pleader on the conscience。 Forced to be speaking without a rest； they
all substitute words for ideas； phrases for feelings； and their soul
becomes a larynx。 Neither the great merchant； nor the judge； nor the
pleader preserves his sense of right； they feel no more； they apply
set rules that leave cases out of count。 Borne along by their headlong
course； they are neither husbands nor fathers nor lovers； they glide
on sledges over the facts of life； and live at all times at the high
pressure conduced by business and the vast city。 When they return to
their homes they are required to go to a ball； to the opera； into
society； where they can make clients； acquaintances； protectors。 They
all eat to excess； play and keep vigil； and their faces become
bloated； flushed； and emaciated。
To this terrific expenditure of intellectual strength； to such
multifold moral contradictions； they opposenot； indeed pleasure； it
would be too pale a contrastbut debauchery； a debauchery both secret
and alarming； for they have all means at their disposal； and fix the
morality of society。 Their genuine stupidity lies hid beneath their
specialism。 They know their business； but are ignorant of everything
which is outside it。 So that to preserve their self…conceit they
question everything； are crudely and crookedly critical。 They appear
to be sceptics and are in reality simpletons； they swamp their wits in
interminable arguments。 Almost all conveniently adopt social；
literary； or political prejudices； to do away with the need of having
opinions； just as they adapt their conscience to the standard of the
Code or the Tribunal of Commerce。 Having started early to become men
of note； they turn into mediocrities； and crawl over the high places
of the world。 So； too； their faces present the harsh pallor； the
deceitful coloring； those dull； tarnished eyes； and garrulous； sensual
mouths； in which the observer recognizes the symptoms of the
degeneracy of the thought and its rotation in the circle of a special
idea which destroys the creative faculties of the brain and the gift
of seeing in large； of generalizing and deducing。 No man who has
allowed himself to be caught in the revolutions of the gear of these
huge machines can ever become great。 If he is a doctor； either he has
practised little or he is an exceptiona Bichat who dies young。 If a
great merchant； something remainshe is almost Jacques Coeur。 Did
Robespierre practise？ Danton was an idler who waited。 But who；
moreover has ever felt envious of the figures of Danton and
Robespierre； however lofty they were？ These men of affairs； /par
excellence/； attract money to them； and hoard it in order to ally
themselves with aristocratic families。 If the ambition of the working…
man is that of the small tradesman； here； too； are the same passions。
The type of this class might be either an ambitious bourgeois； who；
after a life of privation and continual scheming； passes into the
Council of State as an ant passes through a chink； or some newspaper
editor； jaded with intrigue； whom the king makes a peer of France
perhaps to revenge himself on the nobility； or some notary become
mayor of his parish： all people crushed with business； who； if they
attain their end； are literally /killed/ in its attainment。 In France
the usage is to glorify wigs。 Napoleon； Louis XVI。； the great rulers；
alone have always wished for young men to fulfil their projects。
Above this sphere the artist world exists。 But here； too； the faces
stamped with the seal of originality are worn； nobly indeed； but worn；
fatigued； nervous。 Harassed by a need of production； outrun by their
costly fantasies； worn out by devouring genius； hungry for pleasure；
the artists of Paris would all regain by excessive labor what they
have lost by idleness； and vainly seek to reconcile the world and
glory； money and art。 To begin with； the artist is ceaselessly panting
under his creditors； his necessities beget his debts； and his debts
require of him his nights。 After his labor； his pleasure。 The comedian
plays till midnight； studies in the morning； rehearses at noon； the
sculptor is bent before his statue； the journalist is a marching
thought； like the soldier when at war； the painter who is the fashion
is crushed with work； the painter with no occupation； if he feels
himself to be a man of genius； gnaws his entrails。 Competition；
rivalry； calumny assail talent。 Some； in desperation； plunge into the
abyss of vice； others die young and unknown because they have
discounted their future too soon。 Few of these figures； originally
sublime； remain beautiful。 On the other hand； the flagrant beauty of
their heads is not understood。 An artist's face is always exorbitant；
it is always above or below the conventional lines of what fools call
the /beau…ideal/。 What power is it that destroys them？ Passion。 Every
passion in Paris resolves into two terms： gold and pleasure。 Now； do
you not breathe again？ Do you not feel air and space purified？ Here is
neither labor nor suffering。 The soaring arch of gold has reached the
summit。 From the lowest gutters； where its stream commences； from the
