, which never sleeps Hermits can not refrain from inquiring what men say of them His habit of pleasing had prolonged his youth His sleeplessness was not the insomnia of genius History too was a work of art History is written, not made. Houses are vessels which take mere passengers (Housemaid) is trained to respect my disorder How sad these old memorics are in the autumn How many things have not people been proud of How much they desire to be loved who say they love no more How small a space man occupies on the earth How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply Human weakness seeks association Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better Hypocritical grievances I do not intend either to boast or abase myself I came here for that express purpose I do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for us I don't call that fishing I measure others by myself I am not wandering through life, I am marching on I would give two summers for a single autumn I believed in the virtue of work, and look at me! I neither love nor esteem sadness "I might forgive," said Andras; "but I could not forget" I believed it all; one is so happy to believe! I am not in the habit of consulting the law I have burned all the bridges behind me I know not what lost home that I have failed to find I can forget you only when I am with you I do not desire your friendship I can not love her, I can not love another I can not be near you and separated from you at the same moment I have known things which I know no more I haven't a taste, I have tastes I no longer love you I boasted of being worse than I really was I thought the best means of being loved were to deserve it I don't pay myself with words I have to pay for the happiness you give me I feel in them (churches) the grandeur of nothingness I love myself because you love me I gave myself to him because he loved me I wished to spoil our past I make it a rule never to have any hope Ideas they think superior to love--faith, habits, interests If there is one! (a paradise) If I do not give all I give nothing If well-informed people are to be believe If trouble awaits us, hope will steal us a happy hour or two Ignorance into which the Greek clergy plunged the laity Ignorant of what there is to wish for Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything Imagine what it would be never to have been born Immobility of time Impatient at praise which was not destined for himself Implacable self-interest which is the law of the world Importance in this world are as easily swept away as the sand In order to make money, the first thing is to have no need of it In his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your own In his eyes everything was decided by luck In times like these we must see all and say all In what do you believe? In pitying me he forgot himself In life it is only nonsense that is common-sense In every age we laugh at the costume of our fathers Incapable of conceiving that one might talk without an object Inconstancy of heart is the special attribute of man Indignation can solace grief and restore happiness Indulgence of which they stand in need themselves Inoffensive tree which never had harmed anybody Insanity is, perhaps, simply the ideal realized Intelligent persons have no remorse Intemperance of her zeal and the acrimony of her bigotry Intimate friend, whom he has known for about five minutes Irritating laugh which is peculiar to Japan Is it not enough to have lived? Is he a dwarf or a giant Is a man ever poor when he has two arms? Is it by law only that you wish to keep me? It is a pity that you must seek pastimes It is not now what it used to be It is silly to blush under certain circumstances It is too true that virtue also has its blush It was a relief when they rose from the table It is an error to be in the right too soon It was torture for her not to be able to rejoin him It was all delightfully terrible! It was too late: she did not wish to win It (science) dreams, too; it supposes It is a terrible step for a woman to take, from No to Yes It is so good to know nothing, nothing, nothing It is only those who own something who worry about the price It does not mend matters to give way like that It is the first crime that costs Japanese habit of expressing myself with excessive politeness Jealous without having the right to be jealous Kissses and caresses are the effort of a delightful despair Knew her danger, and, unlike most of them, she did not love it Knew that life is not worth so much anxiety nor so much hope Lady who requires urging, although she is dying to sing Laughing in every wrinkle of his face Leant--and when I did not lose my friends I lost my money Learn to live without desire Learned that one leaves college almost ignorant Learned to love others by embracing their own children Leisure must be had for light reading, and even more for love Lends--I should say gives Let us give to men irony and pity as witnesses and judges Let them laugh that win! Let ultra-modesty destroy poetry Let the dead past bury its dead! Life is made up of just such trifles Life as a whole is too vast and too remote Life goes on, and that is less gay than the stories Life is not a great thing Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded Life is a tempest Like all timid persons, he took refuge in a moody silence Little feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly away Little that we can do when we are powerful Lofty ideal of woman and of love Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease Love is a fire whose heat dies out for want of fuel Love was only a brief intoxication Love and tranquillity seldom dwell at peace in the same heart Love is a soft and terrible force, more powerful than beauty Lovers never separate kindly Made life give all it could yield Magnificent air of those beggars of whom small towns are proud Make himself a name: he becomes public