O Camille, why do you give me back this sad
relic of my lost happiness?
relic of my lost happiness?
Warner - World's Best Literature - v18 - Mom to Old
"
## p. 10497 (#369) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10497
Eugene was sitting near Mademoiselle Pinson; he thought that
she turned pale at these last words, which were carelessly uttered.
But almost at the same instant she rose, lighted a cigarette, and
said in a deliberate manner:
"It is your turn to be silent now! I claim the floor. Since
my lord Marcel does not believe fables, I will tell you a true
story, et quorum magna pars fui. "
«You understand Latin? " said Eugene.
"As you hear," replied Mademoiselle Pinson. "I learned this
sentence of my uncle, who served under the great Napoleon,
and never omitted it before telling us about a battle. If you do
not know the meaning, I will tell you for nothing. It means:
'I give you my word of honor. ' You must know that last week
I went with two of my friends, Blanchette and Rougette, to the
Odéon Theatre - "
-
"Wait till I cut the cake," said Marcel.
"Cut, but listen," replied Mademoiselle Pinson. "Well, I went
with Blanchette and Rougette to see a tragedy. Rougette, as
you know, has lately lost her grandmother, who left her four
hundred francs. We took a box: three students were near us in
the pit; these young fellows accosted us, and asked us to supper,
on the pretext that we were alone. "
"Without preamble? " inquired Marcel. "Upon my word it
was very civil. And you declined, I suppose ? »
"No, sir," replied Mademoiselle Pinson, "we accepted; and
at the first entr'acte, without waiting for the end of the play, we
repaired to Viot's. "
"With your cavaliers? "
"With our cavaliers. The waiter began, of course, by saying
that there was nothing left; but we were not to be baked by
such a trifle. We ordered them to go into the city and fetch
whatever was needed. Rougette took the pen and ordered a
regular wedding supper: prawns, a sweet omelette, fritters, mus-
sels, whipped eggs,-everything that is to be found in sauce-
pans. Our young friends' faces grew rather long, it must be
confessed-»
"By Jove! so I should think," said Marcel.
"We paid no attention to that. When the supper came we
began to play the fine lady. We found nothing good; everything
disgusted us; we scarcely tasted a dish before we sent it away
and asked for something else. 'Waiter, take that away; it is not
XVIII-657
## p. 10498 (#370) ##########################################
10498
ALFRED DE MUSSET
eatable: where did you buy that horrible trash?
friends wished to eat, but they had no chance.
supped like Sancho; and our anger carried us so far as to break
some of the crockery. "
«< Pretty behavior! And who was to pay? "
Our unknown
In short, we
"That was the very question the three strangers asked each
other. From what they said in a low tone, we gathered that one
of them had six francs, the next infinitely less, and the third had
nothing but his watch, which he generously pulled out of his
pocket. In this state the three unfortunates presented themselves
at the counter, in hopes of effecting some compromise. What do
you think they were told? »
"That they must go to the lock-up, and you would be kept as
security, I suppose," said Marcel.
"You are wrong," replied Mademoiselle Pinson.
«Before go-
ing up-stairs, Rougette had been on the alert, and everything was
paid in advance. Fancy the effect of Viot's response,- 'Every-
thing is settled, gentlemen. ' Our stranger friends looked at us as
three cats never looked at three kings, with a touching stupefac-
tion mingled with emotion. However, we pretended to take no
notice of it, but went down-stairs and called for a coach. 'My
dear marchioness,' said Rougette to me, 'we must see these gen-
tlemen home. ' 'Certainly, my dear countess,' I answered. Our
poor admirers did not know what to say. You may guess if they
were sheepish! They declined our politeness, they would not
be taken home, they refused to give their address-no wonder!
They were convinced that we were women of rank, and they
lived heaven knows where! "
Marcel's friends, the two students, who up to this time had
done nothing but smoke and drink in silence, seemed far from
pleased with this story. They changed color: perhaps they knew
as much as Mademoiselle Pinson of the unlucky supper, for they
gave her an uneasy glance as Marcel said, laughing:-
"Name your incognitos, Mademoiselle Pinson: there can be no
harm, as it happened last week. "
"No indeed! " returned the grisette.
but ruin his career-
never! »
<<
One may hoax a man,
"And you show more
"You are right," observed Eugene.
discretion than you are aware of, perhaps. Of all the young
men in the various colleges, there is hardly one who cannot look
back to some folly or some fault, and yet thence emerges daily
## p. 10499 (#371) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10499
all that is most respected and respectable in France: physicians,
magistrates — »
"Yes," responded Marcel, "that is true. There are budding
peers of France who dine at Flicoteaux's and have not always
wherewithal to pay the bill. But," he broke off with a wink,
haven't you seen anything more of your friends? "
"What do you take us for! " answered Mademoiselle Pinson,
with a serious and almost offended air. "Don't you know Blan-
chette and Rougette, and do you suppose that I-"
"Well, well, don't be angry,"
» said Marcel. «< But after all,
this is a pretty adventure. Three harebrained girls, who prob-
ably had nothing to pay for their next day's dinner with, throw-
ing money out of the window for the fun of mystifying three
poor devils who couldn't help themselves. "
"Why did they ask us to supper? " retorted Mademoiselle
Pinson.
From Selections from the Prose and Poetry of Alfred de Musset. ' Copy-
right 1870, by Hurd & Houghton
――――
THE FALSE LOVER
From 'No Trifling with Love'
[Perdican, the youthful and fascinating hero of the play, has been refused
by his cousin Camille, who feels so strong a vocation for the cloister that she
will not trust herself to secular life and to its possible disappointments. In
pique, Perdican cruelly makes love to a simple and credulous village girl,
Rosette, and decides to play the lover before the very eyes of Camille, as a
spur to her jealousy and hoping to change her decision. ]
Scene: The spring in the wood. Enter Camille and the Peasant.
EASANT
P
I was taking a letter up to the house for you, miss:
shall I give it to you, or carry it to the kitchen, as Lord
Perdican told me?
Camille-Give it to me.
―
Peasant-If you would rather I'd take it to the house, I'll
carry it there without more ado.
Camille Give it to me, I tell you.
Peasant-Just as you like. [Gives her the letter. ]
Camille-There, that's for your trouble.
Peasant Thank you kindly: I suppose I may go now.
----
## p. 10500 (#372) ##########################################
10500
ALFRED DE MUSSET
Camille-If you will be so good.
Peasant-I'm going, I'm going.
[Exit.
Camille [reading]-Perdican begs me to meet him at the little
spring, where I told him to come yesterday to bid me good-by
before I go. What can he have to say? Here's the spring,
and I am greatly minded to wait. Ought I to give him this
second meeting? Ah! here comes Perdican with my foster-sister,
Rosette. [She hides behind a tree. ] I suppose he will send her
away; I'm glad not to seem to be here before him. [Enter
Perdican and Rosette; Camille remains hidden. ] What does this
mean? He makes her sit down beside him. Did he ask me to
meet him here that he might come and make love to somebody
else? I should like to know what he is saying.
Perdican [loud enough to be heard by Camille]—I love you,
Rosette! You are the one person in the world who has not for-
gotten the dear old times; you alone remember the past. Share
the future with me, dear child; give me your heart: take this as
a token of our love. [Clasps his chain around her neck. ]
Rosette-Do you give me your gold chain?