little shops where it is stopped by puny coffer…dams； from the heart
of the counting…houses and great workshops； where its volume is that
of ingotsgold； in the shape of dowries and inheritances； guided by
the hands of young girls or the bony fingers of age； courses towards
the aristocracy； where it will become a blazing； expansive stream。
But； before leaving the four territories upon which the utmost wealth
of Paris is based； it is fitting； having cited the moral causes； to
deduce those which are physical； and to call attention to a
pestilence； latent； as it were； which incessantly acts upon the faces
of the porter； the artisan； the small shopkeeper； to point out a
deleterious influence the corruption of which equals that of the
Parisian administrators who allow it so complacently to exist！
If the air of the houses in which the greater proportion of the middle
classes live is noxious； if the atmosphere of the streets belches out
cruel miasmas into stuffy back…kitchens where there is little air；
realize that； apart from this pestilence； the forty thousand houses of
this great city have their foundations in filth； which the powers that
be have not yet seriously attempted to enclose with mortar walls solid
enough to prevent even the most fetid mud from filtering through the
soil； poisoning the wells； and maintaining subterraneously to Lutetia
the tradition of her celebrated name。 Half of Paris sleeps amidst the
putrid exhalations of courts and streets and sewers。 But let us turn
to the vast saloons； gilded and airy； the hotels in their gardens； the
rich； indolent； happy moneyed world。 There the faces are lined and
scarred with vanity。 There nothing is real。 To seek for pleasure is it
not to find /ennui/？ People in society have at an early age warped
their nature。 Having no occupation other than to wallow in pleasure；
they have speedily misused their sense； as the artisan has misused
brandy。 Pleasure is of the nature of certain medical substances： in
order to obtain constantly the same effects the doses must be doubled；
and death or degradation is contained in the last。 All the lower
classes are on their knees before the wealthy； and watch their tastes
in order to turn them into vices and exploit them。 Thus you see in
these folk at an early age tastes instead of passions； romantic
fantasies and lukewarm loves。 There impotence reigns； there ideas have
ceasedthey have evaporated together with energy amongst the
affectations of the boudoir and the cajolements of women。 There are
fledglings of forty； old doctors of sixty years。 The wealthy obtain in
Paris ready…made wit and scienceformulated opinions which save them
the need of having wit； science； or opinion of their own。 The
irrationality of this world is equaled by its weakness and its
licentiousness。 It is greedy of time to the point of wasting it。 Seek
in it for affection as little as for ideas。 Its kisses conceal a
profound indifference； its urbanity a perpetual contempt。 It has no
other fashion of love。 Flashes of wit without profundity； a wealth of
indiscretion； scandal； and above all； commonplace。 Such is the sum of
its speech； but these happy fortunates pretend that they do not meet
to make and repeat maxims in the manner of La Rochefoucauld as though
there did not exist a mean； invented by the eighteenth century；
between a superfluity and absolute blank。 If a few men of character
indulge in witticism； at once subtle and refined； they are
misunderstood； soon； tired of giving without receiving； they remain at
home； and leave fools to reign over their territory。 This hollow life；
this perpetual expectation of a pleasure which never comes； this
permanent /ennui/ and emptiness of soul； heart； and mind； the
lassitude of the upper Parisian world； is reproduced on its features；
and stamps its parchment faces； its premature wrinkles； that
physiognomy of the wealthy upon which impotence has set its grimace；
in which gold is mirrored； and whence intelligence has fled。
Such a view of moral Paris proves that physical Paris could not be
other than it is。 This coroneted town is like a queen； who； being
always with child； has desires of irresistible fury。 Paris is the
crown of the world； a brain which perishes of genius and leads human
civilization； it is a great man； a perpetually creative artist； a
politician with second…sight who must of necessity have wrinkles on
his forehead； the vices of a great man； the fantasies of the artist；
and the politician's disillusions。 Its physiognomy suggests the
evolution of good and evil； battle and victory； the moral combat of
'89； the clarion calls of which still re…echo in every corner of the
world； and also the downfall of 1814。 Thus this city can no more be
moral； or cordial； or clean； than the engines which impel those proud
leviathans which you admire when they cleave the waves！ Is not Paris a
sublime vessel laden with intelligence？ Yes； her arms are one of those
oracles which fatality sometimes allows。 The /City of Paris/ has her
great mast； all of bronze； carved with victories； and