property Make a shroud of your virtue in which to bury your crimes Make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofs Man who expects nothing of life except its ending Man who suffers wishes to make her whom he loves suffer Man, if he will it, need not grow old: the lion must Man is but one of the links of an immense chain Mania for fearing that she may be compromised Material in you to make one of Cooper's redskins Mediocre sensibility Melancholy problem of the birth and death of love Men of pleasure remain all their lives mediocre workers Men are weak, and there are things which women must accomplish Men admired her; the women sought some point to criticise Men forget sooner Men doubted everything: the young men denied everything Mild, unpretentious men who let everybody run over them Miserable beings who contribute to the grandeur of the past Misfortunes never come single Mobile and complaisant conscience had already forgiven himself Moderation is the great social virtue Money troubles are not mortal Money is not a common thing between gentlemen like you and me Monsieur, I know that I have lived too long More disposed to discover evil than good More stir than work Music--so often dangerous to married happiness My aunt is jealous of me because I am a man of ideas My good fellow, you are quite worthless as a man of pleasure My patronage has become her property Natural longing, that we all have, to know the worst Natural only when alone, and talk well only to themselves Nature's cold indifference to our sufferings Negroes, all but monkeys! Neither so simple nor so easy as they at first appeared Neither idealist nor realist Nervous natures, as prompt to hope as to despair Never interfered in what did not concern him Never can make revolutions with gloves on Never foolish to spend money. The folly lies in keeping it Never is perfect happiness our lot Never travel when the heart is troubled! No answer to make to one who has no right to question me No longer esteemed her highly enough to be jealous of her No one has ever been able to find out what her thoughts were No woman is unattainable, except when she loves another No flies enter a closed mouth No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give No writer had more dislike of mere pedantry Nobody troubled himself about that originality None but fools resisted the current Not everything is known, but everything is said Not only his last love, but his only love Not more honest than necessary Not desirous to teach goodness Not an excuse, but an explanation of your conduct Nothing is dishonorable which is useful Nothing is so legitimate, so human, as to deceive pain Nothing that provokes laughter more than a disappointed lover Nothing ever astonishes me Notion of her husband's having an opinion of his own Now his grief was his wife, and lived with him Obstacles are the salt of all our joys Obstinacy of drunkenness Of all the sisters of love, the most beautiful is pity Offices will end by rendering great names vile Often been compared to Eugene Sue, but his touch is lighter Old women--at least thirty years old! Once an excellent remedy, is a detestable regimen One who first thought of pasting a canvas on a panel One of those beings who die, as they have lived, children One is never kind when one is in love One half of his life belonged to the poor One would think that the wind would put them out: the stars One of those pious persons who always think evil One of those trustful men who did not judge when they loved One does not judge those whom one loves One should never leave the one whom one loves One may think of marrying, but one ought not to try to marry One amuses one's self at the risk of dying One doesn't offer apologies to a man in his wrath Only a man, wavering and changeable Only one thing infamous in love, and that is a falsehood Opposing his orders with steady, irritating inertia Ordinary, trivial, every-day objects Ostensibly you sit at the feast without paying the cost Others found delight in the most ordinary amusements Our tempers are like an opera-glass Paint from nature Paris has become like a little country town in its gossip Pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth three sous Patience, should he encounter a dull page here or there People meeting to "have it out" usually say nothing at first People whose principle was never to pay a doctor Perfection does not exist Pessimism of to-day sneering at his confidence of yesterday Picturesquely ugly Pitiful checker-board of life Playing checkers, that mimic warfare of old men Plead the lie to get at the truth Pleasures of an independent code of morals Police regulations known as religion Poor France of Jeanne d'Arc and of Napoleon Poverty brings wrinkles Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress Power to work, that was never disturbed or weakened by anything Power of necessity Prayers swallowed like pills by invalids at a distance Pride supplies some sufferers with necessary courage Princes ought never to be struck, except on the head Princesses ceded like a town, and must not even weep Principle that art implied selection Principles alone, without faith in some higher sanction Prisoners of work Progress can never be forced on without danger Property of all who are strong enough to stand it Pure caprice that I myself mistook for a flash of reason Put herself on good terms with God, in case He should exist Quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad than our reconciliation Question is not to discover what will suit us Rather do not give--make yourself sought after Reading the Memoirs of Constant Reason before the deed, and not after Recesses of her mind which she preferred not to open Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover Recollection of past dangers to increase the present joy Recommended a scrupulous observance of nature Recourse to concessions is often as fatal to