"I threw into my work the fury I felt at my misery. I tried to master
positive knowledge so as to acquire the greatest personal value,
and merit the position I should hold as soon as I could escape from
nothingness. I consumed more oil than bread; the light I burned during
these endless nights cost me more than food. It was a long duel,
obstinate, with no sort of consolation. I found no sympathy anywhere.
To have friends, must we not form connections with young men, have a
few sous so as to be able to go tippling with them, and meet them
where students congregate? And I had nothing! And no one in Paris
can understand that nothing means _nothing_. When I even thought of
revealing my beggary, I had that nervous contraction of the throat which
makes a sick man believe that a ball rises up from the oesophagus into
the larynx.
"In later life I have met people born to wealth who, never having wanted
for anything, had never even heard this problem in the rule of three:
A young man is to crime as a five-franc piece is to X.--These gilded
idiots say to me, 'Why did you get into debt? Why did you involve
yourself in such onerous obligations?' They remind me of the princess
who, on hearing that the people lacked bread, said, 'Why do not they buy
cakes?' I should like to see one of these rich men, who complain that I
charge too much for an operation,--yes, I should like to see him alone
in Paris without a sou, without a friend, without credit, and forced to
work with his five fingers to live at all! What would he do? Where would
he go to satisfy his hunger?
"Bianchon, if you have sometimes seen me hard and bitter, it was
because I was adding my early sufferings on to the insensibility, the
selfishness of which I have seen thousands of instances in the highest
circles; or, perhaps, I was thinking of the obstacles which hatred,
envy, jealousy, and calumny raised up between me and success. In Paris,
when certain people see you ready to set your foot in the stirrup, some
pull your coat-tails, others loosen the buckle of the strap that you may
fall and crack your skull; one wrenches off your horse's shoes, another
steals your whip, and the least treacherous of them all is the man whom
you see coming to fire his pistol at you point blank.
"You yourself, my dear boy, are clever enough to make acquaintance
before long with the odious and incessant warfare waged by mediocrity
against the superior man. If you should drop five-and-twenty louis one
day, you will be accused of gambling on the next, and your best friends
will report that you have lost twenty-five thousand. If you have a
headache, you will be considered mad. If you are a little hasty, no one
can live with you. If, to make a stand against this armament of pigmies,
you collect your best powers, your best friends will cry out that you
want to have everything, that you aim at domineering, at tyranny. In
short, your good points will become your faults, your faults will be
vices, and your virtues crime.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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