Alas! my dear
and only friend, for nearly ten years now I have been struggling.
This battle with men and things, in which I have unceasingly
poured out my strength and energy, and so constantly worn the
springs of desire, has, so to speak, undermined my vitality. With
all the appearance of a strong man of good health, I feel myself a
wreck. Every day carries with it a shred of my inmost life. At
every fresh effort I feel that I should never be able to begin
again. I have no power, no vigor left but for happiness; and if it
should never come to crown my head with roses, the _me_ that is
really me would cease to exist, I should be a ruined thing. I
should wish for nothing more in the world. I should want to cease
from living. You know that power and fame, the vast moral empire
that I crave, is but secondary; it is to me only a means to
happiness, the pedestal for my idol.
"To reach the goal and die, like the runner of antiquity! To see
fortune and death stand on the threshold hand in hand! To win the
beloved woman just when love is extinct! To lose the faculty of
enjoyment after earning the right to be happy!--Of how many men
has this been the fate!
"But there surely is a moment when Tantalus rebels, crosses his
arms, and defies hell, throwing up his part of the eternal dupe.
That is what I shall come to if anything should thwart my plan;
if, after stooping to the dust of provincial life, prowling like a
starving tiger round these tradesmen, these electors, to secure
their votes; if, after wrangling in these squalid cases, and
giving them my time--the time I might have spent on Lago Maggiore,
seeing the waters she sees, basking in her gaze, hearing her voice
--if, after all, I failed to scale the tribune and conquer the
glory that should surround the name that is to succeed to that of
Argaiolo! Nay, more than this, Leopold; there are days when I feel
a heady languor; deep disgust surges up from the depths of my
soul, especially when, abandoned to long day-dreams, I have lost
myself in anticipation of the joys of blissful love! May it not be
that our desire has only a certain modicum of power, and that it
perishes, perhaps, of a too lavish effusion of its essence? For,
after all, at this present, my life is fair, illuminated by faith,
work, and love.
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