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diff --git a/old/66564-0.txt b/old/66564-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f3c0bc1..0000000 --- a/old/66564-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5576 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Heart's Domain, by Georges Duhamel - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Heart's Domain - -Author: Georges Duhamel - -Translator: Eleanor Stimson Brooks - -Release Date: October 18, 2021 [eBook #66564] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Andrés V. Galia and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART'S DOMAIN *** - - - - TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES - - -In the plain text version words in Italics are denoted by _underscores_. - -The book cover was modified by the Transcriber and has been added to -the public domain. - -A number of words in this book have both hyphenated and non-hyphenated -variants. For the words with both variants present the one more used -has been kept. - -Obvious punctuation and other printing errors have been corrected. - - - * * * * * - - - - - THE - HEART’S DOMAIN - - BY - GEORGES DUHAMEL - - - Author of “CIVILIZATION, 1914-1917,” etc. - - - TRANSLATED BY - ELEANOR STIMSON BROOKS - - - [Illustration] - - - NEW YORK - THE CENTURY CO. - 1919 - - - Copyright, 1919, by - THE CENTURY CO. - - _Published, September, 1919_ - - - TO - MY SON BERNARD - - - - - PREFACE - - -I am beginning a book with what sounds like a very ambitious title. - -I wish to say at once that I have no qualifications to discuss -political, historical or economic matters. I leave to the scholars -who are versed in these redoubtable questions the task of explaining, -skilfully and definitely, the great misery that has befallen our time. - -I thus at the same time renounce most of the opportunities and -obligations of my title. - -But I wish, with all my heart, to pursue with a few people of good will -a friendly discussion the object of which remains, in spite of all, the -heart’s domain, or the possession of the world. - -The possession of the world is not decided by guns. It is the noble -work of peace. It is not involved in the struggle which is now rending -society. - -Even so, men will find themselves engaged in an undertaking that will -threaten to overwhelm them with suffering and despair. - -Fate has assigned to me during the war a place and a task of such a -character that misery has been the only thing I have seen; it has been -my study and my enemy every moment. I must be forgiven for thinking of -it with a persistence that is like an obsession. - -The whole intelligence of the world is absorbed by the enterprise and -the necessities of the war; there is little chance of rousing it now -from this in favor of the happiness of the race, in favor of that -happiness which is compromised for the future and destroyed for the -present. It is to the heart one must address oneself. It is to all the -generous hearts that one must make one’s appeal. - -So, if I am spurred by an ambition, it is to beg the world to seek -once more whatever can lighten the present and the future distress of -mankind, to seek the springs of interest that exist for the soul in a -life harassed with difficulties, perils and disillusionments, to honor -more than ever the faithful and incorruptible resources of the inner -life. - - * * * * * - -The inner life! - -It has never ceased to shine, a precious, quivering flame, devoting -all its ardor in a struggle against the breath of these great events, -resisting this tempest which has had no parallel. - -It has never ceased to shine, but its shy and faithful light trembles -in a sort of crypt into which we fear to venture. - -What has happened has seized upon us as upon its prey. During the -first months of the war, during the first years perhaps, all our -physical and moral energies were overwhelmed in this maelstrom. How, -indeed, could one refuse oneself to the appetite of the monster? We did -not even try to snatch from him our hours of leisure, our dreams. We -simply abandoned such things, as we abandoned our plans, our welfare, -and the whole of our existence. - -You remember! It was a time when solitude found us more shaken, more -disarmed, than peril. We reproached ourselves for distracting a single -one of our thoughts from the universal distress. We gave ourselves day -and night to this agonizing world; and when our work was suspended, -when the wild beast unloosed its clutch, as if in play, and we returned -for a few minutes to ourselves, we did not always dare to look the -quivering inner flame in the face. What it lighted up in us seemed at -times too foreign to our anxiety, or too filled with limpid serenity. -And so we returned to our wretchedness, experiencing it to the point of -intoxication, to the point of despair. - -When I think of the year 1915, it seems to me that I still hear all -those noble comrades saying to me with a sort of dejection: “I can’t -think of anything else! I can neither read, nor work, nor seek to -distract myself to any purpose. When I’m off duty I think about these -days, I think about them unceasingly, till I feel seasick, till I feel -dizzy. I’ve just had two hours of liberty. Once upon a time I should -have given them to Pascal or to Tolstoy. Today I have employed them -in reading some documentary works on the manufacture of torpedoes and -on European colonial methods. They are subjects that will always be -outside my line, subjects I shall never be interested in. But how can I -think of anything else?” - -Perhaps it is not a question of thinking of anything else. It is not a -question of turning one’s back on the time, but rather of looking it in -the face, calmly and collectedly. - -When the first great excitement had passed away, those who had the -wisdom and the courage to return assiduously to themselves found their -inner life ennobled, augmented, enriched. For it does not cease to -labor on in the depths of us. It is at once ourselves and something -other than ourselves, better than ourselves. Like certain of our organs -which are endowed with a marvelous independence and pursue a vigilant -activity in the midst of our agitations and our sleep, the inner life -comes to its fruitage even though we are full of ingratitude and -indifference towards it. It is the faithful spouse who keeps the home -radiant, arranges every comfort and spins at the wheel, behind the -door, awaiting our return. - -And behold we are returning! - -To be sure, the storm still roars on. It grows greater, more furious, -more unending. Never has it seemed more complex, more grave, more -difficult. Peril has taken up its abode with us. Every sort of opinion -holds up its head and vehemently solicits our belief. - -But we have found once more the key and the path to the secret refuge. -Nothing could turn us aside now. Nothing could prevent us at certain -hours from plunging into solitude, there to find again the equilibrium, -the harmony and those moral riches which we know, after the ruin of so -many things, are alone efficacious, alone durable. - -For long months now I have realized, watching the men with whom I live, -that they are waiting for words of quietude, words of rest and love. -They are like parched soil at the end of a blazing summer: they long to -slake their thirst and grow green again. - -In vain have destruction, disorder and death tried to break up the -sublime and familiar colloquy that every being pursues with the better -part of himself. That colloquy revives, it begins again, in the very -midst of the battle, among the odors and the groans of the hospital. - -Nevertheless, the daily work is done, well done; duty is properly -weighed and accomplished; the soul simply is unwilling any longer to -renounce its meditation upon all that is profound, imperishable, and -immaterial in the present. - -Tell me that we are going to labor in concert once more at the -exploitation of our inner fortune. Tell me that we are going to labor -to save from shipwreck that part of us which, in spite of all our -errors, uncertainties, crimes and disillusionments, remains truly noble -and worthy of eternity. - - * * * * * - -I am able to undertake this essay thanks to the leisure moments the war -has been willing to grant me. It is not purely the fruit of solitary -meditations. I do not live alone: my chosen comrades surround me; they -share with me the confused space of our dwelling; we share together all -the thoughts that fill this space. - -Friendship has accomplished the miracle of transforming into a -communion what, without it, would have remained a promiscuity. - -I have a feeling that I am expressing the desires and the thoughts of -many men. Very soon, those who are here will be going to sleep; I shall -continue my writing, but with the secret certitude of not being alone -in the task, of carrying with me their tacit assent. I feel that I have -been entrusted with a sort of mandate. - -I have no library, no documents. But do we need books in order to -converse together of the things that form the very substance of our -existence? Does it not suffice to consult our souls? Do we need any -other guarantee than our devout desire in order to lift an open hand -and make, for all those who await it in their solitude, the sign of -concord and of hope? - - - - - CONTENTS - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I THE HOPE OF HAPPINESS 3 - - II POVERTY AND RICHES 21 - - III THE POSSESSION OF OTHERS 33 - - IV ON DISCOVERING THE WORLD 69 - - V THE LYRICS OF LIFE 94 - - VI SORROW AND RENUNCIATION 110 - - VII THE SHELTER OF LIFE 126 - - VIII THE CHOICE OF THE GRACES 146 - - IX APOSTLESHIP 160 - - X ON THE REIGN OF THE HEART 178 - - - - - THE HEART’S DOMAIN - - - THE HEART’S DOMAIN - - - - - I - THE HOPE OF HAPPINESS - - I - - -It was necessary for me to pass middle age in order to become convinced -that happiness was the object of my life, as it is the object of all -humanity, as it is the object of the whole world of living things. - -At first sight, that statement seems self-evident. And yet many a time -have I questioned my friends, my relatives, my chance companions on -this subject and I have received the most contradictory replies. - -Many seemed taken unawares and, overwhelmed with their various -burdens, would not trouble to seek an object: they were in pursuit of -happiness without naming it. Others, excited by the play of argument, -acknowledged as the object of life all sorts of states or manners -of being which are nothing but steps toward happiness, means good -or bad of seeking it, such as movement, stoical indifference, or -prayer. Others confused the end with the object and named death. Still -others, maddened by their misery, gave it as their bitter conclusion -that unhappiness is the actual destiny of man, and these confused the -obstacle with the aim. Finally, there were some who gave to happiness -names dictated by their aspirations, their culture, their accustomed -manner of using words, and called it God, or eternal life, or the -salvation of the soul. - -As for me, in spite of all, I am sure that happiness is the object of -life. This certitude has come to me altogether from within, not from -outside events, and not from the spectacle of other men. Like all the -certitudes of the inner life, it is obstinate and even aggressive. -All objections seem simply made to fortify it. It dominates them -all. I have not been able even to imagine a new certitude that could -invalidate or replace this one. - -Upon reflection, the path and the end are identical. Happiness is not -only the aim, the reason of life, it is its means, its expression, its -essence. It is life itself. - - - II - -One might well doubt this. The whole of humanity at this moment utters -one despairing, heart-rending cry. It bellows like a wounded beast of -burden, it simply does not understand its wound. - -All convictions and all certitudes are at one another’s throats. How -can we recognize them, with that lost look they have, that blood that -soils and disfigures them? In the hurricane, opinions, uprooted, have -lost their soil and their sap. They drift like autumn thistles, dry -thistles that yet have power to tear the skin. Men no longer know -anything but their insurmountable suffering, a suffering that has no -limit and seems to be without reason. They groan and desire nothing but -to be alleviated. Will a century of pious tenderness suffice to bathe, -drain, close the vast wound? - -Without delay, O streaming wound, your living flesh must be stanched -and bathed. From now on, no matter how long you bleed, you must be -anointed and protected, and if you are opened up again ten times, ten -times must you be anointed anew and covered once more. - -Yet, do not doubt it, humanity even in this terrible hour seeks for -nothing but its own happiness. It rushes forward, by instinct, like a -herd that smells the salt-lick and the spring. But it will suffocate -rather than not enjoy everything together and at once. - -Happiness? - -God! who has given it this painful and ridiculous idea? What were -they about, the priests, the scientists, and the people who write -the books? What has been taught the children of men that they could -have been made to believe that war brings happiness to anyone? Let -them declare themselves, those who have assured the poor in spirit -that their happiness depends upon the possession of a province, an -iron-mine, or a foaming arm of the sea between two distant continents! - -It is thus that they have all set out for the conquest of happiness, -since that is destiny, and there has been placed in their hands -precisely what was certain to destroy happiness forever. - -And yet, if you will bear with me, we need not lose all hope. So long -as there is a single wall-flower to tremble in the coming Aprils over -the ruins of the world, let us repeat from the depths of our hearts: -“Happiness, you are truly my end and the reason for my being, I know it -through my own tears.” - - - III - -I went, lately, to a laboratory, in the heart of a wilderness of glass -and porcelain, haunted with inhuman odors. A friend dwelt there. I saw -a great crystal cask full of distilled water; the sunlight quivered -through it freely and majestically. There, I thought, is the desert. -That water contained nothing, it was unfitted for life, it was as empty -as a dead world. - -But then we scratched the bottom of the cask and looked at it with -the microscope. Little round, green algæ were growing in that desert. -A current of air had carried the germs, and they had increased and -multiplied. There where there was nothing to seize upon, they had yet -found something. The taste of barren glass, a few stray grains of dust, -that soulless water, that sunlight, they had asked for nothing more in -order to subsist and work out their humble joy. - -I thought of this virtue of life, this perseverance, as of a hymn to -happiness, a silent hymn prevailing over the roars of the conquest. - -Nothing discourages life except, perhaps, the excess of itself. - -If Europe, too rich and too beautiful, is to be henceforth the vessel -of all the sorrows, it is because happiness has assumed an unclean -mask: the mask of pleasure. For pleasure is not joy. - -Patience! The whole world has not been poisoned. - -I know of mosses that succeed in living upon acids. The antiseptics, -whose property it is to destroy living things, are at times invaded by -these obstinate fungi which encamp there, acclimatize themselves and -modestly fulfil their destiny. - -One must have confidence in happiness. One must have more confidence -than ever, for never was happiness more greatly lacking to the mass of -men. So cruelly is the world astray, so immensely, so evidently, too, -that we cannot wait for the consummation to denounce it and reprove it. - -Like those algæ, those mosses, those laborious lichens that attach to -the very ruins themselves their infinite need of happiness, let us seek -our joy in the distress of the present and make it open for us, like a -plant beaten by the winds, in the desert of a blasted world. - - - IV - -You must understand that this concerns happiness and not pleasure, or -well-being, or enjoyment, or the delight of the senses. - -All cultivated people have created different words to designate these -different things. All have committed their moralists to the task of -preserving simple souls from a confusion which our instincts favor. - -Delight of the senses, you who are the eternally unsatisfactory, is it -true, intangible one, that you will always deceive us and that we shall -always seek for happiness through you? - -What seductiveness is not yours, O you who smile with the lips of love, -O mysterious phantom of joy? How you lure us and enchain us! Well you -know how to array yourself, at times, in the appearance of a sacred -mission, a religious duty! - -No, you are not happiness, divine though you are! To live without you -is a bitter misfortune, but you are not happiness! - -Why does happiness command us to sacrifice you often, to mistrust you -always? - -There is no happiness without harmony; you know this very well, you who -are delicious disorder itself, death, laughter, strife. - -Happiness is our homeland. You are only the burning country we long -for, the tropical isle where our dreams exile themselves, never to -return. - -Happiness is our true kingdom. Delight of the senses, let your slaves -hymn your praise. - - - V - -During the summer of 1916 I found among the meadows of the Marne a -flower that had three odors. It is a very common flower in France: it -adorns a low and spiny plant which the peasants call “_arrête-bœuf_.” -Toward midday, at the hour when the sun exasperates all its creatures, -this flower exhales three different odors: the first is soft, fresh and -resembles the perfume of the sweet pea; the second is sharp and makes -one think of phosphor irritant, of a flame; the third is the secret -breath of love. This miraculous flower really has all three of these -odors at once, but we perceive them more easily one at a time because -we are not worthy of all this wealth. - -This little discovery descended upon my weary head like a benediction. -At that time we were leaving the miseries of Verdun behind and were -just on the point of plunging into those of the Somme. The intermediate -rest depressed us and enervated us by turns. In the walks across the -fields which we took with our comrades, I grew accustomed every day to -gather a root of _arrête-bœuf_ and offer it, as a gift, to those who -accompanied me, so that they might share my discovery. - -Some of them, anxious about the world and their own fortune, took -pleasure in this modest marvel. They breathed in with these perfumes -the inexhaustible variety of the lavish universe. They distinguished -and recognized, smilingly, the three odors of this one being. They -honored these three ambassadors whom a people of unknown virtues had -assigned to them. They interpreted as a revelation the little signs -of the latent opulence which challenges and disdains the majority of -bewildered men. - -But others remained insensible to this delicate prayer, and these I -thought of with chagrin as of men who had no care for the welfare of -their own souls. - -I know quite well you will say, “There is no relation between this -flower and the welfare of the soul.” But this relation does exist, -emphatically and definitely. Truth shines out of every merest trifle -that goes to make up the world. We must fasten our eyes ardently upon -it, as if it were a light shining through the branches, and march -forward. - -I am sure, we are all sure, that happiness is the very reason for our -existence. Let it be added at once that happiness is founded upon -possession, that is to say, upon the perfect and profound understanding -of something. - -For this reason men who have a high conception of happiness aspire to -the complete and definite knowledge of an absolute, a perfection which -they name God. The desire for eternal life is a boundless need of -possession. - -Equally noble is the passionate desire of certain men to understand, to -possess themselves, to have such an exact and merciless conception of -their moral and physical nature as will give them some sort of mastery -over it. - -It is indeed a beautiful destiny to pursue the understanding of the -external world with the weapons and the arguments of a science that is -not the slave of conquest. Men who achieve this may indeed be called -just. - -Others wish to possess a house, a field, a pair of earrings, an -automobile. For them possession is not understanding, it is above -all else an exclusive and almost solitary enjoyment. They deceive -themselves about happiness and about possession. They deceive -themselves to the actual point of war, massacre and destruction. - -If we wish it, we may possess the whole universe, and it is in this -possession that we shall find the salvation of our souls. We may -possess, for example, that unknown something which walks by the -road-side, the color of the forest of pointed firs that rises sharply -against the southern horizon, the thoughts of Beethoven, our dreams -by night, the conception of space, our memories, our future, the odor -and the weight of objects, our grief at this moment and thousands and -thousands of other things besides. - -Is my soul immortal? Alas! how can I still linger in this ancient, -ingenuous hope? There are millions who, like me, can no longer give -reasonable credence to such an impossible happiness. - -But does my soul exist? Every thought bears witness that it does, and -this life of ours too, and the inexplicable life that is all about us. - -When Christians speak of the salvation of the soul, they are thinking -of all sorts of assurances and precautions in regard to that future -life which remains the greatest charm of religion and at the same time -its most wonderful weapon. - -We can give a humbler but more immediate meaning to this expression. - -First of all, not to be ignorant of our own souls! - -To think about the soul, to think about it at least once in the -confusion of every crowded day, is indeed the beginning of salvation. - -To think with perseverance and respect of the soul, to enrich it -unceasingly, that will be our sanctity. - - - VI - -We have all known those men who, at the first break of day, while they -are still half awake and barely rested, fling themselves into the -stress of business. They pass all day from one man to another in a sort -of blind, buzzing frenzy. They are ceaselessly reaching out to take, to -appropriate for themselves. If a moment of solitude offers itself, they -pull note-books out of their pockets and begin figuring. Between whiles -they eat, drink and seek a sort of sleep that is more arid than death. -Looking at these unfortunates, who are often men of great importance, -one would imagine their souls were like decrepit poor relations, -relegated to some corner of their personality, with which they never -concern themselves. - -I was once returning from the country on a train with a young surgeon -on whom that cruel fortune which we call success was beginning to -smile. I can still see him, breathless and almost stupefied, on the -seat facing me. He had been talking to me of his work, of how he spent -his time, with a restless excitement which the noise of the train -hammered and disjointed and gave a sort of rhythm to. Evening was -falling. It gave me pleasure to look at the young poplars in the valley -beside the track, their foliage and slender trunks transfigured by -the sunset. My friend looked at them also, and suddenly he murmured: -“It’s true! I’m no longer interested in those things, I no longer pay -attention to anything.” Through the fatigue and anxiety of his affairs, -through the jingling calculation of his profits, he suddenly caught a -glimpse of his error, of his real poverty. His repudiated soul stirred -in the depths of his being as the infant stirs in its mother’s womb. - -It is constantly awakening in this way and timidly reclaiming its -rights. Often, an unexpected word strikes us, a word that comes from -it and reveals it. I have as a work-fellow a quiet, studious young man -who takes life “seriously,” that is to say, in such a fashion that he -gets himself into a fine state of mind and will die, perhaps, without -having known, without having saved, the soul with which he is charged. -At the beginning of the month of June of this year 1918, I found myself -hard at work during one of those overwhelming afternoons that seem, on -our barren Champagne, like a white furnace, a glistening desert. There -were many wounded and the greater part had been uncared for for several -days; the barrack that served us as an operating-hall was overcrowded; -our task was a tragic one; the demon of war had imprisoned us under -his knee. We felt crushed, exasperated, swamped in these immediate -realities. Between two wounded men, as I was soaping my gloves, I saw -my young comrade looking far away through a little window and his gaze -was suddenly bathed with calm and peace. “What are you looking at?” I -said to him. “Oh! nothing,” he replied; “only I’m resting myself on -that little tuft of verdure down there: it refreshes me so much.” - - - VII - -It seems childish and paradoxical to oppose to all the concrete and -formidable realities that are considered as the hereditary wealth of -mankind an almost purely ideal world of joys that have no price, that -remain outside all our bargainings, that are unstable, often fugitive, -and always relative in appearance, whenever we put them to the test. -Yet they alone are absolute, they alone are true. Where they are -lacking there may be a place for amusement, there is no place for true -happiness. They alone are capable of assuring the salvation of the -soul. We ought to labor passionately to find them, to amass them as the -veritable treasures of humanity. - -The future we are permitted to glimpse seems the very negation of -happiness and the ruin of the soul. - -If this is true, we must examine it with open minds and then, with all -our strength, refuse it. - -Just this moment, when the struggle for mastery goes on, to the great -peril of the soul, among the peoples, just this moment I choose -for saying: “Let us think of the salvation of our souls.” And this -salvation is not a matter of the future but of the present hour. Let -us recognize the existence of the soul; it is thus that we shall save -it. Let us give it the freedom of the city in a world where everything -conspires to silence or destroy it. If it is true that this withdraws -us from that struggle for existence, the clamor of which assails our -ears, well, even so, I believe it is better to die than to remain in a -universe from which the soul is banished. But we shall have occasion to -speak more than once of this. - -Let us not forget that happiness is our one aim. Happiness is, above -all, a thing of the spirit, and we shall only deserve it at the price -of the honors we render to the noblest part of our being. - - - VIII - -There are people who have said to me, “My happiness lies in this very -hurly-burly, this brutish labor, this frantic agitation which you -spurn. Outside this turmoil of business and society, I am bored. I need -it. I need it in order to divert my thoughts.” - -No doubt! No doubt! But what have you done with your life that it has -become necessary to divert your thoughts? What have you made of your -past, what do you hope from your future when this alcohol, this opium, -has become necessary to you? - -You must understand me, there is no question, if you are built as an -athlete, of letting your muscles deteriorate. There is no question, -if you have a great thirst for controversy, a natural aptitude for -struggle, of letting that thirst go unsatisfied, that aptitude -uncultivated. The question is simply one of harmoniously employing all -these fine gifts, of enriching yourself with those real treasures the -universe bestows on those who wish to take them, and not of wearing out -your radiant strength in the labors of a street-porter, a galley-slave -or an executioner. - -Here is a man who says to me: “My happiness! My happiness! But it -consists in never thinking of my soul.” What a sad thing! And how -gravely one must have offended others and one’s own self to have -reached that point! - -For where shall he who loves torment, passionate restlessness, -uncertainty, and remorse discover these terrible blessings if it is not -in the depths of his own hateful ego? - - - IX - -If anyone tells you something strange about the world, something you -have never heard before, do not laugh but listen attentively; make him -repeat it, make him explain it: no doubt there is something there worth -taking hold of. - -The cult of the soul is a perpetual discovery of itself and the -universe which it reflects. The purest happiness is not a stable and -final frame of mind, it is an equilibrium produced by an incessant -compromise which has to be adroitly reëstablished; it is the reward -of a constant activity; it increases in proportion to the daily -corrections one brings to it. - -One must not cling obstinately to one’s own interpretations of the -world but unceasingly renew the flowers on the altar. - -In quite another order of ideas I think of those old-fashioned -manufacturers who are immovably set against trying any of the new -machines and perish in their stubbornness. That is nothing but a -comparison: to justify the machine folly is quite the opposite of my -desire. I simply wish to show that routine affects equally the things -of the mind and of the heart, that it is a very formidable thing. - -Kipling, I believe, tells the story of a Hindu colony that was -decimated by famine. The poor folk let themselves die of hunger without -touching the wheat that had been brought for them, because they had -been used to eating millet. - -If the sacred lamp of happiness some day comes to lack the ritual oil, -we shall not let it go out; we shall surely find something with which -to feed it, something that will serve for light and heat. - - - X - -The will to happiness attains its perfection in the mature man. With -adolescence it passes through a redoubtable crisis. - -Nietzsche says: “There is less melancholy in the mature man than in the -young man.” It is true. - -Very young people cultivate sadness as something noble. They do -not readily forgive themselves for not being always sad. They have -discovered the mysterious isle of melancholy and do not wish to escape -from it again. They love everything about that black magician and his -attitudes and his tears and his nostalgia and his romantic beauty. They -have a fierce disdain for vulgar pleasures and take refuge in sadness -because they do not yet know the splendor and majesty of joy. - -But in their own fashion, which is full of disdain, reserve and -ingenuous complexity, they do not any the less seek for happiness. - -With age happiness appears as truly the sole, serene study of man. As -he rests upon the moral possession of the world, he believes that with -time and experience he can remain insensible to the wearing out of his -bodily organs. - -He who knows how to be happy and to win forgiveness for his happiness, -how enviable he is!