Perdican-See this ring. Stand up and come to the edge of
the spring. Do you see us both reflected in the water, leaning
upon one another? Look at your bright eyes near mine, your
hand in mine; now see it all disappear! [Drops the ring into the
water. ] See how the image has vanished: now watch it come
back by degrees; the ruffled water is growing smooth again, but
it trembles still, and great circles are spreading over the surface:
have patience and we shall see ourselves again; I can make out
your arm linked in mine, already; in another minute there will
not be a wrinkle on your pretty face,- see there! It was a ring
Camille gave me.
Camille-He has thrown my ring into the water!
Perdican-Do you know what love is, Rosette? Listen: the
wind is hushed, the morning's shower is rolling in great dia-
monds off the leaves, which are reviving in the sunshine. I
love you! You love me too, do you not? Your youth has not
been dried up; nobody has infused the dregs of their veins into
your rosy life current. You don't want to be a nun; here you
are, fresh and lovely, with a young man's arm around you! O
Rosette, do you know what love is?
Rosette-Alas, your Lordship is very learned; but I will love
you as well as I know how!
## p. 10501 (#373) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10501
Perdican-Yes, as well as you know how; and learned as I
am, and rustic as you are, you will love me better than one of
those pale statues manufactured by the nuns, with a head instead
of a heart, who issue from their cloisters to poison the vital air
with the damp reek of their cells. You don't know anything;
you can't read the prayer your mother taught you, which she
learned from her mother before her; you don't even understand
the words you repeat as you kneel at your bedside: but you
understand that you are praying, and that is all God requires.
Rosette-How your Lordship talks!
Perdican - You don't know how to read; but you know the
language of these woods and meadows, these warm banks, yon
fair harvest-fields, and of all this glorious young Nature! You
know them for your thousand brothers, and me for one of them.
Come, let us go; you shall be my wife, and we will strike root
into the genial heart of omnipotent creation.
[Exit with Rosette.
Scene: Camille's apartment. Enter Camille and Dame Pluche.
Camille-You say he took my letter?
Dame Pluche - Yes, dear, he said he would post it.
Camille-Be good enough to go to the drawing-room, Dame
Pluche, and tell Perdican that I wish to speak to him here.
[Exit Dame Pluche. ] He has undoubtedly read my letter; that
scene in the wood was revenge, and so is all his love-making
to Rosette. He wished to convince me that he loved somebody
else, and to hide his mortification under a show of indifference.
Does he love me after all, I wonder? [She raises the tapestry. ]
Is that you, Rosette?
Rosette [as she enters]- Yes: may I come in?
Camille - Listen to me, my dear: has not Lord Perdican been
making love to you?
Rosette-Alas, yes!
Camille-What do you think of what he said this morning?
Rosette-This morning? Why, where?
Don't be a hypocrite. This morning at the spring
Camille
in the wood.
-
Rosette - Then you saw me!
Camille-Poor little innocent! No, I did not see you. He
made all sorts of fine speeches, didn't he? I would wager he
promised to marry you.
## p. 10502 (#374) ##########################################
10502
ALFRED DE MUSSET
Rosette - Why, how do you know?
Camille-Never mind: do you believe his promises, Rosette?
How can I help it? He wouldn't deceive me. Why
Rosette
should he?
Camille Perdican does not mean to marry you, my child.
Rosette Alas, perhaps not!
Camille - You love him, you poor girl. He does not mean
to marry you, and I will give you the proof: hide behind this
curtain; you have nothing to do but to listen, and come when
I call you.
-
-
-
[Exit Rosette. ]
1
Camille-I thought to do an act of vengeance, but may it
not be one of humanity? The poor child has lost her heart.
[Enter Perdican. ] Good morning, cousin; sit down.
Perdican- How beautifully you are dressed, Camille! On
whom have you designs?
Camille-On you, perhaps. I am very sorry that I could not
meet you as you asked: had you anything to say?
Perdican [aside] - Upon my word, that's rather a big fib for
a spotless lamb! I saw her under the trees. [Aloud. ] I had
nothing to say but good-by, Camille,-I thought you were going;
but your horse is in the stable, and you do not seem to be
dressed for traveling.
Camille-I am fond of discussion, and I am not sure that I
did not wish for another quarrel with you.
Perdican-What object can there be in quarreling when there
is no possibility of making up? The pleasure of disputes is in
making peace.
Camille - Are you so sure I wouldn't make peace?
Perdican Don't jest: I am not equal to answering you.
Camille-I want to be made love to! I don't know whether
it is because I have on a new gown, but I wish to be amused.
You proposed our going to the village: well, I am ready. Let
us row; I should like to dine on the grass, or to ramble in the
forest. Will it be moonlight this evening? How odd! you have
not on the ring I gave you.
Perdican-I lost it.
Camille-So I found it: here it is, Perdican.
Perdican-Is it possible! Where did you find it?
Camille- You are looking to see whether my hands are
wet? To tell the truth, I spoiled my convent dress in getting
## p. 10503 (#375) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10503
this trinket out of the spring. That is why I put another on,
and I tell you it has changed me; so put that ring upon your
finger.
Perdican-You got this out of the water at the risk of falling
in, Camille? Am I dreaming? Here it is again, and you put it
on my finger.
O Camille, why do you give me back this sad
relic of my lost happiness? Tell me, you foolish and fickle girl,
why you go away? Why do you stay? Why do you change.
every hour like this stone in each new light?
Camille - Do you know woman's heart, Perdican?
Are you
convinced of her inconstancy, and that she really changes her
mind whenever she changes her mood? Some say not. Un-
doubtedly we are often forced to play a part, even to tell lies —
I am frank, you see; but are you sure that everything in a
woman lies when her tongue lies? Have you ever reflected on
the nature of this weak and undisciplined creature, and on the
severity with which she is judged, and the part that she is
compelled to play? Who knows whether, constrained by the
world to continual deceit, the head of this brainless being may
not finally learn to take a certain pleasure in it; may she not tell
lies for amusement sometimes, as she is so often forced to tell
them for necessity?
Perdican -I understand none of this; I never lie; I love you,
Camille, and that is all I know.
Camille- You say you love me, and that you never lie?
Perdican-Never!
Camille-Yet here's somebody who says that accident befalls
you occasionally. [She raises the tapestry, and shows Rosette
fainting in a chair. ] What will you say to this child, Perdican,
when she asks you to account for your words? If you never
lie, why has she fainted on hearing you say that you love me?
I leave her with you: try and bring her to life. [Is about to go. ]
One moment, Camille! Hear me!
Perdican
Camille-What have you to say
me? It is to Rosette you
must answer. I do not love you; I did not seek this hapless
child in her cottage to use her as a toy, a foil; I did not reck-
lessly repeat to her the burning words I had addressed to others;
I did not feign to cast to the winds the tokens of a cherished
attachment, for her sake; I did not put my chain round her
neck; I did not promise to marry her!
Perdican-Listen to me! listen to me!
-
## p. 10504 (#376) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10504
Camille-I saw you smile just now when I said I had not
been able to go to the fountain. Yes, I was there and heard it
all; but God is my witness that I would not have done as you
did. What will you do with that girl now, when, with your
kisses still burning on her lips, she weeps and points to the
wound you have dealt her? You wished to revenge yourself
upon me, did you not, for a letter I wrote to my convent? You
were bent on piercing my soul at any cost, not caring whether
your poisoned dart wounded this child, if it but struck me
through her. I had boasted of having made you love me, and
of causing you regret. Did that wound your noble pride? Well
then, hear me say it,-you love me, but you will marry that girl
or you are a poor creature.
