Let us take two young men at the close of their early education, and let them enter the world by opposite doors.  The one mounts at once to Olympus, and moves in the smartest society; he is taken to court, he is presented in the houses of the great, of the rich, of the pretty women.  I assume that he is everywhere made much of, and I do not regard too closely the effect of this reception on his reason; I assume it can stand it.  Pleasures fly before him, every day provides him with fresh amusements; he flings himself into everything with an eagerness which carries you away.  You find him busy, eager, and curious; his first wonder makes a great impression on you; you think him happy; but behold the state of his heart; you think he is rejoicing, I think he suffers.

What does he see when first he opens his eyes? all sorts of so-called pleasures, hitherto unknown.  Most of these pleasures are only for a moment within his reach, and seem to show themselves only to inspire regret for their loss.  Does he wander through a palace; you see by his uneasy curiosity that he is asking why his father’s house is not like it.  Every question shows you that he is comparing himself all the time with the owner of this grand place.  And all the mortification arising from this comparison at once revolts and stimulates his vanity.  If he meets a young man better dressed than himself, I find him secretly complaining of his parents’ meanness.  If he is better dressed than another, he suffers because the latter is his superior in birth or in intellect, and all his gold lace is put to shame by a plain cloth coat.  Does he shine unrivalled in some assembly, does he stand on tiptoe that they may see him better, who is there who does not secretly desire to humble the pride and vanity of the young fop?  Everybody is in league against him; the disquieting glances of a solemn man, the biting phrases of some satirical person, do not fail to reach him, and if it were only one man who despised him, the scorn of that one would poison in a moment the applause of the rest.

Let us grant him everything, let us not grudge him charm and worth; let him be well-made, witty, and attractive; the women will run after him; but by pursuing him before he is in love with them, they will inspire rage rather than love; he will have successes, but neither rapture nor passion to enjoy them.  As his desires are always anticipated; they never have time to spring up among his pleasures, so he only feels the tedium of restraint.  Even before he knows it he is disgusted and satiated with the sex formed to be the delight of his own; if he continues its pursuit it is only through vanity, and even should he really be devoted to women, he will not be the only brilliant, the only attractive young man, nor will he always find his mistresses prodigies of fidelity.

I say nothing of the vexation, the deceit, the crimes, and the remorse of all kinds, inseparable from such a life.  We know that experience of the world disgusts us with it; I am speaking only of the drawbacks belonging to youthful illusions.