--the only true model among those that are wise. - -It is now, just now, that these things ought to be said, in the hour -when our old continent bleeds in every member, in the hour when our -future seems blotted out by the menace of every sort of servitude and -of a hopeless labor that will know neither measure nor redemption. - - - - - II - POVERTY AND RICHES - - - I - -The Christian doctrine, which has all the beauties, has all the -audacities too. It has endeavored to make the sublime and daring notion -prevail among the mass of men that salvation is reserved for the -poor. What a magnificent thing! And if this religion of poverty has -degenerated in the course of the centuries, with what consolation has -it not bathed those thrice-happy souls whom an unbroken faith guides -through misery and humiliation! - -But there has never been a religion which has been able to found itself -upon renunciation without compensation. Is he poor, this man who -consents to go unclad, roofless, unfed, up to the day when there will -be showered upon him all the riches of the kingdom of God? Has he no -thought of a supreme gift, of a magnificent possession, the man to whom -his master, in person, has given the command: “Lay up your treasures in -heaven, where they will not be lost”? - -He does not exist, the hopeless being who does not hunger for some -treasure, even if it is an imaginary one, even an unreal one, even one -that is lost in a bewildering future. - -In what an abyss of poverty should we groan if our kingdom were not of -this world and were nowhere outside the world, either? - -And now a generation of men has come that no longer believes in the -supernatural felicities of the future life and seems no longer to -have anything to hope from a world consumed by hatred and given over -inevitably, for long years, to confusion, destitution, egotistical -passions. - -In truth, the programmes of the social factions have no consolation -for us, there is nothing in them that speaks of love and the true -blessings; all these monuments of eloquence bring us back to hatred and -anguish. - -The most generous of them only give us glimpses of new struggles, new -sheddings of blood, when our age is drunk with crime and fatigue. To -whichever side the individual turns he finds himself crushed, scoffed -at, sacrificed to insatiable, hostile gods. - -A few years ago Maeterlinck wrote: “Up to the present men have left one -religion to enter another; but when we abandon ours, it is not to go -anywhere. That is a new phenomenon, with unknown consequences, in the -midst of which we live.” - -Having quoted these words, I hasten to add that the war is no -particular consequence of this moral state of the world. The question -of religion is not involved at all. The priests are quite ready to -abuse these easy oppositions in order to obtain arguments in favor of -their cause. But they know well enough, alas! that if the teaching -of Christ stigmatizes wars, the religions have only contributed to -multiply and aggravate them. They know very well that, in the conflict -that now divides the earth, the religions have shown themselves -enslaved to the states. No one has wished to take up the wallet and -staff of the dead Tolstoy. - -Humanity seems poorer and more truly disinherited than ever. Its -kingdom is in itself and in everything that surrounds it; but it has -sold it for a morsel of bread. And how can one reproach it for this? It -is very hungry and its heart is not open to beauty. - - - II - -We shall seek together the materials of our happiness. Together we -shall pile up all those marvelous little things that must constitute -our patrimony, our wealth. - -We shall have great misfortunes and we shall often be bitterly -deceived. It is because the war has succeeded in depriving the simplest -and the most sacred things of the light of eternity. That is not the -least consequence of the catastrophe. We must make a painful effort to -recover that light and clear it of its blemishes. Silence, solitude, -the sky, the vestiture of the earth, all the riches of the poor have -been sullied as if forever. The works of art have been mutilated. They -have taken refuge under the earth where they seem to veil their faces. - -We ought to seek and gather together the debris so that we can take up -and love in secret every day the fragments of our liberties. - -We ought to think unceasingly of that “mean landscape” of which Charles -Vildrac has spoken in one of his most beautiful poems. It is an -unfruitful landscape, despoiled, denatured by the sad labor of men, and -apparently worn out;-- - - But even so you found, if you sought there, - One happy spot where the grass grew rich, - Even so you heard, if you listened, - The whisper of leaves - And the birds pursuing one another. - - And if you had enough love, - You could even ask of the wind - Perfumes and music ... - -We shall have enough love! That shall be the principle and source of -our wealth. - -And so we shall not have a whole life of poverty. When love, that is to -say, grace, abandons us, we shall perhaps know hours of poverty. That -will help us all the better to understand our hours of opulence, and -all the better cherish them. - - - III - -If you wish, we can divide our task, enumerate the coffers in which we -are to pile our treasures. - -First of all, let us stop over a word. We have said: to possess is to -know. The definition may seem to you arbitrary. On the chance of this I -open my little pocket dictionary, which is the whole library I have as -a soldier, and read: “To possess: to have for oneself, in one’s power, -to know to the bottom.” Let us accept that. We shall see, page by page, -if it is possible for us to satisfy these naïve, direct definitions. - -What is most certain to attract our glance, when we look about us, is -the world of men, our fellow-creatures. Their figures are certainly the -most affecting spectacle that can be offered us. Their acts undoubtedly -constitute, owing to a natural inclination and an indestructible -solidarity, the chief object of our curiosity. Good! We shall possess -them first of all. We shall possess this inexhaustible fund of other -people. - -We shall feel no shame then in contemplating, with a noble desire, -whatever strikes our senses, the animals, that is to say, the plants, -the material universe of stones and waters, the sky and even the -populous stars. These, too, ought to be well worth possessing! - -Already our wealth seems immense. Our ambition is still greater: -we must possess our dreams. But have not illustrious men made more -beautiful dreams than ours? Yes, and these men are called Shakespeare, -Dante, Rembrandt, Goethe, Hugo, Rodin; there are a hundred of them, -even more; their works form the royal crown of humanity. We shall -possess that crown. It is for us it was forged, for us it was -bejewelled with immortal joys. - -It would be vain to extend our possession only into space. It overruns -time: we possess the past, that is to say, our memories, and the future -in our hopes. - -And then we also possess, and in the strictest sense of all, our -sorrows, our griefs, our despair, if that supreme and terrible treasure -is reserved for us. - -Finally, there will be times when we possess nothing but an idea, but -this may perhaps be the idea of the absolute or the infinite. If it is -given us to possess God, then, no doubt, nothing else will be necessary -to us. - -Every time that we possess the world purely we shall find that we have -touched an almost unhoped for happiness, for it is always being offered -to us and we do not think of it: we shall possess ourselves. - -We shall share all our riches with our companions: that shall be our -apostolate. And we shall manage in some way to resist the seductions -or the commands of a society that is going to ruin, a society that is -even more unhappy and abused than corrupt. If, in consequence, we are -permitted to glimpse, even if only for the space of a minute, a little -more happiness about us, a little more happiness than there is at -present, we shall at last be so happy as to accept death with joy. - - - IV - -The greatest of all joys is to give happiness, and those who do not -know it have everything to learn about life. The annals of humanity -abound with illustrious deeds aptly proving that generosity enriches -first of all those who practise it. - -Not to mention any celebrated instance, I shall tell you one simple -little tale. It is of the truth I live on, my daily bread. - -Just now, not far from me, there is a young English soldier from the -neighborhood of York who is so severely wounded in the lower part of -the stomach that the natural functions of the body have been completely -upset and he has been reduced to a state of terrible suffering. - -And yet, when I went to see him this morning, this boy gave me an -extraordinary smile, his very first, a smile full of delicacy and hope, -a smile of resurrection. - -Presently I learned the cause of this great joy. The dying man pulled -from under his pillow a cigarette he had hidden there, which he had -secretly saved for me and now gave me. - - - V - -There are many who preach an unpretentious life and the sweetness -of possessing a little garden. The most magnificent of gardens is -insignificant compared with this world in which nothing is refused -us. Accepting the little garden we should have the air of those -dispossessed kings who lose an empire to be ironically dowered with a -small island. - -If we find it pleasant to employ our muscles in digging the earth, -there are a thousand spots where we can easily practise this wholesome -and fruitful exercise. But we shall never really possess a single clod -of earth because a legal deed has declared that it belongs exclusively -to us. The world itself! Our love demands the whole world; the rocks, -the clouds, the great trees along the highway, the darting flight of -birds, receding into the evening, the rustling verdure high above that -wall that vainly strives to shut in the private property of someone -else, the shining glory of those flowers we glimpse through the iron -railings of a park, and even that very wall and railing themselves. - -According to the stretch of our wings, the scope of our desires, we -shall possess whatever our hands touch with ardor and respect, whatever -delights our eyes from the summits of mountains, whatever our thoughts -bring back from their travels through legendary lands. - -To possess the world is purely a question of the intensity of our -understanding of it. One does not possess things on their surfaces but -in their depths; but the spirit alone can penetrate into the depths, -and for the spirit there is no barrier. - -Many men to whom the law allows the gross, official possession of a -statue, a gem, a beautiful horse or a province wear themselves out -fulfilling a rôle to which no human being has received a call. Every -moment they perceive with bitterness that men who have no legal title -whatever to these material goods draw from them a delight that is -superior to the enjoyment they themselves get from them as absolute -owners. They often find, in this way, that a friend appreciates their -beautiful pictures better than they do, that a groom is a better judge -of their own stables, that a passer-by draws out of “their landscape” a -purer joy than theirs and more original ideas. They take their revenge -by obstinately confusing the usage of a thing with its possession. - -Jesus said that the rich man renounced the kingdom of God. He renounces -many other things as well. For if he shuts himself up within his proud -walls, he abandons the marvelous universe for a small fragment of it; -and if he is actually curious about the universe, if he appreciates -its significance, how can he consent without guilt to hide a portion of -it away from the contemplation of others? - -In order to express the gross and exclusive possession of things -society has invented various words and phrases that betray the weak -efforts of men to appropriate for themselves, in spite of everything, -in spite of the laws of love, the riches that remain the prerogative of -all. They speak, for example, of “disposing of a piece of property,” -which means having it subject to our pleasure, being able to do as -we choose with it. The sacrilegious vanity of this view of the world -gives the possessor, as his supreme right, the power to destroy his -own treasure. He could not, indeed, have a greater right than that. -But what sort of desperate possession is it, I ask, that considers the -destruction of the object possessed as the supreme manifestation of -power? - -The world has long known and still knows slavery. Lords and masters -claimed the extravagant right of disposing of other human beings. -They all insisted, as a mark of authority, on their right of dealing -death to their slaves. But truly, what was the power of these despots -compared with the deep, sensitive, voluntary bond that united Plato to -Socrates, or John to Christ? - -Epictetus suffered at the hands of Epaphroditus. For all that, -Epaphroditus was not able to prevent his slave from reigning, through -his thought, over the centuries. Epaphroditus’ right of possession -seems to us ridiculous and shameful. Who can fairly envy him when so -many centuries have passed judgement on him? - - - VI - -Every philosophy has given magnificent expression to these immortal -truths. What can we add to the words of Epictetus, of Marcus Aurelius, -of Christ in regard to the vanity of those riches which alone society -admits to be of value? - -But the poets have said to us, “Do not abandon the world, for it -abounds in pure and truly divine joys that will be lost if you do not -harvest them!” - -The road that ought to be sweet for us to follow crosses now that of -the Christians, now that of the Stoics. We may stop now at the Garden -of Olives, now at the threshold of that small house without a door, -without furnishings, where the master of Arrien used to live. - -Our road will lead us even more often through wild, solitary places, or -to the pillow of some man who sleeps in the earth, or to the smiling -dwelling of some humble friend, or again into the melodious shadow -where the souls of Beethoven and Johann Sebastian Bach forever dwell. - -We shall not struggle with the mass of deluded man to possess the -known, so long as the unknown remains without a master. We shall give -up crude material possession in order to dream all the better of -spiritual possession. - -No, we cannot any longer renounce our kingdom when it calls to us, when -for us it sings, hosanna! - -And those of us who already have their place in the kingdom of heaven -must not hesitate to demand their share of this world also; for the -world has been given to all men so that each man, with the help of all -the rest, may possess the whole of it. - - - - - III - THE POSSESSION OF OTHERS - - - I - -In the exile of the war I have fifteen comrades, and we live side by -side like seamen on the deck of a ship. Everything brings us together: -work, sleep, play, food and danger. Even our quarrels reunite us, for, -in order to quarrel well, you have to know your man: between strangers -disputes have little savor. - -I never chose these men for my companions, as I once thought I had a -right to do. They have been given to me like a handful of fruit of -which some is juicy and some green. They have been taken at random, -as if by a drag of that net which respects nothing, from the swarming -species of man. Thanks, therefore, to the blind and divine world which -has thrown the net into the flood! - -They are my treasure, my study, and my daily task. They are my purpose, -my horizon, my torment, and my recompense. - -Although far from my own people, far from those with whom I have -carried on my life, I could not feel myself destitute, abandoned; the -world is not empty for me since I have these fifteen men to manage, -this cherished problem to ponder, this soil to work over, this vintage -for the winepress. - -I accept the gift, the restless opulence, the fifteen glances that open -on fifteen different heavens where there shine neither the same seasons -nor the same stars, those fifteen proud, vindictive souls whom I must -win over and subdue like wild horses. - -To be sure, a few of these men are frank, level in temperament, as -plain to the eye as a smooth pebble on the beach; one touches them, -holds them, grasps them in a moment like a big piece of silver in the -hollow of the hand. But so many others are changeable, furtive, so many -others are rough like ore in which only the fissures glisten and betray -the inner nobility. - -The more unresponsive and secretive they seem, without any obvious -beauty, the more resolved I find I am to look upon them as a treasure, -to search through them as if they were a soil that is full of wealth. - -There are some of them that I love, there are some whom I think that I -do not love. What does it matter! The interest I devote to them is not -in the least dependent on the throbs of my heart. That one who never -speaks and conceals, under his obstinate forehead, two little eyes -of green glass,--certainly he does not naturally arouse my affection. -Nevertheless, how different is the attention with which I regard him -from the curiosity of a scientist watching the stirrings of fish in an -aquarium! It makes me think, that attention, rather of the dizzy joy of -the miser who weighs a gold-piece, the effigy on which doesn’t please -him. Gold, nevertheless! - -True! How could I feel bored with these faces turned toward me, with -this choir of human voices singing, each in its own familiar key, yet -blending into the masculine clamor of an orchestra? - -Everything they say is precious; less so, however, than what they keep -to themselves. The reasons they give for their actions astonish me -at times; those they do not confess, especially those of which they -themselves are ignorant, always fill me with passionate interest. A -word, fallen from their lips like a piece of paper from an unknown -pocket, arrests me and sets me dreaming for long days. About them -I build up daring and yet fragile hypotheses which they either -obligingly support or destroy with a careless gesture. I always begin -again, delighting in it; it is my recreation. I enjoy finding that my -hypotheses are right, for that satisfies my pride; I enjoy finding I am -wrong, for that reveals to me leafy depths in my park that are still -unexplored. - -And then I know that only a small part of their nature is involved -in our intercourse. The rest branches off, ramifies out into the -perspectives of the world. I think of it as of that side of the moon -which men will never see. I reconstruct with a pious, a burning -patience that life of theirs which is outside this, their true life, -endlessly complicated, linked by a thousand tentacles with a thousand -other unknown lives. So must Cuvier’s mind have wandered as he turned -and returned a fossil tooth, the only vestige of some vast, unknown -organism. - -There is all this in people, and then there is the past that each one -has, his own past, his ancestors, the prodigious combination of actions -and of souls of which he is the result. And there is his future, the -unexplored desert toward which he stretches out anxious tentacles, and -into which I dare to venture, I, the stranger, with trembling heart, -the tiny lantern in my hand. - -These are my riches today. They are inalienable: a man may flee from an -indiscretion, he cannot escape the grip of contemplation and love. Even -if he desired it, his very struggles would reveal his movements, betray -the deepest secrets of his being, deliver him over bound hand and foot. - -As for myself, eager to hoard up my treasure, I give myself up without -a struggle. Rich in others, I yield myself into their hands. And if, in -spite of myself, I attempt some evasion, am I not sure to render the -prey all the more desirable, all the more beautiful? - - - II - -They say of curiosity that it was the beginning of science. That is not -praise enough, it sounds rather like an excuse. - -What is more human, more touching than this religious reaching out -toward the unknown, this sort of instinct which makes us divine and -attack the mystery? - -To take pride in not being curious! One might as well take pride in -some ridiculous infirmity. It is true that even that is in the order of -things normal, and that vanity finds its nourishment where it can. - -Doubtless there is a sort of curiosity which is both weak and cowardly. -It is that of men who dare not remain alone a moment face to face with -themselves; they take refuge in loquacity and in reading the daily -newspapers. Their fashion of interesting themselves in everything that -goes on is a confession that they are unable to become interested in -anything eternal. They depend as if for nourishment on that noise which -those who have nothing to say are always making. They are like children -who cannot amuse themselves alone, or like stupid monarchs who fear -nothing so much as silence and their own thoughts, the emptiness of -their own thoughts! - -And then there are the easy-going people. They want to know everything, -the number of your maternal aunt’s children, the price of the furniture -and the wages of the servants. They want to know everything and they -will never know anything. Their life is spent in forced smiles and in -gracefully holding a cup of tea. - -Their souls contain vast lists of names, dates and other miserable -things. They go through life like beasts of burden, weighed down under -loads that have no value. - -There are maniacs, too, perverts, freaks, people that are full of -curiosity about a postage stamp, the handle of an umbrella; but of -these I dare not say anything, for I remember an old and very wise -master who used to say to us with a smile: “You who are entering upon -scientific careers must begin right away to think about collections, -even if you have to collect boxes of matches.” - -To tell the truth, is it our business to be wise, to be learned? -Hardly! It is our business to be rich. - -Well, then, there are not two kinds of curiosity. Let us leave out of -the question all those dull stupidities we dare to call by this name. - -The curious man seems strangely uninterested in that which excites -the loquacity of trivial souls. He does not trouble himself to find -out the year in which a house was built, or the honors accorded to -the architect; he dreams in secret of the tastes, the passions of -the man who had that little, low window pierced on the north side and -that black tree with its twisted branches planted at the edge of the -pond. He does not ask a young woman the name of her dressmaker, but -trembles at the thought of understanding what made her choose that -disturbing dress to wear this particular day. He does not question his -mistress about her opinion of him, but seeks passionately to understand -the opinion he has at this moment of her. He does not hasten to ask -his travelling companions about their professions and the political -opinions they uphold, because, as he watches their faces, he is -studying discreetly and sympathetically the meaning of the little -wrinkle that moves between their brows, or the significance of a -glance, its source and its object. He does not solicit confidences, he -receives them almost without wishing to; they come naturally to him; he -is their sure and deep receptacle. - -Curious about all this vast world, he seems especially concerned with -its image in himself. He bears his curiosity like a sacred gift and -exercises it, or rather honors it, as one would perform the rites of a -cult. - -Do not say you would not wish to be that man. You who feel pride in -possessing yourself of a secret, in drawing out a confession, in -meriting the confidence of another man, must realize that it is a -marvelous fortune to be thus the tenderly imperious confidant who -cannot be denied, though often the rest of the world knows nothing of -it. And it is possible for you, even if you cannot become such a man -at once, at least to labor to become one. Begin, with this in view, -to deliver yourself from your little servile curiosities. Let us work -together for this future. Let us enter so deeply into ourselves that -people will say of us, “That man is not curious about anything.” From -that moment we shall have begun to chant the hymn of the great, the -divine curiosity. - - - III - -The possession of others is a passion, that is to say, it is an ordeal, -a painful effort. This supreme joy, like all the joys to which we -attach value, is born out of suffering. - -We must experience men in order to know them, and our neighbor for -whom, or through whom, we have never had to endure any anguish, has -surprises in store for us, or else escapes us altogether: that is -almost a truism. - -Like all others, this treasure cannot be acquired without effort, -without bitterness; but it knows no decay, it never ceases to grow -through the mere play of the forces of our life and seems as if -sheltered from the blows of fate. It does not, like money, depreciate -in value or serve ignoble ends. It only returns to oblivion. - -It is not strictly personal. It can be shared and bequeathed. Since -it escapes destruction and death, it can become the most precious of -heritages; it has this superiority over money, that its transmission is -really valid only after it has been in some sort of way reconquered. -It must fall into worthy hands that will know how to work to preserve, -cultivate and build it up again. In certain points it resembles what we -call experience. - -To suffer, first of all! That is surely one of the grandeurs of our -race, and we truly love our blessings for what they have cost us in -tears, in sweat, in blood. - -It is repugnant to the spirit to admit that anything can be a blessing -which the war has given. The desperate folly of the Western world has -engendered and still holds in reserve such great misfortunes that we -cannot ransack all these ruins, these heaps of bones, with any hope of -extracting from them, as rag pickers do with their hooks, some fragment -that is good, some useful bit of waste. No! There is no excuse for -this ferocious, immeasurable stupidity. And yet, men have suffered so -terribly from one another that they have learned to know one another, -that is to say, to possess one another mutually. In spite of my own -denials, let me save this bit of wreckage from the general disaster. -That is indeed one blessing so dearly bought that we shall not -willingly give it up. And I do not speak here only of those who have -fought against each other; I speak also of those who have fought side -by side, who have shed their blood for the same cause and under the -same standards. - -Companions have been given us, imposed upon us, association with whom, -even when casual and transitory, would once have seemed impossible to -us. Living as free men, we sought to control the inevitable as far -as possible, to choose our own road and avoid those whose opinions -or points of view about the universe were likely to offend our own. -We thus made use of that liberty for the most part in order to humor -our irritable feelings, to lull our souls to sleep in a precarious -security, and restrict the area of our inward activity. - -Then came the war and we had not only to suffer from the enemy, to -endure unforeseen attacks in regions of ourselves that we considered -invulnerable, but to suffer still more from our own messmates, from -those who commanded us and especially those whom we commanded. - -Could it have been otherwise? No! No! If that suffering had been spared -us, we should not have been men, we should not have gone to war, we -should not have been those divine animals whom it is so beautiful and -so shameful to be and whom we cannot help being. - -We have been told that all suffering is sterile, hopeless and without -redemptive power. That it only serves to nourish hatred. But how -marvelous it is when it engenders understanding, that is to say, -possession, that is to say, love! - -I have observed that for many men, except in actual bodily encounter, -combat face to face, the enemy has lost all individual or specific -character and has become almost confounded with the great hostile -forces of nature: lightning, fire, tidal waves. The bullet coming -from so far away, the shell hurled from beyond the horizon, all these -mortal powers are simply like a form of blind destiny. In spite of -daily lessons in hatred, in spite of vociferations, these men die -courageously, with a resigned despair, without hatred. - -But with other, less noble souls, the tendency to aversion and -quarreling, thus turned back from the enemy, seeks its objects in their -immediate surroundings and finds them, creates them, alas! - -My comrades, my comrades, if the uncertainty of your spirit, your -agony, the rebelliousness of your afflicted flesh urges you to seek -those who are responsible, do not look too angrily upon those who are -about you, do not, in your aberration, accuse Houtelette because he is -a chatterbox, Exmelin because he is an egoist, or Blèche because he is -a rude, morose commander. Do not place your misery to the account of -Méry, who is so slow in obeying, and be willing to admit that Maurin is -not to blame for everything because his opinions are not the same as -yours. At least, if you must draw your circle of animosity, make it so -close about you that it contains only yourselves, and seek first of all -in yourselves the causes of your unhappiness. - -Better still, apply yourselves to looking your suffering in the face, -putting it, with insight and precision, to the proof. - -You know that a loathsome drink almost ceases to be loathsome when you -drink it without haste but with a desire to appreciate the precise -quality of its bitterness. Exactly in this same manner you should -endeavor to measure, to study your suffering. Instead of abhorring it, -try in a way to understand it; it will become interesting, curious, I -dare not say lovable. - -If Méry carries out your orders badly, consider systematically how he -can be made to become, in spite of himself, a really good servant. If -Blèche exercises his authority in a way that incessantly wounds you, -interest yourself in his brutality, try to analyze his movements, his -expressions, his familiar habits, and you will then be in a better -position, not to escape from him indeed, but to avoid at times the -sting, the cut of his peremptoriness. You will make him restless by -doing this, and you will set him thinking. It is not necessary for him -to fear you, it is enough for him to recognize in you a free force with -which he has to reckon, a force it is wise to propitiate. Meanwhile, -to use a colloquialism, “you’ve got him.” Every time you have obliged -him to be less arrogant, more just with you, you can say that you have -“had” him, as the soldiers so admirably put it. - -This possession costs a certain amount of work. But you are willing to -toil eight hours in order to earn ten francs that do not remain for a -single day between your fingers; you can certainly afford a few minutes -of your effort and your soul to acquire a treasure of which nothing -will ever be able to deprive you. - - - IV - -The very rich man owns several estates. There is always one that he -prefers, that he frequents and cultivates by choice. There are others -where he goes only from time to time, at the solicitation of some state -of his soul which inclines him to seek, for a period, the mountains, or -the ocean, or the open country. There are some, finally, which he does -not love at all but of which, nevertheless, he will not dispossess -himself because they are part of his fortune. - -It is so with you who possess a family, friends, comrades, and -adversaries. It is so with you who are able to draw, without let -or hindrance, from the immense well of humankind. You must refuse -nothing; you must accept everything, find out the