Refutation
Refutation
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DOI：
10.2307/3685398
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发表时间：
2004
期刊：
影响因子：
--
通讯作者：
R. Lapidus
中科院分区：
文献类型：
--
作者：
L. Salvayre;R. Lapidus
先生，既然我们有共同的事实，那就是都曾被伟大的路易、假科学家和耶稣会士所迫害，而我则被我的妻子所迫害，她除了责骂我之外从来没有得到过满足；因为作恶者和狂热分子竟然把我们流放——你被流放到埃格蒙德，我被流放到沙特奈·马拉布里——你被关在烤箱里，我被关在我的小房间里；因为我们都对世俗的化装舞会有着同样的厌恶，对沙漠——我的意思是社会沙漠——有着同样的宁静品味；因为我们谁都不能忍受有人闯入我们的静修处，在我们非人的孤独中漫步；因为我们俩经常光顾一个名字叫克里斯汀的人——你美丽而有皇室血统，我则红着脸、顾家；因为可以毫不夸张地说，他们俩都希望我们死，并且在某种意义上实现了我们的死。因为我们都认为巴黎的空气对我们来说是有害的，因为那里有无数的娱乐活动，而且那里的大多数人都喜欢撒谎；既然你断言所有人的理性都是平等的，我由此推断我的理性在广度和洞察力上自然与你的相同；既然你最终（相当轻率地）劝告人们摆脱一切权威的束缚，只承认理性的束缚，我在此授权自己摆脱你的束缚，并且由于这里引用的所有这些使我们成为兄弟的原因，我向你兄弟般地宣布以下内容，迄今为止没有人冒险对你说：你的错误是巨大的，先生，对我来说是巨大的，对世界来说是巨大的。我将向你展示这一点，并且绝对会让你感到困惑。我和我的猫巴兹尔独自生活。在沙漠里。在你所说的地方，我，在你之后，称之为沙漠。在瓦兹省的查特奈马拉布里 (Chatenay Malabris) 村庄里，连咖啡馆都没有。在那里，我日夜以泪水为食。为什么？因为，先生，我长期以来一直相信您所说的，并且长期遵循您指出的不可能的路线。先生，您说过，没有什么比我们的思想更能掌控我们的力量了。但是，经过三十年的重新努力，我被迫得出结论：没有什么比我的思想更难掌握的了。对于我的思想，先生，只要它们愿意，就可以攻击我。他们让我误入歧途，或者让我陷入困境。他们突然散去。他们磨磨蹭蹭。他们旋转。他们徘徊。他们潜入任何地方，但最常见的是潜向深渊。当我的时候他们很固执
Since we have in common, Monsieur, the fact of having been persecuted— you by the great Louis, the false scientists and the Jesuits, me by my wife, who never found satisfaction except in scolding me; since the evil-doers and fanatics went so far as to exile us—you to Egmond, me to Chatenay Malabris—you confined in an oven, me in my little room; since we both share the same abhorrence for worldly masquerades and the same tranquil taste for deserts— social deserts, I mean; since neither of us can stand to have anyone barge in on our retreats and come tramping around our inhuman solitudes; since both of us frequented someone whose first name was Christine—yours beautiful and of royal blood, mine red-faced and domestic; since it is no exaggeration to say that both of them desired our death and in a certain sense obtained it; since we both consider that the air of Paris is noxious to us because of the innumerable amusements there and because of the majority of people there who make a point of lying; since you affirmed that reason was equal in all men, from which I infer that my own naturally equals yours in expanse and penetration; since you finally (quite imprudently) exhorted men to throw off the yoke of all authority and only recognize that of reason, I authorize myself here to throw off yours, and for all these reasons cited here that make us brothers, I declare to you fraternally the following, which no one heretofore has risked saying to you: your fault is enormous, Monsieur, enormous in relation to me, enormous in relation to the world. I am going to demonstrate this to you and definitively confound you. I live alone with my cat, Basile. In the desert. In what you call, and what I, after you, call the desert. In Chatenay Malabris, a village in l’Oise that doesn’t even have a cafe. And where night and day I feed upon the bread of my tears. Why? Because, Monsieur, for a long time I believed in what you said, and for a long time followed the impossible route that you pointed out. You said, Monsieur, that there was nothing that was more in our power than our thoughts. But, after thirty years of renewed efforts, I am forced to conclude that there is nothing that I master less than my thoughts. For my thoughts, Monsieur, assail me whenever they wish. They lead me astray or bog me down. They suddenly disperse. They dawdle. They spin. They wander. They dive anywhere, but most often toward the abyss. They are stubborn when I