Between the future and the remembered past, man is left to struggle
with what he possesses least, the present.
And yet this present is lavish of all sorts of materials that we
can transform into riches. It is our liquid fortune, mobile and in
circulation. It is the well-filled purse upon which we draw for our
daily needs.
It reaches us out of the depths of time, like a great river, loaded
with sailing-ships and steamers, deep, flowing, beautiful with all its
reflections, and rolling gold in its sands.
But it has its rages, its whims, its cruelties. According to the
season, it overflows and desolates the land or suddenly dries up and
deserts the fields that it refreshed with its floods!
So be it! If the present refuses to yield its manna, we will draw upon
our last resources. If the times overwhelm us with bitterness, we will
flee to our refuges, where we have nothing to fear from intruders or
masters or tormentors.
Common-sense folk, who have the secret of debasing life in the name
of a reason that is more mischievous than actual stupidity, are in
the habit of devoting an almost superstitious worship to the present
reality. To tell the truth, they are greatly afraid that the taste for
memory and hope will turn young men away from that immediate action
which is necessary for the conquest and preservation of material wealth.
They honor with great pomp the origins in the past of those traditions
that are favorable to them; and the way they invoke and prepare for the
future loads the present with chains and shackles.
They dread, in reverie, an enemy of action. As if there were any great
actions that have not their source in great dreams!
These people deceive themselves. They sacrifice an unequalled
consolation to the needs of a fleeting fortune. But do not imagine that
the failure of their fortune leaves these men utterly abandoned: the
refuges open gladly, even for those who have despised them.