value of everything, -store everything away. The world of men is a rich patrimony, the -exploitation of which is expressly confided to you. You must not be a -bad administrator, you must make all your land bring forth its fruit. - -Choose every day what is necessary to you, for you are the master. - -You must know, besides, how to accept the inevitable and take chances, -for you are nothing but a man. - -Construct a scale, a clear, harmonious keyboard. Like an organist you -must know the right moment to pull the stop of the oboe and unloose -the thunder of the bass. The pipes are not at fault: it is for you -to become a good musician. The face of Guillaumin suits you in the -morning, and his ideas rejuvenate you like fresh water. The eloquence -of Maurin is like a tonic in your hours of recreation. But there are -desolate evenings when what you undoubtedly need is the deep voice of -Cauchois and his affectionate silence. - - - V - -In spite of the legendary ages, in spite of the religions, in spite -of the poets, in spite of the marvelous traditions and, above all, in -spite of our own deepest aspirations, we must unquestionably abandon -the hope of an occult correspondence between souls. - -It is a renunciation that it is hard to admit. Every day events envelop -us that seem to revive the vanished perfume of mystery. Our reason is -in no haste to dissipate these clouds, to pierce these appearances: too -well they soothe the irritating need of not being quite solitary in the -interior of ourselves, of not being quite exiles in an inaccessible -desert. - -That nothing outside our senses can reveal to us the proximity of a -beloved person, the danger that is approaching him, the death that is -coming to clasp him, is an extremity to which we find ourselves reduced -without ever submissively making up our minds to it. - -A few courageous men have halted before this mountain and undertaken to -lift it. Let us leave them toiling in the shadow; let us aid them, if -not by our effort, at least by our silence, and wait. - -Let us wait, but let us not cease to go forth to other battles. The -unknown never fails us. And as for what we shall choose, there is -so much in the unknown to allure us, to enchant us! If we give up -surmounting one obstacle another will always rise before our feet. From -obstacle to obstacle we shall always be led to the foot of the same -wall. We shall consume our whole life in the struggle, knowing that the -very interest of life lies in that struggle and in those obstacles. - -Now and then, detached by great efforts of the pickaxe and the mattock, -a fragment of the somber mountain rolls at our feet. We stop it with -rapture, we examine it, we lift it with a sort of sadness, in order to -try its weight. There is no victory that demands so great a price or -seems to us more desolate. It is as if we roused ourselves to a frenzy -to destroy the unknown in order that our success might fill us with -bitterness. Happily, the unknown is always there. - -I find myself alone with the person who of all the world is the closest -to me, the best loved, the most perfectly chosen. The silence exhales a -light perfume, a unique perfume that seems that of our kindred souls. -Oh! how we should like to believe that the essences of our beings, -delivered at last, might communicate and unite with each other in the -intermediate space, in the impassable abyss! - -At this very moment we surprise in one another’s eyes a common -thought. Simultaneously, it escapes our lips with a sort of rapturous -precipitancy, as if we were afraid of not arriving at exactly the same -moment at the _rendez-vous_, as if we wished, with the harmonious -precision of a well-rehearsed duet, to confess together some matchless -certainty. - -We are happy, filled with astonishment.... But I am not deceived. - -I do not yet hold it, palpitating, for good and all, between my -fingers, the proof that has been so long sought for. Not yet, this day, -have I met face to face either God or the immortal soul. - -Only too well I know that some slight sound, some rhythm outside us, -the beating of a bird’s wing, the boring of an insect in the old wood -of the furniture, the sigh of the wind under the door,--that it is one -of these things which has suddenly set our souls in tune, awakened the -echoes of affinity in the abysses of our two separate selves. We have -so many memories in common, we have so carefully matched our tastes, -we have so well unified our material world and tried to blend even our -futures together that the very touch of the violinist’s bow suffices to -make us vibrate in harmony. - -But there must be the touch of the bow, there must be the perfume, -so faint that one experiences its suggestions without being sure of -its presence; perhaps there is necessary only one of those obscure -phenomena which pass the limit of our senses in the twilight where our -inadequate organs can only gropingly divine the world. - -This is our meager certainty. Very well! Let us not reject it in our -spite; for it has its depth, its beauty. We must make it our own, force -it to enrich us. - -Where the exercise of the intelligence seems to result in the fatal -imprisonment of the soul within itself, love enables us to see how -the soul can reach beyond its own limits into time and space. In vain -does the intelligence prove to us that all this is only an illusion. -That illusion is beautiful; let us make up our minds to give it shape. -Through its very longings to escape from its confines, the soul may -perhaps succeed in breaking them, and it is to love without a doubt -that it will owe the miracle of its deliverance. - -We possess only an imperfect means of communion. So be it! Let us labor -tenderly to perfect that means. It is thus that the creators of science -and industry labor, and we must admit that their stubbornness has -succeeded in making a very great evil out of a small one. Let us not be -less ingenious! This sinister progress ought to give us encouragement: -moral civilization deserves as much care as the other sort. - -With our brothers, our wives, our friends, let us freely seek to have -so many things in common, let us strive so passionately to understand -one another, that our thoughts, ceaselessly pressing toward this goal, -may continually experience the sense of infinity and eternity. - -There lies our path; if it urges us to possess the largest portion we -can of the human world, let us first begin by intimately possessing -what we love. This possession I am sure is the only real one. They -knew it very well, those desperate men who have loved fiercely the -mere bodies of women without ever receiving the real gift that can be -yielded in a glance, from a distance, with the swiftness of lightning. - - - VI - -There are men who set out from their homes in the morning in the -pursuit of wealth. They walk with their eyes on the pavement, they -fling themselves furiously into all sorts of petty labors. They dream -of lost money, princely gifts, scandalous inheritances, lotteries. -They think of gold as of an inaccessible woman whom they can strike -down and ravish in a corner. They return home in the evening worn out, -exasperated, famished, as poor as ever. They have not even seen the -face of the man who sat next them in the subway. That face itself was a -fortune. - -Do you seek out your friend because, on occasion, he can lend you the -sum you foresee you are going to need, because he can speak to some -cabinet official on your behalf, because he is a jovial host? If that -is the case, you are a slave, you possess nothing. Do you, on the -contrary, love him for that way of smiling he has that so delights you, -for the candor and tenderness his hesitating voice betrays, his gift -of tears and his stormy repentances? If this is so, you are very rich: -that man is yours and he is a treasure worth having. - -Can you recall the use you made of your first five-franc piece? Most -assuredly not! But you will never forget a certain expression which, in -your eyes, distorted or made more beautiful some well-loved face when -you were a little child. That has, and always will have, a place among -your treasures: that day you really learned something of importance, -and you have never ceased since to recall the victory and turn it to -account. - -If you have little inclination to squander your fortune, what is to -prevent you from assembling it under one title-deed? A single face, -a single soul, is yet an inestimable estate. One may believe one has -exhausted all one’s resources, but one is always deceived, for like the -earth, the human landscape is always perpetually laboring and bears -fruit every season. - -The peasant who possesses only an acre is full of pride nevertheless, -for he knows that his possession goes down to the very center of the -earth. - -For many years I have watched the same face, like the faithful horizon -stretched across the aperture of a window. It contrives, that face, -a thousand things, it expresses and reflects a thousand things, I -alone know its touching beauty, since I alone am able to reap all its -harvests, since I alone cannot, without a glance, allow the tiniest -flower of every day to die. - - - VII - -It is not wholly within your power to be without enemies; it behooves -you, indeed, not to lack adversaries. Above all, it behooves you to -know your adversaries. From that to conquering them is but a short -step. From that to loving them is no step at all. - -Do not dread an experience too much; consider your adversary -attentively and try to imagine his motives, those that he declares as -well as those that he conceals, those that he invents as well as those -of which he is ignorant. Think long enough and with enough intensity to -understand these reasons, and even to discover new ones of which your -adversary has not thought; this will not be difficult for you if you -have any knowledge of yourself. - -Then make a strong effort to put yourself, in spirit, in the place of -him you are combatting. Do not go so far as to detest yourself, but do -not refuse this opportunity of judging yourself severely. For a test: -perhaps you have entered upon this experience with your teeth and fists -clenched; stop when you find that you are smiling and that your hands -are relaxed. - -One has no idea how much this exercise inclines one to justice, how -profitable it is and how destructive of hatred. Too much imagination -would perhaps lead you to neglect your own cause; stop in time, -therefore, unless you wish to become, as the spectators may decide, -either a fool or a hero. - -For my part, I have no hesitation in counselling such a practice: it -teaches one to conquer, to conquer smilingly. It teaches one to know -one’s adversary. And then, too, it is good as everything is good that -forestalls and destroys hatred. - -There is only one single thing in the world that is, perhaps, really -hateful, stupidity. But even that is disputable, and moreover it is -always a presumptuous assertion. - -Happy is the man who has no enemies. But, I repeat, he who has no -adversaries, he who has not accepted those that life offers him, or has -not been able to procure any of his own will, is ignorant of a great -source of wealth. - -There is but small merit in understanding those whom we love; there is -a great, a crowningly bitter pleasure, in penetrating a soul that is -hostile to us, in making it our own by main force, in colonizing it. - -Not to choose our friends, that is to be too self-denying, too modest. -Not to choose our adversaries, that is altogether too stupid; it is -inexcusable. - -A voice whispers in my ear: “We do not choose our vermin, we do not -choose our mad dogs....” Alas, no! but that is quite another matter. - - - VIII - -Every time I hear someone use the word “promiscuity,” I recall an -experience I once had. An experience,--that is a great deal to say, it -was such a slight affair after all. - -It was in the days when there still used to be in Paris those omnibuses -with upper stories. I was returning home quite late, on one of those -fresh, airy nights when one suddenly draws in, through the fetid breath -of the streets, a gust that comes from afar and seems unwilling to -let itself be defiled, obliterated. I was dreaming all alone, quite -to myself, about things of no interest to anyone but myself, but that -happily filled the infinite space of the world. - -Through the depths of this reverie I became aware of a slight, -muffled blow against my right shoulder. This did not rouse me from -my own absorption. A second time the blow came, followed by a soft, -continuous contact. It gave me a disagreeable sensation. - -By my side there was a young boy of sixteen or seventeen, dressed like -an apprentice. The uncertain glimmer of the street-lamps lighted up -his pale, weary face. His eyes were closed and he seemed overwhelmed -with sleep. I noticed that every few moments his head, swaying with the -jolts of the vehicle, would strike against my shoulder. He would raise -it up with an instinctive movement, only to let it fall back the more -heavily the next moment. Once he let it lie there. At the time I was -so lost in my dreams that the animal in me alone rose to its defense: -I pushed the young lad gently back into his place. It was trouble -lost; the next second he abandoned himself anew against my shoulder -with a sort of desperate ingenuousness. I pushed him back two or three -times, then I gave it up and tried, in spite of this slight burden, to -continue my glorious excursion in the interior of my own self. - -But I did not succeed. An extraordinary, unforeseen, unknown sensation -was sweeping over me. It was a penetrating animal warmth. It came -from that head propped against my shoulder, and also from a certain -frail, bent arm which I felt slowly digging into my side. The little -apprentice was sound asleep. - -I bent down my face and felt his breath like that of a child passing -in little puffs over my cheek and my chin. From that moment on, I -ceased completely to think of my important personal affairs and I had -only one anxiety: to see to it that the boy did not awaken. - -I do not know how long this sleep lasted: I was warm with a strange, -delicate warmth; I had a sense of well-being, I was absorbed, I was -penetrating into an unknown universe, as vast, as starry as my own. I -could not understand how this contact could have offended me at first, -even disgusted me. I had torn off the prickly shell and was tasting, -like a nourishing kernel, that human presence and companionship. I was -happy and interested. - -We reached a place where there were shouts and lights. The little -fellow sat up with a start, rubbed his eyes and ran stumbling towards -the stairway and disappeared; he had not even seen me. - -He did not know what I owed him and that he would never be forgotten. - - - IX - -One must not, at first sight, say that a man is uninteresting and that -his face is expressionless. One might as well say that the water of a -river is empty when it swarms with vegetable and animal life. - -In one’s manner of listening to a man there may be prejudice and -suspicion, there must not be indifference or indolence. The soul has, -in its arsenal, lenses, microscopes, and powerful sources of light for -exploring objects to their depths, through their transparencies, into -the innermost recesses of their organs. - -At the beginning of the war I lived for two years with a comrade who -was invariably silent and indolent; his handsome face remained always -so gloomy, his actions remained so devoid of purpose and significance, -that I despaired of ever making him my prey; I was simply never touched -with a desire to get hold of him. - -Then a day came when I heard him greet some happening with a word, -pronounced in such a challenging tone that I decided to undertake the -expedition. I spent days and days at it, with the pickaxe, mattock, -and little lantern of the miner. I have thought of him ever since with -stupefaction, as of those subterranean, half-explored chasms where one -finds rivers, colonnades, domes, blind animals and terrible shapes of -stone. - -The nature of the object should not discourage one’s interest. The -viper is a dangerous and vindictive creature. The naturalists who have -been able to study it have only been able to do so because they have -studied with passion, that is to say, with love. - -So much to tell you that that sort of zoological curiosity you may -bring to the study of your neighbor no more authorizes cruelty than it -allows you to dispense with affection. - -Extreme attention resembles affection. Contemplation is pure love. - - - X - -It is after my own taste that I mean to enjoy my possessions. - -First, I wish to have part possession of my companions. There is no -question of my being the only one to possess them, or of my limiting my -empire to one or two of them. What I plan is to undertake each conquest -separately. This word, we shall see, does not signify seduction, but -a knowledge that is full of respect, a profound, lasting interest, an -enthusiasm, a passionate contemplation. - -Observe them, your comrades: say you have twenty-three of them; you -will find through them twenty-three distinct representations of -yourself, and that in spite of yourself, through the mere play of -everyday life. One of them knows chiefly your tireless patience; -another, who works beside you all day, knows that you are painstaking -and irritable; he is, however, ignorant of what a third, the friend -of your fireside, knows,--that you are a careful and anxious father. -There are others for whom you are, above all, a soul torn by religion -or a mind familiar with everything that concerns social questions, -or a great lover of reading. Others, finally, see in you only a good -billiard-player, or a crack shot, or a courteous companion. - -You are, of course, all these things. The totality of these various -aspects is, indeed, you, provided that we add also many other qualities -that no one suspects. But each one of your comrades sees an aspect of -you that is different from what his neighbor sees. For this reason, -avoid confusion, avoid mixing things. Be lavish of yourself in every -sense, but begin by being prudent, careful of your resources and -skilful in the art of grouping them. - -One day you were having an affectionate conversation with Maurin. You -were delighted with one another, delighted to be together, satisfied -with your fellowship, your mutual possession. You were not talking -of anything very private. But then Blèche came up, Blèche with whom -you have such profitable, such intimate talks, and all the charm of -Maurin’s company disappeared without your being able to compensate -yourself with the usual pleasure you take in the society of Blèche. -This was because, in the presence of both, you could not give each one -what you are accustomed to give him, nor could you ask from him what he -gives only to you. - -These combinations, like those of the chemists, demand much care and -judgment. Don’t protest! Don’t exclaim that such notions are too -subtle, too complex: you do not receive all your friends pell-mell. -However much of an epicure you may be, you still give more attention -to the selection of your guests than to the composition of the menu. -Of what importance is the most delicate fare in comparison with the -delight the conversation of carefully chosen human beings gives us? - -That is why, when you are sure of two persons for whom you feel an -interest that borders on passion, you experience such a delicious -anxiety at the moment of presenting them to one another, of bringing -them together in your presence. - -You are like the maker of fireworks who is about to mix changeable -substances with explosive properties in his mortar. You weigh them -carefully and combine them in well-defined proportions. You take time -preparing each of the spiritual elements of this mixture. - -And when the union is accomplished, you seem to be saying to each of -them: “I have prepared a magnificent gift for you. Come, now, and know -one another.” - -Your heart throbs, because each of them is not only going to know the -other but is going to learn to know you through the eyes of the other. - -Could there be a better reason for living? - - - XI - -However brief may be the intercourse we have with a man, we always come -away from it somewhat modified: we find we are a little greater than -we were before, or a little less great, better or worse, exalted or -diminished. - -I have learned this from having, in the course of my life, approached -many men, both famous and obscure, who do not dream what I owe them or -the harm they have been able to do me. - -We instinctively recognize and classify individuals according to this -faculty they have, some of drawing us out, others of crushing us. It -is a faculty they usually exert without knowing it, even against their -will: they are tonic or depressing just as one is short or tall, just -as one has black eyes or green. But the comparison breaks down in this -respect, that it is always possible to modify the reaction we produce -on others. - -In this matter we exhibit a special sensibility that may be compared -to the tropisms which push plants up toward the light or make them -struggle against gravitation. We go toward some and flee from others, -regardless of our interests or our prejudices. - -The man whose companionship we seek because it stimulates us is not -necessarily he who strives to give us a good opinion of ourselves. -Often he is taciturn, sometimes surly, occasionally ironical and -cutting. Nevertheless, there emanates from his whole person something -like approbation, a confession of confidence. Even if he insists, -harshly, noisily, upon calling attention to our faults, he does not -make us despair of ourselves and our future. And if he never speaks to -us about ourselves we yet know, by some imperceptible gesture, by some -tone in his voice, by a gleam in his eye, that he is interested in us. - -Every time we leave him we like him better, we like ourselves better, -we like all humanity better, we look at everything with a smile, we are -as full of plans as a tree in April. - -The other sort of man, on the contrary, is forever deluding himself. -He pursues before our very eyes an end which we see, with grief and -bitterness, he regularly fails to attain. Whatever he does, whatever -he says, he always shows us that he is a stranger to us, that he is -superior and that we do not interest him. Even in his manner of wishing -to give us his attention, he exhibits a certain difficulty in seeing -us at all. If he tries to seem talkative, important, majestic, his -natural gifts turn against him; his cordiality disgusts us, his bearing -irritates us, his self-importance makes us want to laugh. We cannot -forgive him anything, and especially the fact that we always leave him -with the same vague depression, the same disgust of life, and the same -distrust of our own undertakings. What we are always escapes him, and -although what he is does not escape us, we are discouraged by him all -the same. - -We must be the first of these two men, he who is, amid all things, -in spite of all things, a rich man, he whom the poet of the _Livre -d’amour_ justly called “a conqueror.” - - - XII - -You must not violate your gifts, you must simply study their -possibilities. It is what we do with trees and animals in which we are -able to instil virtues they do not seem to possess at all naturally. - -However humble your position in society may be, however great your -poverty, in the crude sense men give to this word, you may none the -less become rich and successful without so much as leaving the room -where you are in conversation with your comrade, your wife or your -favorite adversary. Find your study there. You have observed that when -two men meet they begin by sacrificing to the old custom of enquiring -briefly about one another’s health and affairs, after which, without -waiting for the other’s reply, each one begins to speak of himself. -This is such an old usage that they do not even know they are doing it. -Each one speaks of himself for a few moments, then allows the other -to talk about himself for about the same length of time. When this has -gone on long enough they separate, and each preserves for his partner -a vague feeling of gratitude, not so much because he has listened as -because he has made a pretense of listening to matters that were of no -concern to him. - -This fact suggests a great lesson. The majority of men suffer from a -sort of neglect, they suffer from not being possessed by anyone, from -offering themselves in vain. Stretch out your hand and seize them. -Learn to say the word that will assure you the mastery, the domination. - -It is inconceivable that so many spirits, tormented by the need for -power, by the passion for authority, should waste and sterilize -themselves in order to hoard money, win rank, obtain a title. They gain -nothing from it but a pride that withers them; they clasp only the -shadow of what they pursue. - -Seek a little and you will soon find that they are legion who ask -nothing better than to cast themselves into your nets. Do not believe -that they are always the mediocre victims. It is not only the wretched -who wish to be understood and consoled. There are many sceptics who -await with anguish the touch of a hand to deliver them from their -scepticism. There are many happy men, too, who cannot bear to be alone -with their happiness, for man has even more need of help in joy than -in sorrow. - -It has often happened, while walking with a comrade, a stranger or -an adversary, that I would find him hard, defiant, rebellious at -every touch. Thereupon, I would set out openly, under his very eye, -to capture him. I would begin to speak to him about himself. I would -say to him: “The unique things about you are....” And I would confide -to him everything I thought about him, being particularly careful to -say nothing more about myself. I would interest myself in him, not -fictitiously--that is a barren and a perilous game--but with all my -heart, with all my intelligence. I would tell him what I knew, what -I already possessed of him, his virtues and his faults. Confused or -irritated, he would come to my feet, he would appear as if before a bar -to give thanks or to plead, to show his claws or to purr. The things I -had said to him might be very severe; I still felt that he was grateful -to me for having cared about him, even in order to attack him. No -longer was he in any haste to leave me. Often he would come back on -the days that followed and make me unexpected visits; though I could -see that he was provoked, I knew nevertheless that he had come to pay -homage, to attest that he was a faithful subject. - -“The unique things about you are”.... That is a chance phrase. There -are others, there are a thousand of them. When you are ready, a grip -of the hand or some other human sign may take its place. I remember the -story of a certain prefect who, having no worse enemy than a traitor in -his department, had the happy thought one day of asking him to have a -drink and going away without paying for it. This extraordinary proof of -confidence attached the man to him forever. - -Not that all your victims will be so tremblingly easy. There are proud -souls who set a high price on their conquest, fantastic and sick souls -whom one has to seize suddenly and overthrow almost before they are -aware of it. - -You must set the time and choose the hour of the attack. - -Do not accost the business man in the roar of the Exchange; attempt -the field rather at the hour when, wearied, he is counting over and -reckoning his disillusionments. Do not seize the man of action on the -battlefield, but in the moment of leisure when he does not know what to -do with his solitude. - -What marvelous opportunities must the shy Las Casas have glimpsed at -Saint Helena, even though he was pursuing other aims! - -I once saw a simple soul publicly congratulate a master surgeon whose -skill had for long years placed him above all felicitations. And the -celebrated man blushed, bowed, gave in. - -A successful lawyer said to me one day: “Each one of my clients -imagines that I think only of him, that I occupy myself exclusively -with him.” - -Remember, too, that certain women never capitulate twice: they never -forgive themselves for having yielded completely even for a moment. The -same thing is true with others who are offended with you because you -have “taken” them by force. Do not regret this sacrifice too much: it -leaves a beautiful jewel in your casket. - -Truly the whole vast race of men belongs to you. - -Take and eat, you cannot find more noble food. - -See, there is the world you must conquer. It is not that for whose -possession proud peoples are driven to declare war; it is indeed quite -another world than that which Satan showed Jesus from the summit of the -mountain. - - - - - IV - ON DISCOVERING THE WORLD - - - I - -The world contains not one single object that might not be a source -of happiness. Sorrow springs from this, that man outdoes himself in -misusing everything. He turns against his own body or his own spirit -all sorts of things that seem well made for his joy. - -Every being contains an unbelievable store of happiness, and this one -virtue reveals the angle from which he ought to be judged. - -Your true business man makes a practice of weighing everything in terms -of gold: a human being, a field of wheat, a beam, a precious stone. -His tables of value are false, but the principle of valuation remains -none the less efficacious, fundamental. The mistake of these persons -is in testing everything by a single measure, in reducing everything -to this gold which enables them to seek their chosen pleasure. If it -is drink, or woman, they transmute an orchard into wine or into women, -losing terribly by the exchange. They thus produce a sort of analogy -to what the physicists call the degradation of energy: little by -little, the traffickers degrade their pleasures until they obtain those -they prefer. But happiness is higher than this: it cannot be degraded, -bought, transmuted. It is a pure relationship between the soul and the -world. It will never be the mere object of a transaction. Many are the -men who have fastened their hope, their future upon the acquisition -of some material good only to experience after years of effort and -privation a burning disillusion. That is because happiness is too proud -and free a thing to obey the commands of merchants. It follows laws of -its own that seem like inspirations, it does not come at the bidding -of business men. The castle we have coveted so long may open at the -appointed hour; joy will not take up its abode there unless we have -deserved it. - -It must be repeated again: the principle of evaluation is at the base -of our moral life. But each thing should be valued in itself and for -itself. - -A tuft of violets is worth a great deal for its perfume and its beauty, -it can bring joy or consolation to a great many hearts. But it has only -the slightest commercial value; estimated in terms of building lumber -or freestone it signifies nothing, or virtually nothing. - -That so many men should cut and sell wood, shape and barter the stone -of which our houses are built, go gathering violets through the May -thickets to sell them to townsfolk, is undoubtedly right and necessary. -The real question is quite a different one: we must first possess -for their own sakes all the blessings that are offered us, and not -obstinately transform them, without an important reason, beyond our -strict needs, at