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
Night fell; the reeds shook their fields of swords and distaves, among
which the feathered caravan of moor-fowl, teal, kingfishers, snipe
lay silent; the lake washed against its shores; the loud voices of
autumn issued from the woods and marshes; I ran my boat aground and
returned to the castle. Ten o'clock struck. I went to my room, and at
once opened the windows, fixed my eyes upon the sky, and commenced an
incantation. In company with my witch I mounted the clouds: enveloped
in her tresses and her veil, I was swept along by the tempest, shaking
the forest-tops, hustling the mountain-summits, whirling upon the seas.
I plunged into space, I dropped from the Throne of God to the gates of
the abyss, and the worlds were surrendered to the power of my love.
Amid the disorder of the elements, I frenzically wedded the idea of
danger to that of pleasure. The breath of the north wind brought to me
but the sighs of voluptuousness; the murmur of the rain summoned me
to sleep upon a woman's breast. The words which I addressed to that
woman would have revived the senses of old age and warmed the marble
of the tombs. Nothing-knowing and all-knowing, at once maid and lover,
Eve before and after the fall, the enchantress from whom I derived my
madness was a commixture of mystery and passion: I placed her on an
altar and worshipped her. The pride of being loved by her yet further
increased my love. When she walked, I prostrated myself to be trod
beneath her feet or kiss their traces. I grew confused at her smile; I
trembled at the sound of her voice; I thrilled with desire if I touched
what she had touched. The air exhaled from her moist mouth penetrated
into the marrow of my bones, coursed through my veins instead of blood.
At a look from her I would have flown to the ends of the earth: a
desert would have sufficed me with her! With her at my side, the lions'
den would have changed into a palace, and millions of centuries would
have been too short to exhaust the fires with which I felt myself
consumed.
[Sidenote: Nocturnal incantations.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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