Perdican-Yes, I will marry her.
Camille-You will do well.
Perdican-Very well, and much better than if I married you.
What excites you to such a degree, Camille? The child has
fainted; we can easily bring her to,-we only need a smelling-
bottle. You wish to convict me of having lied once in my life,
and you have done so; but I think you are rather self-confident
in deciding when. Come, help me to restore Rosette. [Exeunt.
Scene: An oratory. Enter Camille, and throws herself at the foot of the
altar.
Camille O my God, hast thou abandoned me? Thou know-
est that I came hither faithful to thee; when I refused to take
another spouse, thou knowest that I spoke in all sincerity before
thee and my own soul; thou knowest it, O Father! and wilt
thou no longer accept me? Oh, wherefore hast thou made truth
itself to lie? Why am I so weak? Ah, wretched girl! I can-
not even pray.
Enter Perdican
Perdican-Pride, most fatal of all the counselors of human-
ity, why have you come between me and this girl? See her,
pale and distraught, pressing her face and breast against these
senseless stones. She could have loved me, and we were born
for one another. O pride! what brought you to our lips when
our hands were ready to be joined?
Camille-Who has followed me? Whose voice do I hear
beneath this vault? Is it you, Perdican?
## p. 10505 (#377) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10505
Perdican - Fools that we are! We love each other! What
have you been dreaming, Camille? What futile speech, what
wretched folly has swept between us like a blast from the tombs?
Which of us tried to deceive the other? Alas, when life itself is
such a painful dream, why seek to fill it with worse ones of our
own? O God! happiness is a pearl so rarely found in this stormy
sea! Thou hadst given it to us, thou hadst rescued this treasure
from the abyss for us; and like spoiled children as we are, we
treated it as a plaything. The green path which led us toward
each other sloped so gently, and was so strewn with flowers, it
vanished in such a calm horizon -needs was that words, and
vanity, and anger should hurl their shapeless crags across this
celestial path, which would have led us to thee in an embrace!
Needs was that we should wrong and wound each other, for we
are human! O fools! and we love each other! [He clasps her in
his arms. ]
Camille - Yes, Perdican, we love each other! Let me feel it
on your heart.
The God who sees us will not be angry: he
wills that I should love you; he has known it these fifteen years.
Perdican-Dearest being, you are mine! [He kisses her; a
shriek is heard from behind the altar. ]
Camille- My foster-sister's voice!
Perdican How came she here? I left her on the staircase
when you sent for me. She must have followed me without my
knowledge.
Camille - Come this way: the cry came from here.
Perdican What do I fear? my hands seem bathed in blood.
Camille - The poor child must have overheard us, and she
has fainted again: come and help her! Ah, it is all too cruel!
Perdican-No, I cannot go,—I am numb with mortal terror.
Go, Camille, and try to help her. [Exit Camille. ] O God, I
beseech thee, make me not a murderer! Thou seest our hearts:
we are two senseless children who have been playing with life
and death. God of justice, do not let Rosette die! I will find
her a husband, I will repair the evil I have done; - she is
young, she shall be rich and happy. Oh, do not refuse me
this, my God! thou canst bless four of thy children! [Re-enter
Camille. ] Well, Camille?
Camille-She is dead. Farewell, Perdican.
-
―
-
From Selections from the Prose and Poetry of Alfred de Musset,' Copy-
right 1870, by Hurd & Houghton
## p. 10506 (#378) ##########################################
10506
ALFRED DE MUSSET
VERGISS MEIN NICHT
R
EMEMBER! when the morn with sweet affright
Opens her portals to the king of day;
Remember! when the melancholy night
All silver-veiled pursues her darkling way;
Or when thy pulses wake at pleasure's tone:
When twilight shades to gentle dreams invite,
List to a voice which from the forest lone
Murmurs, Remember!
Remember! When inexorable fate
Hath parted finally my lot from thine,
When absence, grief, and time have laid their weight
With crushing power on this heart of mine,—
Think of my love, think of my last farewell;
Absence nor time can constancy abate:
While my heart beats, its every throb shall tell,
Remember!
Remember! When beneath the chilling ground
My weary heart has found a lasting sleep,
And when in after time, above the mound,
The pale blue flower its gentle watch doth keep,—
I shall not see thee more; but ever nigh,
Like sister true my soul will hover round:
List to a voice which through the night will sigh,
Remember!
From Selections from the Prose and Poetry of Alfred de Musset. '
right 1870, by Hurd & Houghton
FROM TO A COMRADE›
THE
HE joy of meeting makes us love farewell;
We gather once again around the hearth,
And thou wilt tell
All that thy keen experience has been
Of pleasure, danger, misadventure, mirth,
And unforeseen.
And all without an angry word the while,
Or self-compassion,- naught dost thou recall
Save for a smile;
Copy-
## p. 10507 (#379) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
Thou knowest how to lend good fortune grace,
And how to mock what'er ill luck befall
With laughing face.
But friend, go not again so far away;
In need of some small help I always stand,
Come whatso may;
I know not whither leads this path of mine,
But I can tread it better when my hand
Is clasped in thine.
FROM ON A SLAB OF ROSE MARBLE'
ET, despite myself, I trow
Other destiny was thine:
Far away from cloudy France,
Where a warmer sun doth shine,
YET
Near some temple, Greek or Latin;
The fair daughters of the clime,
With the scent of heath and thyme
Clinging to their sandaled feet
Beating thee in rhythmic dance,
Were a burden far more sweet
Than court ladies shod with satin.
Could it be for this alone
Nature formed thee in the earth,
In whose beauteous virgin stone
Genius might have wrought a birth
Every age had joyed to own?
•
•
There should have come forth of thee
Some new-born divinity.
When the marble-cutters hewed
Through thy noble block their way,
They broke in with footsteps rude
Where a Venus sleeping lay,
And the goddess's wounded veins
Colored thee with roseate stains.
Alas! and must we hold it truth
That every rare and precious thing
Flung forth at random without ruth
Trodden under foot may lie?
The crag where, in sublime repose,
The eagle stoops to rest his wing,
10507
## p. 10508 (#380) ##########################################
10508
ALFRED DE MUSSET
OFT
No less than any wayside rose,
Dropped in the common dust to die?
Can the mother of us all
Leave her work, to fullness brought,
Lost in the gulf of chance to fall,
As oblivion swallows thought?
Torn away from ocean's rim
To be fashioned by a whim,
Does the briny tempest whirl
To the workman's feet the pearl?
Shall the vulgar, idle crowd
For all ages be allowed
To degrade earth's choicest treasure
At the arbitrary pleasure
Of a mason or a churl?
FROM THE WILD MARE IN THE DESERT›
FT in the waste, the Arab mare untamed,
After three days' wild course awaits the storm
To drain the rain-drops from the thirsty palms;
The sun is leaden, and the silent palms
Droop their long tresses 'neath a fiery sky.
She seeks her well amid the boundless wilds:
The sun has dried it; on the burning rock
Lie shaggy lions growling low in sleep.
Her forces fail; her bleeding nostrils wide
Plunge eager in the sand,- the thirsty sand
Drinks greedily her life's discolored stream.
Then stretches she at length, her great eyes film,
And the wan desert rolls upon its child
In silent folds its ever moving shroud.
She knew not, she, that when the caravan
With all its camels passed beneath the planes,
That, would she follow, bowing her proud neck,
In Bagdad she would find cool stable-stalls,
With gilded mangers, dewy clover turf,
And wells whose depths have never seen the sky.