the risk of forever losing our understanding and our -true possession of them. - -It is almost a truism that men who are obliged by their profession -to handle, store or sell substances famous for their power of giving -pleasure, perfumes, fruits, silks, end by losing all appreciation of -them and even by contracting a disgust and contempt for them. Cooks -have no appetite. Let us not be cooks, then, in the presence of this -vast world; let us know how to preserve or restore to each object its -original savor and significance. - -I say “restore” intentionally, for the world seems to be more and more -turning from its true sense, that is to say, its human sense, the only -one for us. - -A stone is a beautiful thing, beautiful from all points of view; its -grain, its color, its brilliancy, its hardness are all so many virtues -that exercise and satisfy our senses, excite our reflections. We have a -thousand noble uses, speculative or practical, to which we can put such -an object. We shall be the kings of the universe if we assert boldly -that we find in these uses and in our joy the very destiny of the -stone. - -I remember seeing hills that had been disemboweled by a bombardment -and were sown with long splinters of twisted iron; the base of a -monstrous shell appeared before me, one day, under these conditions, -and it seemed to me truly inhuman, this product of the work of men: the -noble metal, with which so many good and beautiful things can be made, -took on a hateful appearance. Man had achieved the mournful miracle of -denaturing nature, rendering it ignoble and criminal. - -Truly, we are equally guilty every time we turn an object aside from -its mission, which is altogether one of happiness. We are guilty again -every time we fail to extract, for others and for ourselves, all the -happiness an object holds in store and only asks to be allowed to yield. - - - II - -It is because every fragment of the earth is a source of happiness that -men ceaselessly dream of winning that source for their own profit. - -They do not wish to have all humanity refresh itself, plunge its -feverish face and lips in the cool waters. - -Once the springs were the delight and the wealth of whole peoples; -they were conducted magnificently along majestically proportioned -aqueducts; their liquid opulence, crossing valleys and mountains, -entered the cities with a great outburst of architectural joy; it shone -and sparkled in the sunlight from a thousand embellished apertures -before it went to bathe and nourish the people. - -The statues of the gods watched over this treasure. - -Today, the most beautiful springs are guarded by railings; one goes to -a wicket and pays in order to drink there. - -In the same way, all the springs of joy seem to have been sequestered -for the profit of a few people. - -This is not always for the sake of gain. In most cases it is simply for -exclusiveness. The man who owns something capable of giving joy naïvely -imagines that he will be happier if he is the only one to drink from -this inexhaustible breast. He becomes infatuated with it and thinks of -nothing but how to shut up his treasure. He puts up a wall and provides -it with fragments of sharp glass, so that the wall may show its teeth, -so that it may be not only defensive but, in some sense, offensive. At -times, yawning with ennui in the very midst of his material prosperity, -he makes an opening in the wall, only to correct this imprudence with -a ditch; and from behind this he seems to say, “Now see how rich I -am; look and proclaim it in a loud voice, you who pass by, for I am -beginning not to be so sure of it myself.” - -To shut up a picture, a beautiful tree, a sumptuous tapestry for one’s -own exclusive benefit is, after all, only a trifling folly; but there -are some who undertake to capture a river, a mountain, a horizon, the -sea. - -A few years ago, I visited the shore of the Mediterranean, between -Cannes and Menton. I was struck by a strange thing: the road that -follows the edge of the sea, at the foot of the hills, through a -thousand natural beauties, continually loses sight of the waves; it -seems as if pushed back, held aside. - -People have appropriated the horizon; they have driven their fortune -like a wedge between the divine sea and the road of the common folk. -They wish to be the only ones to possess the ocean, dawn, the gold and -sapphire of moon, the tempests and the thunders of the open sea. - -Do not be alarmed, mistaken brothers, do not tremble; we shall not -throw down your walls. Live in peace in your sumptuous prison, our -portion remains so beautiful and so great that we shall never exhaust -it. - -Close your gates, you will not shut in the perfume of your shrubbery, -nor all the wind, nor all the sky. You will not imprison the fragrant -odor of your flower-beds. We shall breathe them, as we pass, lovingly, -and continue on our way. We shall go on still further, for we have many -things to acquaint ourselves with, we divine so many, many of them that -a whole life is short in the light of such a destiny. But if it pleases -you to join our vagabond company you will discover, perhaps, the -other side of your own walls, which are hung with flax-weed and wild -geranium. The road that skirts them outside leads to joy also. - -And besides, one does not find these ingenuous walls everywhere. The -greed of men has not yet subjected all the beauty of things. You have -snatched up in your fingers a fleeting draught of water: the ocean does -not seem to be aware of it. - -You must understand that we really possess nothing by ourselves. Veil, -if you wish, the faces of your women and visit every day the gold in -the depths of your vaults. Exclusiveness yields you no wealth save that -which is dead and unproductive. - -But he is truly rich for whom life is a perpetual discovery. - - - III - -Discovery! It seems as if this word were one of a cluster of magic -keys, one of those keys that make all doors open before our feet. -We know that to possess is to understand, to comprehend. That, in a -supreme sense, is what discovery means. - -To understand the world can well be compared to the peaceful, enduring -wealth of the great landowner; to make discoveries is, in addition to -this, to come into sudden, overflowing riches, to have one of those -sudden strokes of fortune which double a man’s capital by a windfall -that seems like an inspiration. - -The life of a child who grows up unconstrainedly is a chain of -discoveries, an enriching of each moment, a succession of dazzling -surprises. - -I cannot go on without thinking of the beautiful letter I received -today about my little boy; it said: “Your son knows how to find -extraordinary riches, inexhaustible treasures, even in the barrenest -fields, and when I set him on the grass, I cannot guess the things -he is going to bring out of it. He has an admirable appreciation of -the different kinds of soil; if he finds sand he rolls in it, buries -himself in it, grabs up handfuls and flings them delightedly over his -hair. Yesterday he discovered a molehole, and you cannot imagine all -the pleasure he took in it. He also knows the joys of a slope which -one can descend on one’s feet, or head over heels, or by rolling, and -which is also splendid for somersaults. Every rise of ground interests -him, and I wish you could see him pushing his cart up them. There is -a little ditch where on the edge he likes to lie with his feet at -the bottom and his body pressed tight against the slope. He played -interminably, the other day, on top of a big stone; he kept stroking -it, he had truly found a new pleasure there. And as for me, I find my -wealth in watching him discover all these things.” - -It is thus a child of fifteen months gives man lessons in appreciation. - -Unfortunately, most systems of education do their best to substitute -hackneyed phrases for the sense of discovery. A series of conventions -are imposed on the child; he ceases to discover and experience the -objects in the world in pinning them down with dry, formal labels by -the help of which he can recognize them. He reduces his moral life -little by little to the dull routine of classifying pins and pegs, and -in this fashion begins the journey to maturity. - -Discover! You must discover in order to be rich! You must not be -satisfied to accept the night good-humoredly, to go to sleep after a -day empty of all discovery. There are no small victories, no negligible -discoveries: if you bring back from your day’s journey the memory of -the white cloud of pollen the ripe plantain lets fall, in May, at the -stroke of your switch, it may be little, but your day is not lost. If -you have only encountered on the road the tiny urn of jade which the -moss delightedly balances at the end of its frail stem, it may seem -little, but be patient! Tomorrow will perhaps be more fruitful. If for -the first time you have seen a swarm of bees go by in search of a hive, -or heard the snapping pods of the broom scattering its seeds in the -heat, you have nothing to complain of, and life ought to seem beautiful -to you. If, on that same day, you have also enriched your collection of -humanity with a beautiful or an interesting face, confess that you will -go to sleep upon a treasure. - - - IV - -There will be days when you will be like a peaceful sovereign seated -under a tree: the whole world will come to render homage to you and -bring you tribute. Those will be your days of contemplation. - -There will be days when you will have to take your staff and wallet -and go and seek your living along the highways. On these days you must -be contented with what you gain from observing, from hunting; have no -fear: it will be beautiful. - -It is sweet to receive; it is thrilling to take. You must, by turns, -charm and compel the universe. When you have gazed long at the tawny -rock, with its lichens, its velvety mosses, it is most amusing to -lift it up: then you will discover its weight and the little nest of -orange-bellied salamanders that live there in the cool. - -You have only to lie among the hairy mints and the horse-tails to -admire the religious dance of the dragon-fly going to lay its eggs -in the brook, or to hear in early June the clamorous orgy of the -tree-toads, drunk with love; and it is very pleasant, too, to dip one’s -hands in the water, to stir the gravel at the bottom, whence bubble up -a thousand tiny, agile existences, or to pick the fleshy stalk of the -water-lily that lifts its tall head out of the depths. - -There are people who have passed a plant a thousand times without ever -thinking of picking one of its leaves and rubbing it between their -fingers. Do this always and you will discover hundreds of new perfumes. -Each of these perfumes may seem quite insignificant, and yet when you -have breathed it once, you wish to breathe it again; you think of it -often, and something has been added to you. - -It is an unending game and it resembles love, this possession of a -world that now yields itself, now conceals itself. It is a serious, a -divine game. - -Marcus Aurelius, whose philosophy cannot be called futile, does not -hesitate, amid many austere counsels, to urge his friends to the -contemplation of those natural spectacles that are always so rich in -meaning and suggestion: “Everything that comes forth from the works of -nature,” he writes, “has its grace and beauty. The face wrinkles in -middle age, the very ripe olive is almost decomposed, but the fruit -has, for all that, a unique beauty. The bending of the corn toward the -earth, the bushy brows of the lion, the foam that drips from the mouth -of the wild boar and many other things, considered by themselves, are -far from being beautiful; nevertheless, since they are accessory to the -works of nature, they embellish them and add a certain charm. Thus a -man who has a sensitive soul, and who is capable of deep reflection, -will see, in whatever exists in the world, hardly anything that is not -pleasant in his eyes, since it is related, in some way, to the totality -of things.” - -This philosopher is right as the poets are right. As our days permit -us, let us reflect and observe, let us never cease to see in each -fragment of the great whole a pure source of happiness. Like children -drawn into a marvelous dance, let us not relax our hold upon the hand -that sustains us and directs us. - - - V - -Chalifour was a locksmith. I knew him in my childhood. You would have -said that he was just a simple country laborer. Why has he left the -memory of a rich and powerful man? His image will always be for me that -of the “master of metals.” - -He worked in a mean, encumbered room, full of the pungent, acrid -odor of the forge, which seemed to me a sort of annex to those other -underground vaults that used to be peopled by the earth-spirits. - -How I loved to see him, with his little apron of blackened leather! -He would seize a bar of iron and this iron at once became his. He had -his own way of handling the object of his labor that was full of love -and authority. His gnarled hands touched everything with a mixture of -respect and daring; I used to admire them as if they were the somber -workmen of some sovereign power. - -It seemed as if some pact had been made between Chalifour and the hard -metal, which gave the man complete mastery over the material. One might -have thought that solemn vows had been exchanged. - -I see him again with his pensive air working the panting bellows -and watching the metal whose incandescence was almost transparent. -I see him at the anvil: the hammer, handled forcefully, delicately, -obeying like a subject demon. I see him before the drill, starting -the great wheel, following the measured exigencies of a ceremonial -rite. Especially I see him before the smoky window with its pale flood -of light, surveying, with that fine smile under his white beard, the -conquered piece of metal, the creature of his will, which he had -charged with destiny. - -O ancient laborer, great, simple man, how rich and enviable you were, -you who aspired to just one thing: to do well what you were doing, to -possess intimately the object of your toil! No one better than you has -understood the ponderous, obedient iron, no one than you has worked it -with greater love and constancy. - -Somewhere there exists, I believe, an unhappy man eaten up with nerves -and stomach-disorder. He lives crouched up against his telephone, and -sends his orders to all the stock exchanges of the world. People call -him the “iron king,” for some reason that has to do with finance. I -don’t believe he has ever touched or weighed a morsel of real iron. Let -us smile, Chalifour! Let us smile, my master! - - - VI - -I should like to tell you about Bernier, too. They say he is a very -poor man because his coat is all shiny from wear and his shoes have the -weary, wretched look of things that have never been young, because the -sweat of many summers has soaked and stained the ribbon of his hat and -his baggy trousers give him the air of always kneeling. - -Bernier has a poor little drooping moustache with nothing glorious -about it. You know only too well that he earns a hundred and twenty -francs a month in some government bureau and that people say of him, -“He’s a poor devil with a miserable job.” - -As for me, I know that Bernier is rich, and I have seen him smile in -the hour of his wealth,--for the true wealth has its times of slumber -and its awakenings. Bernier possesses something which is quite -strange and almost inexpressible; it is a space, a white space, vast -and virgin, and it is his power to be able to trace there certain -harmonious lines which he alone knows how to trace in the right way. - -Why have you never seen, why have you never been able to see Bernier -at the moment when he begins his work, when the whole sickly light of -the office seems concentrated on the beautiful white page? His face is -serene, smiling, assured. He half closes his eyes and draws back his -head; he holds, adroitly and elegantly, a certain chosen pen, flexible, -with a good point, a pen that belongs to him alone, which he has -prepared for himself and which he would throw away if some blundering -fool happened to touch it. And then he begins! - -His kingdom is ranged all about him: ink pure from all dust, a brightly -lined ruler, a collection of pens with all sorts of points. He begins, -and the black line obeys him, springs up, curves in, stops, bounds -forward or falls back, prances, yields. Look at Bernier’s face: is it -really the face of that poor wretch you have just described to me? No! -No! It is the face of a masterful man, calm, sure of himself and his -wealth, who is doing something that no one can do as well as he: across -a snowy, limitless desert he directs, as if in a dream, a black line -that advances, advances, now slowly, now dizzily, like time itself. - - - VII - -You are willing to pay ten francs to see an acrobat or a trained dog. -Perhaps you have never watched a spider about to prepare its web. In -that case, do not miss the spectacle at the very next opportunity. When -you have had a good glimpse of the extraordinary creature revolving -about the center of the work and fastening, with its hind leg, so -quickly and accurately, the thread that it unwinds in just the right -quantity, you will be so delighted that you will want to show the -marvel to all those you love. - -It is strange what a contempt men have for the joys that are offered -them freely. And yet this does not argue a shallowness in our natures: -there is a certain beauty in our prizing an object just because it has -cost us some trouble. You must not imagine, however, that the marvels -of nature come for nothing: they cost patience, time and attention. - -An unhealthy curiosity and the taste for anomalies incline us to take -pleasure in seeing a creature perform an action for which its own -organism seems unsuited. It palls very quickly. For a long time now, -for example, the flight of aviators has ceased to excite our interest: -we know all about that unmysterious machine; its very sound and its -presence in the sky defile the silence and the space whose virginity -was a refuge for us. On the other hand, I assure you I never cease to -be fascinated by the mysterious manœuvers of a swarm of gnats, their -interweaving curves, the spherical movement which, from instant to -instant, transports the whole group of insects and seems the result of -some secret password, and so many other subtle and profound mysteries -that remain, for the imagination, full of allurement, full, one might -say, of resources. - -And do you think there is nothing disturbing in the beauty of the -imperious flight of the great dragon-fly, in its sudden, meditative -pauses, in its peremptory starts that lash the air like a supple, -furious whip? - -To whatever school of philosophy they belong, the great observers of -natural phenomena, the Darwins, Lamarcks, Fabres, give us a magnificent -lesson in love. But why do we nourish ourselves only on their harvests -instead of providing our own? Why do we buy and read their books -without drawing any real profit from them, without ever taking the -trouble to look down at our own feet, without ever going to live, -with the creatures of the sand and the grass, their minute, thrilling -existence, in which everything would be for us full of novelty, -discovery, suggestion? - - - VIII - -The world is so generous and I feel my heart so full, so overflowing, -that I do not even dream of arranging in order all these things I have -to say to you. I should wish first of all to see your brow relax, to -hear you say that you are less dispirited and that you refuse to be -bored. - -I should like to know all of you, and each in particular, to take you -by the arm and walk with you through one of the streets of your town, -or along the highroad if you live in the country. You would tell me of -your cares and we should search together and see if there is indeed -nothing in the universe for which you are especially destined, if there -does not indeed exist, all ready for your wound, the precise balm that -is necessary to anoint and heal it. - -I came out this morning from my shelter of planks. The barren, chalky -soil that surrounds it is surely the most sterile in all Champagne, but -it had rained and the storm had brought up out of this miserable soil, -which is almost without vegetation, all sorts of kindly odors. They -were worth more than all the perfumes of Florida, for they were the -humble gift of poverty. - -At the end of next February I could show you, some morning, if the sun -were out, the color of the birches against the blue of the winter sky. -All the slender branches will seem ablaze with purple fire, and the -sky, through this delicate flame, will survey you with an exquisite -tenderness. You must wait, you must drink it in deeply, and not go on -your way before you have understood it. From it you will be able to -store up enough happiness to last you till another winter comes and -gives birth once more to this prodigy of light. - -Last year, during the hard summer months on the Aisne, I used to escape -each day, for a second, toward the end of the afternoon, from the -overheated tent where we carried on the bloody work of the ambulance. -One of my comrades was in the habit of eating an apple at this hour. -I used to ask him to be good enough to lend it to me for a moment. I -loved to breathe its delicate, penetrating perfume which, every day, -changed with the fruit. That was indeed a rare, a beautiful moment amid -the fatigues of that concert of suffering and death. - -I requisitioned this imponderable part of another’s wealth; then I -returned the apple to my comrade. I could have wished that you had all -been with me to taste that poignant little joy. - -When peace comes again, if you wish to see me in May, I will take you -out under the great sycamore that is turning green at the bottom of -the meadow. And there as you listen to the flying, the humming, the -loving and the living of the millions of creatures that people its cool -foliage, we shall set out together on a journey so rare that you will -leave your heaviest sorrows along the way. - - - IX - -Some years ago, a magazine undertook to ask a number of writers in -what chosen spot they would like to pass a few beautiful hours. Emile -Verhaeren answered: - -“In a certain corner of the harbor of Hamburg.” - -Verhaeren is among those who have revealed to us the mournful grandeur -of city views, of factory towns, those places that seem accursed and -from which one might think that happiness was forever exiled. - -The aspirations of our souls are so plentiful, so tenacious, so fertile -that we find something to console us, satisfy us, exalt us in those -very spots where suffering rules tyrannically, where the valley of -Gehenna is most precipitous. - -I visited the docks of Liverpool with a sort of horror. There were tall -brick buildings, their roofs lost in the smoke, windows covered with -grime, their interiors nothing but monstrous heaps of cotton bales. -Men were climbing about there like flies. Everything smelt of fog and -mould. Narrow pavements, slimy with rain, ran along by the dry-docks -where the steamers, like immense corpses, were being assailed by the -frantic crowd. The workers toiled amid a bombardment of hammers, a -whirl of sparks. The drills snarled like whipped cats. A hideous -light, smothered by the smoke and the mist of the Mersey, drowned -everything in its fetid flood. - -And yet, since then, I have often dreamed of that terrible spot and -felt the need of living there. - -For two years I attended the wounded of the First Army Corps, all of -them men from the north, stained by the coal on face and chest, men -from the factories or the mines. I walked with them through the smiling -landscapes of the Aisne, the Vesle, the Marne, when those lovely -valleys had not yet been too much disfigured by the war. Certainly -they all enjoyed the slopes with their gracious groves of trees, the -beautiful cultivated fields, draped like many-colored shawls over the -shoulders of the little hills, but they all thought most, with love and -regret, of cylinders, mine shafts, machines, and a smoky horizon. - -I can understand it: one’s native soil, one’s own habitude, the -familiar human landscape, moulded upon the other and transfiguring -it. Above everything we have to recognize that the soul is sensitive -to many infinitely varied and often contradictory things. Grace of -lines, rustic charm are qualities that attach us to a country; fierce -and desolate grandeur is another such, and this indeed has almost the -strongest nostalgic power of all. - -When beauty seems to have abandoned the world, we must realize that it -has first deserted our own hearts. - - - X - -Between your five senses, open like the dazzling portholes on the side -of a ship, do you really believe there is nothing, nothing but the -void, the night, the dumb wall? - -I do not know, I do not know.... I cannot believe.... - -The sound rises, rises like the skylark, and the ear rises with it. And -then comes a moment when the sound still rises and the hearing stops, -like those birds that do not frequent the loftiest altitudes. - -Tell me, are they lost truly and forever, those sounds that hold sway -at the gates of your soul, those sounds to which your senses are not -equal? - -Wait! Hope! Some day perhaps we shall know. - -You will say to me: “The light is so beautiful, so beautiful! It adds -luster to so many things that are dear to me. Have I any need to dream -of other rays than these? My eyes have already so much to do that -they are overcome by their delight. The beauty of sound and silence -ceaselessly intoxicates my ear.” - -True! Your soul has active purveyors. They do not leave it idle. They -come and heap at its feet riches that demand its enthusiasm and its -solicitude. - -But often there is in your soul something your senses have not brought -there, an exquisite joy, an inexpressible sadness. Do not forget that -you live bathed in a multitude of rays to only some of which you -are sensible. The others are perhaps not quite strange to you. What -is passing, in contraband, across the frontiers of your being? Do -not obstinately try to bring it under control. Submit, experience, -be merely attentive and respectful to everything. Some day we shall -perhaps know more things than we are able to divine now. - - - XI - -One of the greatest delights of the religious faith is to abandon -ourselves to gratitude, to be able to thank, from an overflowing heart, -the moral being to whom we feel indebted for our wealth. - -Why then, since I have long lost this faith, do I still feel each day, -and several times a day, the great need of singing the canticle of -Francis of Assisi, the lovely canticle in which he says: - - Praise be unto Thee, O Lord, and unto all Thy creatures, especially - our gracious brother the sun, who gives us the day and through whom - Thou showest us Thy light. He is beautiful and radiant with a great - splendor. He is the symbol of Thee, Most High. - - Praise be unto Thee, O Lord, for our sister the moon and the stars, - fashioned by Thee in the sky, clear, precious, and beautiful. - - Praise be unto Thee, O Lord, for our mother the wind, and for the air - and the clouds, for the pure sky, and for all the time during which - Thou givest to thy creatures life and sustenance. - - Praise be unto Thee, O Lord, for our sister the water, who is so - useful, precious and clean. - - Praise be unto Thee, O Lord, for our brother the fire, through whom - Thou illuminest the night. He is lovely and gay, courageous and - strong. - - Praise unto Thee, O Lord, for our mother the earth, who sustains us - and nourishes us, and brings forth divers fruits and flowers of a - thousand colors and the grass. - -A poet has transposed these divine strophes into the harmony of French -verse and sings thus: - - I shall praise you, Lord, for having made so lovely and so bright - This world where you wish us to await our life. - -Now, I know very well that in this world I am not awaiting life, I am -living. I know very well that it is here I must live and lose no time -about it. My gratitude is all the more pressing, all the more intense. - -What if it does rise to an empty heaven, that infinite gratitude! - -It will not be lost. And is that heaven ever empty to which we breathe -out so many dreams, where there trembles so much beauty! - -The sweetest of human voices has said: “Lay up for yourselves in heaven -the treasures that do not perish.” Perhaps we shall be pardoned if we -dare to murmur: “Lay up for yourselves, in this world, the treasures -that do not perish.” - -They will not perish, these treasures, O my son, and all you whom I -love, they will not perish if you thirst to discover them only that -you may share them with others, that you may bequeath them to a devout -posterity. - -They will not perish if they find their being, their supreme reason, in -that region of the soul where believers have raised up the tabernacle -of a God. - - - - - V - THE LYRICS OF LIFE - - - I - -During the cruellest hours, when the war about me has been heaping -agony upon agony, when I have been able to find nothing, nothing to -which I could any longer attach my confidence and my need of hope, I -have often been surprised to find, running through my head, one of -those airs that I know so well, those airs that I love and that escort -my soul, like watchful and radiant personages, through the chaos of the -days. And I would think bitterly: “Just fifteen quite simple notes! but -they carry a meaning so beautiful, so profound, so commanding that they -would suffice, I am certain, to resolve all conflicts, to discourage -all hatreds, if men knew them well enough to sing them all together -with the same attentive tenderness.” - -It may be that the philosophy which absorbs you is one that leaves no -room for indulgence. Perhaps you feel yourself full of bitterness for -your fellows, perhaps you have made up your mind not to see in the -activity of the living any but motives of greed and covetousness. Do -not laugh! Do not be in too great haste to prove yourself right! Above -everything, do not rejoice in being right in so dismal a fashion. - -I say it again, if certain pages of Beethoven were better known to -those who suffer and slaughter one another they would succeed in -disarming many a resentment, they would restore to many a tense face a -soft, ineffable smile. - -If you do not believe this, you are not accustomed to living among -simple people, you have never watched an irrepressible class of little -children whom their master dominates and calms by making them sing, -you have never heard a multitude of people intoning a hymn in some -cathedral, you have never seen a great flood of workingmen, in some -foul slum, break into the rhythm of a revolutionary song, perhaps you -have never even seen a poor man weeping because a violin had just -recalled to him his youth and the obscure thoughts he believed he had -never in all his life confessed to anyone. - -Think of all these things and then form some notion of what it is -the thoughts of the great masters can do with the soul. Why, why -is it not better known, this thing which is, indeed, knowledge and -revelation itself? Why does it not reign over the empires, this which -is sovereignty, grandeur, majesty? Why is it not more ardently invoked -in the hour of crisis, this that teaches, equally well, fruitful doubt -and serene resolution? - - - II - -True, he who says ecstatically, “The world is governed by love, -goodness, generous passions,” surrenders himself to a