which we work up from the effect to the cause； or； in a wider sense；
all poetry； like every work of art； proceeds from a swift vision of
things。〃
He was a spiritualist （as opposed to materialism）； but I would venture
to contradict him； using his own arguments to consider the intellect
as a purely physical phenomenon。 We both were right。 Perhaps the words
materialism and spiritualism express the two faces of the same fact。
His considerations on the substance of the mind led to his accepting；
with a certain pride； the life of privation to which we were condemned
in consequence of our idleness and our indifference to learning。 He
had a certain consciousness of his own powers which bore him up
through his spiritual cogitations。 How delightful it was to me to feel
his soul acting on my own！ Many a time have we remained sitting on our
form； both buried in one book； having quite forgotten each other's
existence； and yet not apart； each conscious of the other's presence；
and bathing in an ocean of thought； like two fish swimming in the same
waters。
Our life； apparently； was merely vegetating； but we lived through our
heart and brain。
Lambert's influence over my imagination left traces that still abide。
I used to listen hungrily to his tales； full of the marvels which make
men； as well as children； rapturously devour stories in which truth
assumes the most grotesque forms。 His passion for mystery； and the
credulity natural to the young； often led us to discuss Heaven and
Hell。 Then Louis； by expounding Swedenborg； would try to make me share
in his beliefs concerning angels。 In his least logical arguments there
were still amazing observations as to the powers of man； which gave
his words that color of truth without which nothing can be done in any
art。 The romantic end he foresaw as the destiny of man was calculated
to flatter the yearning which tempts blameless imaginations to give
themselves up to beliefs。 Is it not during the youth of a nation that
its dogmas and idols are conceived？ And are not the supernatural
beings before whom the people tremble the personification of their
feelings and their magnified desires？
All that I can now remember of the poetical conversations we held
together concerning the Swedish prophet； whose works I have since had
the curiosity to read； may be told in a few paragraphs。
In each of us there are two distinct beings。 According to Swedenborg；
the angel is an individual in whom the inner being conquers the
external being。 If a man desires to earn his call to be an angel； as
soon as his mind reveals to him his twofold existence； he must strive
to foster the delicate angelic essence that exists within him。 If； for
lack of a lucid appreciation of his destiny； he allows bodily action
to predominate； instead of confirming his intellectual being； all his
powers will be absorbed in the use of his external senses； and the
angel will slowly perish by the materialization of both natures。 In
the contrary case； if he nourishes his inner being with the aliment
needful to it； the soul triumphs over matter and strives to get free。
When they separate by the act of what we call death； the angel； strong
enough then to cast off its wrappings； survives and begins its real
life。 The infinite variety which differentiates individual men can
only be explained by this twofold existence； which； again； is proved
and made intelligible by that variety。
In point of fact； the wide distance between a man whose torpid
intelligence condemns him to evident stupidity； and one who； by the
exercise of his inner life； has acquired the gift of some power；
allows us to suppose that there is as great a difference between men
of genius and other beings as there is between the blind and those who
see。 This hypothesis； since it extends creation beyond all limits；
gives us； as it were； the clue to heaven。 The beings who； here on
earth； are apparently mingled without distinction； are there
distributed； according to their inner perfection； in distinct spheres
whose speech and manners have nothing in common。 In the invisible
world； as in the real world； if some native of the lower spheres
comes； all unworthy； into a higher sphere； not only can he never
understand the customs and language there； but his mere presence
paralyzes the voice and hearts of those who dwell therein。
Dante； in his /Divine Comedy/； had perhaps some slight intuition of
those spheres which begin in the world of torment； and rise； circle on
circle； to the highest heaven。 Thus Swedenborg's doctrine is the
product of a lucid spirit noting down the innumerable signs by which
the angels manifest their presence among men。
This doctrine； which I have endeavored to sum up in a more or less
consistent form； was set before me by Lambert with all the fascination
of mysticism； swathed in the wrappings of the phraseology affected by
mystical writers： an obscure language full of abstractions； and taking
such effect on the brain； that there are books by Jacob Boehm；
Swedenborg； and Madame Guyon； so strangely powerful that they give