## p. 10509 (#381) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10509
TO PÉPA
ÉPA! when the night has come,
And mamma has bid good-night,
By thy light, half-clad and dumb,
As thou kneelest out of sight;
PEPAA
Laid by, cap and sweeping vest
Ere thou sinkest to repose,
At the hour when half at rest
Folds thy soul as folds a rose;
When sweet Sleep, the sovereign mild,
Peace to all the house has brought,-
Pépita! my charming child!
What, oh, what is then thy thought?
Who knows? Haply dreamest thou
Of some lady doomed to sigh;
All that Hope a truth deems now,
All that Truth shall prove, a lie.
Haply of those mountains grand
That produce-alas! but mice;
Castles in Spain; a prince's hand;
Bon-bons, lovers, or cream-ice.
Haply of soft whispers breathed
'Mid the mazes of a ball;
Robes, or flowers, or hair enwreathed;
Me; or nothing, dear! at all.
-
A
JUANA
GAIN I see you, ah, my queen,-
Of all my old loves that have been,
The first love and the tenderest;
Do you remember or forget —
Ah me, for I remember yet-
How the last summer days were blest?
Ah, lady, when we think of this,-
The foolish hours of youth and bliss,
How fleet, how sweet, how hard to hold!
## p. 10510 (#382) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10510
How old we are, ere spring be green!
You touch the limit of eighteen,
And I am twenty winters old.
My rose, that mid the red roses
Was brightest, ah, how pale she is!
Yet keeps the beauty of her prime;
Child, never Spanish lady's face
Was lovely with so wild a grace;
Remember the dead summer-time.
Think of our loves, our feuds of old,
And how you gave your chain of gold
To me for a peace-offering;
And how all night I lay awake
To touch and kiss it for your sake,-
To touch and kiss the lifeless thing.
Lady, beware, for all we say,
This Love shall live another day,
Awakened from his deathly sleep:
The heart that once has been your shrine
For other loves is too divine;
A home, my dear, too wide and deep.
What did I say - why do I dream?
Why should I struggle with the stream
Whose waves return not any day?
Close heart, and eyes, and arms from me;
Farewell, farewell! so must it be,
So runs, so runs, the world away.
The season bears upon its wing
The swallows and the songs of spring,
And days that were, and days that flit:
The loved lost hours are far away;
And hope and fame are scattered spray
For me, that gave you love a day,
For you that not remember it.
Translation of Andrew Lang.
## p. 10511 (#383) ##########################################
10511
FREDERIC WILLIAM HENRY MYERS
(1843-)
M
UCH of what is most subtle and penetrative in contempo-
rary English criticism is embodied in the writings of certain
men of letters whose names are familiar only to a special
and limited circle. Frederic W. H. Myers is one of those critics
whose work, while not in any sense popular, obtains well-established
recognition for its literary finish, and pre-eminently for its originality
and suggestiveness. The complex forces of the end of the century
inay not be favorable to the production of creative genius, but they
are favorable to the birth and growth of a sensitive critical spirit.
Mr. Myers's Modern and Classical Essays are the work of one to
whom the revelations of science in all its branches have been a
source of enlightenment on subjects with which it would seem that
science primarily had nothing to do. He is of the number of those
who would wed the materialistic knowledge of the age to an ideal-
ism the more intense because it is denied the outlet of a definite
religious faith. He would judge of literature, of personality, of the
various phenomena of his own and of a past age, by the new lights
of science, and at the same time by the light that never was on
sea or land. It is this combination of the idealistic with the exact
spirit which gives to the essays of Mr. Myers their peculiar charm,
and which fits him to write with such exquisite appreciation of Mar-
cus Aurelius and Virgil, of Rossetti and George Eliot. In his heart
he has all the romance of a poet,- his desire to live by admiration,
hope, and love, his sensitiveness to the beautiful, his passionate belief
in the soul and its great destinies; but his brain rules his heart with
typical modern caution. In his efforts to reconcile these elements in
his nature, Mr. Myers has infused into his essays, whatever their sub-
jects, the speculative thought of his generation concerning the unseen.
world and man's relation to it; and especially of that great question
of personal immortality, which forever haunts and forever baffles the
minds of men. He is drawn naturally to a consideration of such men
as Marcus Aurelius. The fitful dejection of the philosophic emperor,
his resolve to learn and to endure, his hopeless hope, his calm in
the face of the veil which cuts man off from the paradise of certain-
ties, seem to Mr. Myers to prefigure the attitude of the modern mind
toward its mysterious environment. Yet he himself has gone beyond
the negativity of Stoicism. He believes that love is the gateway to
## p. 10512 (#384) ##########################################
10512
FREDERIC WILLIAM HENRY MYERS
the unseen universe, being of those who, "while accepting to the full
the methods and the results of science, will not yet surrender the
ancient hopes of the race. "
In 'Modern Poets and Cosmic Law' he traces the influence of Ten-
nyson and Wordsworth on modern religious thought; a regenerating
influence, because they have realized "with extraordinary intuition,"
and promulgated "with commanding genius, the interpenetration of
the spiritual and the material world. " Mr. Myers's deep sympathy
with Wordsworth is completely expressed in his luminous biography
of the poet. His sympathy with George Eliot is less keen, or rather
it is less that of the mind than of the heart. His depression in the
presence of her hopelessness is well described in the essay of which
she is the subject:-
"I remember how, at Cambridge, I walked with her once in the Fellows'
Garden of Trinity, on an evening of rainy May; and she, stirred somewhat
beyond her wont, and taking as her text the three words which have been
used so often as the inspiring trumpet-calls of men,- the words God, Immor-
tality, Duty,- pronounced with terrible earnestness how inconceivable was
the first, how unbelievable the second, and yet how peremptory and absolute
the third. Never, perhaps, have sterner accents affirmed the sovereignty of
impersonal and unrecompensing law. I listened, and night fell; her grave,
majestic countenance turned towards me like a Sibyl's in the gloom; it was
as though she withdrew from my grasp, one by one, the two scrolls of prom-
ise, and left me the third scroll only, awful with inevitable fates. »
Mr. Myers's essays on Science and a Future Life,' on 'Darwin and
Agnosticism,' on Tennyson as a Prophet,' on 'A New Eirenicon,'
on Modern Poets and Cosmic Law,' are concerned chiefly with
the modern answers to the old eternal problems. Even his essays
on Mazzini, on George Sand, on Renan, and on the present political
and social influences in France, are not without their background of
philosophical contemplation of the end and aims of man. Mr. Myers's
conclusion of the whole matter is hopeful, sane, temperate. He is
confident of the golden branch in the grove of cypress; confident that
darkness must eventually become revelation. In his verse, which,
while not of the first order, is melodious and graceful, he exhibits
the same spiritual intuition. His value as a critic is largely the
result of this recognition, based on no ephemeral conclusions, of the
spiritual element in the destiny of man. Mr. Myers was born in
1843, in Duffield, England. He is the son of a clergyman of some
note as a writer, and a brother of Ernest Myers, whose classical trans-
lations are of great literary excellence.
## p. 10513 (#385) ##########################################
FREDERIC WILLIAM HENRY MYERS
10513
THE DISENCHANTMENT OF FRANCE
From Science and a Future Life >
IT
HAS fallen to the lot of the French people to point more
morals, to emphasize more lessons from their own experience,
than any other nation in modern history. Parties and creeds
of the most conflicting types have appealed to Paris in turn for
their brightest example, their most significant warning.
