Diotimos Library · Journals, Notebooks & Fragments Collection · Bilingual Edition
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French Page · Branch 19 of 121
1833 · Le 22.
French
p. 37Le 22.
Journée stérile; la lettre qui m’est arrivée hier au soir m’a complètement paralysé. Elle est un peu sévère, mais pleine de bons conseils. Par malheur, je suis ainsi fait, que les meilleurs remèdes manquent leur effet sur moi, et, ce qui est bien plus étrange, empirent quelquefois ma situation. Ainsi cette lettre, en touchant à mes plaies les plus vives pour les guérir, a réveillé en moi une vibration de toutes mes souffrances passées. Tous mes souvenirs amers se sont réveillés en sursaut; j’ai résumé en quelques heures mes misères de dix ans, résumé non en esprit, mais en sensation réelle et profonde. Tant que ces tristes choses resteront empreintes dans ma mémoire, ma nouvelle vie sera pauvre et traînante. Un rien me fait retomber dans ces souvenirs et provoque des crises qui m’épuisent et me mettent sur les dents. Il est vrai que ce passé dont je parle est encore si près qu’il projette sur moi toute la longueur de son ombre. J’espère qu’à mesure que je m’en éloignerai, sa présente puissance s’affaiblira et que je me trouverai enfin libre de ses impressions. Néanmoins je persiste à croire qu’il y a en moi un tel vice organique et un tel délabrement que je ne me réparerai jamais complétement. Mon élément craintif, inquiet, analytique, est trop vivace pour me laisser jamais en repos. Peut-être à force d’amour de Dieu parviendrai-je à lui ôter un peu de sa force. Si j’en souffrais tout seul, passe; mais ceux que j’aime et qui sont assez bons pour m’aimer en souffrent aussi. Je les afflige, et c’est mon plus grand malheur.
J’avance bien lentement du côté de l’intelligence. J’ai le pressentiment de mille choses, mais c’est plutôt un tourment qu’un progrès. Je lis avec lenteur et jamais libre de préoccupations inquiètes; même la contemplation de la ravissante nature ne peut endormir ces pensées qui bourdonnent sans cesse autour de mon âme comme des moustiques. Je me traîne sur l’étude des langues dont je suis pourtant avide. Je suis tardif en tout, et cependant je sens quelque chose qui m’aiguillonne vivement.
The Green Notebook: 1833
p. 38March 22, 1833
A barren day; the letter that reached me last night has completely paralyzed me. It is a little severe, but full of good advice. Unfortunately, I am so constituted that the best remedies fail to work upon me and, stranger still, sometimes worsen my condition. Thus this letter, touching my most sensitive wounds to heal them, awakened within me a vibration of all my past sufferings. All my bitter memories started awake; in a few hours I summed up ten years’ miseries, summed them up not in thought but in real and profound sensation. As long as these sad things remain imprinted on my memory, my new life will be poor and dragging. The slightest thing sends me back into those memories and provokes crises which exhaust me and leave me utterly spent. It is true that the past of which I speak is still so close that it casts the whole length of its shadow upon me. I hope that, as I draw farther from it, its present power will weaken, and I shall at last find myself free of its impressions. Nevertheless, I persist in believing that there is within me such an organic flaw and such disrepair that I shall never wholly restore myself. My fearful, anxious, analytical element is too vigorous ever to leave me in peace. Perhaps, through much love of God, I shall manage to take away a little of its strength. If I alone suffered from it, so be it; but those I love, who are good enough to love me, suffer from it too. I grieve them, and that is my greatest misfortune.
I advance very slowly in matters of the mind. I have an intimation of a thousand things, but it is more a torment than an advance. I read slowly, never free of anxious preoccupations; even the contemplation of enchanting nature cannot lull those thoughts which buzz ceaselessly around my soul like mosquitoes. I drag myself through the study of languages, for which I am nevertheless eager. I am slow in everything, yet I feel something spurring me sharply on.
Socrates
Reading The Green Notebook · 1833 · March 22, 1833
Ask about a concept, passage, contradiction, or connection.
Socrates will begin with this book and its sources.About This Reading Edition
Maurice de Guérin’s journal moves between close attention to nature, friendship, faith, and the inward demands of poetry. This bilingual edition presents the complete Journal section of the 1864 printing, with a separate appendix of earlier printed passages from 1861.
Historical Text and Translation
The French follows G. S. Trébutien’s sixth edition of Journal, lettres et poèmes (Paris: Didier et Cie, 1864), pages 3–126. Its 116 dated entries run from July 1832 to October 1835. Five earlier passages from Reliquiae (1861) appear separately in the appendix. Completeness refers to the printed Journal, rather than the autograph notebook; the following letters and poems are outside this edition.
About Diotimos Editions
Diotimos Editions prepared this independent English translation directly from the French, preserving Guérin’s imagery, repetitions, intimate voice, and original paragraph divisions. French and English remain aligned for comparison. Translator’s notes clarify words, quotations, and allusions, while historical editor notes retain their separate attribution. The Essential setting keeps explanations useful to reading; All also includes the note on the edition’s typographic treatment.
Rights
The historical French printings are in the public domain in the United States. The independent English translation and new editorial notes are © 2026 Diotimos Editions. The linked facsimiles identify the printed witnesses used for this edition. Historical annotations and editorial conjectures remain attributed to their source editors, and the earlier variant passages are presented separately from the later Journal text.