Complete Works of Anatole France
Page 401
No, Madame, not polite enough. I was wrong. Forgive me.
CECILE (turning over the pages of Ronsard).
Monsieur de Nalège, you press flowers in the leaves of your books.
NALEGE.
Yes, Madame. A bibliophile would find fault with me. But I read in the woods and I put in a flower to mark the pages I love.
GERMAINE.
Meanwhile, what happens to your dog and your gun?
NALEGE.
They go to sleep.
CECILE.
There is a periwinkle at “When you are old, at dusk, by candlelight” Those lines are pretty, then?
NALEGE.
The form is unpolished and the style old-fashioned. But I think them the most beautiful in the world. (To GERMAINE.) DO you not know them?
GERMAINE.
No.
NALEGE.
What a pity.
CECILE.
And neither do I. I do not know them, and it is as great a pity. Even more so. For I have a great love for verse and understand it. But it is not a quality that shows. Whereas Germaine, because she inspires it, is thought to love it.... Oh, yes, she inspires it. Her album is full of poems dedicated to her. ( Turning over the leaves of the album) Listen:
“Pourquoi l’azur àe vos prunelles Est-il soudain plein d? étincelles?”
And that is to be sung. There is music to the words. (Turning the leaves)
“À Madame de Sescourt.
Quand l’aubepine fleurie de tes bras Etend ses rameaux las de blancheurs et de parfums.”
NALEGE.
Those are bold lines...
CECILE.
And a thought quite lately flowered.
“L’amour est un ruisseau qui reflète le ciel.”And this flower appears to-day, Germaine?
NALEGE.
That is by Renan.
CECILE.
No, it is by Paul Chambry.
NALEGE.
It is by Ernest Renan. He wrote those lines in every album indifferently.
CECILE.
Well, Paul Chambry has signed his name to them.
NALEGE.
He is an impudent plagiarist, that’s all! GERMAINE.
No, if he had the thought he had the right to sign it.
CECILE.
Are you coming, Nalège? He did not want to come, and now he does not want to go. I have no time to wait for you. I must go and dress.... Germaine, dear, do not make us dine too late. The play begins at eight o’clock — try to get there not later than nine.
GERMAINE.
I do not remember ever having seen the opening of a play.
CECILE.
Neither do I! — [She goes out.
SCENE X.
NALEGE, GERMAINE.
GERMAINE.
What Monsieur de Nalège, you let her go alone?
NALEGE.
Only one word, Madame. A moment ago you thought me brusque, odd, and unbearable...
GERMAINE.
No, I failed to find such a quantity of attributes in you — I merely thought you a little put out. That was owing, no doubt, to what we were talking about. You chose an unfortunate subject. Next time you must try another, that’s all. There is no lack of others.
NALEGE.
No lack of subjects of conversation between a French woman and a French man? No, Madame, there is but one, but there can be infinite variations on it. In future, if you will allow me, I will treat it in an entirely different manner, and I shall be pleasing, amiable, and almost attractive.
GERMAINE.
I was going to suggest it.
NALEGE.
Would you like it at once?
GERMAINE.
Be quick, then. I can give you three minutes. My maid is waiting for me.
NALEGE.
That is very little, so it must be an abridged edition, a summary. But the essentials shall be there, and I believe that you will be satisfied.
(With a fictitious ardour and a pretence of gallantry,) So, Madame, I love but you. You alone fill my thoughts and trouble my mind. When I appear to linger near another, it is an excuse to look at you from afar, discreetly, without annoying you. I wait until the swarm which buzzes around you disperses. I want you to myself, to myself alone. I despair at having to dispute my right to you with so many others. Yet, nevertheless, you ought to know that I am the only one who admires you and understands you. You are the most beautiful, you alone are really beautiful. You embody the ideal formed in my dreams. You believe me to be frivolous, light, in love with every woman. I love only you. I love and admire you.
[He makes a pretence of putting his arm round her waist, GERMAINE.
Monsieur de Nalège, the three minutes are over.
NALEGE.
Yes, but I have had time to give you pleasure.
GERMAINE.
To give me pleasure is saying a great deal. But I confess I find you far more agreeable than you were recently.
NALEGE.
Quite so. You find me agreeable because I talked to you as do those who delight in your prettiness. I pleased you because round my words hung the scent of untruth. Madame, whatever you may say, women are only captivated by make-believe.
GERMAINE (at the door).
Julie, put out my white frock. (To NALEGE.) Monsieur de Nalège, you no longer please me in the very least. You make me regret your former natural manner, your transparency, as painters say. Go, and allow me to dress — we are to dine together and spend the evening together — you ought to be satisfied.
NALEGE.
No, Madame. — [He goes out.
SCENE XI.
GERMAINE alone.
GERMAINE.
He has forgotten his book... “Les Amours de Pierre de Ronsard.” Chambry certainly does not tell me anything absolutely fresh — nothing that has not been said before, and that will not be said again. But he brought a certain charm of manner to it and a certain note which is his own. As regards Nalège... neither are his rough ways particularly novel. And they are irritating.... “Les Amours de Pierre de Ronsard”... True, he presses flowers between the pages of his poet. This pretty custom is quite touching. He is a good fellow, after all — Nalège. Here is the periwinkle marking the tenderest verses. (Reads.)