childish error. -But he who cries, “The whole world is enslaved by egoism, violence and -base passions,” speaks foolishly. - -As we look about us, we might perhaps imagine that from one or the -other of these two moral attitudes there is no escape. Must we believe -that the spirit of system has such an irresistible hold over everyone -who sets about the business of living? - -The world! The world! It is much more beautiful and complex than that. -It always upsets our prearrangements, and that is why we cherish it so -dearly. But we also love to foresee things, and system seems to arrange -them so that we can. - -What does it signify in a world that is capable of everything? Amid -the evil and the mediocre there will always shine forth consolingly -something noble, something wondrous. Is it not shameful to predict the -basest things so glibly only to close our eyes the more obstinately -before the beauty that is unknown and unforeseen? - -I assure you, in spite of all, that two lines of music can turn a -multitude back and agitate the deepest springs of its behavior. If -the miracle does not result from harmonious sounds, it will be borne, -perhaps, of ten warm, rhythmical words, or the sight of a statue or the -evocation of an image. - -The worship of immediate realities leads us to those easy victories -that intoxicate the coarse spirits. At times it results in irreparable -disasters, for it inclines us to misprize those secret and delicate -things that pave the way for the soul’s most daring flights and -ventures. - -Some other time I shall tell the story of the general who, in order to -allay the grievances of his mutinous troops, offered them a cask of -wine and, thanks to this blunder, suffered a defeat. - -People who reason in a wholesale fashion get along successfully from -day to day till the hour when a tiny error destroys their success -forever. - - - III - -If the thoughts of great men no longer cause miracles it is because -they are too little understood, or are misunderstood, or are purposely -distorted. You are mistaken if you think they are powerless because -they are beautiful. - -The war, which has crushed such great masses of men, has brought -us face to face with this melancholy evidence, it has enabled us -thoroughly to examine many individuals and to put many experiences -to the proof. It has permitted us to measure the whole humiliation of -moral civilization before that other, the scientific and industrial -civilization which we might still better call practical civilization. - -Gifted, serious, good men have said to me, “First of all one has to -live. You can see, in the midst of this hurricane, what would become -of a people weakened by idealism and given over to the works of the -spirit. My son will study chemistry. The coming century will be a -hard one, my son will perhaps never have the time to read Emerson or -acquaint himself with the works of Bach! Too bad! But first of all one -has to live.” - -Does it not seem as if error had a dazzling power to seduce us and -overwhelm us? Men are always hoping to conquer it by yielding to its -demands. No one has the courage to turn his own steps away from its -shifting shore. No one, for example, says to me: “The moral culture of -the world is in peril. Mechanical progress monopolizes and swallows up -all human energy. The generous soul of the best men is forgotten, in -exile. Let us, with a common voice, with all our strength, summon it -to come back to us, or let us go and die in exile with it, in an exile -that is noble and pure.” - - - IV - -I shall speak to you again of all these things; we must talk a great -deal more about the future if we wish to enter it without blindness, -shame, and horror. - -For the moment, glance at the people who surround us, the restless -people we see on all sides. There are some of them who know what is -beautiful. They rejoice in it, almost in secrecy, and despise those -who do not share their faith. As for the others, they do not know it, -and that is all one can say. They are, according to their several -characters, ignorant and sceptical, or just simply ignorant. They see -how works of art and the spirit miraculously survive the decadence and -the prosperity of empires: that astonishes them without convincing -them. Many divine that this has something to do with a secret and -sacred power, but they do not dare and they do not know how to avail -themselves of it. They catch glimpses of the feast of the heroes and -they cannot realize that their place is marked and waiting for them. - -Among my everyday companions are many educated men upon whom the -universities have lavished their care and their degrees. Many of them -are interested neither in their duties, nor in their comrades, nor, one -would say, in their own thoughts. They play cards, read the papers, -think about women and complain of ennui, for the war has enthroned -boredom. And yet these souls, I assure you, are of good material and -full of energy and resource. - -What is to be done? How is one to introduce them to a larger, fuller -life? How can one dare to do that without presumption, and also without -fear of pomposity? How do it with affection, without lecturing them, -without preaching to them? How be useful and friendly with simplicity? -They have suffered, they have experience and obstinate views of their -own. They do not believe that they have been dispossessed of anything. -You have to listen very attentively to hear their soul groaning in the -depths. - -I spoke to one of them about music. He replied with an indifference -in which there was a touch of discouragement; “For my part, I don’t -understand music. It can’t interest me.” We went on talking and I -discovered that he was strangely sensitive to architectual matters, -that he had a very subtle understanding and lacked nothing but -enlightenment, knowledge, to have applied himself to it with passionate -interest. - -It is usually that way. The field of moral activity is so large that it -has in reserve for every soul a path of his own choice, accessible and -full of allurement. I do not believe there is a single individual who -cannot end by meeting, in the limitless realm of art, with a mode of -expression that touches him, conforms quite accurately to his powers -and tastes. - - - V - -You see I have waited a long time before pronouncing the word. I must -at last make up my mind to call art by its name. Listen and do not -confuse modesty with timidity. - -The past century has produced important artists in every country in -the world. That was a beautiful, fertile and truly generous century! -And yet it witnessed the birth of a misunderstanding that grows more -obdurate, that increases as it grows older. Should one ever allow a -misunderstanding to grow old? - -The romantic writers and, following them, all the artists of their -epoch, intoxicated with their own genius, honored art as a religion. -It was natural enough since at that moment, as we know, mankind was -beginning to detach itself from its divinities, and it is hard to live -without God. I cannot bring myself to condemn that enthusiasm. I love -art too well, and I shall always hold it as one of the distinguishing -marks of man and one of the greatest things in this world. - -But the priests of this new God have acted like all priests: they have -hurled anathemas and brought in a reign of intolerance. They have grown -mad with pride, when there was reason and when there was no reason -for it. They have cried out at all hours of the day, “Away, profane -ones!” Many of them, who have had very noble souls, have discouraged, -as if designedly, those whom their radiant face has fascinated. Others, -instead of struggling, have held the epoch responsible for their -ill-fortune. All of them, poets, painters, musicians, have let it be -understood that they exercised a divine power and that the mass of men -must only wonder and be silent, without themselves attempting anything -of the sort. - -No doubt there is a certain virtue in this attitude; it has lavished -solitary consolations on those who have turned their backs on fashion. - -The worthiest heirs of these illustrious men have confirmed their -tradition. They have devised a splendid isolation, raised up a tower -of ivory and dug all about it a moat that every day grows deeper. They -have also stirred up childish and shame-faced adversaries with a desire -for the commonest sort of popularity, and the confirmation of billboard -success. - -Yet humanity is waiting and longs to be treated neither as intruders -nor as children. - - - VI - -It cannot be said any longer that pure art is of no use: it helps us to -live. - -It helps us to live, in the most practical manner and every day. - -Every moment you make instinctive, reiterated, and forcible appeals -to all the forms of art. And that not only in order to express your -thought, but still more and above all to shape your thought, to think -your thought. - -You find yourself in the midst of a landscape, and there is an image at -the back of your eye. The manner in which you accept and interpret this -image bears the mark of your personality and also of a crowd of other -personalities which you call to your aid without knowing it. - -The day when the painters of our continent invented that convention we -call perspective, they modified and determined, for many long years, -our way of seeing things. It must be recognized equally that since the -reign of impressionism we have understood, possessed in a new way, the -colors of the world. - -You live in a sonorous universe where everything is rhythm, tone, -number and harmony: human voices, the great sounds of nature, the -artificial uproar of society envelopes you in a vibrant and complex -network that you ought unceasingly to decipher and translate. Well, -this you cannot do without submitting to the influence of the -great souls who have occupied themselves with these things. The -understanding of movements, harmonies, rhythms, only comes to you at -the moment when the musicians reveal their secret to you, since they -have been able, in some fashion, to interest you in them. - -And this is true in regard to everything. If you discover something -in your environment, if you perceive an interesting harmony between -two beings, a curious relation between two ideas, you will succeed in -throwing them into relief, in giving happy expression to them, only by -means of the poet’s art, and if you cannot find terms and images of -your own, you can freely borrow them from Hugo, from Baudelaire, from -those unknown artists who have elaborated the common language of men. - -We do not think alone. Resign yourself, therefore, to being the -delighted prisoner of a vast, human system from which you cannot escape -without error and loss. Become, with good grace, the friend and the -guest of great men. - - - VII - -They will introduce you to a profound, passionate, lyrical life. They -will aid you to possess the world. Art is not simply a manner of moving -the pencil, the pen or the bow. It is not a secret, technical process. -It is, above everything else, a way of living. - -If your business is to grow wheat or to smelt copper, perform it with -interest and skill. That will render service to other men whose -function is to assemble colors, shapes, words or sounds. They will know -how to render service to you, in their own fashion, repay you in turn. -But do not imagine that their works are destined merely to divert your -leisure. They have a more sacred, a more beautiful mission: that of -placing you in possession of your own wealth. - -Art is the supreme gift that men make of their discoveries, their -riches. - -No one has possessed the world better than Lucretius, Shakespeare or -Goethe. What do you know of Croesus, who heaped up his gold to such an -abnormal and monstrous degree? Nothing has remained of that chimerical -fortune but a vague memory. But the fortune of Rembrandt has become and -will remain the fortune of our race. - -To follow the example of these masters is not so much to try, with pen -or palette in hand, to imitate them, as to understand with them, and -thanks to them, what they have understood. - -This cannot hurt your pride or hinder the expansion of your own -personality. Quite the contrary. This studious humility is the surest -path toward the conquest of your own soul. The anatomists will explain -to you that the human embryo adopts successively, in its quick -evolution, all the forms the species has known before its actual -flowering. This great law rules also in the moral order, and do not -count on escaping it. It is by first knowing the world through the -masters that you will succeed some day in grasping it in your hands, -dominating it yourself. - -Ambition is an intoxicating passion, but to go to school to genius is a -prudent measure and a sweet experience, too. - - - VIII - -If you are unhappy, oppressed, if you have melancholy doubts of your -future, of your ability, of your power to love, and if nothing in -heaven replies to your prayer, to your need for deliverance, remember -that you are not abandoned without resource. Men remain to you. The -best among them have made for your consolation, for your redemption, -statues, books and songs. - -Open one of these books, therefore, and plunge into it! Sink into it as -into a cool forest, as into a deep, running brook. - -A man is speaking to you of himself or of the world. Read! Read on! -Little by little the harmonious voice envelopes you, cradles you, lifts -you up and suddenly bears you away. The tightness in your throat seems -to relax, you breathe with a sort of fervor and exaltation. Generous -tears start to your eyes or your whole soul shakes with laughter. - -This great and wholesome exaltation people attribute to the miraculous -presence of beauty. No doubt, no doubt! But that vague and simple -explanation is an almost mythical one. - -For you must realize that the man with whom you have just been having -a sort of intimate colloquy has comforted you and carried you out of -yourself mainly because he has been able to prove to you that you were -neither abandoned, nor destitute, nor truly disgraced. He has seemed -to you great but, in recalling to you that you are of the same race as -himself, he has effaced himself before you. He has given you happy, -courageous, new thoughts, and you have suddenly seen that you were -thinking them also. For a second you have both communed together. And -you have felt yourself once more in possession of a treasure that was -escaping you. - -It is true, all these thoughts are your own, since it is enough for -you to see them in writing to recognize them. It is true, you too have -your grandeur, your nobility and infinite resources. How could you have -forgotten it for a moment? It is enough for you to open that book or to -hum that song to remember it. It is true, your life also is astonishing -and full of adventures. How did you fall into that despair? What did -that discouragement signify? - - - IX - -During the winter of 1917, I made the acquaintance of a young -provincial musician who was serving in the same unit with me. At -Soissons we found a room where we were able to meet and play together. - -Our new comrade was a simple man with a country accent. - -He played the violin carefully and with talent. Often, during our -concerts, we watched his face as it bent over the instrument, and -it seemed to us that in those moments that humble violinist was in -communion with the great souls of Bach, Beethoven, and Franck, that he -was holding a brotherly and affectionate conversation with them. I felt -then that he had nothing to envy in the princes of this world. And it -is a fact, I believe, that he did not envy them anything. - -Do not tell me that you do not know how to play any instrument. That -signifies nothing. There are two skilful professional musicians in my -group who play their instruments only just enough to enable them not to -lose practice for their calling. They are a sort of mechanician. As for -you, you have a heart, ears, and a memory. And that’s the main thing. - -Believe that what you hold in your memory is more precious than -everything else, for you carry that with you wherever you go, through -all your days. - -Do you think I can ever bore myself, with all those thousands of airs -that sing in my head, that secretly accompany all my thoughts and offer -a sort of harmonious comment upon all the acts of my life? - -If this does not seem possible to you, remember that you possess the -immense library of humankind and all its museums. Think of all you have -read and admired. Think of it with pride and affection. Think of all -that remains to you to see and to read and tell yourself how marvelous -it is to be so ignorant as to have such riches in reserve, to have such -treasures to conquer. - -Amid the ordeals and the disillusionments of your existence, lift your -soul every day toward those divine brothers who are our masters, and -repeat with a proud humility: “It is sweet to sit down at your feast! -And how good to think that it is to you we owe our opulence and our -prosperity!” - - - - - VI - SORROW AND RENUNCIATION - - - I - -If, concerning an old man, some one said to us: “He has been perfectly -happy all his life, he is going to die without ever having suffered,” -we should be incredulous at first; then, if we were obliged to admit -the truth of the remark, we should feel for this old man not so much -envy as pity. With our astonishment would be mingled, in spite of all, -something a little like contempt. - -Happiness is our aim, the final reason for our living. But is it fair -to say that sorrow is opposed to happiness? - -There are sorrows that one cannot, that one should not, escape. They -are the very price we pay for happiness. It is by means of them that we -travel toward our own development. They prepare us for joy and render -us worthy of it. Without them, could we ever know that we were happy? - -If I believed, O my unknown friend for whom today I am hoping these -consolations, if I believed that you could reach happiness, that is -to say, the harmonious prosperity of your soul, without experiencing -any agonies, I should not undertake to praise your suffering. But you -suffer, I know it, and you are called to other sufferings. Henceforth -I shall not refrain from praising what wounds you. For one does not -console anyone by depreciating his grief, but by showing him how -beautiful, how rare, how desirable it is, and your suffering can truly -be called that. - -I do not dream, then, of depriving you of your wealth. I only hope that -you will be able to appreciate its full value. I beg that you will -pardon me if I chance to hurt you by placing my hand upon your wound. I -do it, you may be sure, with the affection and the solicitude of a man -who has consecrated his life to such tasks. - -They will tell you, my friend, that I am seeking to flatter your -distress by reasonings that are full of guile, that I am singing to -lull you to sleep and deceive you, that I am dressing in the gilded -clothes of an age that is past the black demon that torments you. Let -me still have your confidence: I have only one ambition,--it is your -own greatest joy. I could not lead you astray without shame and without -deceiving myself; for are you not indeed myself, O my friend? - - - II - -There are some material fortunes which humble and reasonable men do not -desire because they divine, in spite of the pleasures that result from -them, what a crushing load they are. - -By contrast, among the spiritual riches that we are able to possess, -grief seems surrounded by a simple aureole. It is tyrannical, -redoubtable, mutilating; its favorites are its victims. It does not -descend upon its chosen ones with the softness of a dove, it pounces -like a bird of prey, and those whom it carries off into the sky bear -upon their sides the marks of its clenched claws. - -But it is the sign of life; of all our possessions it is the last to -leave us, it is the one that escorts us to the brink of the abyss. - -It gives us the measure of man. He who has not suffered always seems to -us a little like a child or a pauper. - -The bitterness of men who have been often visited by sorrow is so truly -a treasure that, if they could, they would not rid themselves of it for -anything in the world: it resembles authority. - -Through his tears, through his martyrdom, he who is charged with a -great sorrow feels that he is the abode of some terrible thing that is -also sacred and majestic. Great griefs command our respect. Before -them knees tremble and heads bow as in the presence of thrones and -tabernacles. - -He who has suffered greatly makes us feel timid and humble before -him. He knows things that we can only guess. We gaze upon him with -passionate admiration as upon a traveller who has journeyed over oceans -and explored far countries. It is at the time of his first wounds that -the young man discovers his soul and plumbs his inner nobility. - -Our grief is so precious a blessing that for its sake we dread -inquisitive contacts. We preserve it jealously from the touch of those -who might, through clumsiness or stupidity, debase this terrible and -precious treasure. We long only that people should leave us alone with -this bitter possession! Let them beware of frustrating us when they -imagine that they are working for our relief! - -When sorrow leaves us too soon, we feel a sort of shame and think less -well of ourselves: it shone out of its shadowy casket, out of the -deepest depths of the chest where we heap up our true treasures, and -now, behold, it has vanished! We find ourselves almost miserable and -utterly dispossessed. - -The man who beats a retreat before a great ordeal fills us with -distrust and pity. Something in us rejoices that he has not suffered. -But something regrets that he has not given his measure, that he has -not been the hero, the potent, exceptional man we hoped he would be. -And that is not a mere perversion of our need for the spectacular: we -are not less exacting with ourselves. - -When sorrow comes to us, and we manage to escape it, the first sense of -deliverance we feel is marred by an obscure, obstinate regret, as if we -had lost an opportunity to enrich ourselves. - -Tell me, what man among us did not, at the outset of the present -great catastrophe, interrogate his own fate with a double anguish: -the anguish to know what sufferings were in store for him, the fear -also that he might not suffer enough, that he might not receive, and -quickly, an adequate share of the ordeal. - - - III - -This religious respect we experience in the face of grief gives its -meaning and beauty to the feeling of sympathy. - -We do not wish to admit that a great grief can live side by side with -us without demanding that we should share it. As a man of lowly station -wistfully approaches the table of princes, so we revolve about the -grief of others in the hope of being invited to partake of it. - -It is an overmastering impulsion that rises from the depths of our -natures. The eagerness we are able to bring to the sharing of others’ -joys is but lukewarm beside the insurmountable urge that makes us -share in their sorrow. - -This is because our taste for joy is stamped with a keen quality of -reserve, an irreducible delicacy. The joy even of those who are nearest -to us can easily become repugnant to us. We are too proud to seem eager -for it. True grief, on the contrary, attracts us, fascinates us. It -disarms our critical sense and leaves us only an obscure feeling of -envy. - -Sympathy stirs us gently without overwhelming us; it is for this reason -too that we find it so full of savor. - -Although we recoil from the terrors of the leading part, sympathy -permits us to play passionately the rôle of supernumeraries. - -It is not we who are struck down and yet we can taste the mystic horror -of the wound. The chosen victim bestows alms upon us and we accept -them without shame. We have the perfume of the Host on our lips and it -is not our blood that has paid the sacrifice. We are the guests at a -sumptuous and tragic feast. We bear the reflected light of the great -funeral pyre, without undergoing the flames and the destruction. - -That explains our leaning toward those works of art that find their -strength and their subjects in human grief. It is for this reason, -surely, that we love so dearly to shed tears at the theater. The great -artists have drawn from grief their most beautiful inspirations. We vow -eternal gratitude to those who can revive in us a faithful image of -our torments and call them back to our forgetful souls, to those who -know so well how to give us a foretaste of the delights that future -suffering has in store for us. - - - IV - -Not all griefs exalt us and add to us. There are some that are sterile, -withering, unconfessable. - -Such griefs bring only misery and impoverishment. In the moral order -they stand for debts and failures. However great may be our blind -indulgence for ourselves, we cannot, on principle, impute them to -ourselves. They do not bear the stamp of destiny but of our own -baseness. - -Who, indeed, would wish to share them with us, when we do not even let -them appear? - -Who would wish to associate himself with our weaknesses, our shames, -our jealousies, our betrayals? Who can feel sympathy for a grief that -disavows everything pure and generous that exists in us? No mention is -made of these griefs in the Beatitudes. - -Christ himself might ask us to kiss the face of a leper. But what -charity could so sacrifice itself as to embrace our shame and our -degradation? - -That is the cup we must put away from our lips. - - - V - -The stoics pursue their strange happiness with an impassibility that -is worse than death. Epictetus writes: “If you love an earthen vessel, -tell yourself that you love an earthen vessel, for then if that vessel -is broken you will not be troubled by it. If you love your son or your -wife, tell yourself that you love a mortal being, for then if that -being chance to die you will not be troubled by it.” - -Comes our wisdom at such a price? If so, I renounce and abhor it. -Better trouble and sorrow than this inhuman serenity! - -Certainly I willingly renounce the earthen vessel; the sound of its -breaking will never be loud enough to interrupt the conversation our -souls pursue. But those dear faces that are my horizon, my heaven and -my homeland, can I think without anguish of losing them forever? How -irreparably I should despise myself if, on that condition, I succeeded -in winning my own salvation! - -This philosophy is poor, forsaken, desperate, rather than truly wise. -It renounces, by degrees, everything, for the sake of an ironical -peace. It withdraws from life the least debatable motives for -continuing it. It seeks to close the heart to sorrow. But since that -remains inevitable, it is better to love it, better to make an ally of -it, better to conquer it by main strength and possess it intimately. - -Dryness of heart cannot be a good thing. What, is everything to be -taken away from me, even my grief, even that grief which remains to us -when all other blessings have been ravished away? - -The resources of philosophy are poor and destitute unless the heart -can anoint them, sanctify them, and invest them with its own supreme -authority. - - - VI - -The fanaticism of grief is a fact so profoundly human that religions -and governments have exploited it successfully. This almost mystical -passion flourishes so well among peoples that are permeated with the -ancient traditions of suffering and renunciation! - -Nevertheless, the path does not lie through this sublime error, which -is altogether too favorable for the enterprises of criminal ambition. - -Sorrow cannot be a thing that one covets. It is, it ought to be, simply -a thing that one accepts. Like certain terrible dignities, like certain -overwhelming honors, one receives it, one does not seek it. Destiny -brings a sufficient burden of mourning and cruelty, it should not be -tempted. The noble life demands that we shall be courageous, it does -not require us to be foolhardy. To him who “seeks while he groans,” -suffering will never be wanting. - -At this hour the whole world is intoxicated with it, satiated, it would -seem, for all time. At this hour there rises an immense cry of pity and -supplication. - -All generous souls are wounded to the quick and stagger. It is -not in the moment when they beg for mercy that one would desire a -superaddition of martyrdom. It is enough to assume the sanguinary -wealth with which we are overwhelmed. - -No one will ever be deprived of it who lives for love. We shall all be -honored according to our merits. And we shall know that grief is its -own reward; for it is in sorrow and abnegation that our soul becomes -supremely aware of the beauty of the world and of its own virtues. - -We cannot ask to be indemnified for our riches.... - - - VII - -In sorrow shalt thou bring forth children! - -It is true! Our child was born in sorrow, in your sorrow, O my friend! -I am jealous because of it. Forgive me! - -Forgive me, for your part is more beautiful than mine, inasmuch as it -contains more suffering. Let me look upon you with envy. Let me think -of my own lot with regret. - -You have borne, you have brought forth, you have nourished. It was not -in my side that this little body lay. It is not my flesh this tender, -greedy mouth has clung to. I have known nothing of that suffering. You -have kept it all for yourself. I have only picked up the crumbs, like a -beggar, like a pauper. - -I have not suffered! I have not suffered enough! I look on my happiness -as upon something usurped. It is your happiness that I share. It is -your wealth that overflows even upon me. - -I know that a day may come when we shall both suffer together because -of this son. But whatever may be our common anguish, you will always -keep the first place, you will always walk before me. You have forever -outdistanced me along the shining road. - -How can I help regarding you with envy, I who have not suffered enough? - - - VIII - -Exalted spirits, struck by our many resemblances to the beasts, have -striven to find what was the distinguishing mark of man. It is a noble -solicitude, for wheresoever the mark of men may be it is that way we -must go. If we really possess a characteristic virtue of which the -animals are deprived, it is that which we must exalt, in order to be -completely, proudly, men. - -Pascal said: “Man is obviously made to think; and his whole dignity, -his whole merit, and his whole duty lies in thinking rightly.” - -Can we indeed believe that no other being has this grandeur to any -degree? Are we so sure that “a tree does not know it is miserable”? - -Even art, which may turn out to be the instrument of our redemption, -is not certainly the lot of our race alone. Song and the dance triumph -among the animals and often appear like the beautiful inventions of a -gratuitous activity, with no other end than themselves and the emotions -they give or interpret. - -In renunciation, perhaps, lies our distinction, the trait which stamps -us and sets us apart. - -I say “perhaps,” because animals also offer us examples of abnegation. -Sacrifice beautifies even their habits. With them, too, the individual -sacrifices himself for the group, the hero sacrifices itself for the -race. At the moment when I am writing these lines we are in autumn; a -swarm of bees is dying of cold on a branch beside me. They are dying -with a sort of resignation, in order that their hive, so poor in -resources, may survive the winter. - -Why not share, then, with these humble