lipped the
wings of a throng of illusions, which have never stirred since within
me. You, dear Emile, alone brought soothing to the deep wounds that
others had made in my heart. You alone will admire my 'Theory of the
Will.' I devoted most of my time to that long work, for which I studied
Oriental languages, physiology and anatomy. If I do not deceive myself,
my labors will complete the task begun by Mesmer, Lavater, Gall, and
Bichat, and open up new paths in science.

"There ends that fair life of mine, the daily sacrifice, the
unrecognized silkworm's toil, that is, perhaps, its own sole recompense.
Since attaining years of discretion, until the day when I finished my
'Theory,' I observed, learned, wrote, and read unintermittingly; my
life was one long imposition, as schoolboys say. Though by nature
effeminately attached to Oriental indolence, sensual in tastes, and a
wooer of dreams, I worked incessantly, and refused to taste any of the
enjoyments of Parisian life. Though a glutton, I became abstemious; and
loving exercise and sea voyages as I did, and haunted by the wish to
visit many countries, still child enough to play at ducks and drakes
with pebbles over a pond, I led a sedentary life with a pen in my
fingers. I liked talking, but I went to sit and mutely listen to
professors who gave public lectures at the _Bibliotheque_ or the Museum.
I slept upon my solitary pallet like a Benedictine brother, though woman
was my one chimera, a chimera that fled from me as I wooed it! In short,
my life has been a cruel contradiction, a perpetual cheat. After that,
judge a man!

"Sometimes my natural propensities broke out like a fire long smothered.
I was debarred from the women whose society I desired, stripped of
everything and lodged in an artist's garret, and by a sort of mirage or
calenture I was surrounded by captivating mistresses. I drove through
the streets of Paris, lolling on the soft cushions of a fine equipage.
I plunged into dissipation, into corroding vice, I desired and possessed
everything, for fasting had made me light-headed like the tempted Saint
Anthony. Slumber, happily, would put an end at last to these devastating
trances; and on the morrow science would beckon me, smiling, and I was
faithful to her. I imagine that women reputed virtuous, must often fall
a prey to these insane tempests of desire and passion, which rise in us
in spite of ourselves. Such dreams have a charm of their own; they are
someth