Alas, let a blow, a fall, a moral suffering deprive Homer, Newton, Bossuet of their genius, and those divine men, instead of exciting profound pity, bitter and eternal regret, would be the object of a smile! Many people whom I have known and loved have seen their reason troubled while about me, as though I bore with me the germ of the contagion. I can explain Cervantes' masterpiece and its cruel gaiety only by a sad reflection: when one considers existence as a whole, and weighs its good and evil, one feels tempted to long for any accident that brings forgetfulness with it, as a means of escaping from one's self; a joyful drunkard is a happy being. Putting religion aside, happiness lies in not knowing one's self and in reaching death without having felt life.
I brought my friend back completely cured.
*
Madame Lucile and Madame de Farcy, who had returned with me to Brittany, wished to go back to Paris; but I was detained by the unsettled condition of the province. The States had been summoned for the end of December 1788. The commune of Rennes and, following in its wake, the other communes of Brittany had passed a resolution forbidding their deputies to take part in any business before the question of hearth-money had been settled.
The Comte de Boisgelin[303], who was to preside over the order of the nobles, hurried to Rennes. The gentry were convoked by private letters; among them were those who, like myself, were still too young to have votes in the deliberations. We might be attacked, strong arms needed counting as well as votes: we went to our posts.
A number of meetings were held at M. de Boisgelin's before the opening of the States. All the scenes of confusion at which I had assisted were renewed. The Chevalier de Guer, the Marquis de Trémargat, my uncle the Comte de Bedée, nicknamed Bedée the Artichoke, because of his stoutness, as opposed to another Bedée, long and slim, who was called Bedée the Asparagus, broke a number of chairs in climbing on them to deliver their harangues. The Marquis de Trémargat, a wooden-legged naval officer, made many enemies for his order. One day they were talking of establishing a military school for the education of the sons of poor nobles; a member of the Third Estate cried:
"And what are our sons to have?"
"The almshouse," replied Trémargat.
The phrase fell among the crowd and soon bore fruit.
At these meetings I became aware of a disposition of character in myself which I have since found again in the field of politics and arms: the more my colleagues or companions grew inflamed, the calmer I became. I saw the tribune or the gun fired with indifference: I have never bowed before either words or cannon-balls.