The Memoirs of François René Vicomte de Chateaubriand sometime Ambassador to England, Volume 1 (of 6): Mémoires d'outre-tombe, volume 1Chateaubriand, François-René, vicomte de
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The Memoirs of François René Vicomte de Chateaubriand sometime Ambassador to England, Volume 1 (of 6): Mémoires d'outre-tombe, volume 1
Chateaubriand, François-René, vicomte de
Chateaubriand, François-René, vicomte de, 1768-1848
It was during one of these walks that Lucile, hearing me speak
rapturously of solitude, said, "You ought to write all that down."
These words revealed the muse to me; a divine inspiration passed over
me. I began to lisp verses, as though it were my natural language; day
and night I sang my pleasures, in other words my valleys and my woods;
I wrote a multitude of little idylls or pictures of nature[162]. I
wrote in verse long before writing in prose: M. de Fontanes used to
maintain that I had received both instruments.
Did this talent which friendship foresaw for me ever really come to me?
How many things have I awaited in vain! In the _Agamemnon_ of Æschylus,
a slave is placed as sentry on the roof of the palace of Argos; his
eyes seek to discern the concerted signal for the return of the ships;
he sings to while away his vigils, but the hours speed by and the stars
set, and the torch does not shine forth. When, after many years, its
tardy light appears upon the billows, the slave is bent beneath the
weight of time; there is naught left for him but to reap misfortunes,
and the chorus says to him that "an old man is a shadow that wanders by
day."
Οναρ ἡμερόϕαντον ἀλαίνει
Under the first spell of my inspiration, I engaged Lucile to do as I
did. We spent days in mutual consultation, in communicating to each
other what we had done and what we proposed to do. We undertook works
in common; guided by our instincts, we translated the finest and
saddest passages in Job and Lucretius upon life: the _Tædet animam
meam vitæ meæ_[163], the _Homo natus de muliere_[164], the _Tum porro
puer, ut sævis projectus ab undis navita_[165], and so forth.
Lucile's thoughts were sheer feeling; they issued with difficulty from
her soul; but when she succeeded in expressing them, there was nothing
higher. She has left some thirty pages in manuscript; it is impossible
to read them without profound emotion. The elegance, the suavity,
the dreaminess, the passionate tenderness of these pages present a
combination of the Greek and German genius[166].
*
[Sidenote: Lucile's manuscript.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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