On the heights of Passy, where we are, on the terrace of a garden, overhanging, as in the days of Babylon, the lazy current of the river below, two persons, leaning against a stone balustrade, contemplated22 the noisy scene. Looking from above at the agitated23 surface of this human sea, happier in their sweet solitude24 than any among the giddy crowd, thcy do not belong to the vulgar world, and dwell, removed above all this bustle25 and confusion, in the limpid26 atmosphere of their happiness. Their minds think, their hearts love or, to express with more completeness the same fact, their souls live.
The young girl, now in the fresh beauty of her eighteenth spring, allows her dreamy gaze to wander to the apothesis of the setting sun, happy in living, happier still in loving. She thinks not of the millions of human beings who are hurrying to and fro at her feet; she gazes without seeing it, at the glowing disk of the sun sinking behind the empurpled clouds in the west; she inhales27 the perfume of the rose-garlands of the garden, and feels, pervading28 her being, the peace of the secret happiness which fills her soul with the ineffable29 harmony of love. Her blonde hair surrounds her brow like an aureole and falls in rich masses over her graceful30 and slender form; her blue eyes, shaded by long black lashes31, seem a reflection of the azure32 of the skies; her arms and neck are of a milky33 whiteness; her ears and cheeks of a rosy34 hue35. In her air there is something that reminds one of those petites marquises of the painters of the eighteenth century, born to the uncertainties36 of a destiny they were not long to enjoy. She was standing37. Her companion, whose arm had encircled her waist as he stood gazing with her at the panorama38 of the city, listening to the strains of harmony diffused39 in the air by the band of the imperial guard, is now seated beside her. His eyes have forgotten Paris, and the setting sun, to dwell upon his graceful companion, and without being conscious of it he looks at her admiringly, with a strange and sweet persistence40 in his gaze, as if he now saw her for the first time, and were unable to take his eyes from this charming profile upon which they linger like a caress41.
The young student remained long absorbed in this contemplation. Was he, then, still at twenty-five, a student? But is not one always a student, and was not M. Chevreul, our professor at that time, only a few days before surnamed, in his hundred and third year, the dean of the students of France?
George Spero had early finished his studies at the Lyceum, studies which teach nothing unless it be how to study, and had gone on investigating with indefatigable42 ardor43 the great problems of the natural sciences. Astronomy, above all, had from the first aroused his enthusiasm, and I had first met him, in fact, at the Observatory44 of Paris (as the reader may remember to have read in the preceding narration), which he entered at the age of sixteen, and where he had made himself noticeable by an eccentricity45 sufficiently46 rare — that of having no ambition and seeking no advancement47. At sixteen as at twenty-five, he had believed himself on the eve of his death, reflecting, perhaps, that life is in any case short, and that nothing is worth an effort but Science, no happiness worth having but that of studying and acquiring knowledge. He was rather reserved in his manners, although at bottom he had a happy, childlike nature. His mouth, which was small and gracefully48 formed, seemed to smile, if one let ones eyes rest on the corners of the lips; otherwise it seemed pensive49, rather, and made for silence. His eyes, whose undecided color, resembling the greenish-blue of the sea where it touches the horizon, and changing according to the light and to every passing emotion, had ordinarily an expression of great sweetness, although on occasions they could flash like lightning or shine with the cold glitter of steel. His glance was piercing — at times unfathomable, strange even, and enigmatic. His ear was small and gracefully curved, the lobe50 well defined and slightly curled, which physiognomists regard as the mark of a subtle intellect. His forehead was broad, although his head was in reality rather small than large, its apparent size being increased by a wealth of sunny hair. His beard was fine; chestnut51 in color, like his hair, and wavy52. Of medium height, his whole bearing had an air of distinction natural to him; and his dress was always elegant, without pretension53 or affectation.
Neither my friends nor I had ever, at any time, had any intimacy54 with him. On holidays and during the hours of recreation he was never there. Always buried in his studies, one might suppose he had given up all his faculties55 to the discovery of the Philosopher’s Stone, the squaring of the circle, or perpetual motion. I never knew him to have a friend, unless it were myself, and yet I am by no means certain of having been admitted unreservedly to his confidence, and perhaps, after all, no other event of importance had ever occurred in his life, than the one of which I am now about to relate the history, and of all the details of which I was cognizant as an eye-witness, if not as his confidant.
His mind was constantly occupied with the problem of the nature and destiny of the soul to the exclusion56 of every other thought. At times he would plunge57 into the abysses of the unknown in his investigations58, with so great an intensity59 of cerebral60 action, that he would feel a tingling61 in his brain, like a premonition of insanity62. This was especially the case, when, after devoting hours to the solution of the question of immortality63, our ephemeral earthly life vanished from his gaze and he saw opening before his mental view, eternity65 without end. Face to face with this vision of the soul, enjoying endless being, what he desired was to know. The sight of his body, pale and cold, enveloped66 in a winding-sheet, lying stretched upon a bier, alone in the narrow grave, the last sad dwelling-place of man, the grass where the cricket chirps67 growing above, did not terrify his mind as much as did the uncertainty68 regarding a future state. “What is to be my future destiny? What is the destiny of mankind?” was his constant question, like the echo, in his brain, of a fixed69 idea. “If we die altogether, what a vain farce70 is life, with all its struggles and its hopes. If we are immortal64, what is to be our occupation during all the countless71 aeons of eternity? A hundred years hence where shall I be? Where will all those be who live now upon the earth? and what of the inhabitants of other worlds? To die forever, forever! To have existed only for a moment — what a mockery! Would it not be a thousand times better never to have been born? But if it is our destiny to live through all eternity, powerless to influence in aught the fatality72 that hurries us onward73, eternity without end always before our gaze, how to support the weight of such a destiny? Is this then the fate that awaits us? If we should ever grow weary of existence, we should be unable to fly from it; it would be impossible for us to end it — a fate more cruel still than that this ephemeral life should disappear from the view like an insect in its flight in the coolness of the evening. Why then were we born? To endure this uncertainty? To see our hopes of a future, as we examine, them, vanish one by one until none is left. To live, if we do not think like idiots, and if we think like fools? And they talk to us of a ‘good God!’ And there are religions and priests and rabbis and bonzes! But men are all either impostors or dupes. Religion and country, the priest and the soldier, it is the same with all. Men of every nation are armed to the teeth, to slay74 each other like mad men. And that is the wisest thing they can do: it is the best way in which they can show their gratitude75 to Nature for the useless gift she has bestowed76 upon them in giving them life.”
