1844—1849 35 



" Onwards " was his motto, not from a desire for a diploma, 

 but from an insatiable thirst for knowledge. 



After spending a few days with his family and friends, he 

 wanted to go to Germany with Chappuis to study German from 

 morning till night. The prospect of such industrious holidays 

 enchanted him. But he had forgotten a student's debt. " I 

 cannot carry out my project," he sa'dly wrote, on September 

 3, 1847 ; " I am more than ruined by the cost of printing my 

 thesis." 



On his return to Paris he shut himself up in the laboratory. 

 "I am extremely happy. I shall soon publish a paper on 

 crystallography." His father writes (December 25, 1847) : 

 " We received your letter yesterday; it is absolutely satisfac- 

 tory, but it could not be otherwise coming from you ; you have 

 long, indeed ever, been all satisfaction to me." And in 

 response to his son's intentions of accomplishing various tasks, 

 fully understanding that nothing will stop him : " You are 

 doing right to make for your goal ; it was only out of excessive 

 affection that I have often written in another sense. I only 

 feared that you might succumb to your work ; so many noble 

 youths have sacrificed their health to the love of science. 

 Knowing you as I do, this was my only anxiety." 



After being reproved for excessive work, Louis was repri- 

 manded for too much affection (January 1, 1848). " The 

 presents you sent have just arrived ; I shall leave it to your 

 sisters to write their thanks. For my part, I should prefer 

 a thousand times that this money should still be in your purse, 

 and thence to a good restaurant, spent in some good meals 

 that you might have enjoyed with your friends. There are 

 not many parents, my dearest boy, who have to write such 

 things to their son ; my satisfaction in you is indeed deeper than 

 I can express." At the end of this same letter, the mother 

 adds in her turn : " My darling boy, I wish you a happy new 

 year. Take great care of your health. . . . Think what a 

 worry it is to me that I cannot be with you to look after you. 

 Sometimes I try to console myself for your absence by thinking 

 how fortunate I am in having a child able to raise himself to 

 such a position as yours is — such a happy position, as it seems 

 to be from your last letter but one." And in a strange sen- 

 tence, where it would seem that a presentiment of her approach- 

 ing death made worldly things appear at their true value : 



d 2 