“Live on, believe me, do not wait the morrow, Gather the roses of your life to-day.”
Perhaps he is right — Monsieur de Nalège’s poet.
“Gather the roses of your life to-day.”
SCENE XII.
GERMAINE, CHAMBRY.
GERMAINE.
You!
CHAMBRY.
I was on the look-out. I climbed upstairs again. How he must bore you, your rustic!... At last we are alone. I have so much to tell you.
GERMAINE.
You were watching?... You climbed... Monsieur Chambry, do me the kindness to go at once. You enter like a thief. You look as if you had come out of a cupboard. It is ridiculous.
CHAMBRY.
No, it is not ridiculous. You mean to say it is unusual. You are right, it is not conventional. I am fully aware of it.
GERMAINE.
Merely ridiculous.
CHAMBRY.
Let us say, inadmissable. It is the drawback to our position.
GERMAINE.
What do you mean?
CHAMBRY.
It is the drawback to our position. It is full of drawbacks. It cannot go on. It would be most imprudent. It is beforehand that one runs the risk of compromising a woman. It is beforehand that the tactless thing occurs. Yes. Afterwards there is an understanding, agreement, mutual warning. One acts with prudence, and one avoids danger.
To compromise a woman afterwards one must be a cad or the greatest fool... or else a savage, like Nalège. There is the kind of man who, were some luckless woman to grant him favours, would bear it writ large in his eyes like the numbers on loto cards.
GERMAINE.
Monsieur Chambry, my maid is waiting for me. Go away.
CHAMBRY.
To be imprudent afterwards is unforgivable. It ought not to happen. But beforehand the most gallant gentleman in the world cannot be sure of himself. I would not guarantee that we are not being talked about. It has to be gone through.
GERMAINE.
It is strange that I am not angrier. Confess that you yourself find it strange.
CHAMBRY.
On the contrary, it is very natural, since you know that I love you.
GERMAINE.
I wish you good night, Monsieur Chambry.
CHAMBRY.
Where are we going?
GERMAINE.
I?... I am dining at Madame Laverne’s.
CHAMBRY.
No, you are not going to dine at Madame Laverne’s.
GERMAINE.
I am not going to dine at...? You are mad! Eight o’clock... Cécile... and Monsieur de Nalège, who are waiting for me...
CHAMBRY.
Ah, no — not that of all things.... You will not dine with Nalège. You will dine with me somewhere in an arbour in the country.
GERMAINE.
You grow very ridiculous CHAMBRY (handing her a pen).
Write... “My dear Cécile, an awful headache...”
GERMAINE.
Monsieur Chambry, I am speaking seriously now. Go away!
CHAMBRY.
No — I shall not go. I shall not allow you to meet Nalège again. Germaine... stay... I love you.
GERMAINE.
Go away, I beseech you.
CHAMBRY.
I cannot leave you. It is true, I cannot. It is stronger than I am... Germaine, you will make me very unhappy. I am speaking sincerely. Really, you will make me very unhappy.
GERMAINE.
Unhappy? Why? Because of Nalège?
CHAMBRY.
Yes.
GERMAINE.
Oh, well, if it is because of Nalège, don’t be unhappy. There is no need to be, I assure you.
CHAMBRY.
Quite true? You prefer me?
GERMAINE.
I prefer you. Are you pleased?
CHAMBRY.
Very pleased.
GERMAINE.
Well then... now — go.
CHAMBRY.
To-morrow — five o’clock. You will come for certain? Three steps.... I will change the carpet in your honour. — [He goes out.
GERMAINE (alone).
Come what may!
The Poetry
France, 1921
LIST OF POETICAL WORKS
Translated by Wilfrid Jackson and Emilie Jackson
CONTENTS
THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. A POETIC DRAMA
PREFACE
PERSONAGES
PART I.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
SCENE IV.
SCENE V.
PART II.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
SCENE IV.
SCENE V.
SCENE VI.
SCENE VII.
SCENE VIII.
SCENE IX.
SCENE X.
SCENE XI.
SCENE XII.
PART III.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
SCENE IV.
SCENE V.
SCENE VI.
SCENE VII.
SCENE VIII.
NOTE
THE CHILD SOUL
LIGHT
THE DANCE OF DEATH
THY DEEP PROFOUND OF SOUL
GOOD-BYE
THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. A POETIC DRAMA
TO FREDERIC PLESSIS
PREFACE
IN this book I touch on high matters, and delicate to handle; on religious matters. I have dreamed again the dream of the ages of faith; I have illuded myself with lively belief. To have treated what is pious with impiety would have been to lack the sense of harmony. I bring a sincere respect to bear on matters sacred.