victims, our most beautiful -quality? Why refuse to possess something in common with them, since it -is a virtue? Why cut ourselves off haughtily from the rest of life? - -Over and above this, the renunciation that has no particular or general -motive of interest, the pure and absolute renunciation which is a -heroic folly, is undoubtedly our business. I am not speaking now of the -renunciation of the better religions, the renunciation that counts on -celestial rewards, but of the renunciation which is an end in itself, -which finds in itself its own sorrowful recompense. - - - IX - -Can we ever forget, my friend, that woman who was the lesson of your -youth, your counsellor and your example? - -She lived in that dark, low room where you so loved to go and to which -you used to show me the way, a way that seemed to me that of veneration -itself. - -Disillusionments, griefs, sickness and, without doubt, a great need -for renunciation had gradually sequestered her in that unlovely place -of refuge, encumbered with old books and full of the odor of dust. She -seemed cut off from the world; but in the shadow of that retreat her -eye sparkled so vivaciously, she spoke with so melodious a voice that -the world pursued her who had abandoned it even into her retirement: -the friendship of young people, that friendship which is so pure and -spontaneous, was for her a constant testimony. This was the only thing -she would not renounce, her only ornament, her last elegance, her -possession. - -Year by year death came to snatch from her affection those of her own -blood. Every sort of happiness withdrew from her as she retired into -her abode, light itself she dreaded more and more, and more and more -renounced. - -Every time we passed through her little door, so slow in opening, we -had at first an insurmountable feeling of being suffocated, for we were -still intoxicated with our radiant life, our destiny and our ambitions. - -But soon our eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, our souls recognized -the humble, penetrating odor of the hangings, and we found again -that beautiful, commanding glance, that voice with its supernatural -freshness. - -Her malady struck her new blows. This woman who still possessed the -space of three rooms had to shut herself in one of them. And then, -even of this she possessed no more than a corner. Her world was only a -little wall and the wood of an old bed. - -That ardent eye still shone. That spiritual voice still prevailed. One -day the voice faltered and sank, like a ship disabled in a storm which -gives up all resistance. - -That day we were sad, sad, we who had not learned to renounce. - - - X - -Delivered from romanticism, the nineteenth century toward its close and -the twentieth century at its beginning, exalted an image full of the -pride of physical life, of impetuous health. - -Never had humanity seemed more intoxicated with its carnal development, -with its splendid animality, than at the very moment when the war broke -out. Our humanity! behold it now, covered with wounds so deep that for -long decades the sight of them will baffle us and fill our pity with -despair. - -Behold it now, like a vast race of invalids. It creeps over a world -where now there are more graveyards than villages. - -We have had an unparalleled experience of sorrow and renunciation. - -And yet the desire for happiness is deeply rooted: the unanimous voice -to which our world listens repeats, from amid the sobs: “We shall -renounce nothing!” - -To him who listens with an attentive ear, it says again, it says -particularly: “We shall renounce nothing, not even renunciation!” - -But let us leave this immense grief to itself. Let us leave it to -satiate and appease itself with its own contemplation--Silence! - - - - - VII - THE SHELTER OF LIFE - - - I - -Two immense worlds remain faithful to me when the others discourage or -betray me. Two refuges open to my heart when it is weary, faltering or -harassed with temptation. - -I should like very much to tell you about them, since you are my -friend. I can tell you, since you have nothing to envy me, since you -bear within yourself two such worlds, two kingdoms that will submit to -you undividedly, without contest. - -Yesterday I was watching some prisoners working. They were pushing the -trunk of a tree lashed to a cart. Sweat was rolling down their faces, -for the heat was great, the slope steep and the load heavy. An armed -soldier was watching them. Large letters were printed on their clothes -to proclaim their servitude. And I thought: they live, they do not look -too unhappy, they do not seem crushed by their condition. And if this -is so, it is not because they have the placidity of beasts. No! Look -at their eyes, listen to their voices. It is precisely because they -are men and they carry everywhere with them two refuges, whither the -gaoler cannot follow them, two precious possessions that no punitive -discipline can snatch from them: their future and their memories. - -The longer I watch, from close by, those men who, for four years have -led the inhuman life of the army, the better I understand the meaning -of their incredible patience: between the future and the remembered -past they have the air of awaiting the passage of a storm. They are -gulping down, you would say, hastily and with closed eyes, this -bitter and criminal present, in order to reserve their hearts all the -better for the things of the future and the past. One feels in their -conversation only these two luminous existences. They seek and unite -them unceasingly above the bloody abyss. I have also observed that, in -the concerts they give themselves to cheer their periods of rest, their -souls always return, with the same rapture, to their former way of -living, to their old sons, their familiar ways of being sad or joyous. -The artistic attempts that are carried on to interest them, at the -bottom of their hearts, in the formidable present, remain sterile and, -as it were, dry. - -They seem to reply, silently: “What have all these things to do with -us? Isn’t it enough for us to live them? Isn’t it enough for us to -do them, every day with our blood and tears? Give us back our dear -kingdom. Give back to our souls that memory which is their most -imperishable and marvelous possession.” - - - II - -Between the future and the remembered past, man is left to struggle -with what he possesses least, the present. - -And yet this present is lavish of all sorts of materials that we -can transform into riches. It is our liquid fortune, mobile and in -circulation. It is the well-filled purse upon which we draw for our -daily needs. - -It reaches us out of the depths of time, like a great river, loaded -with sailing-ships and steamers, deep, flowing, beautiful with all its -reflections, and rolling gold in its sands. - -But it has its rages, its whims, its cruelties. According to the -season, it overflows and desolates the land or suddenly dries up and -deserts the fields that it refreshed with its floods! - -So be it! If the present refuses to yield its manna, we will draw upon -our last resources. If the times overwhelm us with bitterness, we will -flee to our refuges, where we have nothing to fear from intruders or -masters or tormentors. - -Common-sense folk, who have the secret of debasing life in the name -of a reason that is more mischievous than actual stupidity, are in -the habit of devoting an almost superstitious worship to the present -reality. To tell the truth, they are greatly afraid that the taste for -memory and hope will turn young men away from that immediate action -which is necessary for the conquest and preservation of material wealth. - -They honor with great pomp the origins in the past of those traditions -that are favorable to them; and the way they invoke and prepare for the -future loads the present with chains and shackles. - -They dread, in reverie, an enemy of action. As if there were any great -actions that have not their source in great dreams! - -These people deceive themselves. They sacrifice an unequalled -consolation to the needs of a fleeting fortune. But do not imagine that -the failure of their fortune leaves these men utterly abandoned: the -refuges open gladly, even for those who have despised them. - - - III - -An intimate friend once said to me, as he watched his little son -playing: “You see; he’s no longer the baby you knew last year. He’s -another child. I have been cheated of the one I had last year. I shall -never have him again. I have lost a child.” - -O dear, big heart, how beautiful and how unjust those words are! How -human! How they overflow with ingratitude and with adoration! - -You know quite well that every object that appears on the horizon of -our souls has, for us, two existences. One is sudden, sharp, almost -always penetrated with an intense and, so to say, corrosive flavor: -that is the existence of the present. Men agree in recognizing that its -duration is hardly measurable. But the other existence is perennial, as -ample as the measure of our life and our thoughts; in this sense it is -almost infinite. - -Thus each moment of the present survives in memory for years, and -doubtless for centuries, since posterity can gather up and prolong the -best of our acts and our works. - -It is true, my friend, that each moment dispossesses us, even of the -object we never withdraw our arms from. The miser, infatuated with -his material riches, may well suffer agony of mind over them, but we, -we? Do we not know that each moment restores to us, transfigured, all -the treasures it has snatched away from us? It robs us of the frailer -blessings, it offers us imperishable blessings, less mortal than -ourselves. - -You have conquered one whole happy day. Contemplate without regret -the sleep that marks its end, for you will continue to live this day -during all the rest of jour life. And if this day was truly beautiful, -do you not know that others after you will continue to live it, down, -ever farther down, the succession of the years? - -Let your son grow, without too much anxiety, like a beautiful tree: -the child he was once, the child he was but now, the child he is at -present, you will not lose them, O insatiable heart! They will escort -you toward old age, like a beloved multitude that increases every day -and cannot die. - -Owing to the war, I have seen my own child only seven times, and each -time I have hardly recognized him. Seven times I have believed him -lost. I know now that I have seven lovely images in my soul, seven -children to adorn and hearten my solitude. - - - IV - -There are beauties which the present fails to appreciate. That is -natural, because it is greedy, disordered, care-ridden. Memory exists -to see that justice is done. To it falls the divine rôle of restoring -and, at times, pardoning. (It is memory which, in the last resort, -vindicates and judges. It is in its light that things appear to us -under the aspect of eternity.) - -None of our thoughts would be really happy that had not received the -approbation of memory, that did not find themselves sealed at last -with its sovereign imprint. We do not know the true value of our -moments until they have undergone the test of memory. Like the images -the photographer plunges into a golden bath, our sentiments take on -color; and only then, after that recoil and that transfiguration, do -we understand their real meaning and enjoy them in all their tranquil -splendor. - -Days of ours that had seemed to us dull and hopeless show themselves in -memory luminous and decisive. Journeys undertaken without eagerness, -without enthusiasm, and without any of the freshness of surprise, -become, from a distance, fruitful in revelations and discoveries. - -Every reality develops with time a thousand aspects of itself that -are just as real, as charged with meaning and consequence, as the -original aspect. We cannot foretell what memory will contrive for -us. It is a treasure all the more precious and unexpected because it -is so independent of our rudimentary logic. For the logic of memory -is more subtle than ours; it seems entirely free from our miserable -calculations; it draws its inspirations from our true interests, which -we ourselves are forever misapprehending. The slow task it pursues -testifies to so rare a virtue and so munificent a wisdom that man, -struck with his own unworthiness, might well seek there the signs of a -divine intervention. - -Sometimes it is a friend, whom we have misunderstood or misjudged, who -takes on in memory his true aspect and his true stature and reveals the -profound influence which, without our knowing it, he has exercised over -our thoughts. - -Sometimes it is a word which we heard at first with an inattentive or -distrustful ear, and which we find again engraved in letters of gold -over the portico of the secret temple where we love to collect our -thoughts. - -Like some skilful goldsmith, memory seizes the materials that our life -accumulates haphazard. It submits them to the touchstone, fashions -them, embellishes them and imprints upon them that mysterious sheen -which gives them their distinctive meaning and their value. - - - V - -The cult of memory should not turn us away from the present out of -which memory itself draws its nourishment. - -We sometimes meet men of whom plain people say, with profound wisdom, -“Their mind is elsewhere.” It is true; they are the timid and tormented -souls who have early sought in memory a refuge which nothing, it seems, -could ever make them renounce. - -Let us beware of troubling this retreat. Some day, perhaps, we may long -for one like it. But however deeply one may seem to have taken refuge -in memory, one cannot escape the clutch, the invasion of the present. - -It is best, therefore, and with all the strength that is in us, to -accept, honor, love this present as the principal source of our riches. - -If the true cult of memory were a less exceptional moral usage, many -men would hesitate to create bad memories for themselves; for our worst -memories are not those of our sufferings, our ordeals, our privations, -but of our shameful acts, our cowardices and our betrayals. - -Our weakness lasted only a moment; must we really, for thirty years, -feel the hostile stare of that moment resting heavily upon us? Who -knows? Hope, even so, in the clemency of memory, which is able to -mitigate and pardon everything. It is indulgent and full of pity. In a -world given over to spite and reprisals, it remains the only inviolable -refuge of the outcast, as the cathedrals used to be in the days of the -right of sanctuary. - -For him who descends with true fervor into his own depths, memory -always preserves some corner pure from all baseness. Do we not know, -moreover, that in order to console us memory consents to work in -concert even with its enemy, forgetfulness? - - - VI - -Who can dispute with us the world of memory? No one! And who would -dare, without fear, to do so? It is because we are more ardently -attached to this possession than to any other. - -At times, a clumsy or malevolent hand succeeds in smirching one of -our dear memories. Then we experience an indignation and a despair as -lasting and profound as if these sentiments recognized their cause in -the loss or the fall of a loved being. - -Happily this criminal work implies a rarely evil spirit, a sort of -perverse genius of which humanity is none too prodigal. And then our -memory is a territory too vast, too mountainous, too impregnable as a -whole for the rage of hostile destruction to be able to defile or mar -large portions of it. The best of our memories thus remain in safety -and for us alone. Besides, we keep careful watch around this fortune. - -Our great memories are actual moral personages, so necessary to our -happiness that we bear them under a sacred arch, sheltered from -all injury, from all contact. It is into this solitude that we go -ceaselessly to question them, invoke them, call them to witness. - -A past in common does not always give memories in common, so true it -is that the heart defends itself, in its innermost retreat, as the -physical self defends its flesh against the intrusions of the stranger. - -It sometimes happens that men find pleasure in recalling in our -presence the episodes of an existence that was passed, by themselves -or by them and us, in companionship. It is then that we measure the -road our soul has travelled on its solitary path: these things of which -they speak to us, these deeds which, it seems, we have performed, these -landscapes which they remember having crossed in our company, we no -longer recognize; we do not even wish to recognize them. We smile in -an embarrassed, awkward, unhappy way. Our whole attitude says: “Is it -really true that we have drunk from the same cup? For all that, it was -not the same wine we drank, and my intoxication is not yours.” - -We cannot give to one who is dear to us a greater proof of love than -to admit him to the intimacy of our memories. We have need of all our -tenderness to help us to introduce another soul into the subterranean -basilica, to lead that soul as close as possible to the refuge where, -in spite of all, there is only room for one. - -Perfect communion in memory is an extraordinary favor, and an -admonition. If it is given to you to enjoy it, open your arms and -receive one elect soul. - - - VII - -No doubt you have had the experience, when passing through a country -where you were travelling for the first time, of stopping short, as -you rounded a mountain, before some unknown horizon, and finding it -strangely familiar. - -No doubt you have had the experience of arriving at night in a dark -square where you knew you had never been before, and briskly finding -your way through it, just as if you were resuming some old habit. - -At times the spectacle of a smiling valley arrests you at the top -of some hill. You thought you knew nothing of this country, and yet -strange and sure impressions guide you; they are like old memories. You -advance, and behold, you are looking at everything as if you recognized -it. That road which winds between the pastures, as supple and sinuous -as a beautiful river of yellow water,--you are almost certain you -have followed it long ago, in some misty, far-off existence which, -nevertheless, is not your own. - -There are times, too, when you are dreaming, as you sit alone, and -suddenly a memory passes over you: the memory of some act the man you -are surely never performed. Yet it is not a fabrication, an invention. -You know, you feel, that it is a personal memory. A memory of what -world? Of what life? - -Do not reject this shadowy treasure, and do not tremble! Do not -accept complacently the explanations of the superstitious or of the -pseudo-scientists. The flesh of your flesh was not born yesterday. -Something survives in it that is contemporaneous with all the -generations. Many a revelation awaits us. Let us keep for them a soul -that is accessible, experienced, and not too distrustful. - - - VIII - -Do not imagine that to possess memory is to possess a dead world. - -Among your friends there is surely one who has a house and a garden. -From time to time he invites you to visit him. Every time you enter -his house you observe some striking change: he has connected two parts -of the building which till then had no means of communication. He has -planted some new trees. The old elms are flourishing. Some rosebushes -have died. Urns have been set out on the lawn. The life of men, of -animals, of plants has drawn the inanimate world into its toils, -modeled it, sculptured it, forced it to take part in the movement of -the soul. - -It is in like fashion that the domains of memory cultivate themselves -and live. They are not ruins, inalterable, rigid, fixed forever in the -ice of some past epoch. Life still penetrates and moves them; they do -not cease to share in its enterprises, its labors, its festivals. - -When a man has opened for you several times the same gate in the wall, -when several times he has related the same adventure to you, with -intervals of a few months or a few years, observe closely the spots -to which he leads you and the persons to whom he presents you. Every -time you will find new things, you will find that roads have been laid -out, underbrush cut down, windows opened and unexpected supernumeraries -called in. - -Is it true then that that was a dead tale, wrapped up in what we call -the shroud of the past? - -The world of “living memory” is so indissolubly bound up with our -resolutions and our acts that in accumulating memories we feel we are -preparing, erecting our future itself. - - - IX - -There is another refuge! - -“What makes hope so intense a pleasure,” writes M. Bergson, “is that -the future, which we fashion to suit ourselves, appears to us at one -and the same time under a multitude of forms, all equally smiling, -equally possible. Even if the most desirable of them all is realized, -we must have sacrificed the others, and we shall have lost much. The -idea of the future, pregnant with infinite possibilities, is therefore -more fertile than the future itself, and that is why we find more -charm in hope than in possession, in reverie than in reality.” - -The idea of the future alone interests us: that alone is our treasure, -that alone is endowed with existence. It is that indeed which we call -the future. And if M. Bergson, at the end of these admirable lines, -creates a distinction between the future and the idea of the future, he -does not make us forget that he has just, and as if by design, caused -the confusion; for what “we fashion to suit ourselves” is the idea of -the future, and nothing else. But, following the example of M. Bergson, -let us call our idea of the future the future itself. - -This idea is our cherished fortune. Certainly we take a passionate -interest in seeking, in what flows out of the present, something that -resembles the realization of our dreams. And yet their realization, -like their failure, marks, in every sense, their end, their exhaustion. -And that is insupportable to us. Whatever fate the present reserves for -our imaginings, we labor every day, as fast as time devours them and -destroys them by making them finite, to push them further back into the -infinite, to prolong them, to reconstruct them, so that we may never -have less of a future at our disposal. - -This need of a future, which has no other connection than our hope with -the rugged actuality of the present, is so deep-rooted, so generally -human a thing, that one cannot contemplate it without a respect which -is almost religious. In order that this future, so pregnant with -dreams, should be as necessary as it is to the moral life of most -men, it must represent a truly incomparable treasure. The embrace we -throw around it is the close and powerful embrace we reserve for those -possessions that lie nearest our hearts. And, since we have already -detached the word “possession” from the gross meaning that is usually -attributed to it, let us say that the possession of a dream, when it -assures our happiness, is a reality less debatable and less illusory -than the possession of a coal-mine or a field of wheat. - -But as there is no possession without conquest, without effort, we must -merit our dreams and cultivate them lovingly. - -If people who have taken the mould of reason reproach us with -distracting for a moment the men of that practical reality which -pretends to be preparing the future, we are ready to reply to them: - -“Glance at those men to whom our words are addressed. You know that -they are crushed with fatigue and privation. They have experienced -every danger and every sort of weariness. By what right will you hinder -them from taking refuge in a world which is henceforth the least -contestable of their domains? Do not, on their account, be afraid of -reverie; it could never fill them with as much bitterness as does this -modern reality of which you are the unpunished builders. - -“If you are not weary of glimpsing your future through the -specifications, the account-books, the cage-bars, and the unbreathable -fumes of industrialism, at least allow these to cherish a marvelous -and, in spite of all its disappointments, an efficacious future. It -is not a question of forgetting life,--that is too beautiful and too -desirable, but rather of amplifying and fertilizing it. Whatever may -be the outcome of a generous dream, it always ennobles the man who has -entertained it. Allow the unhappy to be rich in a possession that costs -them only love and simple faith. Do not let your reason dispossess them -of the only treasure that your greed has not been able to snatch from -them. It is the cult of the future and of memory that sustains man in -the uncertainty of the present hour. If he walks by instinct towards -these refuges, do not turn him aside, and think, O priests of reason, -of the warning of Pascal: ‘It is on the knowledge of the heart and of -the instincts that Reason has to lean, and establish there the whole of -her discourse’.” - - - X - -I have seen thousands of men suffer and die. Every day I see new ones -enter the somber arena and struggle. My part is to help them in this -torment, to assure them aid and hope. I have a wide experience of these -things now and I know that men are never denied a future, even when -life is on the point of betraying them. - -Philosophers and poets, led astray by religion or by a mystical passion -for death, have given the severe counsel that we should never conceal -from the dying the approach of their annihilation. It is a theoretical -view of charity, an artificial, mischievous doctrine that does not -stand the test, that should not be put to the test. Its partisans -suspect falsehood where there is only pity and modesty, for it is not -the part of man to be so proud of his own judgment as to take away from -someone with the certitude of life that fabulous future which is more -precious than life itself. - -I remember, in 1915, a wounded man, who had just received the visit -of a priest moved by praiseworthy intentions and a clumsy exaltation, -saying to me suddenly, “I know now that I am going to die!” and -beginning to weep terribly. I went to see the priest and reproached him -for his behavior. “What!” that eloquent man replied haughtily, “do you -who are incapable of preserving this unhappy man’s earthly life blame -me for assuring him his future life?” Alas! Alas! I still think of the -sobs of that wounded man; they were those of one who has just lost his -supreme wealth and to whom nothing else can make amends. - -Soldiers who, in the full vigor of their youth, suffer a severe, -a final mutilation experience at first that is like a veritable -amputation of their future, so true is it that every part of our -physical self is intimately bound up with the labors of our dream. -Then, with surprising rapidity, and long before the disorder of the -tissues has been exorcised, one sees them filling in the moral breach, -raising up the crumbled wall, propping it hastily and reconstructing, -quite as new but quite complete and tightly shut, the sacred fortress -outside which their soul remains vulnerable and disarmed. - -In truth, the man who is condemned to death is still rich in the -future, even when his body sinks, ten times pierced by bullets, even -when he has only one drop of blood left, one flickering spark of life. - - - XI - -O present hour, magnificent, foaming fountain, you know very well that -we shall be faithful to you! With your thousand animated faces, your -landscapes, your problems, your combats and that heavy burden of -jostling ideas you carry with you, you will always attract us, you will -see us all together drinking of your waters. - -But when you no longer contain for us anything but anger and hatred, -greed and cruelty, then indeed we must each of us abandon you and turn -to our refuges; we must each of us withdraw into the Thebaid where all -things still respond to our voice, to our voice alone. - -May our fate preserve us from the greatest of all misfortunes! May our -refuges never lose in our eyes their virtue and their security! This -supreme affliction at times befalls us, and it is then that our souls, -exiled from their homeland, must set themselves humbly to the search -for the lost grace. - - - - - VIII - THE CHOICE OF THE GRACES - - - I - -What man, tell me, what man, were he suddenly delivered from disgust -with himself, from terror of the world, from the sadness of an age that -is without pity, from remorse for a thing he has done, from the fear -of things he has to do, what man, suffering from one of these evils, -or from several of them or from all at once, would not experience an -immense relief, would not feel a certain absolution for the errors of -the universe, a certain alleviation of his own in the contemplation of -this little osier-bed which I descry this evening, at the turning of a -lane? - -What is there so profound, so divine in that scene? - -Nothing, nothing, no doubt. Everything, perhaps. For who would venture -to maintain that there is anything in the world that might not be a -sign for my heart and yet be nothing more? I was following a stone -wall, an indecipherable wall at present, without significance, without -compassion, an enemy. It shut in my view and my thoughts, it was -covered with cold mosses and all the dampness of winter. And then, all -at once, the wall ended and there was a little valley crowned with -these osiers. Yes, I mean crowned, for it seemed as if all its desires -had been granted, all its aspirations satisfied, all its prayers -fulfilled. - -Thousands of crimson branches rose in a chorus toward heaven, like -clusters of some smooth, straight, up-springing coral. All the branches -rose together, with one brotherly impulse, like the desires of a world -freed from ambitions and vowed to the one, the noblest ambition of -all. But why seek for words, why strive to paint it? Surely it was not -the flaming sap of the young shoots any more than the little rivulets -smoking like censers at their feet,--it was neither of these things -that promised relief and deliverance. It was the entire world that -manifested itself in this, its smallest fragment, just as the most -secretive man will betray himself by the trembling of his little finger -or the flutter of an eyelash. - - - II - -I was once saved by the tarpaulin of a humble delivery wagon. That -tarpaulin certainly knew no more about it than did the men who owned -it, or had the use of it here below. There are, in every object, -qualities we are ignorant of and that are precisely those through which -this object fulfils its most beautiful rôle in the universe, those -to which it inclines as if toward some miraculous purpose, which are -indeed its vocation and its true destiny. - -I remember it was a morning in February, one of those hopeless mornings -which we feel do not deserve the evening and will hardly attain -it. I do not know what I had done to myself or to my men to have -so completely lost all courage and purpose; but that morning I was -certainly the most destitute of beings and the least worthy of an act -of grace. - -Yet for all that, grace was shown me, for that marvelous tarpaulin -appeared. It was of heavy canvas, yellow and green. Its color, its -folds, its whole appearance, the form it concealed, in fact I know not -what element in it, showed me that I still could live, that my faults -were forgiven me, that nothing about me was irremediable. - -I am willing to pass for a man who is eager for forgiveness, a man who -is satisfied with little. We wish to set our own value on everything, -as if the things