deavoring to
disclose to others what he saw, he seemed to overdefine, or even to repeat
himself, and sometimes became monotonous. His was the delicate ear of the
musical prodigy, capable of grasping half-tones quite beyond the range of
the normal ear, and his attempt to cause them to be heard and appreciated
by his coarser fellows brought him only criticism and abuse. He realized
at times his own powerlessness to convey in words all that he felt, and
once said: "On ne saurait rendre en entier ce que sont les personnes; du
moins cela ne me serait pas possible; je connais bien mieux celles avec
qui je vis, que je ne les definirais; il y a des choses en elles que je ne
saisis point assez pour les dire, et que je n'apercois que pour moi, et
non pas pour les autres: ou, si je les disais je les dirais mal: ce sont
des objets de sentiment si compliques, et d'une nettete si delicate,
qu'ils se brouillent des que ma reflexion s'en mele; je ne sais plus par
ou les prendre pour les exprimer; de sorte qu'ils sont en moi et non pas a
moi. N'etes-vous pas de meme? Il me semble que mon ame, en mille
occasions, en sait plus qu'elle n'en peut dire, et qu'elle a un esprit a
part, qui est bien superieur a celui que j'ai d'ordinaire. Je crois aussi
que les hommes sont bien au-dessus de tous les livres qu'ils font."[89]

It was with great difficulty that Marivaux could prevail upon himself to
draw a description or a reflection to an end, feeling, as he did, that
there was always something left unsaid. His struggle with himself and his
apology to the reader are sometimes quite amusing in their naivete. "Me
voila au bout de ma reflexion," he says: "j'aurais pourtant grande envie
d'y ajouter quelques mots pour la rendre complete: le voulez-vous bien?
Oui, je vous en prie. Heureusement que mon defaut la-dessus n'a rien de
nouveau pour vous. Je suis insupportable avec mes reflexions, vous le
savez bien."[90]

The success that greeted _Marianne_ was calculated to make his rivals in
the field of fiction jealous. Perhaps no one felt more keenly than did
Crebillon _fils_ the growing popularity of a novel the purity of which but
enhanced the obscenity of his own writings. To this feeling may be
attributed his attack upon Marivaux's style in a very free and tiresome
story, entitled _Tanzai et Neadarne, ou l'Ecumoire_, in which his rival's
muse is represented as a mole. The mole relates her life, in a most
diffuse and wearisome manner, constantly inter