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Chapter 7

           soplainlywrittenonit—themoreunhappytheymakeme?Whatistheuseofallyournaturetome—allyourparksandtrees,yoursunsetsandsunrises,yourblueskiesandyourself-satisfiedfaces—whenallthiswealthofbeautyandhappinessbeginswiththefactthatitaccountsme—onlyme—onetoomany!Whatisthegoodofallthisbeautyandglorytome,wheneverysecond,everymoment,Icannotbutbeawarethatthislittleflywhichbuzzesaroundmyheadinthesun’srays—eventhislittleflyisasharerandparticipatorinallthegloryoftheuniverse,andknowsitsplaceandishappyinit;—whileI—onlyI,amanoutcast,andhavebeenblindtothefacthitherto,thankstomysimplicity!Oh!Iknowwellhowtheprinceandotherswouldlikeme,insteadofindulginginallthesewickedwordsofmyown,tosing,tothegloryandtriumphofmorality,thatwell-knownverseofGilbert’s:

           “‘O,puissentvoirlongtempsvotrebeautésacrée

           Tantd’amis,sourdsàmesadieux!

           Qu’ilsmeurentpleinsdejours,queleurmortsoitpleurée,

           Qu’unamileurfermelesyeux!’

           “Butbelieveme,believeme,mysimple-heartedfriends,thatinthishighlymoralverse,inthisacademicalblessingtotheworldingeneralintheFrenchlanguage,ishiddentheintensestgallandbitterness;butsowellconcealedisthevenom,thatIdaresaythepoetactuallypersuadedhimselfthathiswordswerefullofthetearsofpardonandpeace,insteadofthebitternessofdisappointmentandmalice,andsodiedinthedelusion.

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