I know that there is no certainty outside science. But I know also that the worth of scientific truth lies in the methods of its discovery, and that these methods are not to be arrived at by the common run of mankind. It is hardly scientific to hold that science may one day replace religion. So long as man sucks milk of woman, so long will he be consecrated in the temple, and initiated in some sort in divine mystery. He will dream. And what matter if the dream be false, so it be beautiful? Is it not man’s destiny to be steeped in perpetual illusion? Indeed, is not such illusion the very condition of Life?
A. F.
O MAIDEN HELLAS, young, with lyre in hand,
Innocent child with kissed and honeyed mouth,
Whose smile gave back the greeting of thy land,
The sparkle of the sea and sky and south,
Thy days and hours sped by on even feet,
And when dark night had silvered all the ways,
Thou, well content, cicalas shrilling sweet,
Wouldst brood upon mankind its works and days.
Child of the sea, on tawny beaches prone,
Thy breast voluptuous in beauty swelled,
What waves of harmony, of sacred tone,
Filled thee, and through thy song in fountain welled!
I, child of Latin race, who found thee fair,
And fed mine eyes, to do thy beauty praise
And paint thy goddess shape with faithful care,
Have done what time shall but in part erase.
Others have limned thee in thy tranquil mom
When, from the fountain whence thy gods would start,
Thou earnest, bearing high the earthen urn.
Such peace may find no place in my sad heart.
Thy breast bear these pale violets for the dead.
I paint thee, Hellas, when a jealous god,
Tearing the sacred fillets from thine head,
Thee, in thy broken temple, bruised and trod.
Then the smile faded and the heavens frowned;
And grace and beauty perished with thy fall;
None raised thy lyre from off the stony ground,
And earth rolled on its course in gloom and thrall.
O daughter of the Graces, thee I sing!
Loved to the last, and fair all things above, —
That they who read my verses’ offering,
May hold life dearer and be kind to Love.
PERSONAGES
A FISHERMAN.
HIPPIAS.
DAPHNE.
KALLISTA.
PHRYGIA, the slave.
THEOGNIS.
HERMAS.
DAPHNE’S NURSE.
A WISE WOMAN.
ARTEMIS.
APHRODITE.
CHORUS OF YOUTHS.
CHORUS OF VINE-DRESSERS.
CHORUS OF CHRISTIANS.
PART I.
A road between Corinth and the sea. Looking eastward and ringed with myrtles, a little temple, bearing on its entablature among fair mutilated shapes the monogram of Jesus, roughly cut. A fountain. Beyond, on the hillside, the coloured walls of a house, and an orchard. Vines. The Acropolis of Corinth shows white on the horizon. It is evening: the sun is low in a quiet sky. OLPIS, the old fisherman, sets down his baskets, and seats himself on a mound.
SCENE I.
FISHERMAN.
FROM town to sea the road is long to tread,
Fatigue soon met. And bitter is his bread
Whose want town-hucksters to their greed subdue.
Fish in these days run smaller and are few.
No more they weight my basket and my net
Whence the sea-harvest, now but seldom met,
Poured in my favoured bark abundant spoil.
No more the gods assist a life of toil.
Behold, this very day, is all my catch
To wives of Corinth, and their cooks to match,
For thirteen wretched obols all transferred.
Grasping is woman, yet pr
odigal of word,
Bad are the times and men; the gods retrace
Their steps from earth and an unworthy race.
SCENE II.
THE FISHERMAN, HIPPIAS.
HIPPIAS (he wears the Thessalian head-dress; his grey tunic is girdled round his loins; his high sandals are knotted about the ankles with leathern thongs. He has a white staff in his hand; and walks quickly).
Hail, House and Grove, and maid beside the hearth
Spinning, who draw’st for me a sainted breath!
Say, Fisher (for thy baskets show wet sheen
Of sea-spume on their reeds, and sea-weed green)
Sure thou dost know it — this was Hernias’ door,
Old Hermas — Say —
FISHERMAN.
He lives, my son, to store
In jars of ancient mould a this-year’s wine —
HIPPIAS.
The gods shed peace upon his fruitful vine!
Hast seen his daughter, Daphne, in her ways?
Is her life sweet, and do her youthful days
Pass on light wing nor touch her candid brow?
FISHERMAN.
The gods, who made her fair, love her, I trow.
She walks with modesty for crown and veil,
And she is happy —
HIPPIAS.
Friend, your news I hail.
Kallista then, to speak of her remains —
FISHERMAN.
She has stirred gods to wrath and now complains.
Unwise it were for one of lowly sort
To tell the curious news of grave import.
Certain it is, Apollo, as of old,
Against the wicked shoots his darts of gold.
[He departs.
HIPPIAS.
Yes, it is Daphne there, dazzling as snow,
Bending to gather herbs the path below!
Her neck, her bosom, more wonderful to sight
Than their importunate vision in the night.
I see her, long desired, and at her view
Falters my gaze with shock of something new.
The gods, who set her on my path to find,
Have touched her with a charm beyond our kind.
SCENE III.
HIPPIAS and DAPHNE.
DAPHNE (before the temple).
I gather dittany, of sovereign power,
And many a soothing herb in stalk and flower.
May I distil for her who gave me breath