women as to kings Redouble their boasting after each defeat Regards his happiness as a proof of superiority Relatives whom she did not know and who irritated her Remedy infallible against the plague and against reserve Repeated and explained what he had already said and explained Reproaches are useless and cruel if the evil is done Resorted to exaggeration in order to appear original Respect him so that he may respect you Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget Romanticism still ferments beneath the varnish of Naturalism Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival Sacrifice his artistic leanings to popular caprice Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them Scarcely a shade of gentle condescension Scarcely was one scheme launched when another idea occurred Sceptic regrets the faith he has lost the power to regain Seeking for a change which can no longer be found Seemed to enjoy themselves, or made believe they did Seemed to him that men were grains in a coffee-mill Seldom troubled himself to please any one he did not care for Semel insanivimus omnes.' (every one has his madness) Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little Sensitiveness and disposition to self-blame Seven who are always the same: the first is called hope She pretended to hope for the best She said yes, so as not to say no She is happy, since she likes to remember She was of those who disdain no compliment She pleased society by appearing to find pleasure in it She would have liked the world to be in mourning She could not bear contempt Shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage Should be punished for not having known how to punish Should like better to do an immoral thing than a cruel one Silence, alas! is not the reproof of kings alone Simple people who doubt neither themselves nor others Since she was in love, she had lost prudence Skilful actor, who apes all the emotions while feeling none Slip forth from the common herd, my son, think for yourself Small women ought not to grow stout So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las So well satisfied with his reply that he repeated it twice So strongly does force impose upon men Society people condemned to hypocrisy and falsehood Sometimes we seem to enjoy unhappiness Sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past Sorrows shrink into insignificance as the horizon broadens Speak to me of your love, she said, "not of your grief" St. Augustine Succeeded in wearying him by her importunities and tenderness Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic laughter Suffered, and yet took pleasure in it Sufferer becomes, as it were, enamored of his own agony Suffering is a human law; the world is an arena Sufficed him to conceive the plan of a reparation Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims Superior men sometimes lack cleverness Superiority of the man who does nothing over the man who works Superstition which forbids one to proclaim his happiness Surprise goes for so much in what we admire Suspicion that he is a feeble human creature after all! Suspicions that are ever born anew Sympathetic listening, never having herself anything to say Take their levity for heroism Taken the times as they are Talk with me sometimes. You will not chatter trivialities Tears for the future Tediousness seems to ooze out through their bindings Terrible words; I deserve them, but they will kill me Terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her sufferings That suffering which curses but does not pardon That you can aid them in leading better lives? That if we live the reason is that we hope That sort of cold charity which is called altruism That absurd and generous fury for ownership The bandage love ties over the eyes of men The future promises, it is the present that pays The discouragement which the irreparable gives The heart requires gradual changes The future that is rent away The most radical breviary of scepticism since Montaigne The door of one's room opens on the infinite The very smell of books is improving The looks of the young are always full of the future The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime The worst husband is always better than none The past is the only human reality--Everything that is, is past The man in power gives up his peace The happiness of the wise man costs but little The history of good people is often monotonous or painful The one whom you will love and who will love you will harm you The women have enough religion for the men The violent pleasure of losing The poor must pay for all their enjoyments The great leveller has swung a long scythe over France The real support of a government is the Opposition The politician never should be in advance of circumstances The uncontested power which money brings The strong walk alone because they need no one The leaves fall! the leaves fall! The guilty will not feel your blows, but the innocent The forests have taught man liberty The ease with which he is forgotten The Hungarian was created on horseback The most in favor will be the soonest abandoned by him The usual remarks prompted by imbecility on such occasions The night brings counsel The sincere age when one thinks aloud The groom isn't handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a picture Their Christian charity did not extend so far as that Their love requires a return There are many grand and strong things which you do not feel There is an intelligent man, who never questions his ideas There are some men who never have had any childhood There were too many discussions, and not enough action There are mountains that we never climb but once There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses There is always and everywhere a duty to fulfil There is nothing good except to ignore and to forget There are some blunders that are lucky; but you can't tell There will be no