the magic skin-第21章

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understood；　or　I　feared　to　be　understood　but　too　well；　and　yet　the

storm　within　me　was　ready　to　burst　at　every　chance　courteous　look。　In

spite　of　my　readiness　to　take　the　semblance　of　interest　in　look　or

word　for　a　tenderer　solicitude；　I　dared　neither　to　speak　nor　to　be

silent　seasonably。　My　words　grew　insignificant；　and　my　silence　stupid；

by　sheer　stress　of　emotion。　I　was　too　ingenuous；　no　doubt；　for　that

artificial　life；　led　by　candle…light；　where　every　thought　is　expressed

in　conventional　phrases；　or　by　words　that　fashion　dictates；　and　not

only　so；　I　had　not　learned　how　to　employ　speech　that　says　nothing；　and

silence　that　says　a　great　deal。　In　short；　I　concealed　the　fires　that

consumed　me；　and　with　such　a　soul　as　women　wish　to　find；　with　all　the

elevation　of　soul　that　they　long　for；　and　a　mettle　that　fools　plume

themselves　upon；　all　women　have　been　cruelly　treacherous　to　me。



〃So　in　my　simplicity　I　admired　the　heroes　of　this　set　when　they

bragged　about　their　conquests；　and　never　suspected　them　of　lying。　No

doubt　it　was　a　mistake　to　wish　for　a　love　that　springs　for　a　word's

sake；　to　expect　to　find　in　the　heart　of　a　vain；　frivolous　woman；

greedy　for　luxury　and　intoxicated　with　vanity；　the　great　sea　of

passion　that　surged　tempestuously　in　my　own　breast。　Oh！　to　feel　that

you　were　born　to　love；　to　make　some　woman's　happiness；　and　yet　to　find

not　one；　not　even　a　noble　and　courageous　Marceline；　not　so　much　as　an

old　Marquise！　Oh！　to　carry　a　treasure　in　your　wallet；　and　not　find

even　some　child；　or　inquisitive　young　girl；　to　admire　it！　In　my

despair　I　often　wished　to　kill　myself。〃



〃Finely　tragical　to…night！〃　cried　Emile。



〃Let　me　pass　sentence　on　my　life；〃　Raphael　answered。　〃If　your

friendship　is　not　strong　enough　to　bear　with　my　elegy；　if　you　cannot

put　up　with　half　an　hour's　tedium　for　my　sake；　go　to　sleep！　But；　then；

never　ask　again　for　the　reason　of　suicide　that　hangs　over　me；　that

comes　nearer　and　calls　to　me；　that　I　bow　myself　before。　If　you　are　to

judge　a　man；　you　must　know　his　secret　thoughts；　sorrows；　and　feelings；

to　know　merely　the　outward　events　of　a　man's　life　would　only　serve　to

make　a　chronological　tablea　fool's　notion　of　history。〃



Emile　was　so　much　struck　with　the　bitter　tones　in　which　these　words

were　spoken；　that　he　began　to　pay　close　attention　to　Raphael；　whom　he

watched　with　a　bewildered　expression。



〃Now；〃　continued　the　speaker；　〃all　these　things　that　befell　me　appear

in　a　new　light。　The　sequence　of　events　that　I　once　thought　so

unfortunate　created　the　splendid　powers　of　which；　later；　I　became　so

proud。　If　I　may　believe　you；　I　possess　the　power　of　readily　expressing

my　thoughts；　and　I　could　take　a　forward　place　in　the　great　field　of

knowledge；　and　is　not　this　the　result　of　scientific　curiosity；　of

excessive　application；　and　a　love　of　reading　which　possessed　me　from

the　age　of　seven　till　my　entry　on　life？　The　very　neglect　in　which　I

was　left；　and　the　consequent　habits　of　self…repression　and　self…

concentration；　did　not　these　things　teach　me　how　to　consider　and

reflect？　Nothing　in　me　was　squandered　in　obedience　to　the　exactions　of

the　world；　which　humble　the　proudest　soul　and　reduce　it　to　a　mere

husk；　and　was　it　not　this　very　fact　that　refined　the　emotional　part　of

my　nature　till　it　became　the　perfected　instrument　of　a　loftier　purpose

than　passionate　desires？　I　remember　watching　the　women　who　mistook　me

with　all　the　insight　of　contemned　love。



〃I　can　see　now　that　my　natural　sincerity　must　have　been　displeasing　to

them；　women；　perhaps；　even　require　a　little　hypocrisy。　And　I；　who　in

the　same　hour's　space　am　alternately　a　man　and　a　child；　frivolous　and

thoughtful；　free　from　bias　and　brimful　of　superstition；　and　oftentimes

myself　as　much　a　woman　as　any　of　them；　how　should　they　do　otherwise

than　take　my　simplicity　for　cynicism；　my　innocent　candor　for

impudence？　They　found　my　knowledge　tiresome；　my　feminine　languor；

