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The Elixir of Life-Part3_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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city; but Don Juan found his world in himself.

This model of grace and dignity, this captivating wit, moored his



bark by every shore; but wherever he was led he was never carried

away, and was only steered in a course of his own choosing. The



more he saw, the more he doubted. He watched men narrowly, and

saw how, beneath the surface, courage was often rashness; and



prudence, cowardice; generosity, a clever piece of calculation;

justice, a wrong; delicacy, pusillanimity; honesty, a modus



vivendi; and by some strange dispensation of fate, he must see

that those who at heart were really honest, scrupulous, just,



generous, prudent, or brave were held cheaply by their fellow-

men.



"What a cold-blooded jest!" said he to himself. "It was not

devised by a God."



From that time forth he renounced a better world, and never

uncovered himself when a Name was pronounced, and for him the



carven saints in the churches became works of art. He understood

the mechanism of society too well to clash wantonly with its



prejudices; for, after all, he was not as powerful as the

executioner, but he evaded social laws with the wit and grace so



well rendered in the scene with M. Dimanche. He was, in fact,

Moliere's Don Juan, Goethe's Faust, Byron's Manfred, Mathurin's



Melmoth--great allegorical figures drawn by the greatest men of

genius in Europe, to which Mozart's harmonies, perhaps, do no



more justice than Rossini's lyre. Terrible allegorical figures

that shall endure as long as the principle of evil existing in



the heart of man shall produce a few copies from century to

century. Sometimes the type becomes half-human when incarnate as



a Mirabeau, sometimes it is an inarticulate force in a Bonaparte,

sometimes it overwhelms the universe with irony as a Rabelais;



or, yet again, it appears when a Marechal de Richelieu elects to

laugh at human beings instead of scoffing at things, or when one



of the most famous of our ambassadors goes a step further and

scoffs at both men and things. But the profoundgenius of Juan



Belvidero anticipated and resumed all these. All things were a

jest to him. His was the life of a mocking spirit. All men, all



institutions, all realities, all ideas were within its scope. As

for eternity, after half an hour of familiar conversation with



Pope Julius II. he said, laughing:

"If it is absolutely necessary to make a choice, I would rather



believe in God than in the Devil; power combined with goodness

always offers more resources than the spirit of Evil can boast."



"Yes; still God requires repentance" target="_blank" title="n.悔悟，悔改；忏悔">repentance in this present world----"

"So you always think of your indulgences," returned Don Juan



Belvidero. "Well, well, I have another life in reserve in which

to repent of the sins of my previousexistence."



"Oh, if you regard old age in that light," cried the Pope, "you

are in danger on canonization----"



"After your elevation to the Papacy nothing is incredible." And

they went to watch the workmen who were building the huge



basilica dedicated to Saint Peter.

"Saint Peter, as the man of genius who laid the foundation of our



double power," the Pope said to Don Juan, "deserves this

monument. Sometimes, though, at night, I think that a deluge will



wipe all this out as with a sponge, and it will be all to begin

over again."



Don Juan and the Pope began to laugh; they understood each other.

A fool would have gone on the morrow to amuse himself with Julius



II. in Raphael's studio or at the delicious Villa Madama; not so

Belvidero. He went to see the Pope as pontiff, to be convinced of



any doubts that he (Don Juan) entertained. Over his cups the

Rovere would have been capable of denying his own infallibility



and of commenting on the Apocalypse.

Nevertheless, this legend has not been undertaken to furnish



materials for future biographies of Don Juan; it is intended to

prove to honest folk that Belvidero did not die in a duel with



stone, as some lithographers would have us believe.

When Don Juan Belvidero reached the age of sixty he settled in



Spain, and there in his old age he married a young and charming

Andalusian wife. But of set purpose he was neither a good husband






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