more belief in Christ than in Jupiter There are two different men in you These are things that one admits only to himself These ideas may serve as opium to produce a calm They tremble while they threaten They loved not as you love, eh? They had only one aim, one passion--to enjoy themselves They are the coffin saying: 'I am the cradle' They have believed me incapable because I was kind Thinking it better not to lie on minor points This popular favor is a cup one must drink This was the Dauphin, afterward Louis XIV This unending warfare we call love Those whom they most amuse are those who are best worth amusing Those who have outlived their illusions Ticking of which (our arteries) can be heard only at night Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed Ties that become duties where we only sought pleasures Ties which unite parents to children are broken Timidity of a night-bird that is made to fly in the day Tired smile of those who have not long to live To make a will is to put one foot into the grave To learn to obey is the only way of learning to command To love is a great deal--To know how to love is everything To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick To be beautiful, must a woman have that thin form To be your own guide doubles your pleasure Toast and white wine (for breakfast) Too prudent to risk or gain much Topics that occupy people who meet for the first time Trees, dwarfed by a Japanese process Trees are like men; there are some that have no luck True talent paints life rather than the living Truth is easily found. I shall read all the newspapers Truth, I here venture to distinguish from that of the True Trying to conceal by a smile (a blush) Trying to make Therese admire what she did not know Two persons who desired neither to remember nor to forget Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation Umbrellas, like black turtles under the watery skies Unable to speak, for each word would have been a sob Unfortunate creature who is the plaything of life "Unhappy man!" she cried, "you will never know how to love" Universal suffrage, with its accustomed intelligence Unqualified for happiness Unwilling to leave him to the repose he needed Upon my word, there are no ugly ones (women) Urbain Grandier Vague hope came over him that all would come right Very young, and was in love with love Vexed, act in direct contradiction to their own wishes Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils Voice of the heart which alone has power to reach the heart Void in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to come Walked at the rapid pace characteristic of monomaniacs Was I not warned enough of the sadness of everything? Waste all that upon a thing that nobody will ever look at We are too happy; we are robbing life We had taken the dream of a day for eternal happiness We weep, we do not complain We are so unhappy that our souls are weak against joy We have had a mass celebrated, and it cost us a large sum We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty We do not understand that others may live on their own account We are simple to this degree, that we do not think we are Were certain against all reason What is a man who remains useless What will be the use of having tormented ourselves in this world What use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example What you take for love is nothing more than desire What matters it how much we suffer What human word will ever express thy slightest caress What have you done with the days God granted you What a small dwelling joy can live When passion sways man, reason follows him weeping and warning When one speaks of the devil he appears When he sings, it is because he has something to sing about When the inattentive spirits are not listening When time has softened your grief Whether they know or do not know, they talk Whether in this world one must be a fanatic or nothing Which I should find amusing in any one else,--any one I loved Who has told you that tears can wash away the stains of guilt Whole world of politics and religion rushed to extremes Why should I read the newspapers? Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap Will not admit that conscience is the proper guide of our action Willingly seek a new sorrow Wine suffuses the face as if to prevent shame appearing there Wiped his nose behind his hat, like a well-bred orator Wiping his forehead ostentatiously With the habit of thinking, had not lost the habit of laughing Without a care or a cross, he grew weary like a prisoner Woman is more bitter than death, and her arms are like chains Women who are thirty-five should never weep Women: they are more bitter than death Women do not always confess it, but it is always their fault Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless lips Words are nothing; it is the tone in which they are uttered Would not be astonished at anything Would have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concerned Yes, we are in the way here Yield to their customs, and not pooh-pooh their amusements You are in a conquered country, which is still more dangerous You play with happiness as a child plays with a rattle You love me, therefore you do not know me You have considerable patience for a lover You are talking too much about it to be sincere You can not make an omelette without first breaking the eggs You must be pleased with yourself--that is more essential You are playing 'who loses wins!' You suffer? Is fate so just as that You ask Life for certainties, as if she had any to give you You must always first get the tobacco to burn evenly You a law student, while our farmers are in want of hands You believe in what is said here below and not in what is done You turn the leaves of dead books You must take me with my own soul! You may know the game by the lair Your great weapon is silence Youth is to judge of the world from first impressions