of the spirit meant the same thing as money, as -if they did not depend upon quite another spirit than that of the -accountants and geometricians. - -I met a priest,--it was since the war began,--with whom I often talked -about penance and contrition. I asked him one day what price he would -ask for the remission of the heaviest burden on one’s conscience. He -answered without hesitation: “Three paters and three aves.” This man -was corrupted by the customs of the world and its authorities. He -filled me with a sort of desire to insult him, and I confess I gave -him some rude shocks. Since then I have reflected. I have not become -reconciled to the memory of that priest, but I believe that grace -touches us in a most unforeseen way; it shines out suddenly, without -any reason, like the radiant blue in a sky where one has not expected -it. It manifests itself without regard to the efforts we make to -deserve it, and the occasions it selects are not in proportion to our -distress. But how sovereign it is, how much the most desirable of all -blessings! - -Remember, remember! you were walking through the streets, a prey to -some irremediable pain. Your poverty seemed unlimited, for it could -not be palliated by more money, an improvement in your health or the -renewal of a broken friendship. And yet, nevertheless, you suddenly -breathed in the wind an imperceptible odor, familiar, charged with -memories, you suddenly encountered in the color of a house, or in the -look of an unknown face, some mysterious sign, and you felt that your -wealth had been given back to you, that it flowed through you once -more as the saving blood returns to the heart of the dying man. - -I was walking one day along the banks of the Aisne, the prey of an -illimitable mental torture which, just because there was no reason -for it, seemed incurable. The image of a bridge in the water suddenly -gave me back my confidence in myself and my accustomed joyousness. It -was only a reflection; but never believe those who tell you that these -things are nothing but reflections. - - - III - -When a man who is cruelly wounded in his body or his spirit preserves a -cheerful faith and never ceases to be the master of his misfortune, I -say that he has grace. - -When a true man is able, for an hour, to contemplate without uneasiness -his own thoughts and actions, I say that he is touched with grace, and -I hope that hour may last a day and that day an entire life. - -Like a sailing-vessel that stretches through the air its slender, -vibrant cables, probes the sky with its strong and supple masts, offers -to the wind, at ever-varying angles, the white resistance of its sails -and marvelously dominates all the forces of the air while seeming to -obey them, the man who possesses grace enjoys a communion that is -profound, perfect, exquisite, not only with whatever in the world is -perceptible to us, but above all with what is unknown. - -That man weighs much in the baskets of the winnower. That man does not -see only within the limits of his own flesh. He fills in his own self -almost the whole universe, participates gloriously in the infinite. - -I know that it often happens that the beautiful ship sees its sails -sinking in distress and no longer feels its ropes trembling in the -wind. The time comes when it stops painfully in the stupor and -indifference of noon. - -The time comes when the rich man suddenly finds himself on Job’s -dung-heap. The time comes when, without reason, grace deserts the heart. - -Wait expectantly, with sails spread like an ear, with rigging firm, and -perhaps, where others less trustful would find themselves abandoned, -you will perceive a certain relenting breeze. - -You must never lose contact with the universe if you wish to live in -the state of grace. - - - IV - -Welcome your own true thought, whatever may be the hour at which it -visits you. If it chooses to rouse you in the middle of the night, rise -to do it honor and look at it with clear eyes. - -There are some who have just missed an hour of greatness because they -preferred to slumber under the warm eiderdown. The spirit called them -in a low voice, in the darkness of the cold room; they did not rise -and they will never know what they might have become. They will try -to console themselves by thinking they have dreamed; will they ever -console themselves? - -There are some who, suddenly, through the mist of tobacco smoke, have -seen their souls, like some long-awaited supernatural being, watching -them. - -At the moment they were playing cards or reading their paper; they -thought: “Wait, I’ll join you in a moment.” The game ended, or the -paper thrown aside, the visitor had departed. - -They rushed forth in pursuit, their hearts convulsed with shame and -anguish. Alas! the deep melancholy glance will perhaps never shine -upon them again. Perhaps they will never again come face to face with -themselves. - -In the midst of pleasure, when you are enjoying the company of a woman -or the conversation of bold, intelligent men, if you chance to hear the -voice of solitude singing like a siren at your feet, leave everything -to flee with her. - - - V - -When Epictetus said: “Our good and evil exist only in our own will,” -he misstated the problem. That is one way of solving it, but more -often it is a way of assuming that it has been solved, an expedient for -passing it over. - -I am not happy today; I am not pleased with myself, I am not pleased -with anyone; I feel quite certain that everything I undertake will be a -failure, above all, above all, I do not want to undertake anything; I -view all things with an unprofitable eye, an irritable and apparently -dried-up soul. I am driven to suffer myself and make others suffer. -Oh! I am without grace! I know it and I am far from admiring myself. -Secretly I long to feel grace at last descending on my head and -shoulders like a mantle of soft sunshine, like the honeyed perfume that -falls from the lime-trees. - -What does that old man want? Why does he repeat with a sort of -obstinacy: “It depends upon you to make a good use of every event”? - -No doubt it depends upon me! - -But what are we to do when nothing can be blamed upon events? And what -when, indeed, there are no events. - -Is it true that it depends upon me to be myself at such times also? -Answer me, great, silent trees! Answer me, fir-tree, weighted down -with sleet and dreaming--Heine has told me--of the palm consumed with -burning heat in the tropics. - -“Drive out,” replies the philosopher, “drive out your desires and your -fears and you will never again suffer tyranny.” - -True; but I have only one fear: not to be the best man I may; only one -desire, not to give in to myself. - -The sage shrugs his shoulders and then says in a gentle voice: “Bear -and forbear.” And he is not thinking only of the storms that come from -without. - -He says this because he well knows that in order to be happy one must -be visited by grace. - -All the stoics have drawn up rules of virtue. Not one has suggested the -means that will give us the strength to apply them. For the wish is -not enough. The gift is necessary, that secret impulse which is grace -itself. - - - VI - -Praise be to thee, divine world, that hast delivered me from anger by -revealing to me in time that trembling blossom of the convolvulus! - -Praise be to thee, divine world, that, at the very limit of my fatigue, -in the midst of my perils, hast chosen mysterious ways to light me with -an inner smile! - -Millions of unhappy men who are suffering at this moment on the fields -of distracted Europe are aware that at the blackest moment of distress -a strange consolation can penetrate them; it is as if the fingers -clutching one’s heart suddenly relaxed their grip. There are some who -call this God. Many others give no name to the miracle, but long for it -on their knees all the same. - -The voice no longer speaks from the burning bush. Sometimes it is the -sound of last year’s leaves still rustling in the branches of an oak. -Sometimes there is no sound; only the speaking glance of a veronica in -ecstasy among the April fields. - -I am quite willing to bear, but I do not wish to forbear. I do not wish -not to meet grace halfway, not to seek for it in the night flooded with -frosty perfumes, in the tossing forest where two interlocked branches -groan through the long hours, on the plateau haunted with thistles that -labor with feverish piety to perpetuate their innumerable lineage. - -I ask only to be allowed to interrogate the earth like those who seek -minerals and water-courses, and to experience every morning the green -ascent of the spring-time over the rocky slopes. - -I do not know by what path joy will come; I ask only to be permitted, -none the less, to go to meet it, for truly I cannot sit here by this -mile-post at the cross-roads, and placidly await it. - -One joy has come to me during the war, one that is undoubtedly the -greatest joy of my life: that of having a child. My reason did not -revolt at it, it did not dare to tell me that it was foolhardy to -desire a child at a time when the human world was left without defense -against confusion, disorder and crime. Yes, I rejoiced to have a -man-child born to me now when the future of men seems to be corrupted -for long years to come. I even hailed the child as a savior. You see, -the paths of joy are as unknown to us as those of grace. - -I shall not forbear, therefore, and when I feel my heart bleeding from -an unjust wound I shall go with respectful steps and recover myself in -the world of solitude. I shall not ask in the name of justice, I shall -not insist, I shall not importune; I shall wait until it manifests -itself and sets me free, I shall wait until at last it bestows upon -me the grace which, like a fine sap, like mother’s milk, it always -contains. - -Solitude! I can still conquer it among a hundred thousand chattering -companions; I know how to sing to myself little songs that surround me -with the silence of the steppes. - -I will go back again to the ravine where, the whole summer long, a -blackbird I know of whistles that same liquid song that grows purer and -more perfect from week to week. Ten notes are his whole career and his -reason for being. Perhaps on a day that music will be just what my soul -needs to recover its flight, like a stranded bark which a lazy wave has -just set floating. - -I will go back to the spots where I have been happy, and I do not think -this will be very imprudent; for, like the perfume a woman leaves in -her garments, like a drop of wine in the bottom of a glass, a little -happiness often remains attached to things. - -I shall go out again behind the hamlet, where I know that every morning -a couple of turtle-doves mingle a plaint that secretly cuts the -silence, hollows it with a melodious tunnel. - -And I shall stretch myself out there, my face to the sky, like a -well-exposed vine that longs to ripen some fine fruit. - -I am saying what I shall do, with the sole purpose, with the deep -desire, that you will all do the same, and that you will each turn to -your favorite star; and all this with the earnest desire that you will -not be content to remain sheep marked, without redemption, for the -knife. - -It requires little at times. The soul is not more exacting than the -body. I have seen exhausted soldiers whom a single swallow of brandy -raised up again to the heights of courage. I have seen seriously -wounded men brought back to life when their bodies were turned a little -in order to facilitate the uncertain flow of the blood. - -The soul is no less fragile, no less sensitive. If the western view -keeps you sad, turn lightly to the south. We do not know what the -divine world holds in store. - - - VII - -Happy are those who are able to pray. It is thus that Christians -solicit grace. - -It is easy to fall on one’s knees; but to be able to pray one must -already possess that grace which one implores. It is so great a gift, -the gift of prayer, that it is almost indelicate to desire anything -else from it. - -To drink is a small matter. To be thirsty is everything. - -Why do the Christians, who counsel us to pray in order to obtain -grace, never tell us what we must do in order to be able to pray? It -is not for nothing, nevertheless, that they arrange the play of light -and shade through their stained-glass windows, the odor of stones and -incense, the silence of the vaults and the propitiatory sights of the -organ, all those harmonious snares set for the wandering prayer. - -As for me, I shall take a staff and go out seeking the solitude of the -world. If this world is a city street at dawn,--that will do! A misty -dock, its outline broken by rails and masts,--that will do! A sunken -road, lighted by the flowering broom,--that will do! The court of a -barrack, the muddy enclosure of a prison-camp, oh! pitiful as it may -seem to me, may it still seem good! - -If I can walk, straight before me or far and wide, I can pray. If I can -see a scrap of the sky, I can pray. And with all nature offered to my -soul, I can pray, I can pray in spite of everything and as if without -willing it. I must see that osier-bed, or the radiant awning of that -wagon, or the image of the bridge in the water. I must hear the moaning -of those interlaced branches; then I am able to feel myself bathed in -grace. - -Grace! It is indeed the fleeting consciousness man has of his divinity. - -And now, now especially, and more than ever, we say to ourselves, man -must have faith in his divinity! - - - - - IX - APOSTLESHIP - - - I - -The beautiful legend of the multiplication of the loaves of bread is -miraculous only in the material order to which we try to confine it. -But the infinite multiplication of moral nourishment is our daily -spectacle, our joy, our encouragement. - -We know that the possession of material goods inclines us to -exclusiveness, solitary satisfaction: if I wish to share with you this -beautiful apple I hold in my hand, I must make up my mind to enjoy only -half of it myself. And if there are four of us the part each one has -will be proportionally reduced. Ah! blessed would be the wonder-worker -who could refresh us all with a single glass of water, stay us all with -a single mouthful of bread. - -That miracle flashes forth every day before our eyes. All moral wealth -seems to increase by being possessed in common. The more a truth is -spread abroad the more its beauty, its prestige, and in a way its -efficacy, grows. The veneration a hundred peoples throw round a -painting of da Vinci’s, a song of Glück’s, or a saying of Spinoza’s -has not partitioned these lovely treasures but has added to their -importance and their glory, has developed and opened up the whole -sum of joy that lies latent in them. Great ideas have such radiant -strength! They cross space and time like avalanches: they carry along -with them whatever they touch. They are the only riches that one shares -without ever dividing them. - -This fact invites each one of us to make himself the modest and -persevering apostle of his own truths, the propagator of his -discoveries, the dispenser of his moral riches. Our own interest -demands it imperatively, no less than the interest of others. We shall -never be really happy until we have admitted and converted to our joy -those whom we love; and we shall love them all the better for having -brought them some joy, for being among the causes of their comfort. - -The journeys we have made alone without companions leave us a memory -that is melancholy and without warmth. It is because we have had no -one to whom we could communicate our admiration, our wonder. Seated -alone before the most majestic landscapes, we have had no one to whom -we could express our enthusiasm, and deprived of this expansion it has -been stunted, it has remained, we might say, poor. Sharing it would -have enriched it. - -We love solitude, indeed; it is the cold and silent fountain at which -our soul is purified and confirmed. But what would it profit us to have -amassed great riches, by the help of solitude, if we had no one to whom -to offer them? - -It is because he feels this anxiety that man seeks a lasting union. -Among a thousand generosities, love offers him the opportunity to enjoy -companionship without renouncing solitude. A happy home is the solitude -of many a soul. The man who has entered into a beautiful union is sure -of at least one person to whom he can give the best that he possesses. - - - II - -Perhaps you will say to me: “How can I be an apostle when I have in -myself only a wavering faith? I would enjoy being generous, but I -am obliged to beg from the generosity of others. Such advice is for -those rich souls who, precisely because they are rich, have no need of -advice. It is with this kind of fortune as it is with money, it crowns -those who already possess it! My soul is poor and timid; what sort of -comfort would it be for other souls that are poor and timid also?” - -O my friend, how deceived you are in yourself! How much like -ingratitude your modesty seems! First of all, let me tell you that -the heart that doubts its resources is rich without knowing it. The -passion of humility weighs it down; let it free itself without -becoming proud! In the realm of the intelligence, you have surely -observed, it is only actual imbeciles who never doubt their faculties. -The man who can admit his own insufficiency at once gives proof of a -rare perspicacity. In the same way, if you think you are poor it is -because you are not. The only natures that are truly arid are those who -do not recognize and never will recognize their own sterility. - -This morning you went out at dawn to take up your duties. In the marsh -that slumbers along the edge of the road there were such delicate green -and purple reflections that you were struck by them. You spoke to me -about them, very subtly and sensitively, as soon as you were able to -see me. You were generous with me. You shared your good fortune with -me. Thank you! - -Who spoke to me about Faisne’s unhappiness? Who suddenly opened my eyes -and made me realize the profound misery of that soul? It was you! I -am still touched by your affectionate insight, I still marvel at your -fortune. - -You remember that night when we were lying stretched out together in -the fields, looking up at a sky that was rippling with milky light. -You said nothing to me, but I understood that evening that you were -possessed, to the point of intoxication, with an immense, terrible -idea, that of infinity. Thanks to your silence, I shared with you that -overwhelming treasure. - -Who lent me that beautiful Swedish book I did not know? Who spoke to me -so enthusiastically about it? It was you, you again! - -Who sings to me, when I am tired, that song as poignant and serene as -a breath that has come from beyond the midnight oceans? You know very -well, my friend, it is you. - -I could tell you of a thousand instances of your generosity, a thousand -apostolic words that have issued from your lips. - -Ah! my friend, can you disavow such riches? Can you show at the same -time such bitterness and such prodigality? - -Every day you discover a means of transforming into happiness the -elements that others possess and neglect. Do not hesitate, therefore: -show them the fruitful use they ought to make of their blessings. - -And do not ask any other recompense than the pleasure of having been -the giver, the initiator. - -The total amount of joy that prevails on the face of our world is of -great importance to you and to me. One must always labor to augment it, -whoever the direct beneficiaries may be. There is no one who, in the -end, will not catch its echo, who will not receive his own personal -profit from it. - -And that is also why, in the present immense misery of the world, the -selfish pleasure-seekers feel themselves ill at ease, even when their -untimely pleasures are seen by nobody. - - - III - -If you will, we can begin with the resolution never to undeceive anyone -who thinks he possesses anything. - -There are some who make it their care and pride to deprive their -neighbors of those illusions that Ibsen calls “the vital illusions.” -The characteristic of these illusions is that they cannot be replaced. -To tear them away leaves a man mutilated, without any possible -reparation. - -Young people, assuredly, have a very exuberant sap and all sorts of -encumbering shoots. Skillful and careful shears may well cut off, here -and there, these over-greedy branches--and the tree will bear heavier -and more fragrant fruit. - -But can you without guilt take away his wealth from that old man whose -illusion is his only pleasure? Beware of cutting off all its leaves -from that old trunk that will never bring forth again and has nothing -but its foliage with which to subsist and feel the sun. - -Distrust those men who have what is like a false passion for truth. -They are swollen with presumptuous vanity. They do not know that real -truth exists only where there is faith, even faith without an object. -Of what importance is the object? It is in faith itself that our -grandeur lies. - -In my childhood, I often used to stop in to see a certain humble, -white-haired shopkeeper. She vegetated in a dark little shop and was -always sitting behind her window, where the dust lay thick over the -toys and trinkets. Her business was very poor, but she loved to say at -night: “The passers-by were very good today. They looked in the window -a great deal.” - -I noticed, in fact, that nearly all who went by turned toward the dark -shop a long, dreamy look, full of unusual interest, that sometimes -caused them to stop short. - -One day, as I was myself passing before the poor little display, I -suddenly understood what it was the passers-by looked at so kindly: it -was their own faces reflected in the dark window-pane. - -I was still very young, but I realized vaguely that it would never do -to disclose this disastrous discovery to my old friend. - - - IV - -But this passive good will is not enough. It is not enough not to harm -things. Marcus Aurelius, I believe, has said; “One is often as unjust -in doing nothing as in doing what one does.” You must understand, -therefore, that not to share your inner fortune is, in some sort, to -rob those who surround you. - -We must first declare our blessings: we must try to do this without -shame and without arrogance. Those who enjoy an intense and efficacious -inner life draw from it a great deal of pride; they would gladly -communicate it if they did not know that these treasures seem -ridiculous to the common men; it is really shame, therefore, that -prevents them from being proud. - -In spite of the cry of Hamlet, it is through words that one discovers -and possesses the world. - -The rhetoricians have done their work so well that at times words seem -dry, empty of pulp, empty of juice. They are no longer nourishing food, -they are discordant sounds. - -It needs only a little confidence and generosity to restore their -meaning and their weight. Then they become precious and faithful. We -call them, like devoted persons, to our aid; they come at once out of -the shadow and show themselves docile to our wishes. - -Marcus Aurelius, of whom we have just spoken, has said this also: “I -wish always to define or describe the object that presents itself to my -thoughts, so as to see, distinctly and in its nakedness, what it is in -its substance, considered as a whole, and separately in all its parts, -so as to be able to tell myself its true name as well as the true names -of the parts of which it is composed and into which it can be resolved. -For nothing is so suited to elevate the soul as to analyze as much as -possible, with method and justice, everything that one meets with in -life, and always to examine each object so as to be able to recognize -at once to what order of things it belongs, of what, use it is, and -what is its importance in the universe and, relatively, to man.” - -It is with words that this task is accomplished. - -I have noted another beautiful expression on this subject; it is from -M. Anatole France. “Words,” he says, “are ideas.... I think the highest -race in the world is that which has the best syntax. It often happens -that men cut each other’s throats over words they do not understand. If -they understood each other they would embrace each other.” - -Be very sure then that the words of which we make use are deserving of -all our care, all our respect. They are the witnesses of our thoughts. -They will betray us if we degrade them to base uses. - -Choose them with great tenderness; that is a quality as enviable as -precision. And by means of these choice words, loyally express your -fortune. - -Tell what you have discovered, what you know. In affirming your -possession you render it sure, positive. You labor for others and for -yourself. You give form to your treasure and yield it, as if perfected, -to those who truly wish to avail themselves of it. - - - V - -Yes, in acting in this way, you are also working for your own profit. -Do not let us leave this burning subject too quickly. - -If I were not afraid of giving a conviction the form of a whim, I -should say: “You do your work and it does good to you.” - -Among the ideas that are dear to you and that you are glad to -express are not only certainties, verified results, the testimony of -experience. There are many wishes, many longings, too. By virtue of -being enunciated, these end by reacting upon you, by gently imprisoning -you. When you speak of virtue, or happiness, or the spirit of adventure -or courage, you further certain things that are indeed your own; you -further also many other things that you passionately wish to have -become your own, your unique and recognized quality. By virtue of -expressing them, it comes to pass that they in turn react upon you; a -moment arrives when you are morally constrained to become the product -of your opinions. In this sense your work does for you the good that -you have done for it. - -Admit, therefore, that if it pleases you to see and to paint your life -in generous, harmonious colors, it is inevitable that harmony and -generosity should little by little imprint their stamp on your serious -thoughts and on your acts. - -Therefore speak, speak of your dream. Every time someone tells you: -“You do not live up to what you say,” think, with a smile: “Not yet, -undoubtedly; but I feel sure that one day my words, that is to say, my -thoughts, will prove to be truer than my vagaries.” - -When you have tried and proved this method, you will attempt to bestow -it upon others. - -To that end strive to win a reputation among uncertain, hesitating -people. Be prudent: this is the time when it is of great importance to -choose the right ideas and words. But if you see one of your companions -torn between two opposing reputations, imprison him in the better of -the two. - -I once knew a man who had done many good acts and a considerable number -of reprehensible ones. One day, when I saw him hesitating between -these two different tendencies, I began to address certain phrases to -him that opened somewhat like this: “You who are so good.... You who -have done such and such fine things.” ... And the result was that that -man became really good, in order not to betray the reputation he had -gained. - -I foresee that you are about to pronounce the word vanity. Stop a -moment! It is not a base stratagem that causes a barren soul to bring -forth a fine harvest. If I had called the attention of that man to what -was mean and sordid in his character, he would have perhaps become a -villain altogether, and that would have been a shame for him, for me, -and for everybody. - - - VI - -We have discovered together, you will recall, that the world is offered -to all men that it may be possessed by each with the help of all. You -see, then, that in your modest rôle of apostle there is a means of -making others rich while securing their help for your own undertakings. - -Estimate your wealth according to the importance of what you give. -Dispossess yourself boldly. Everything will be returned to you at the -right time and a hundredfold. - -If the great apostles were able to bring the good news, it was because -they had faith; but nothing could have exalted their faith more than to -bring the good news. - -If you have been interested in something you have read, in a walk, if -you have been astonished at some spectacle, invite all those whom you -know to read what you have read, to take that walk, to contemplate -that spectacle. Show some discernment in your invitations. Distrust -the sceptics a little, the ironical, cruel, or contradictory spirits. -Distrust them, but do not abandon them: they are the strayed sheep -whose return ought to rejoice your heart supremely. When you have made -them admit: “Yes, there’s something really fine! Yes, there’s something -interesting, there’s something worth the pain of living!” you may fall -asleep with a smile; your day will not have been lost. - -At times, you will make a discovery so rare, so delicate that, by some -secret warning, you will know it cannot be communicated, that it is -strictly individual, that it ought to remain as a private relation -between the world and your soul. In that case, keep your own counsel. -Perhaps a day will come when your thought will have gained in precision -through being amplified; on that day you will be mysteriously informed -that your treasure has lost its private character, that it has become -suitable for sustaining your communion with others. When that day -comes, speak forth. Until that day, however, be patient; do not -fall into the error of those spirits who are called obscure because -they offer us impressions that have been insufficiently ripened and -experienced, impressions that are not for all humanity. - -On the other hand, when someone offers you one of these obscure -impressions, do not reject it, do not laugh with disdain. Force -yourself to feel what has been pictured for you in this faulty fashion. -You will do your partner a service in visualizing his discovery, and -you will perhaps be able to increase your own stock. Perhaps there will -be something worth seizing and understanding at the bottom of it. - -Always seek communion. It is the most precious thing men possess. In -this respect, the symbol of the religions is indeed full of majesty. -Where there is communion there is something that is more than human, -there is surely something divine. - -When you deem that you have grasped a truth do not forget, in -communicating it to others, that there are two conditions of truth. Any -truth one receives is but a small fortune in comparison with the value -of that which one experiences. Therefore persuade those you love into -the experiencing of truths, into the religious, courageous, persistent -experiencing of the well-beloved truth. - - - VII - -One dreams of a life in which everyone would be the apostle of what he -possesses and where all would be the disciples of each. - -If you wish to be an apostle, begin by never mislaying any of your -wealth. - -I once had a friend who said to me almost every day: “This morning I -had a beautiful thought; but I can’t find it again, I’ve forgotten it, -I’ve lost it.” - -You have a purse to contain your money; condescend to have a scrap of -paper on which you can put your thoughts, where you can set them in -order. It is a slight means to what will eventually be a great end. Be -economical of your treasures so that you may be lavish of them at the -opportune moment. Do not lose what you wish to give away. - -You are like the seeker after gold, on your knees by the bank of a -river that rolls with sand and with nuggets. - -The rushing flood of your soul flows by, and you watch it with fear -and delight. Every sort of thing is in it: mud, grass, gold, flowers, -formless and nameless debris. Gather to one side what you deem worthy -to be preserved, do not let it escape in the torrent. - -This mass of thoughts that crowd and elbow one another, this storm that -tumbles its way over you, this unending dream that you have when you -are awake, when your soul abandons itself to its natural, spontaneous -impulses, there, indeed, is matter to terrify you! So many things -appear and are swallowed up again that scandalize or horrify you; so -many contradictions bewilder you, so many jewels shine furtively forth, -that you are by turns filled with consternation, stupefied, dazzled. - -You must choose among all these things. You must draw out of the -current what you recognize as of value to you, and let the rest sink. - -I beg you, keep the reckoning of your own soul. Keep a little book in -your pocket that is carefully brought up to date. And do not trust -your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most beautiful prizes slip -through it. - -You must not have too much fear of not being up to your task when you -are approaching great problems and great works. - -That is something worth meditating for him who sets himself to -obtaining possession of the world, who wishes to invite his companions -to do the same. - -Though it may have all the appearance of naïveté, confidence is less to -be feared than the terror of ridicule that paralyzes so many souls at -the beginning of the most beautiful adventures. - -The fear of enthusiasm does as much harm as obvious wickedness. - -It is better to pass for a simpleton and become the laughing-stock of -the disillusioned than to miss the opportunity to serve as the apostle -of one’s beloved verities. It is better to squander one’s fortune than -to run the risk of being the only one to profit from it. There will -always be a farthing to fall into eager hands. - -The main thing is to be, above everything else, a man of good will. - -The true enemy, if there is any such, is the pharisee, the man of -outward observance, he who adopts every religion as a matter of -fashion, who speaks frequently and passionately of his soul in the same -way in which he speaks of his necktie. - - - VIII - -If you are only two against a thousand in leading this beautiful, pure -life, rejoice that there are at least two of you and do not despair of -your course of action. - -Is it not Renan who has uttered this profound saying: “The great things -in any race are usually accomplished by the minority”? - -Do not rejoice because there are slaves. Let their example be a fearful -warning to you; let it fill you with an overmastering desire to free -them from servitude. - -To the apostle Paul is ascribed that disquieting utterance of the -conquering soldier: “Oportet hæreses esse.” - -Yes, undoubtedly, whoever wishes to fight needs an enemy. - -The dazzling chance of such conquests is not, alas, the thing you will -be most likely to miss. But every conquest is vain that does not tend -toward peace. - -One thinks with ecstasy of the joy of a universal communion, from -which no one would be left out, in which no one would be the victim. - -Must there be heretics? Yes! To convince them, but not to vanquish -them, and still less to put them to the stake. - - - - - X - ON THE REIGN OF THE HEART - - - “The knowledge of external things does not make up for me, in times - of affliction, for my ignorance of the moral world; but my knowledge - of the moral world always consoles me for my ignorance of external - things.”