## p. 10497 (#369) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10497
Eugene was sitting near Mademoiselle Pinson; he thought that
she turned pale at these last words, which were carelessly uttered.
But almost at the same instant she rose, lighted a cigarette, and
said in a deliberate manner:
"It is your turn to be silent now! I claim the floor. Since
my lord Marcel does not believe fables, I will tell you a true
story, et quorum magna pars fui. "
«You understand Latin? " said Eugene.
"As you hear," replied Mademoiselle Pinson. "I learned this
sentence of my uncle, who served under the great Napoleon,
and never omitted it before telling us about a battle. If you do
not know the meaning, I will tell you for nothing. It means:
'I give you my word of honor. ' You must know that last week
I went with two of my friends, Blanchette and Rougette, to the
Odéon Theatre - "
-
"Wait till I cut the cake," said Marcel.
"Cut, but listen," replied Mademoiselle Pinson. "Well, I went
with Blanchette and Rougette to see a tragedy. Rougette, as
you know, has lately lost her grandmother, who left her four
hundred francs. We took a box: three students were near us in
the pit; these young fellows accosted us, and asked us to supper,
on the pretext that we were alone. "
"Without preamble? " inquired Marcel. "Upon my word it
was very civil. And you declined, I suppose ? »
"No, sir," replied Mademoiselle Pinson, "we accepted; and
at the first entr'acte, without waiting for the end of the play, we
repaired to Viot's. "
"With your cavaliers? "
"With our cavaliers. The waiter began, of course, by saying
that there was nothing left; but we were not to be baked by
such a trifle. We ordered them to go into the city and fetch
whatever was needed. Rougette took the pen and ordered a
regular wedding supper: prawns, a sweet omelette, fritters, mus-
sels, whipped eggs,-everything that is to be found in sauce-
pans. Our young friends' faces grew rather long, it must be
confessed-»
"By Jove! so I should think," said Marcel.
"We paid no attention to that. When the supper came we
began to play the fine lady. We found nothing good; everything
disgusted us; we scarcely tasted a dish before we sent it away
and asked for something else. 'Waiter, take that away; it is not
XVIII-657
## p. 10498 (#370) ##########################################
10498
ALFRED DE MUSSET
eatable: where did you buy that horrible trash?
friends wished to eat, but they had no chance.
supped like Sancho; and our anger carried us so far as to break
some of the crockery. "
«< Pretty behavior! And who was to pay? "
Our unknown
In short, we
"That was the very question the three strangers asked each
other. From what they said in a low tone, we gathered that one
of them had six francs, the next infinitely less, and the third had
nothing but his watch, which he generously pulled out of his
pocket. In this state the three unfortunates presented themselves
at the counter, in hopes of effecting some compromise. What do
you think they were told? »
"That they must go to the lock-up, and you would be kept as
security, I suppose," said Marcel.
"You are wrong," replied Mademoiselle Pinson.
«Before go-
ing up-stairs, Rougette had been on the alert, and everything was
paid in advance. Fancy the effect of Viot's response,- 'Every-
thing is settled, gentlemen. ' Our stranger friends looked at us as
three cats never looked at three kings, with a touching stupefac-
tion mingled with emotion. However, we pretended to take no
notice of it, but went down-stairs and called for a coach. 'My
dear marchioness,' said Rougette to me, 'we must see these gen-
tlemen home. ' 'Certainly, my dear countess,' I answered. Our
poor admirers did not know what to say. You may guess if they
were sheepish! They declined our politeness, they would not
be taken home, they refused to give their address-no wonder!
They were convinced that we were women of rank, and they
lived heaven knows where! "
Marcel's friends, the two students, who up to this time had
done nothing but smoke and drink in silence, seemed far from
pleased with this story. They changed color: perhaps they knew
as much as Mademoiselle Pinson of the unlucky supper, for they
gave her an uneasy glance as Marcel said, laughing:-
"Name your incognitos, Mademoiselle Pinson: there can be no
harm, as it happened last week. "
"No indeed! " returned the grisette.
but ruin his career-
never! »
<<
One may hoax a man,
"And you show more
"You are right," observed Eugene.
discretion than you are aware of, perhaps. Of all the young
men in the various colleges, there is hardly one who cannot look
back to some folly or some fault, and yet thence emerges daily
## p. 10499 (#371) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10499
all that is most respected and respectable in France: physicians,
magistrates — »
"Yes," responded Marcel, "that is true. There are budding
peers of France who dine at Flicoteaux's and have not always
wherewithal to pay the bill. But," he broke off with a wink,
haven't you seen anything more of your friends? "
"What do you take us for! " answered Mademoiselle Pinson,
with a serious and almost offended air. "Don't you know Blan-
chette and Rougette, and do you suppose that I-"
"Well, well, don't be angry,"
» said Marcel. «< But after all,
this is a pretty adventure. Three harebrained girls, who prob-
ably had nothing to pay for their next day's dinner with, throw-
ing money out of the window for the fun of mystifying three
poor devils who couldn't help themselves. "
"Why did they ask us to supper? " retorted Mademoiselle
Pinson.
From Selections from the Prose and Poetry of Alfred de Musset. ' Copy-
right 1870, by Hurd & Houghton
――――
THE FALSE LOVER
From 'No Trifling with Love'
[Perdican, the youthful and fascinating hero of the play, has been refused
by his cousin Camille, who feels so strong a vocation for the cloister that she
will not trust herself to secular life and to its possible disappointments. In
pique, Perdican cruelly makes love to a simple and credulous village girl,
Rosette, and decides to play the lover before the very eyes of Camille, as a
spur to her jealousy and hoping to change her decision. ]
Scene: The spring in the wood. Enter Camille and the Peasant.
EASANT
P
I was taking a letter up to the house for you, miss:
shall I give it to you, or carry it to the kitchen, as Lord
Perdican told me?
Camille-Give it to me.
―
Peasant-If you would rather I'd take it to the house, I'll
carry it there without more ado.
Camille Give it to me, I tell you.
Peasant-Just as you like. [Gives her the letter. ]
Camille-There, that's for your trouble.
Peasant Thank you kindly: I suppose I may go now.
----
## p. 10500 (#372) ##########################################
10500
ALFRED DE MUSSET
Camille-If you will be so good.
Peasant-I'm going, I'm going.
[Exit.
Camille [reading]-Perdican begs me to meet him at the little
spring, where I told him to come yesterday to bid me good-by
before I go. What can he have to say? Here's the spring,
and I am greatly minded to wait. Ought I to give him this
second meeting? Ah! here comes Perdican with my foster-sister,
Rosette. [She hides behind a tree. ] I suppose he will send her
away; I'm glad not to seem to be here before him. [Enter
Perdican and Rosette; Camille remains hidden. ] What does this
mean? He makes her sit down beside him. Did he ask me to
meet him here that he might come and make love to somebody
else? I should like to know what he is saying.
Perdican [loud enough to be heard by Camille]—I love you,
Rosette! You are the one person in the world who has not for-
gotten the dear old times; you alone remember the past. Share
the future with me, dear child; give me your heart: take this as
a token of our love. [Clasps his chain around her neck. ]
Rosette-Do you give me your gold chain?
