up, he is informed that there is no more stone, and is advised to
whiten the old material and make the best possible use of that. What
can you expect this man to do who is unwilling to build his nest out
of ruins? The quarry is deep, the tools too weak to hew out the stones.
"Wait!" they say to him, "we will draw out the stones one by one; hope,
work, advance, withdraw." What do they not tell him? And in the mean
time he has lost his old house, and has not yet built the new; he does
not know where to protect himself from the rain, or how to prepare his
evening meal, nor where to work, nor where to sleep, nor where to die;
and his children are newly born.

I am much deceived if we do not resemble that man. Oh! people of the
future! when on a warm summer day you bend over your plows in the green
fields of your native land; when you see in the pure sunlight, under a
spotless sky, the earth, your fruitful mother, smiling in her matutinal
robe on the workman, her well-beloved child; when drying on your brow
the holy baptism of sweat, you cast your eye over the vast horizon,
where there will not be one blade higher than another in the human
harvest, but only violets and marguerites in the midst of ripening ears;
oh! free men! when you thank God that you were born for that harvest,
think of those who are no more, tell yourself that we have dearly
purchased the repose which you enjoy; pity us more than all your
fathers, for we have suffered the evil which entitled them to pity and
we have lost that which consoled them.

CHAPTER III. THE BEGINNING OF THE CONFESSIONS

I have to explain how I was first taken with the malady of the age.

I was at table, at a great supper, after a masquerade. About me were
my friends, richly costumed, on all sides young men and women, all
sparkling with beauty and joy; on the right and on the left exquisite
dishes, flagons, splendor, flowers; above my head was an obstreperous
orchestra, and before me my loved one, whom I idolized.

I was then nineteen; I had passed through no great misfortune, I had
suffered from no disease; my character was at once haughty and frank,
my heart full of the hopes of youth. The fumes of wine fermented in my
head; it was one of those moments of intoxication when all that one
sees and hears speaks to one of the well-beloved. All nature appeared
a beautiful stone with a thousand facets, on which was engraven the
mysterious name. One would willingly embrace all