I tried to soothe77 these tortures, these doubts, for I had framed for myself a certain system of philosophy with which I was comparatively satisfied. “The fear of death,” I would say to him, “appears to me altogether absurd. There are only two sides to the question. When we go to sleep each night there is always the possibility that we may never awaken78: yet this thought when it occurs to us does not prevent us from falling asleep. In the one case then — supposing death to end everything — we never awaken, either here or elsewhere; and in that case death is but an unfinished sleep which is to last with us forever. Or, in the other case — that is to say should the soul survive the body — we shall re-awaken in some other place to resume our active life. In this case the re-awakening cannot be very terrible; on the contrary, it must rather be delightful79, every form of life in nature having its raison d’etre, and every creature, the lowest as well as the highest, finding its happiness in the exercise of its faculties.”
These arguments seemed to quiet him.
But the tortures of doubt soon pierced his soul again, sharp as thorns. At times he would wander alone through the vast cemeteries80 of Paris, seeking out the most solitary81 alleys82 among the tombs, listening to the sound of the wind among the trees and the rustling83 of the dead leaves in the walks. At times he would retire to the suburbs of the great city, plunge into the woods, and walk about for hours at a time, talking to himself. At other times he would remain in his room at the Place du Panthéon — a room which served him at once as a study, a bedroom and a reception-room — all day long and far into the night, dissecting84 some brain he had brought home from the clinic; examining the gray matter divided into minute sections, by the aid of the microscope.
The uncertainties of the sciences that are called exact, a sudden check to the progress of his thoughts in the solution of some problem, would throw him at such times into a paroxysm of despair, and I found him more than once in a state of utter exhaustion85, his eyes fixed and brilliant, his hands burning, his pulse quick and irregular. On the occasion of one of these crises, when I had been obliged to leave him alone for several hours, I even feared on returning at about five o’clock in the morning to find him no longer alive. He had beside him a glass of cyanuret of potassium, which he tried to conceal86 at my approach. But he recovered himself immediately, and smiling slightly, said with the utmost calmness: “What purpose would it serve? If we are immortal it would be of no use. It was only that I might know the truth the sooner.” He confessed to me that day that he had thought himself raised violently by the hair to the ceiling, and dropped down again with his whole weight upon the floor.
The general indifference87 with regard to this great problem of human destiny — a question in his eyes more important than any other, since it is one of our future existence or our annihilation —- had the effect of exasperating88 him to the highest degree. He saw everywhere people busied only with material interests, wrapped up in the bizarre idea of “accumulating money”; consecrating89 all their years, all their days, all their hours, all their minutes, to these interests, disguised under the most diverse forms.
He found not one free, independent, living the life of the spirit. It seemed to him that all thinking beings could and ought — while living the life of the body, since it could not be otherwise — to remain free from the slavery of an organization so gross, and to devote their best moments to the intellectual life.
At the time when this history begins, George Spero had already become celebrated90, famous even, on account both of the scientific works he had published, and of several works of polite literature, which had been received with universal applause. Although he had not yet completed his twenty-fifth year, more than a million persons had read his works, which, although not written for the general public, had had the good fortune to be appreciated by the majority seeking for instruction, as well as by the learned few. He had been proclaimed the leader of a new school, and eminent91 critics, who had never seen him and did not know how young he was, spoke92 of his “doctrines.”
How was it that this eccentric philosopher, this austere93 student, found himself at the feet of a young girl, at the hour of sunset, alone with her on this terrace where we have just seen them? This is what we are now about to learn.
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1
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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2
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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3
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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monarchy
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| n.君主，最高统治者；君主政体，君主国 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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prodigality
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| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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epitome
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| n.典型，梗概 | |
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manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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apogee
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| n.远地点；极点；顶点 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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inhales
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| v.吸入( inhale的第三人称单数 ) | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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32
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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uncertainties
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| 无把握( uncertainty的名词复数 )； 不确定； 变化不定； 无把握、不确定的事物 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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41
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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44
observatory
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| n.天文台，气象台，瞭望台，观测台 | |
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45
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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46
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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49
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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50
lobe
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| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
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51
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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52
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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53
pretension
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| n.要求；自命，自称；自负 | |
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54
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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57
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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60
cerebral
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| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
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tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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66
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chirps
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的第三人称单数 )； 啾； 啾啾 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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70
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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71
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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72
fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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cemeteries
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| n.（非教堂的）墓地，公墓( cemetery的名词复数 ) | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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83
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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84
dissecting
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| v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的现在分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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85
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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86
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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87
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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88
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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89
consecrating
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| v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的现在分词 )；奉献 | |
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90
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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91
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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92
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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93
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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