Perdican-See this ring. Stand up and come to the edge of
the spring. Do you see us both reflected in the water, leaning
upon one another? Look at your bright eyes near mine, your
hand in mine; now see it all disappear! [Drops the ring into the
water. ] See how the image has vanished: now watch it come
back by degrees; the ruffled water is growing smooth again, but
it trembles still, and great circles are spreading over the surface:
have patience and we shall see ourselves again; I can make out
your arm linked in mine, already; in another minute there will
not be a wrinkle on your pretty face,- see there! It was a ring
Camille gave me.
Camille-He has thrown my ring into the water!
Perdican-Do you know what love is, Rosette? Listen: the
wind is hushed, the morning's shower is rolling in great dia-
monds off the leaves, which are reviving in the sunshine. I
love you! You love me too, do you not? Your youth has not
been dried up; nobody has infused the dregs of their veins into
your rosy life current. You don't want to be a nun; here you
are, fresh and lovely, with a young man's arm around you! O
Rosette, do you know what love is?
Rosette-Alas, your Lordship is very learned; but I will love
you as well as I know how!
## p. 10501 (#373) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10501
Perdican-Yes, as well as you know how; and learned as I
am, and rustic as you are, you will love me better than one of
those pale statues manufactured by the nuns, with a head instead
of a heart, who issue from their cloisters to poison the vital air
with the damp reek of their cells. You don't know anything;
you can't read the prayer your mother taught you, which she
learned from her mother before her; you don't even understand
the words you repeat as you kneel at your bedside: but you
understand that you are praying, and that is all God requires.
Rosette-How your Lordship talks!
Perdican - You don't know how to read; but you know the
language of these woods and meadows, these warm banks, yon
fair harvest-fields, and of all this glorious young Nature! You
know them for your thousand brothers, and me for one of them.
Come, let us go; you shall be my wife, and we will strike root
into the genial heart of omnipotent creation.
[Exit with Rosette.
Scene: Camille's apartment. Enter Camille and Dame Pluche.
Camille-You say he took my letter?
Dame Pluche - Yes, dear, he said he would post it.
Camille-Be good enough to go to the drawing-room, Dame
Pluche, and tell Perdican that I wish to speak to him here.
[Exit Dame Pluche. ] He has undoubtedly read my letter; that
scene in the wood was revenge, and so is all his love-making
to Rosette. He wished to convince me that he loved somebody
else, and to hide his mortification under a show of indifference.
Does he love me after all, I wonder? [She raises the tapestry. ]
Is that you, Rosette?
Rosette [as she enters]- Yes: may I come in?
Camille - Listen to me, my dear: has not Lord Perdican been
making love to you?
Rosette-Alas, yes!
Camille-What do you think of what he said this morning?
Rosette-This morning? Why, where?
Don't be a hypocrite. This morning at the spring
Camille
in the wood.
-
Rosette - Then you saw me!
Camille-Poor little innocent! No, I did not see you. He
made all sorts of fine speeches, didn't he? I would wager he
promised to marry you.
## p. 10502 (#374) ##########################################
10502
ALFRED DE MUSSET
Rosette - Why, how do you know?
Camille-Never mind: do you believe his promises, Rosette?
How can I help it? He wouldn't deceive me. Why
Rosette
should he?
Camille Perdican does not mean to marry you, my child.
Rosette Alas, perhaps not!
Camille - You love him, you poor girl. He does not mean
to marry you, and I will give you the proof: hide behind this
curtain; you have nothing to do but to listen, and come when
I call you.
-
-
-
[Exit Rosette. ]
1
Camille-I thought to do an act of vengeance, but may it
not be one of humanity? The poor child has lost her heart.
[Enter Perdican. ] Good morning, cousin; sit down.
Perdican- How beautifully you are dressed, Camille! On
whom have you designs?
Camille-On you, perhaps. I am very sorry that I could not
meet you as you asked: had you anything to say?
Perdican [aside] - Upon my word, that's rather a big fib for
a spotless lamb! I saw her under the trees. [Aloud. ] I had
nothing to say but good-by, Camille,-I thought you were going;
but your horse is in the stable, and you do not seem to be
dressed for traveling.
Camille-I am fond of discussion, and I am not sure that I
did not wish for another quarrel with you.
Perdican-What object can there be in quarreling when there
is no possibility of making up? The pleasure of disputes is in
making peace.
Camille - Are you so sure I wouldn't make peace?
Perdican Don't jest: I am not equal to answering you.
Camille-I want to be made love to! I don't know whether
it is because I have on a new gown, but I wish to be amused.
You proposed our going to the village: well, I am ready. Let
us row; I should like to dine on the grass, or to ramble in the
forest. Will it be moonlight this evening? How odd! you have
not on the ring I gave you.
Perdican-I lost it.
Camille-So I found it: here it is, Perdican.
Perdican-Is it possible! Where did you find it?
Camille- You are looking to see whether my hands are
wet? To tell the truth, I spoiled my convent dress in getting
## p. 10503 (#375) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10503
this trinket out of the spring. That is why I put another on,
and I tell you it has changed me; so put that ring upon your
finger.
Perdican-You got this out of the water at the risk of falling
in, Camille? Am I dreaming? Here it is again, and you put it
on my finger.
O Camille, why do you give me back this sad
relic of my lost happiness? Tell me, you foolish and fickle girl,
why you go away? Why do you stay? Why do you change.
every hour like this stone in each new light?
Camille - Do you know woman's heart, Perdican?
Are you
convinced of her inconstancy, and that she really changes her
mind whenever she changes her mood? Some say not. Un-
doubtedly we are often forced to play a part, even to tell lies —
I am frank, you see; but are you sure that everything in a
woman lies when her tongue lies? Have you ever reflected on
the nature of this weak and undisciplined creature, and on the
severity with which she is judged, and the part that she is
compelled to play? Who knows whether, constrained by the
world to continual deceit, the head of this brainless being may
not finally learn to take a certain pleasure in it; may she not tell
lies for amusement sometimes, as she is so often forced to tell
them for necessity?
Perdican -I understand none of this; I never lie; I love you,
Camille, and that is all I know.
Camille- You say you love me, and that you never lie?
Perdican-Never!
Camille-Yet here's somebody who says that accident befalls
you occasionally. [She raises the tapestry, and shows Rosette
fainting in a chair. ] What will you say to this child, Perdican,
when she asks you to account for your words? If you never
lie, why has she fainted on hearing you say that you love me?
I leave her with you: try and bring her to life. [Is about to go. ]
One moment, Camille! Hear me!
Perdican
Camille-What have you to say
me? It is to Rosette you
must answer. I do not love you; I did not seek this hapless
child in her cottage to use her as a toy, a foil; I did not reck-
lessly repeat to her the burning words I had addressed to others;
I did not feign to cast to the winds the tokens of a cherished
attachment, for her sake; I did not put my chain round her
neck; I did not promise to marry her!
Perdican-Listen to me! listen to me!
-
## p. 10504 (#376) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10504
Camille-I saw you smile just now when I said I had not
been able to go to the fountain. Yes, I was there and heard it
all; but God is my witness that I would not have done as you
did. What will you do with that girl now, when, with your
kisses still burning on her lips, she weeps and points to the
wound you have dealt her? You wished to revenge yourself
upon me, did you not, for a letter I wrote to my convent? You
were bent on piercing my soul at any cost, not caring whether
your poisoned dart wounded this child, if it but struck me
through her. I had boasted of having made you love me, and
of causing you regret. Did that wound your noble pride? Well
then, hear me say it,-you love me, but you will marry that girl
or you are a poor creature.
Perdican-Yes, I will marry her.
Camille-You will do well.