rise to phantasies as various as the dreams of the opium…eater。
Lambert told me of mystical facts so extraordinary； he so acted on my
imagination； that he made my brain reel。 Still； I loved to plunge into
that realm of mystery； invisible to the senses； in which every one
likes to dwell； whether he pictures it to himself under the indefinite
ideal of the Future； or clothes it in the more solid guise of romance。
These violent revulsions of the mind on itself gave me； without my
knowing it； a comprehension of its power； and accustomed me to the
workings of the mind。
Lambert himself explained everything by his theory of the angels。 To
him pure lovelove as we dream of it in youthwas the coalescence of
two angelic natures。 Nothing could exceed the fervency with which he
longed to meet a woman angel。 And who better than he could inspire or
feel love？ If anything could give an impression of an exquisite
nature； was it not the amiability and kindliness that marked his
feelings； his words； his actions； his slightest gestures； the conjugal
regard that united us as boys； and that we expressed when we called
ourselves /chums/？
There was no distinction for us between my ideas and his。 We imitated
each other's handwriting； so that one might write the tasks of both。
Thus； if one of us had a book to finish and to return to the
mathematical master； he could read on without interruption while the
other scribbled off his exercise and imposition。 We did our tasks as
though paying a task on our peace of mind。 If my memory does not play
me false； they were sometimes of remarkable merit when Lambert did
them。 But on the foregone conclusion that we were both of us idiots；
the master always went through them under a rooted prejudice； and even
kept them to read to be laughed at by our schoolfellows。
I remember one afternoon； at the end of the lesson； which lasted from
two till four； the master took possession of a page of translation by
Lambert。 The passage began with /Caius Gracchus； vir nobilis/； Lambert
had construed this by 〃Caius Gracchus had a noble heart。〃
〃Where do you find 'heart' in /nobilis/？〃 said the Father sharply。
And there was a roar of laughter； while Lambert looked at the master
in some bewilderment。
〃What would Madame la Baronne de Stael say if she could know that you
make such nonsense of a word that means noble family； of patrician
rank？〃
〃She would say that you were an ass！〃 said I in a muttered tone。
〃Master Poet； you will stay in for a week；〃 replied the master； who
unfortunately overheard me。
Lambert simply repeated； looking at me with inexpressible affection；
〃/Vir nobilis/！〃
Madame de Stael was； in fact； partly the cause of Lambert's troubles。
On every pretext masters and pupils threw the name in his teeth；
either in irony or in reproof。
Louis lost no time in getting himself 〃kept in〃 to share my
imprisonment。 Freer thus than in any other circumstances； we could
talk the whole day long in the silence of the dormitories； where each
boy had a cubicle six feet square； the partitions consisting at the
top of open bars。 The doors； fitted with gratings； were locked at
night and opened in the morning under the eye of the Father whose duty
it was to superintend our rising and going to bed。 The creak of these
gates； which the college servants unlocked with remarkable expedition；
was a sound peculiar to that college。 These little cells were our
prison； and boys were sometimes shut up there for a month at a time。
The boys in these coops were under the stern eye of the prefect； a
sort of censor who stole up at certain hours； or at unexpected
moments； with a silent step； to hear if we were talking instead of
writing our impositions。 But a few walnut shells dropped on the
stairs； or the sharpness of our hearing； almost always enabled us to
beware of his coming； so we could give ourselves up without anxiety to
our favorite studies。 However； as books were prohibited； our prison
hours were chiefly filled up with metaphysical discussions； or with
relating singular facts connected with the phenomena of mind。
One of the most extraordinary of these incidents beyond question is
this； which I will here record； not only because it concerns Lambert；
but because it perhaps was the turning…point of his scientific career。
By the law of custom in all schools； Thursday and Sunday were
holidays； but the services； which we were made to attend very
regularly； so completely filled up Sunday； that we considered Thursday
our only real day of freedom。 After once attending Mass； we had a long
day before us to spend in walks in the country round the town of
Vendome。 The manor of Rochambeau was the most interesting object of
our excursions； perhaps by reason of its distance； the smaller boys
were very seldom taken on so fatiguing an expedition。 However； once or
twice a year the class…masters would hold out Rochambeau as a reward
for diligence。
In 1812； towards the end of the spring； we were to go there for the
first time。 Our anxiety to see this famous chateau of Rochambeau；
where the owner sometimes treated the boys to mi