weakness。　I　was　held　to　be　listless　and　incapable　of　love　or　of　steady

purpose；　a　too　active　imagination；　that　curse　of　poets；　was　no　doubt

the　cause。　My　silence　was　idiotic；　and　as　I　daresay　I　alarmed　them　by

my　efforts　to　please；　women　one　and　all　have　condemned　me。　With　tears

and　mortification；　I　bowed　before　the　decision　of　the　world；　but　my

distress　was　not　barren。　I　determined　to　revenge　myself　on　society；　I

would　dominate　the　feminine　intellect；　and　so　have　the　feminine　soul

at　my　mercy；　all　eyes　should　be　fixed　upon　me；　when　the　servant　at　the

door　announced　my　name。　I　had　determined　from　my　childhood　that　I

would　be　a　great　man；　I　said　with　Andre　Chenier；　as　I　struck　my

forehead；　'There　is　something　underneath　that！'　I　felt；　I　believed；

the　thought　within　me　that　I　must　express；　the　system　I　must

establish；　the　knowledge　I　must　interpret。



〃Let　me　pour　out　my　follies；　dear　Emile；　to…day　I　am　barely　twenty…six

years　old；　certain　of　dying　unrecognized；　and　I　have　never　been　the

lover　of　the　woman　I　dreamed　of　possessing。　Have　we　not　all　of　us；

more　or　less；　believed　in　the　reality　of　a　thing　because　we　wished　it？

I　would　never　have　a　young　man　for　my　friend　who　did　not　place　himself

in　dreams　upon　a　pedestal；　weave　crowns　for　his　head；　and　have

complaisant　mistresses。　I　myself　would　often　be　a　general；　nay；

emperor；　I　have　been　a　Byron；　and　then　a　nobody。　After　this　sport　on

these　pinnacles　of　human　achievement；　I　became　aware　that　all　the

difficulties　and　steeps　of　life　were　yet　to　face。　My　exuberant　self…

esteem　came　to　my　aid；　I　had　that　intense　belief　in　my　destiny；　which

perhaps　amounts　to　genius　in　those　who　will　not　permit　themselves　to

be　distracted　by　contact　with　the　world；　as　sheep　that　leave　their

wool　on　the　briars　of　every　thicket　they　pass　by。　I　meant　to　cover

myself　with　glory；　and　to　work　in　silence　for　the　mistress　I　hoped　to

have　one　day。　Women　for　me　were　resumed　into　a　single　type；　and　this

woman　I　looked　to　meet　in　the　first　that　met　my　eyes；　but　in　each　and

all　I　saw　a　queen；　and　as　queens　must　make　the　first　advances　to　their

lovers；　they　must　draw　near　to　meto　me；　so　sickly；　shy；　and　poor。

For　her；　who　should　take　pity　on　me；　my　heart　held　in　store　such

gratitude　over　and　beyond　love；　that　I　had　worshiped　her　her　whole

life　long。　Later；　my　observations　have　taught　me　bitter　truths。



〃In　this　way；　dear　Emile；　I　ran　the　risk　of　remaining　companionless

for　good。　The　incomprehensible　bent　of　women's　minds　appears　to　lead

them　to　see　nothing　but　the　weak　points　in　a　clever　man；　and　the

strong　points　of　a　fool。　They　feel　the　liveliest　sympathy　with　the

fool's　good　qualities；　which　perpetually　flatter　their　own　defects；

while　they　find　the　man　of　talent　hardly　agreeable　enough　to

compensate　for　his　shortcomings。　All　capacity　is　a　sort　of

intermittent　fever；　and　no　woman　is　anxious　to　share　in　its

discomforts　only；　they　look　to　find　in　their　lovers　the　wherewithal　to

gratify　their　own　vanity。　It　is　themselves　that　they　love　in　us！　But

the　artist；　poor　and　proud；　along　with　his　endowment　of　creative

power；　is　furnished　with　an　aggressive　egotism！　Everything　about　him

is　involved　in　I　know　not　what　whirlpool　of　his　ideas；　and　even　his

mistress　must　gyrate　along　with　them。　How　is　a　woman；　spoilt　with

praise；　to　believe　in　the　love　of　a　man　like　that？　Will　she　go　to　seek

him　out？　That　sort　of　lover　has　not　the　leisure　to　sit　beside　a　sofa

and　give　himself　up　to　the　sentimental　simperings　that　women　are　so

fond　of；　and　on　which　the　false　and　unfeeling　pride　themselves。　He

cannot　spare　the　time　from　his　work；　and　how　can　he　afford　to　humble

himself　and　go　a…masquerading！　I　was　ready　to　give　my　life　once　and

for　all；　but　I　could　not　degrade　it　in　detail。　Besides；　there　is

something　indescribably　paltry　in　a　stockbroker's　tactics；　who　runs　on

errands　for　some　insipid　affected　woman；　all　this　disgusts　an　artist。

Love　in　the　abstract　is　not　enough　for　a　great　man　in　poverty；　he　has

need　of　its　utmost　devotion。　The　frivolous　cr