Perdican-Very well, and much better than if I married you.
What excites you to such a degree, Camille? The child has
fainted; we can easily bring her to,-we only need a smelling-
bottle. You wish to convict me of having lied once in my life,
and you have done so; but I think you are rather self-confident
in deciding when. Come, help me to restore Rosette. [Exeunt.
Scene: An oratory. Enter Camille, and throws herself at the foot of the
altar.
Camille O my God, hast thou abandoned me? Thou know-
est that I came hither faithful to thee; when I refused to take
another spouse, thou knowest that I spoke in all sincerity before
thee and my own soul; thou knowest it, O Father! and wilt
thou no longer accept me? Oh, wherefore hast thou made truth
itself to lie? Why am I so weak? Ah, wretched girl! I can-
not even pray.
Enter Perdican
Perdican-Pride, most fatal of all the counselors of human-
ity, why have you come between me and this girl? See her,
pale and distraught, pressing her face and breast against these
senseless stones. She could have loved me, and we were born
for one another. O pride! what brought you to our lips when
our hands were ready to be joined?
Camille-Who has followed me? Whose voice do I hear
beneath this vault? Is it you, Perdican?
## p. 10505 (#377) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10505
Perdican - Fools that we are! We love each other! What
have you been dreaming, Camille? What futile speech, what
wretched folly has swept between us like a blast from the tombs?
Which of us tried to deceive the other? Alas, when life itself is
such a painful dream, why seek to fill it with worse ones of our
own? O God! happiness is a pearl so rarely found in this stormy
sea! Thou hadst given it to us, thou hadst rescued this treasure
from the abyss for us; and like spoiled children as we are, we
treated it as a plaything. The green path which led us toward
each other sloped so gently, and was so strewn with flowers, it
vanished in such a calm horizon -needs was that words, and
vanity, and anger should hurl their shapeless crags across this
celestial path, which would have led us to thee in an embrace!
Needs was that we should wrong and wound each other, for we
are human! O fools! and we love each other! [He clasps her in
his arms. ]
Camille - Yes, Perdican, we love each other! Let me feel it
on your heart.
The God who sees us will not be angry: he
wills that I should love you; he has known it these fifteen years.
Perdican-Dearest being, you are mine! [He kisses her; a
shriek is heard from behind the altar. ]
Camille- My foster-sister's voice!
Perdican How came she here? I left her on the staircase
when you sent for me. She must have followed me without my
knowledge.
Camille - Come this way: the cry came from here.
Perdican What do I fear? my hands seem bathed in blood.
Camille - The poor child must have overheard us, and she
has fainted again: come and help her! Ah, it is all too cruel!
Perdican-No, I cannot go,—I am numb with mortal terror.
Go, Camille, and try to help her. [Exit Camille. ] O God, I
beseech thee, make me not a murderer! Thou seest our hearts:
we are two senseless children who have been playing with life
and death. God of justice, do not let Rosette die! I will find
her a husband, I will repair the evil I have done; - she is
young, she shall be rich and happy. Oh, do not refuse me
this, my God! thou canst bless four of thy children! [Re-enter
Camille. ] Well, Camille?
Camille-She is dead. Farewell, Perdican.
-
―
-
From Selections from the Prose and Poetry of Alfred de Musset,' Copy-
right 1870, by Hurd & Houghton
## p. 10506 (#378) ##########################################
10506
ALFRED DE MUSSET
VERGISS MEIN NICHT
R
EMEMBER! when the morn with sweet affright
Opens her portals to the king of day;
Remember! when the melancholy night
All silver-veiled pursues her darkling way;
Or when thy pulses wake at pleasure's tone:
When twilight shades to gentle dreams invite,
List to a voice which from the forest lone
Murmurs, Remember!
Remember! When inexorable fate
Hath parted finally my lot from thine,
When absence, grief, and time have laid their weight
With crushing power on this heart of mine,—
Think of my love, think of my last farewell;
Absence nor time can constancy abate:
While my heart beats, its every throb shall tell,
Remember!
Remember! When beneath the chilling ground
My weary heart has found a lasting sleep,
And when in after time, above the mound,
The pale blue flower its gentle watch doth keep,—
I shall not see thee more; but ever nigh,
Like sister true my soul will hover round:
List to a voice which through the night will sigh,
Remember!
From Selections from the Prose and Poetry of Alfred de Musset. '
right 1870, by Hurd & Houghton
FROM TO A COMRADE›
THE
HE joy of meeting makes us love farewell;
We gather once again around the hearth,
And thou wilt tell
All that thy keen experience has been
Of pleasure, danger, misadventure, mirth,
And unforeseen.
And all without an angry word the while,
Or self-compassion,- naught dost thou recall
Save for a smile;
Copy-
## p. 10507 (#379) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
Thou knowest how to lend good fortune grace,
And how to mock what'er ill luck befall
With laughing face.
But friend, go not again so far away;
In need of some small help I always stand,
Come whatso may;
I know not whither leads this path of mine,
But I can tread it better when my hand
Is clasped in thine.
FROM ON A SLAB OF ROSE MARBLE'
ET, despite myself, I trow
Other destiny was thine:
Far away from cloudy France,
Where a warmer sun doth shine,
YET
Near some temple, Greek or Latin;
The fair daughters of the clime,
With the scent of heath and thyme
Clinging to their sandaled feet
Beating thee in rhythmic dance,
Were a burden far more sweet
Than court ladies shod with satin.
Could it be for this alone
Nature formed thee in the earth,
In whose beauteous virgin stone
Genius might have wrought a birth
Every age had joyed to own?
•
•
There should have come forth of thee
Some new-born divinity.
When the marble-cutters hewed
Through thy noble block their way,
They broke in with footsteps rude
Where a Venus sleeping lay,
And the goddess's wounded veins
Colored thee with roseate stains.
Alas! and must we hold it truth
That every rare and precious thing
Flung forth at random without ruth
Trodden under foot may lie?
The crag where, in sublime repose,
The eagle stoops to rest his wing,
10507
## p. 10508 (#380) ##########################################
10508
ALFRED DE MUSSET
OFT
No less than any wayside rose,
Dropped in the common dust to die?
Can the mother of us all
Leave her work, to fullness brought,
Lost in the gulf of chance to fall,
As oblivion swallows thought?
Torn away from ocean's rim
To be fashioned by a whim,
Does the briny tempest whirl
To the workman's feet the pearl?
Shall the vulgar, idle crowd
For all ages be allowed
To degrade earth's choicest treasure
At the arbitrary pleasure
Of a mason or a churl?
FROM THE WILD MARE IN THE DESERT›
FT in the waste, the Arab mare untamed,
After three days' wild course awaits the storm
To drain the rain-drops from the thirsty palms;
The sun is leaden, and the silent palms
Droop their long tresses 'neath a fiery sky.
She seeks her well amid the boundless wilds:
The sun has dried it; on the burning rock
Lie shaggy lions growling low in sleep.
Her forces fail; her bleeding nostrils wide
Plunge eager in the sand,- the thirsty sand
Drinks greedily her life's discolored stream.
Then stretches she at length, her great eyes film,
And the wan desert rolls upon its child
In silent folds its ever moving shroud.
She knew not, she, that when the caravan
With all its camels passed beneath the planes,
That, would she follow, bowing her proud neck,
In Bagdad she would find cool stable-stalls,
With gilded mangers, dewy clover turf,
And wells whose depths have never seen the sky.
