In 1831, he told me exactly what
would and did happen--the murders, the conspiracies, the ascendency of
the Jews, the difficulty of doing anything in France, the scarcity of
talent in the higher circles, and the abundance of intellect in the
lowest ranks, where the finest courage is smothered under cigar ashes.
What was to become of him? His parents wished him to be a doctor. But
if he were a doctor, must he not wait twenty years for a practice? You
know what he did? No? Well, he is a doctor; but he left France, he is
in Asia. At this moment he is perhaps sinking under fatigue in a
desert, or dying of the lashes of a barbarous horde--or perhaps he is
some Indian prince's prime minister.
Action is my vocation. Leaving a civil college at the age of twenty,
the only way for me to enter the army was by enlisting as a common
soldier; so, weary of the dismal outlook that lay before a lawyer, I
acquired the knowledge needed for a sailor. I imitate Juste, and keep
out of France, where men waste, in the struggle to make way, the
energy needed for the noblest works. Follow my example, friends; I am
going where a man steers his destiny as he pleases.
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