music, his stories were illustrated: but
all this brought no cheer or consolation to the sick spirit. He lived more
and more alone: the Theatre Francais, a silent game of chess at his cafe,
the deadly absinthe, were his only sources of excitement. It is a comfort
to learn that the last ray of pleasure which penetrated his moral dungeon,
reviving for an instant the generous glow of enthusiasm, was the appearance
of Ristori: inspired by her, he began a poetical address which he never
finished, nor even wrote down, but a fragment of it was preserved orally by
one or two who heard it:

For Pauline and Rachel I sang of hope,
And over Malibran a tear I shed;
But, thanks to thee, I see the mighty scope
Of strength and genius wed.

Ah keep them long! The heart which breathes the prayer
When genius calls has ever made reply,
Bear smiling home to Italy the fair,
A flower from our sky.

* * * * *

They tell me that in spite of grief and wrong,
And pride bent earthward by a tyrant's heel,
A noble race, though crushed and conquered long,
Has not yet learned to kneel.

Rome's godlike dwellers of a bygone age,
The marble, porphyry, alabaster forms,
Still live: at night, to speech upon the stage,
An ancient statue warms.

* * * * *

What was the cause of De Musset's unhappiness and impotence? His brother
tries to account for them by an enumeration of the distresses and
annoyances mentioned above, and others of the same order; but when one
remembers how the poet's great sorrows, his father's death and the betrayal
of his affection by the first woman he really loved, had given him his
finest conceptions in verse and prose, it is impossible to accept so
insufficient an explanation. Nor can we allow that De Musset sank into a
condition of puerile impatience and senile querulousness. Judged by our
standard, all the Latin races lack manhood, as we may possibly do by
theirs: De Musset was only as much more sensitive than the rest of his
countrymen as those of the poetic temperament are usually found to be in
all countries. Nor had he seen his talent slowly expire: the spring did not
run dry by degrees: it suddenly sank into the ground. He had made a fearful
mistake at the outset, which he discovered too late if at all. Considering
what life is sure to bring to ev