## p. 10509 (#381) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10509
TO PÉPA
ÉPA! when the night has come,
And mamma has bid good-night,
By thy light, half-clad and dumb,
As thou kneelest out of sight;
PEPAA
Laid by, cap and sweeping vest
Ere thou sinkest to repose,
At the hour when half at rest
Folds thy soul as folds a rose;
When sweet Sleep, the sovereign mild,
Peace to all the house has brought,-
Pépita! my charming child!
What, oh, what is then thy thought?
Who knows? Haply dreamest thou
Of some lady doomed to sigh;
All that Hope a truth deems now,
All that Truth shall prove, a lie.
Haply of those mountains grand
That produce-alas! but mice;
Castles in Spain; a prince's hand;
Bon-bons, lovers, or cream-ice.
Haply of soft whispers breathed
'Mid the mazes of a ball;
Robes, or flowers, or hair enwreathed;
Me; or nothing, dear! at all.
-
A
JUANA
GAIN I see you, ah, my queen,-
Of all my old loves that have been,
The first love and the tenderest;
Do you remember or forget —
Ah me, for I remember yet-
How the last summer days were blest?
Ah, lady, when we think of this,-
The foolish hours of youth and bliss,
How fleet, how sweet, how hard to hold!
## p. 10510 (#382) ##########################################
ALFRED DE MUSSET
10510
How old we are, ere spring be green!
You touch the limit of eighteen,
And I am twenty winters old.
My rose, that mid the red roses
Was brightest, ah, how pale she is!
Yet keeps the beauty of her prime;
Child, never Spanish lady's face
Was lovely with so wild a grace;
Remember the dead summer-time.
Think of our loves, our feuds of old,
And how you gave your chain of gold
To me for a peace-offering;
And how all night I lay awake
To touch and kiss it for your sake,-
To touch and kiss the lifeless thing.
Lady, beware, for all we say,
This Love shall live another day,
Awakened from his deathly sleep:
The heart that once has been your shrine
For other loves is too divine;
A home, my dear, too wide and deep.
What did I say - why do I dream?
Why should I struggle with the stream
Whose waves return not any day?
Close heart, and eyes, and arms from me;
Farewell, farewell! so must it be,
So runs, so runs, the world away.
The season bears upon its wing
The swallows and the songs of spring,
And days that were, and days that flit:
The loved lost hours are far away;
And hope and fame are scattered spray
For me, that gave you love a day,
For you that not remember it.
Translation of Andrew Lang.
## p. 10511 (#383) ##########################################
10511
FREDERIC WILLIAM HENRY MYERS
(1843-)
M
UCH of what is most subtle and penetrative in contempo-
rary English criticism is embodied in the writings of certain
men of letters whose names are familiar only to a special
and limited circle. Frederic W. H. Myers is one of those critics
whose work, while not in any sense popular, obtains well-established
recognition for its literary finish, and pre-eminently for its originality
and suggestiveness. The complex forces of the end of the century
inay not be favorable to the production of creative genius, but they
are favorable to the birth and growth of a sensitive critical spirit.
Mr. Myers's Modern and Classical Essays are the work of one to
whom the revelations of science in all its branches have been a
source of enlightenment on subjects with which it would seem that
science primarily had nothing to do. He is of the number of those
who would wed the materialistic knowledge of the age to an ideal-
ism the more intense because it is denied the outlet of a definite
religious faith. He would judge of literature, of personality, of the
various phenomena of his own and of a past age, by the new lights
of science, and at the same time by the light that never was on
sea or land. It is this combination of the idealistic with the exact
spirit which gives to the essays of Mr. Myers their peculiar charm,
and which fits him to write with such exquisite appreciation of Mar-
cus Aurelius and Virgil, of Rossetti and George Eliot. In his heart
he has all the romance of a poet,- his desire to live by admiration,
hope, and love, his sensitiveness to the beautiful, his passionate belief
in the soul and its great destinies; but his brain rules his heart with
typical modern caution. In his efforts to reconcile these elements in
his nature, Mr. Myers has infused into his essays, whatever their sub-
jects, the speculative thought of his generation concerning the unseen.
world and man's relation to it; and especially of that great question
of personal immortality, which forever haunts and forever baffles the
minds of men. He is drawn naturally to a consideration of such men
as Marcus Aurelius. The fitful dejection of the philosophic emperor,
his resolve to learn and to endure, his hopeless hope, his calm in
the face of the veil which cuts man off from the paradise of certain-
ties, seem to Mr. Myers to prefigure the attitude of the modern mind
toward its mysterious environment. Yet he himself has gone beyond
the negativity of Stoicism. He believes that love is the gateway to
## p. 10512 (#384) ##########################################
10512
FREDERIC WILLIAM HENRY MYERS
the unseen universe, being of those who, "while accepting to the full
the methods and the results of science, will not yet surrender the
ancient hopes of the race. "
In 'Modern Poets and Cosmic Law' he traces the influence of Ten-
nyson and Wordsworth on modern religious thought; a regenerating
influence, because they have realized "with extraordinary intuition,"
and promulgated "with commanding genius, the interpenetration of
the spiritual and the material world. " Mr. Myers's deep sympathy
with Wordsworth is completely expressed in his luminous biography
of the poet. His sympathy with George Eliot is less keen, or rather
it is less that of the mind than of the heart. His depression in the
presence of her hopelessness is well described in the essay of which
she is the subject:-
"I remember how, at Cambridge, I walked with her once in the Fellows'
Garden of Trinity, on an evening of rainy May; and she, stirred somewhat
beyond her wont, and taking as her text the three words which have been
used so often as the inspiring trumpet-calls of men,- the words God, Immor-
tality, Duty,- pronounced with terrible earnestness how inconceivable was
the first, how unbelievable the second, and yet how peremptory and absolute
the third. Never, perhaps, have sterner accents affirmed the sovereignty of
impersonal and unrecompensing law. I listened, and night fell; her grave,
majestic countenance turned towards me like a Sibyl's in the gloom; it was
as though she withdrew from my grasp, one by one, the two scrolls of prom-
ise, and left me the third scroll only, awful with inevitable fates. »
Mr. Myers's essays on Science and a Future Life,' on 'Darwin and
Agnosticism,' on Tennyson as a Prophet,' on 'A New Eirenicon,'
on Modern Poets and Cosmic Law,' are concerned chiefly with
the modern answers to the old eternal problems. Even his essays
on Mazzini, on George Sand, on Renan, and on the present political
and social influences in France, are not without their background of
philosophical contemplation of the end and aims of man. Mr. Myers's
conclusion of the whole matter is hopeful, sane, temperate. He is
confident of the golden branch in the grove of cypress; confident that
darkness must eventually become revelation. In his verse, which,
while not of the first order, is melodious and graceful, he exhibits
the same spiritual intuition. His value as a critic is largely the
result of this recognition, based on no ephemeral conclusions, of the
spiritual element in the destiny of man. Mr. Myers was born in
1843, in Duffield, England. He is the son of a clergyman of some
note as a writer, and a brother of Ernest Myers, whose classical trans-
lations are of great literary excellence.
## p. 10513 (#385) ##########################################
FREDERIC WILLIAM HENRY MYERS
10513
THE DISENCHANTMENT OF FRANCE
From Science and a Future Life >
IT
HAS fallen to the lot of the French people to point more
morals, to emphasize more lessons from their own experience,
than any other nation in modern history. Parties and creeds
of the most conflicting types have appealed to Paris in turn for
their brightest example, their most significant warning.