--_Pascal_. - - - I - -It has come, the time of affliction! - -Whatever may be the outcome of this war, it marks a period of profound -despair for humanity. However great may be the pride of victory, -however generous such a victory may be, under whatever light the -distant consequences may be presented to us, we live, none the less, in -a blighted age, on an earth that will be devastated for long years, in -the midst of a society that is decimated, ruined, crushed by its wounds. - -Among all our disillusionments, if there is one that remains especially -painful to us it is the sort of bankruptcy of which our whole -civilization is convicted. - -Man had never been prouder than at the beginning of the twentieth -century of the discoveries he had realized in the domain of what -Pascal called “the external sciences.” - -We must admit that there was some excuse for this intoxication, this -error. In its struggle with matter, humanity had experienced a success -that was so daring, so disconcerting, and above all so repeated that it -lost a just conception of its adversary and forgot that its principal -enemy was itself. - -Events have recalled this to it in a flash. In the last year or two it -has expressed its discomfiture through millions of simple lips. It has -asked with anguish how “a century so advanced in civilization” could -give birth to this demoralizing catastrophe. Stupefied, it sees turning -against itself all those inventions which, it had been told, were made -for its happiness. For hardly one is absent. Even those that seemed -the highest in moral significance, even they, have contributed in some -degree to the disaster. Only the fear of creating an uncontrollable -situation has prevented certain of the belligerents from forming an -alliance with the very germs of epidemic diseases and thus debasing the -noblest of all the acquisitions of science. - -A doubt has grown up in all hearts: what, after all, is this -civilization from which we draw such pride and which we claim the -right to impose upon the peoples of the other continents? What is this -thing that has suddenly revealed itself as so cruel, so dangerous, as -destitute of soul as its own machines? - -Eyes have been opened, spirits have been illuminated: never did -barbarism, in all its brutality and destructiveness, attain results as -monstrous as those of which our industrial and scientific civilization -has proved itself capable. Is it indeed anything but a travesty on -barbarism? - -What inclines one to believe this is that the peoples which have -dedicated to the gods of the factory and the laboratory the most -fervent and the most vainglorious worship have shown themselves in this -way by far the cruellest, the most fertile in inhumane and disgraceful -inventions. - -M. Bergson has said, of the intelligence, that it is “characterized by -a natural incomprehension of life.” To this one might add: and by a -complete incomprehension of happiness, which is the very aim of life. - -With its retinue of ingenious inventions and clever complications, the -intelligence plays the part of something irresponsible or criminal in -the great disorder of the world. It seems not only incapable of giving -happiness to men, but actually adapted to bewilder them, corrupt them, -set them quarreling. It knows how to provoke conflicts; it is unable -either to exorcise them or to resolve them. - -Scientific and industrial civilization based upon the intelligence is -condemned. For long years it has monopolized and distracted all human -energies. Its reign has ended in an immense defeat. - - - II - -It is toward the resources of the heart that our hope turns. Betrayed -by this clever intelligence, whose formidable works have at times the -very look of stupidity itself, we aspire to the reign of the heart; all -our desires turn toward a moral civilization, such as is alone capable -of exalting us, satisfying us, protecting us, assuring us the true -burgeoning of our race. - -It is by juggling with words that people have been able to attach the -idea of true progress to the development of the mechanical, chemical -or biological sciences. True progress concerns nothing but the soul, -it remains independent of the expedients and the practices of science. -This latter is able to triumph even when the true progress, the ascent -of mankind toward happiness, is interrupted and thwarted in its -profoundest tendencies. - -There are not lacking people to tell us that the war will mark with -precision the advent of a new world, that it has bought in the blood -and the flame the moral elevation necessary for a fruitful and final -peace. We cannot share this optimism of official eloquence. It is -not the performance of tasks of murder that opens to men the road -to justice and converts them to good customs. Humanity must grow -unaccustomed to crime, and it is not the armed intelligence that can -accomplish this miracle. The pacifying work of the war will remain -in peril if everything that is healthy and generous in humanity does -not labor to dethrone this scientific civilization which still abuses -society after having reduced it to helplessness. - -I consider as negligible the objection of the stoics who say that these -miseries do not depend upon us and that we ought obstinately to seek -our happiness through them, isolate our happiness from the surrounding -degradation. No! These miseries do depend upon us. In spite of its -disdainful nobility, the stoic resignation has here too much the look -of egoism. - -This moral civilization, when its hour comes, will revive Christianity -and propagate it; it will not leave the human race in the abandonment -of the desperate misery of today. - - - III - -The naturalists and the sociologists have contributed to spread -this idea that moral progress is, for individuals, a function of -the anatomical complex, and for societies of the complex of habits, -institutions and industries. It is on this understanding that they have -undertaken the classification of species and arranged the various -human hierarchies. - -That is a view entirely external to things, it cannot be verified -as regards individual thought, it is a sheer fabrication as regards -collectivities: the war is a bloody refutation of it. - -If we mean by moral progress that which affects the conditions of -happiness, nothing permits us to conjecture what advantages have been -realized in this direction by the vegetable and animal organisms that -have not chosen us as confidents. Habits, as we observe them, cannot be -a criterion, even if we admit that we ought to seek for evidence among -them; they seem as if designed to baffle all theories. - -Those animals whose anatomical structure closely resembles ours, not -to say that it is exactly analogous to ours, such as cattle and sheep, -give proof of a moral activity that is insignificant beside the real -genius shown by the bee and so many other insects whose nervous systems -are still rudimentary in comparison with those of the mammals. - -Certain sea animals, the barnacles, have suffered, because of their -sedentary existence, an anatomical regression. We know that the mobile -larvæ of the barnacles possess more complicated organisms than those -of the adult and stationary animal. To conclude from that that this -anatomical regression is a lowering of the species is to assume a great -deal, and it is to accord to movement a very debatable significance. - -There exist species of plant life, especially among the conifers -and the ferns, which, for thousands of centuries, seem to have -remained in an almost stable anatomical and functional stage. These -species are none the less very widely scattered and very long-lived, -very adaptable. They offer an outward appearance of happiness and -prosperity. On the other hand, nothing permits us to affirm that -certain species, like the orchids, which have undergone a delirious -evolution resulting in forms of extreme anatomical complexity, have -attained a true progress, have improved, that is to say, their moral -destiny: we see them subject to innumerable external servitudes. Their -reproduction, even, is only possible thanks to the intervention of -outside agencies and is fraught with perils. A seductive argument that -smacks of anthropomorphism inclines us to believe that these species, -intoxicated with their material difficulties, ought to have a less free -and less serene philosophical existence. - -The complexity of the individual organism, which corresponds strictly -to the political, economic and scientific complexity of societies, adds -neither to the possibilities of life, nor to its scope of activity, nor -to its hopes. - -Certain fish, the pleuronectes, have sought their salvation in a very -bold, precocious development that ends in a displacement of their -eyes, of their mouth and in a profound disorder of their original -symmetry. Looking at them, one has the impression that this development -has thrown them into an impasse, into a _cul-de-sac_ from which it -would be difficult for them to escape into a new evolution; one has -the impression that this whole biological stratagem has considerably -restricted the destiny of the species. - -Besides, and the naturalists know it very well, the species that are -most highly evolved, most differentiated, to employ the consecrated -expression, are in a certain sense the oldest species, imprisoned -in their own tradition and scarcely to be counted upon for a new -adaptation, a profound reformation of their organs and their habits. - - - IV - -This digression, too long for our restlessness, but too succinct in -view of the facts it involves, raises several criticisms. - -One might, in the first place, object that evolution is a thing which -species undergo and which they cannot influence themselves. If that is -true, humanity finds itself forced into an adventure against which it -is puerile and presumptuous to contend. - -This attitude implies a submissive fatalism that denies both our sense -of experience and our thirst for perfection. We are apt to construe -our lessons in such a way as to draw instruction from them. We have -shown this in many moments of crisis, and we feel a certain repugnance -to thinking that we cannot turn to our own profit the most majestic -lesson that has ever been given to men. - -Certain minds, on the other hand, have concluded that humanity is -altogether too old, too highly evolved a species to be capable of ever -again renouncing what is fundamental in its inveterate intellectual -traditions, its scientific acquisitions and the customs that have -sprung from them. - -If this conception of the world did not appear as if stamped with -lassitude and scepticism, it would seem to leave us in the presence -of a desperate alternative: either the acceptance of a life without -restraint, given over to every sort of folly, exposed to every sort -of lapse into crime, or the solitary search for an oblivion that only -waits for death. - -But will the peoples who have struggled so fiercely for their material -interests remain disarmed in the face of the moral danger that -threatens the very morning of the race, will they undertake nothing -truly efficacious for the sake of posterity? - -That is the anxiety that haunts generous souls today. - -The political arrangements that will mark the end of this war will be -of no real interest if the minds that control the spiritual direction -of the peoples do not labor, from now on-and in the future, to modify -the meaning of the ideas of progress and civilization. - -We cannot believe that humanity is so deeply sunk in its convictions -and its intellectual habits as to remain forever incapable of sudden -change and reform. - -The human world has already passed through important crises; it has -already been forced several times to reshape the idea it had formed of -culture and civilization. - -It has always been amid its ruins that it has meditated the conditions -of a new life. If it is true that ruins demand the revolution of -customs, let us admit that the heart of man has never been more -urgently entreated than today. - -In any case, there is no question of giving up those customs that -form an integral part of our vital economy. It would be fantastic to -consider the regeneration of a society that was deprived, for example, -of the means of communication which have obtained for a century and -which we could scarcely abandon now without suicide. But it is fair to -consider how great and dangerous is the hold of the false needs which -the study of the “external sciences” creates in us and not to permit -our ideal activity to be blindly enslaved any longer by our material -ingenuity. - -There exist in our nature ardent forces that one cannot condemn -without appeal and that will manifest themselves against all discipline. - -The passion of the sciences must be deeply-rooted when we see men, in -love with love, peace, humanity, consecrating themselves, as if in -their own despite, under the cover of some abstract sophistry, to tasks -whose results may contribute seriously to the wretchedness and the -debasement of society. - -If one might gather together all the faculties of the spirit for the -single cause of happiness! - -At least, and from now on, let us cease to consider that the monstrous -development of industrial science represents civilization; otherwise -let us withdraw from this word its whole moral significance and seek -another for the needs of our ideal. - -Let us cease humiliating moral culture, the only pledge we have of -peace and happiness, before the irresponsible and unruly genius that -haunts the laboratories. Scientific civilization, let us say, to -allow it to keep this name for a moment, has been for us so prodigal -in bitterness that we can no longer abandon it uncontrolled to its -devouring activity. We must make use of it as a servant and cease any -longer to adore it as a goddess. - - - V - -We must revise all our definitions, all our values, our whole -vocabulary. - -All fervent spirits should set themselves to this work, and their task -will be all the heavier the more widely extended they are assured their -influence will be. - -We must strive to make our stunned humanity realize that happiness does -not consist in travelling at the rate of sixty miles an hour, rising -up into the air on a machine or talking under the ocean, but above all -else in being rich in beautiful thoughts, contented with its work, -honored with warm affections. - -We must restore the cult of the arts which contribute to the -purification of the soul, which are consoling in times of affliction -and remain, by their nature, incapable of serving ignoble ends. - -We must employ our strength to altering the meaning of the words -“riches,” “possessions,” “authority,” to showing that they are things -of the soul and that the material acceptance of these terms corresponds -to realities that are perfidious and ironical. We must at the same time -transform the ideas of benevolence and ambition, open a new career to -these virtues, create for them new ends and new satisfactions. Those -who consider such a program with irony or scepticism make a great -mistake. Its realization may seem illusory, but it will undoubtedly -become a necessity. The material goods at the disposal of humanity will -find themselves considerably reduced both by the destruction of which -they have been the object and by the long arrest of the production of -them. - -Their rarity and their growing expensiveness will be the source of -grave and almost insoluble conflicts, which new effusions of blood will -only make more venomous. - -Humanity can hurl against this terrible future a defiance full of -grandeur. It can, under the influence of its spiritual masters, seek -its happiness in a wise and passionate transformation of its desires. - -Let us not urge it toward resignation but toward the conquest of the -true riches, those that assure it the moral possession of the world. - - - VI - -The economists, whose science the war has so often tested, are laboring -to define what will be the conditions of life in the period that will -follow the world war; their estimates leave little room for the hope of -an agreeable and easy material existence; they hold over the mass of -men, conquered and conquerors alike, the menace of desperate labor and -slight and wretched returns. - -These learned researches, added to the similar conclusions of common -sense, do not seem to discourage the laborious race of men. They have -been told they must work, and even now, while they are struggling -against a hundred fearful perils, they are mentally preparing to earn -their difficult living, if only the war does not take away their lives. - -The modern industrial monster sets these conditions in advance. We -already know that competition will be pitiless, we know too that -enjoyment will only be for the highest bidder. Individuals, at the -sight of this future, mutually urge one another to be stubborn. The -world is preparing to take up again, obstinately, the old order that -has cost it so many trials. As yet no one speaks of a new life. - -There will be so many voices to praise these desperate resolutions, so -many books will be written to persuade men to persevere in their old -hatreds that a timid voice may well raise itself to protest against the -consummation of the error. - -A man whom I love and esteem above all others once said to me: - -“When peace is signed and I return home, I shall have to give up all -the distractions I used to have if I wish to work as much as will be -necessary to recover a situation as good as the one I had before.” - -Believe me, O my friend who said these words to me, I love work too -well to blame your decision; but I was thinking only of your happiness, -and it was of your situation that you spoke to me. Are you sure that -they are rightly related, those two words, those two ideas? What do you -hope from the future if you are not going to allow a large place in it -to the soul? - -What compensation will be left for our passion of today if we take up -all our prejudices again, if we return to our own vomit? - -The old civilization seems condemned. To break with it, we must first -of all seek our individual satisfaction outside money, our happiness -outside the whirlpool of pleasure. We must flee deliberately from the -tyranny of luxury. In this way even the events of the present oblige -us to seek our true path. Must we keep blindly and obstinately to the -ways of slavery? We have slighted the best sources of interest, joy and -wealth; shall we misprize them now that they remain the only fresh and -faithful things in the aridity of our time? Shall we neglect our souls -again to seek a false fortune that can only betray us? Shall we contend -with exasperated brutes over possessions we know to be unstable and -deceptive? - -No! No! Here should lie the lesson and the one benefit of this war: -that we should undeceive ourselves about ourselves and about our ends! -Let us not devote our courage to choosing a ferocious discipline -devoid of the ideal. Let us once for all reject our calculating and -demoralizing intelligence. Let us organize, in the peace that returns, -the reign of the heart. - - - VII - -The search for happiness cannot ignore the conditions of the material -life. Undoubtedly, well-being, comfort, dispose us to a happy view -of things; but will they ever replace what a poet has called “the -contented heart”? - -The Anglo-American peoples, susceptible as they are to all the moral -and religious revolutions, have applied themselves to altering the -original sense of simple well-being so as to identify it with luxurious -comfort. That is a way of giving a moral aspect to pleasure, making an -honest bargain with the corruptions of money. - -The exigencies of this sort of life have largely contributed to -involving these peoples in a frenzied whirlwind of business that wears -a man out and bewilders him. The anonymous writer of the “Letters of -an Elderly American to a Frenchman” says to my countrymen: “Your most -beautiful country-houses and your best hotels are occupied most of the -time by foreigners, while your own people have to content themselves -with miserable little cheap holes. Isn’t it absurd!” Perhaps, O Elderly -American, but that absurdity is dear to my heart. May the God of -journeys always turn my path away from the tainted spots where rise -those buildings in which the existence you think so enviable is passed. -If we are to consecrate our friendship we ought to discuss the value -of words: what you call happiness does not tempt me. - -The love of nature, the taste for those simple, healthy joys that were -so vaunted by the philosophers of our eighteenth century have been the -laughing-stock of our contemporary writers. A laughable excess has led, -by reaction, to a furious and ignoble excess. - -The dramatists and novelists of our time who, by the quality of their -opinions or by their political positions are ostensibly laboring for -a moral or religious end, have betrayed, in most of their works, a -servile and ill-concealed love of luxury. It is useless to give names; -let us say only that none of the modern novels of certain of our -authors lack those descriptions and professions of faith that reveal -the quivering longing of the pauper for the delights and enjoyments on -which all his eager desires are fixed. - -It is partly to the influence of this literature that our old world -owes the headlong rush of all classes of humanity toward those -pleasures that are only the phantoms of happiness and will never be -anything else. - -If genius wishes to consecrate itself to a labor that is truly -reconstructive, truly pacific, it must discover other subjects for its -works. - - - VIII - -If the future laws governing labor do not allow enough time for the -cultivation and the flourishing of the soul, a sacred struggle will -become inevitable. - -The organizers of the modern world, who have shown themselves powerless -to avert war and did not realize the vanity of our old civilization, -do not yet seem to foresee the urgency of radical changes in the moral -education of the peoples. - -They continue to talk to us about the superhuman efforts we must make -in order to redeem their faults. - -No one shrinks before these efforts. Society is weary of crime but not -of peaceful tasks. Everyone prepares with joyous energy to take up his -former position and his tools again. - -It rests with us all to mitigate the severity of economic conflicts by -working to transform the current idea of happiness. - -The possessors of material wealth have, in general, for centuries, -given to those whom they employ and direct so scandalous and basely -immoral an example that they themselves are the principal fomenters of -the attacks which they will henceforth have to undergo. - -In the machinery of modern industry, work has lost a great many of its -attractive virtues: all the methods in force tend to diminish the part -played by the soul and the heart, and the workman, imprisoned in an -almost mechanical function, no longer expects from work the personal -satisfaction he once obtained; as a poet has said: “His empty labor is -the fate he fights against.” - -Certain American methods have based their theory upon a clever sophism; -they exaggerate the automatic under the pretext of thus cutting short -the length of the work. That is not a happy solution, to cut short the -hours of labor by emptying it of all joy, of all professional interest. -It is better to undertake a long piece of work with relish than to -hurry through a short task with repugnance. - -The specialization that is rendered necessary by the very extent -of scientific and industrial activity remains a dangerous thing, -especially among an old race of encyclopedists like ourselves. - -However that may be, the peoples consent to yield themselves to the -discretion of the modern world. May the monster leave them some scraps -of a liberty that is still honorable enough for them to think of -cultivating their souls. There will not be lacking men of good will -who will be glad to devote themselves to directing this liberty, to -transforming the meaning and the demands of joy, propagating a culture -which, unlike those old errors, will support education more readily -than instruction,--men who will more often address themselves to the -heart than to the disastrous reason. - - - IX - -France has suffered, suffers and will suffer more deeply than all -the other countries of the world. She is at once the altar and the -holocaust. She has sacrificed her men, her cities, and her soil. It is -in the heart of her beautiful fields that the devastating storm whirls -and roars. - -In the depths of my soul I hope that, because of this great grief, it -will be France that will give the signal for redemption. I hope that -the reign of the heart will begin just here where the old civilization -will leave imperishable traces of its murderous folly. - -The resources of the French people in perseverance, in self-reliance, -in goodness, in subtle delicacy are so great that one feels a word -would suffice to rally all hearts and give them their bearings. One -feels that at the mere phrase “moral civilization” thousands and -thousands of noble heads will nod approval, thousands of hands will -reach out to find each other. - -People who have obstinate views on the political meaning of wars, -on the eminently economic nature of the peril that has been run -by humanity, and on the efficacy of the industrial and scientific -civilization, will not fail to proclaim that France ought first of -all to return to its furious task and apply itself to surpassing the -peoples that have outstripped it along this path. - -But France has always been the country of initiation and revelation. It -is the chosen land of spiritual revolutions. May the bloody baptism it -has received give it precedence in the discussion of the future! - -Do you wish it to lose the glorious rank it holds in the moral order, -at the head of the nations, that it may fall in line behind the peoples -who are enslaved by automatism and swear allegiance to a worn-out, -condemned, bankrupt social and economic religion? - -If the destiny of our country is to make a humanity that is plunged in -affliction give ear to the words of peace, consolation and love, let it -accomplish this beautiful mission, let it teach the other peoples the -generous laws of the true possession of the world. - - - X - -My work is finished, and now the time has come for me to part with it. - -It is going off into this misty autumn night. My heart is both glad and -sorrowful. - -It is going away from me, henceforth to follow a destiny of its own -that will no longer depend only upon my love. - -I shall turn to other duties, I shall assume other cares. A voice tells -me that they will always be the same duties, the same cares, and that -there is no longer but one great task for men, one single task with a -hundred radiant aspects. - -It is late. The night is drawing to a close; it is calm and yet -penetrated with a vast, subdued murmur of joy. They say it is one of -the last nights of the war. - -I hear about me the panting breath of the wounded. There are several -hundred of them; they are sleeping or longing for sleep and rest. Their -burning breath is like a lamentation. Many of them will never see the -peace they have so dearly bought. They are perhaps the wounded of the -last battle, the last victims, the last martyrs. - -Over the whole face of the world souls are suffering with them, for -them, souls which the angel of death laboring here this night will not -deliver. - -My work is finished. It begins to withdraw from me. If it can bring any -consolation to a single one of these suffering souls, let me believe -that it has fulfilled its destiny. - - - THE END - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART'S DOMAIN *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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